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fortheloveofwonderland · 9 months

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Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 18 | S.R

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Chapter Summary - You and Spencer try to cope in the aftermath of running into each other. Spencer makes a series of stupid decisions which lead him back to you and then away from you once more.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - drinking, slightly tipsy reader, swearing, AA meetings, talk of therapy, tears, Spencer falls off the wagon, arguing, slightly aggressive and intimidating Spencer, mention of erectile dysfunction, making out, use of “good girl”, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial(?), Spencer goes from 0-100 and back again, Spencer is incredibly mean.

WC - 7.9k

Chapter 18 - Sandcastles

We built sandcastles that washed away,

I made you cry when I walked away.

Oh, and although I promised that I couldn't stay, baby,

Every promise don't work out that way, oh, babe.

Every promise don't work out that way.

“How much further is this place? I said we should have gotten a cab.” Tara groaned, her feet howling from the high heels she was wearing.

“Just a little further.” Penelope insisted.

Tara glanced at Emily and JJ who seemed to be struggling just as much as she was. Garcia was the only one of the four who wore heels on a regular basis and as such the walk wasn’t bothering her like it was them.

“You said that five blocks ago.” Emily moaned, clinging to Tara’s arm to help keep her balanced.

“A little walk never hurt anyone.” Garcia clucked.

“Tell that to my feet.” JJ rolled her eyes.

They continued for another two blocks before Penelope picked up her pace and started pointing down the street towards a blue neon sign proclaiming the name Trouble Bird.

According to Penelope it was the best cocktail bar in the district and she’d insisted they go there for girls' night.

The four of them had already polished off a couple of bottles of wine at Garcia’s apartment and the blonde had assured them the bar was just around the corner.

“I don’t care what you say, next time we are getting a cab.” Tara huffed as they closed in on the bar.

All that walking had seriously sobered her up, making the pre-drinks pointless. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on a cocktail or two. Maybe even five.

As they neared the entrance, someone heading in their direction clearly caught Penelope’s eye and she slowed until she came to a stop.

The others did the same, a collective groan leaving their lips.

“Please god don’t tell me it’s closed.” Emily threw her head back in frustration.

But Garcia wasn’t listening. She took a few steps closer to the woman wearing a long, black evening dress, heels hanging limply from her fingers.

“Y/N?” She spoke and your eyes shot up from where you’d been looking at the pavement.

You blinked a few times, eyes darting between the four women and recognising two of them. You wiped your face where your mascara was probably staining your cheeks from crying.

“Penelope, right? Spencer’s friend. And JJ.” You looked between the two blondes.

“Y/N?” Tara frowned. “The Y/N?”

“Uh…yes?” You frowned.

“This is Tara and Emily, we all worked with Spencer at the BAU.” Penelope informed you. “Are you ok? Have you been crying?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” You shook your head. “It was nice to see you and meet you. I should be going.”

You started past the women, meanwhile Penelope was giving them all wide eyed glances.

“Look at her,” she whispered. “We can’t let her leave.”

“Are you proposing we ask Reid’s ex-girlfriend to hang out with us?” Emily hissed under her breath.

“I feel bad for her.” JJ replied in equally hushed tones.

“Me too.” Tara agreed.

“For the record,” you spun back to face them. “You’re not being as quiet as you think you are. I’m fine, really. I’m getting used to being broken up with recently. Growing a pretty thick skin.”

Penelope’s face fell, her heart bleeding for you. She hated seeing anyone upset, even people she barely knew. She moved past JJ, Emily and Tara closer to you.

“I insist you join us for a drink. This bar is supposed to be great.” She pointed over her shoulder at the Trouble Bird.

“I think that sounds super weird.” You pulled a face. “No offence, I’m sure you’re all really lovely but as Emily said, I’m your friend's ex-girlfriend. I’m sure Spencer would not love the idea of me drinking with you.”

“Can I ask you one thing?” Emily stepped forward now, eyebrow raised.

“I guess.” You shrugged.

“You being upset, does it have anything to do with Reid?”

“Uh…” you inhaled. “In a roundabout way, kind of.”

“In that case, you will drink with us. If he’s upset you, screw him.” Emily smiled at you, clamping a hand down on your shoulder.

“But you’re his friend?” You pulled a face.

“Guess what, girly?” Garcia clapped her hands together. “We’re your friends now too.”

And with that she took you by the hand and the five of you continued on inside of the bar.

***

Two shots of a tequila and an exuberantly large glass of wine later, you’d eased up a little, spilling your guts to four women you barely knew.

“It’s not even like I care that much, you know?” You sighed. “Sam and I didn’t have a future, I wasn’t in love with him. But bumping into Spencer like that was…fuck it was the worst.”

“What was Spence doing at an art gallery? I am struggling to picture that.” JJ shook her head.

“Blair,” you spat her name out of your mouth like a bad taste. “Beautiful, sweet Blair. She works at the gallery.”

“I’m lost.” Tara looked at the others.

“Yeah, who’s Blair?” Emily added.

“Spencer’s new girlfriend.” You whined.

“Spence has a new girlfriend?” JJ pulled a face.

“Oh!” Garcia gasped, clapping her hands to her face. “The mom! The mom of the boy Daisy likes.”

“You knew?” JJ glared at Penelope.

“I knew he had a date a while ago. Luke and I watched the girls and…” she trailed off as the three BAU ladies smirked.

“You owe me fifty bucks.” Tara nudged Emily. “I told you Alvez and Garcia were dating.”

“Oh boy,” Penelope blushed. “Uh…surprise?”

“I really didn’t think it was true.” Emily shook her head, slapping a bill in Tara’s hand.

“Oh please, Alvez gets all heart eyes every time she walks into a room.” Tara laughed. “But back to the matter at hand. Reid really has a new girlfriend?”

“Yes,” you pouted. “And Sam broke up with me because I got all heart eyes over Spencer without even realising.”

“What is up with him lately?” Emily scoffed. “I’ve never known him date like this.”

“He was married for a really long time.” JJ shrugged.

“He's going through some stuff. Cut him some slack.” Tara sighed and suddenly all eyes were on her.

“What do you know?” Penelope asked her.

“What? I don’t know anything.” Tara tried to shake her off.

“Liar! You know something!” Penelope gasped again. “Spill!”

“I promised him I wouldn’t say anything.” Tara pulled a face. “He’s trying to get sober, I went to a meeting with him a while ago. And he’s seeing a therapist.”

All four of you looked at Tara, letting her words sink in. Tara looked painfully guilty, feeling terrible for breaking her promise to Spencer. But the girls were worried about him, she wanted to try and stem their fears.

“So he’s got himself all shiny and new for Blair.” You huffed. “Fabulous. So I was just the rebound after his wife and now this woman gets the new and improved Spencer? Fucking super.”

Out of nowhere you started to cry. And it wasn’t just a few tears, you started sobbing. You doubled over in your chair, resting your head on the table and wrapping your arms around yourself while you wept.

Penelope was next to you and she wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to her.

“Oh Y/N,” She cooed, rubbing your back. “Oh dear, sweet Y/N.”

“Spencer is not himself lately,” Emily reached across the table and stroked your hair. “He’s not always like this.”

“I feel like such an idiot.” You sat up, tears still falling rapidly. “I should not be crying about Spencer in front of you guys.”

“Don’t worry about it.” JJ tried to placate you. “Honestly, it's ok.”

“No it’s not.” You wiped your eyes on the back of your hand. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Don’t leave, not like this.” Tara tried to insist but you were already on your feet.

“Thanks for this, and I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” You sniffed.

“Y/N, you really don’t have to go.” Penelope looked up at you sadly.

“It’s best that I do. Enjoy the rest of your night, please don’t worry about me.” You turned on your heels and fled the bar, the four BAU ladies watching you go.

“Goddamn Reid.” Emily grunted. “She seems like a nice girl.”

“She is.” Penelope was pouting. “When Luke and I ran into them at Barkhaus they seemed so happy.”

“I have so many questions about that sentence, that I am going to put a pin in for now.” JJ shook her head. “Clearly Spence is going through a lot.”

“How long has he been going to therapy, Tara?” Emily asked her, turning to her left.

But Tara wasn’t listening.

She was looking down at her phone and the seven missed calls she’d had in the time they had been sitting here. As she stared at it, it started to ring again, the same number as all the others.

“Who is it? Do you need to get that?” Emily nudged her arm.

With a sign, Tara looked up at her friends, nodding her head stiffly.

“Yeah I probably should,” she exhaled. “It’s Reid.”

***

Spencer sat on the steps of the building with his head between his knees and his eyes closed. He listened to the passing cars, counted them in his head. He also kept count of every set of shoes he heard walk by.

He estimated he sat there for twenty four minutes before he heard another set of footsteps getting closer. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, her image coming into view.

“How many?” Tara asked softly although her body language was somewhat defensive.

“Three.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I stopped at three scotch’s.”

Tara exhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring as she did so. She put her hand on his shoulder.

“You should have called me sooner.”

“Most likely.” He nodded, feeling like a naughty schoolboy. “I’m sorry.”

“I guess it's some kind of relief you stopped at three.” She guided him back towards the building steps he’d been sitting on.

“Any more than that and I wouldn’t have made it back.” He confessed.

He let Tara lead him inside to the meeting he so sorely needed. Afterwards she took him for coffee, despite the late hour.

“Did I drag you out of bed?” He asked over his mug.

“No, I was at a bar a few blocks away with the girls.” She rolled her lip guiltily between her teeth.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

“I had to.” She replied. “And uh, Y/N too.”

Spencer almost dropped his mug. His eyes bulged and his mouth fell open as he glared at her as if she’d just grown a second head.

“Excuse me?” He spat a little angrier than he’d meant to.

“We bumped into her outside the bar. Garcia and JJ recognised her. She’d been crying and we felt bad for her.” Tara shrugged meekly.

“She’d been crying?” His face fell and his bottom lip pouted at the thought.

“Yeah, she broke up with her boyfriend.”

“She did?” He sat up straight suddenly, like he’d been juiced with an electric current.

“Don’t get too excited,” Tara rolled her eyes. “She’s heartbroken, Reid. You did a real number on her. She thinks she was nothing more than a rebound from Maeve.”

“That’s not true.” He shook his head frantically. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“You moved on pretty fast.” Tara sighed, picking up her coffee.

“Only because she did.” He whined a little. “If anything, Blair is a rebound from Y/N. I love her Tara, I love her so much.”

“I am not the one you should be telling this to.” She shrugged.

“You’re right.” He nodded, slipping out of the booth and throwing some bills on the table.

“Where are you going?” Tara frowned up at him.

“To talk to Y/N.”

“Right now?”

“Yes right now!”

“Seems like a pretty bad idea to me.” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Don’t care. I need to see her.” He sounded like he’d made up his mind.

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Tara focused back on her coffee.

“Thanks for coming to the meeting with me.”

“You’re welcome. See you soon, Reid.” She sighed, watching him flee the diner.

She hoped he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. But she feared this would only end in disaster.

***

You were still awake, in bed and staring at the wall unblinking. The alcohol you’d consumed tonight seemed like a long distant memory and you felt horribly sober.

Every muscle in your body hurt but you weren’t sure why. It was as though the heartache was spreading through your extremities, encompassing every pore.

You’d missed Spencer every single second of every single day since you broke up. But after tonight you missed him with a renewed intensity.

To see him with another woman, holding her hand, thinking about what they got up to behind closed doors tore your heart apart all over again.

You’d meant nothing to him, it was as simple as that. You’d just been a notch on his bedpost, a rebound from his wife.

You’d cried so many tears you physically couldn’t cry anymore. So you continued to stare at the wall and hope at some point sleep would wash over you.

After a while there was a knock on your bedroom door but you ignored it. It came again twice more but both times you remained quiet.

Then the door opened and your eyes flicked from the wall to the figure in the doorway.

Your roommate Travis tentatively stepped inside, hands in his pockets.

“Uh, you have a visitor.” He shrugged.

“Don’t care.” You croaked.

“I don’t think he’s going away.” Travis shrugged again.

You frowned and shifted a little on the bed.

“He? He who?” You grumbled, rubbing your sore eyes.

Travis didn’t reply, instead he stepped aside so your visitor could enter the room.

Spencer looked about as bad as you probably did as he shuffled in your room. Travis slipped out behind him and closed the door.

His tie was undone, hanging limply around his neck and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone under his jacket.

You sat up in bed, glaring at him angrily whilst hugging the sheets around your body like some kind of protective armour.

“You’ve got a nerve showing up here.” You tried to sound angry but your voice was no more than a pathetic croak.

“I drank tonight.” He seemingly ignored you, stepping further into your room. “For the first time in weeks, I caved and I drank. Because I saw you.”

“Am I supposed to apologise for that? You’re a grown man Spencer, if you can’t handle your alcohol then that’s on you.” You managed to sound angrier this time.

“It’s called an addiction, Y/N! I don’t have any control of it! I don’t have a healthy, normal attitude towards alcohol. I’m not the kind of person that can just have a drink, I have to drink to excess, get wasted to forget my pathetic fucking life!” He yelled at you and you flinched a little.

“If you just came here to yell at me then leave. I am in no mood to listen to your bullshit, Spencer. Go back to your girlfriend. I don’t want you here.” You shook your head at him.

“No,” he stepped even further into the room. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve said what I came here to say.”

“And what did you come here to say?” You got out of bed as he got closer, hating the way he was looming over you.

You only wore a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top and you tried to ignore how exposed you felt.

“I quit drinking, or at least it tried, I’m trying. I started therapy, I’m trying to be a better version of myself.”

“Yeah, for your new girlfriend.” You scoffed.

“Seriously? That’s what you think? You think I’m doing all of this for her?” He sounded incredulous.

“Who did you do it for then? Enlighten me.” You growled, throwing your hands up in the air.

“For a start, I’m doing it for my daughters because they deserve more from me.”

“Agreed.” You rolled your eyes.

“But I’m also doing it for you! I’m doing it because I want to be the kind of man who is worthy of your love.” He lowered his voice a little but the anger still shone through.

“Oh please,” you shook your head. “You didn’t love me, Spencer. You love your ex-wife. Or maybe you love Blair, who knows? I can’t keep up with you.”

“Yeah, I do love my ex-wife, ok?” He grabbed you by the biceps suddenly, making you whimper. “Of course I do! It’s normal for me to feel that way. Her hurting me doesn’t change the fact that we had a lot of good years together. It doesn’t erase the fact she’s the mother of my kids. But it also doesn’t mean for a second that I don’t also love you.”

“I think you’re just scared to be alone.” You shook your head. “You can’t stand to be lonely. You don’t love me Spencer, you just want someone to play happy families with. Well it won’t be me.”

Spencer hissed and suddenly, using his grip on your arms he spun you around and shoved you up against the wall.

You whined as your back slammed into it, his grip on your biceps tightening.

“You think I’m lying? You think I would stand here and lie to you?” He spat right in your face.

“I didn’t say that. You might think you love me, but you only want me until the next pretty face walks by.”

“What the fuck do you think of me?” He shook you a little. “You think I’m some kind of fucking asshole who uses women and throws them aside once he’s done with them?”

“If the shoe fits.” You shrugged.

His jaw clenched tightly and his eyes were brimming with his rage.

“I didn’t throw you aside, Y/N, you walked away.”

“Because I heard you telling your ex you were still in love with her!” You yelled again, fighting against his hold on you but he was stronger. “And then suddenly you’re dating someone else entirely. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

“I thought she was what I needed. She knows what I’ve been through, she understands because she’s been there too. But she’s not you, she’ll never be you. And you aren’t exactly innocent in all of this, you moved on from me pretty fast if I remember correctly.” He was caging you into the wall, trapping you in your own room.

“I was trying to get over you.” You scoffed.

“By fucking some frat boy looking behemoth?” He raised his voice again.

“Don’t turn this around on me. It was your fault we broke up, not mine. If you’re allowed to sleep with every single mom who looks your way then I’m allowed to sleep with the decent guy who has had feelings for me since college!” You yelled back but you noticed his expression falter. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, finally letting go of you and taking a step back.

“What is it? I touched a nerve.”

“I didn’t sleep with her, ok? Is that what you want to hear? I didn’t sleep with her.”

“You expect me to believe that? You couldn’t get me into bed fast enough when we met!” You shook your head.

“You want to know the truth?” He suddenly grabbed you again and you found yourself quickly being pinned to the wall once more. “The truth is I couldn’t get it up for her. And I thought it was because of my goddamn antidepressants but it wasn’t. It wasn’t my meds, it couldn’t have been.”

“Why couldn’t it have been?” You swallowed thickly.

“Because,” he clenched his jaw again. “From the second you got out of bed and I saw what you were wearing…I got hard without so much as touching you and I have been ever since.”

You felt the air leave your lungs and you couldn’t stop from glancing down between your bodies, as if you needed proof. But low and behold you saw it, the obvious tenting in his slacks.

Your eyes flicked back up to his face and he was staring intently at you.

“So while you might have been spreading your legs for someone else, I couldn’t physically bring myself to sleep with her. I couldn’t even fucking masturbate because my hand isn’t you!” He spat.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You scowled at him. “Am I supposed to fall to my knees and thank you? You think you can come here and tell me you can’t get it up for another woman and I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“You got in my head, don’t you understand? You got in my head and into my heart. You’re under my skin, in my veins like a drug. Maeve, Blair; they have nothing on you. I thought Maeve was the love of my life because I didn’t know any better. She’s not the love of my life, you are!” He pushed you more firmly against the wall, his hips now pressing into yours and you could feel just how hard he was.

Did it make you a complete idiot for thinking you may fall back into bed with him? He made it so easy to hate him, but he also made it impossible not to love him.

You didn’t want to forgive him, didn’t want to give in and relent to him but it felt inevitable. The way he was looking at you coupled with his firm hold on your arms and his hard cock pressing against you was making you weak.

It was only a matter of time.

“I’m not even sure you know what love is.” You scoffed.

Were you deliberately baiting him? Were you purposefully trying to anger him further? Was there a part of you that liked seeing him like this, pushed to his limits?

As expected he tightened his grip on you and you could feel the bruises starting to form.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me, sweetheart?” He spoke, practically reading your mind.

“Whether I am or not, clearly it’s working.” You shrugged. “But if I really wanted to get a rise out of you I suppose I could tell you that while you couldn’t get it up for your girlfriend, I was having some incredibly mind blowing sex with Sam.”

Why were you doing this? What the fuck was wrong with you?

Perhaps it was the anger still flooding your veins, the hurt Spencer had caused you lingered like a rain cloud. Maybe you wanted him to know how it felt, you wanted him to feel your pain.

His eyes darkened as he stared at you and a menacing kind of smirk spread across his lips.

“Oh darling,” he chuckled deeply, angrily. “You and I both know he has nothing on me.”

“Wow, big headed much?”

“It’s not big headed if it’s a fact.” He laughed darkly again. “I put my all into everything I do, research and study so I am the very best at anything I set my mind to. And that is how I know I am good in bed. Better than that oversized asshat you spent your time with.”

You swallowed again, subconsciously pressing your thighs together. You hoped he didn’t notice but of course he did.

“How wet are you right now, Y/N?” He smirked, his eyes practically black.

“I’m…not.” You lied and he saw right through you.

“Oh ok,” he laughed again with a roll of his eyes. “So if I was to do this…”

He trailed off and removed one hand from your bicep. You watched it move between your bodies and suddenly it was between your legs, ghosting over the fabric of your shorts.

The soaking wet fabric of your shorts.

You hissed involuntarily and Spencer moved his hand back up to your bicep looking incredibly smug.

“I thought so.” He grinned dangerously. “You know you only need to say the word and I’m yours.”

“No.” You shook your head. “You hurt me, you broke my fucking heart!”

“Let me make it better, princess. I can make it up to you.” He softened, looking at you with something akin to love in his eyes.

“No.” You whimpered. “You can’t make up for what you’ve done.”

The darkness quickly returned to his eyes and in one swift move his lips were slamming into yours. You whined and the second your lips were parted his tongue plunged into your mouth.

You allowed him to kiss you, his hips grinding against yours. You were putty in his hands, a complete and utter idiot. But you didn’t care.

The kiss didn’t last very long before he was pulling back and staring deep into your eyes.

“You don’t want me?” He narrowed his eyes on you. “You want me to leave?”

You swallowed, trying to muster the strength to tell him to go, to leave and never come back. But you couldn’t.

Instead you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him back in for another kiss. And if you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn he was smirking into your lips.

Soon enough he was manoeuvring you away from the wall and over to your bed. His lips remained on yours, deepening the kiss as he went. You felt the back of your calves hit the bed but Spencer kept you upright with his hold still on your arms.

He moved his hands now, fingertips grazing down the sides of your rib cage, lower and lower until they reached the hem of your tank top. He hooked his fingers in the fabric and started raking it up your body.

He pulled back from the kiss, his lips puffy and swollen, and you raised your arms for him to lift the top the rest of the way off. He tossed it aside quickly and your hands found the ends of his tie, still hanging around his neck.

You used it to pull him back in for another kiss and then started on the buttons of his shirt. He shrugged his jacket off in the meantime and let it hit the floor.

You got him out of his shirt and it joined the other clothes on the floor. And then he pushed you back to the bed until your back collided with the mattress.

He regarded you with his dark eyes and a sinful smirk before crawling on the bed, kneeling either side of your hips. He laid on top of you, hissing at the contact from your bare chests.

He stroked your hair lovingly back off of your face in a stark contrast to his previous roughness. But it only lasted a moment as soon he was kissing you again with renewed fervour.

He grinded his hips against yours, relishing in the feeling of being able to get hard again. He should have known it wasn’t his meds. He should have known you’d be the cure.

His lips left yours and peppered kisses along your jawline. Your head rolled back to allow him access to your neck. In kind he moved lower, lips sucking against the skin on the front of your throat.

Your hands wandered to his shoulder blades, nails kneading the muscles while he moved on to place kisses all along your collarbones.

Soon they ebbed lower, lips leaving their trail over the tops of your breasts and then down your sternum.

He circled back to place a deep kiss on the swell of your breast before you felt his tongue swirl around your hardened nipple.

You moaned as he took the bud in his mouth, teeth grazing your peak, teasingly nibbling it. You arched your back, toes curling.

He sucked and nipped for a few moments before offering the same treatment to your other nipple. You were writhing beneath him on the bed, wanton moans and breathy pants leaving your parted lips.

A few more strategically placed kisses between your breasts and he was continuing his journey down your stomach, around your belly button and then across each hip.

You were rolling your hips up to meet him, desperate for more. He smirked against your skin, knowing he was driving you crazy but that was part of the fun.

He looked up at you through his hair which had now fallen into his face, while he placed kisses along the waistband of your cotton shorts.

You’d moved to grip his shoulders and were not so subtly trying to push him lower.

“Use your words, princess.” He spoke against your shorts. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want.” You whined.

“Do I?” He teased. “I think you might have to spell it out for me.”

He sat back a few inches, his large hands now on your thighs and parting them so he could kneel between them.

Your pupils were blown out as you looked up at him, face flushed red with your arousal.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please, what?” He was enjoying this. He was enjoying this too much.

“Please go down on me. Please, Spencer? God I missed your mouth between my legs.”

He made the most animalistic sound, closing his eyes and feeling his cock throb painfully. When he opened his eyes again you were staring right at him, begging him with your gaze.

“Oh how I have missed being between your legs.” He lowered himself again, kissing along your stomach once more whilst tugging at the hem of your shorts.

You arched your back again to aid him pulling them down your legs, the wet patch left behind in the fabric making Spencer feral.

He balled up the garment and brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply and moaning as the scent of your arousal encompassed him.

“Is this all for me, angel?” He smirked, dropping the shorts on the floor.

“Of course,” you nodded, hooking your legs over his shoulders. “Only ever for you, Spence.”

“Such a good girl for me.” He rewarded you by placing a kiss on your inner thigh. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-you.” You stuttered, desperate for him.

“Good girl.” He repeated and kissed the inside of your other thigh. “Who’s better in bed, angel? Me or that pumped up frat boy?”

“You are!” You whined. “No one’s better than you.”

“You really are such a good girl for me, Y/N.” He smiled, kissing slightly higher on your thigh.

“So g-good.” You agreed. “P-please?”

“Well, since you did ask so nicely.” He bowed his head, blowing air between your legs and making you squirm.

He lifted one arm and pressed his forearm over your hips, holding you in place. And then his tongue cautiously swiped through your silken folds.

He collected your arousal on his tongue, moaning at how good you tasted. You whimpered and your eyes fell shut, blindly reaching out until you found his head and threaded your fingers into his locks.

You dug your nails into his roots when he found purchase on your clit. He swiped his tongue back and forth over your sensitive bud a couple of times before wrapping his lips around it.

He suckled on you, tongue jutting out every so often to add to the pleasure. You tugged at his hair, grinding against his face, needing more.

He smiled against you, his free hand edging up your thigh. You felt two long, nimble fingers press against you.

He glanced up at you through his lashes and he saw your eyes squeezed tightly shut and a few tears forcing their way out.

He continued to lap over your clit while he pushed his two digits inside of you. He growled against you, he’d almost forgotten how good you felt. The way you stretched around his fingers was heaven, and suddenly he couldn’t wait to feel it around his cock again.

He’d had every intention of bringing you to orgasm like this and he knew it wouldn’t take a lot. But as he fingered you, his digits moving deftly in and out of your throbbing cunt, he simply couldn’t wait any longer.

He pulled his mouth away from you, causing your eyes to suddenly open. He kept his fingers inside of you, stretching you as much as he could in preparation.

“Why’d you stop?” You whimpered, tears staining your face.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.” His fingers brushed against your cervix and you shuddered and moaned. “I’m sorry, I need to be inside of you so badly.”

“Ok.” You nodded. “Please?”

He kissed your hip bones whilst scissoring his fingers inside of you a few more times. His other hand worked on the button of his slacks.

When he removed his fingers you whined again, feeling horribly empty. Spencer sat back so he could shimmy off his pants and underwear before laying back down on top of you.

His hard member found its way between your legs and he moved back and forth through your slick a few times. He bowed his head to kiss you, cupping your jaw tenderly.

“You’re not on birth control are you?” He spoke against your lips.

“I am now, I started on the pill.” You replied.

What you didn't say was that you’d gone on it because of his own paranoia. He’d somehow transferred his obsession with birth control onto you. He’d told you condoms were ninety eight percent effective, eighty five when factoring in human error. The pill, as you’d researched, was over ninety nine percent effective when taken at the same time every day, which you did religiously.

“Great.” He swallowed thickly, sitting back between your parted legs.

He held the base of his shaft and lined himself up with your desperate hole.

“I have condoms though.” You frowned up at him.

“I want to do this. I want to feel you, really feel you.” He insisted.

“You’re sure?”

“Did you use protection with him?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Then I’m sure.” He nodded although he wasn’t entirely sure that was true.

He did want this, more than anything, but that didn’t take away his fear of getting you pregnant. Realistically he knew the pill was incredibly safe, and the likelihood of you getting pregnant was very low. He couldn’t help but be paranoid.

But he wanted this, needed this. He wanted to take your relationship to a level he never thought he’d experience again. He wanted to be sheathed inside of you with no barrier, nothing between his cock and your throbbing walls.

“I will warn you I have not had unprotected sex in a very long time and I’m already dangerously close so if this doesn’t last long…”

“I don’t care.” You rolled your hips against him. “Please, Spencer?”

He nodded, taking a breath to stem his nerves. Keeping hold of the base of his cock he slowly pushed his way inside of you, his eyes rolling back in his head the second he inched passed your entrance.

The sounds emanating from his lips could only be described as sinful. He was careful in his movements, disappearing inside of you inch by painful inch.

It felt like coming up for air. Being inside of you like this was the most incredible feeling of his whole life. He could feel every tiny movement of you stretching around his heavy length, the smallest fluttering of your walls.

He bottomed out inside of you and collapsed on top of you, nuzzling his face against your neck and breathing heavily.

“There are no words in any human language to describe what that feels like.” He spoke into your skin. “You're definitely on the pill?”

“One hundred percent.” You confirmed, wrapping your arms around him.

“Good,” he lifted his head enough to look you in the eyes. “Because I want nothing more than to come inside of you.”

You moaned deeply and he felt you clench around him. His hips bucked involuntarily.

“P-please,” you nodded. “Please I want you to come inside me.”

He pushed himself back up, his hands either side of your face. You wrapped your own hands around his biceps, squeezing him to encourage him to move.

He started slowly, not wanting this feeling to end too soon. He pulled back almost all the way before leisurely sinking back inside of you.

He stared down on you, not breaking eye contact as he moved in and out of you. He was already close and he didn’t want this to end so soon so he continued his slow thrusts.

With each one his blunt head nudged against your bundle of nerves, and elicited a deep moan from your lungs. He was panting and grunting, closing his eyes briefly every time you clenched around his bare dick.

At that moment he had never felt so intrinsically connected to someone. He felt like he’d become a part of you and you him. Your body was simply an extension of his own.

He could feel so much, he’d forgotten what it was like to be like this, it was a feeling he wanted to last forever.

He’d never been so raw and exposed with another person and for a while that was the most wonderful feeling. But as he felt his orgasm start to build in the pit of his stomach, another unwelcome sensation joined it.

What the fuck am I doing?

He closed his eyes as an onslaught of emotions erupted inside of him. The voice of a woman he’d had a one night stand with telling him she was pregnant. Falling in love with a woman who could so easily tear apart the life they’d built together like it was a house of cards.

Spencer I’m keeping this baby whether you want to be a part of its life or not.

Spencer I’ve been having an affair.

Spencer, this is Bobby, my boyfriend.

Why is mommy leaving?

Why doesn’t she want to live with us anymore?

“Can’t do this.” He mumbled, his movements slowing ever further.

“Huh?” You panted squeezing his biceps. “I’m close Spence, don’t stop.”

“Can’t do this.” He repeated, his eyes snapping open.

He stared down at you again, stilling his movements completely. A look of remorse washed over him and he shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” He withdrew you, physically and mentally.

You whined when he pulled out, sitting up and frowning at him.

“What are you doing?” You mumbled, head hazy with your impending orgasm of which you’d been denied.

“I can’t do it.” He moved off the bed, getting to his feet, ignoring the fact his cock was still standing at attention.

“So we’ll use a condom.” You stared at his back.

“No, it’s not just that.” He turned back to you, eyes full of sorrow. “I should go.”

“What? Why?” You pulled the sheet around your body feeling exposed although Spencer didn’t seem to notice he was still naked.

“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry. I can’t do this Y/N.”

“Do what?”

“This. Us. It’s not going to work is it? We know that.”

“How do we know that?” You frowned at him.

“Have you just completely forgotten that we want different things? That hasn’t changed.” He shrugged, finding his boxers on the floor and pulling them on now as his dick started to soften with his overwhelming emotions.

“You came to me. You came to me, not the other way around. You come here and tell me you love me and sleep with me and now you’re saying this?” You were incredulous.

You jumped out of bed, quickly throwing your clothes back on while Spencer did the same. He didn’t button his shirt properly but he didn’t care or notice.

“I can’t do this, I can’t bring someone into my girls lives when it’s not going to work out. They’ve already been hurt by one woman, I can’t have them be hurt by another.” He raised his voice a little, stuffing his tie in his pocket.

“They have or you have?” You scoffed. “Let’s be honest here, Spencer. This isn’t about your kids, it’s about you.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No it’s not.”

“Maeve hurt you, I get it. But not everyone is like that.” You tried to reason with him but he kept shaking his head.

“I’ve known you for all of five minutes Y/N, I knew her for thirteen years. If someone can hurt another person that way after over a decade of marriage and two children then who’s to say you couldn’t do the same?” He spat, pushing his hair back from his face.

“So this is about you.”

“No,” he frowned. “What is meant is, if someone can hurt their own daughters that way, who’s to say a stranger couldn’t do it too.”

“Bullshit,” you rolled your eyes. “You’re scared Spencer and I understand that. What Maeve did to you was horrible, I can’t even begin to imagine what that was like for you. But you have to have faith that not everyone is out to hurt you.”

“Faith?” He scoffed, his expression indignant. “I have to have faith? Faith in another human being not to hurt my girls the way their own mother hurt them?”

“Spencer, come on. This isn’t just about them and you know it!” You yelled, getting frustrated by his deflection.

“You don’t get it.” He growled. “You don’t get it because you don’t have kids.”

“Kids are tough. They bounce back quicker. It’s adults that are the vulnerable ones. We’re the ones that hang onto those losses, that feel the pain longer. I’m not doubting for a second that your wife hurt them when she left and I am not saying they probably aren’t still harbouring some kind of feelings about it. But they are buoyant and you’ve let yourself drown.” You folded your arms over your chest, shaking a head a little in disappointment.

You saw the way he clenched his jaw, the way his eyes darkened again and it didn’t at all take you by surprise when he stepped forward and grabbed you roughly by the arm.

“You don’t know anything,” he was really close to you, spitting his words right in your face. “You don’t have kids, you don’t get it. You don’t get to tell me what my kids are going through. You don’t get to tell me what I’m going through. You don’t know my girls, and you don’t know me.” He shook you by the arm but you wouldn’t show him your fear.

“You think I don’t know you? Oh please.” You scoffed, his grip on you getting firmer, blunt fingernails pressing into the previous marks he’d left behind.

“You know the things I’ve actively shown you. You know the side of me I am willing for you to see. You don’t know me. Not the real me.” He growled, spittal flying from his lips.

“I know you.” You spat back. “I know you’re scared of being vulnerable, terrified of letting someone close to you because you were hurt in a way no one should ever have to be hurt by someone they love. You built up walls to protect your heart from another beating. You use your kids as an excuse not to let anyone in. Because deep down you are petrified of getting your heart broken again. So you’re pushing me away because you think it’ll be easier than giving me a chance to hurt you.”

His eyes were practically black now, his pupils and irises bleeding together in his anger. His grip on you was so tight it was starting to hurt but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him as much.

“You don’t know shit. You think because you're getting your doctorate in psychology that you can read me? If that’s the best you’ve got you’ve got a lot to learn.” He let go of you now, turning away from you. “This isn’t up for debate Y/N. This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have come here and now I’m leaving.”

“Coward,” you spat. “Fucking coward.”

He spun back to you, eyes somehow even darker than before.

“Fuck you.” He replied childishly.

“You’d rather be alone and miserable than be with someone you love on the off chance you might get hurt? That’s pretty cowardly Spencer.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I only told you I loved you to get you into bed?” A menacing smirk blossomed on his lips. “You said it yourself, I couldn’t get you into bed fast enough when we met. I was touch starved, I needed to get laid. I would have said just about anything to get in your pants.”

“That’s not true.” You shook your head meekly.

“It most certainly is true, Y/N.” He chuckled darkly.

“You’re lying.” You whimpered.

“Am I?” He clucked. “Do you really believe that?”

“If that’s true you are exceptionally cruel.” Your eyes misted over with tears.

“Like I said, you don’t know me. Maybe I’m just a cruel person.” He shrugged, taking a few steps backwards.

“I hope one day you wake up and realise you made a huge mistake.” You snarled at him. “I hope you wake up and it hurts, it hurts everywhere. It hurts because you threw away a chance at real happiness. I hope that day comes and I hope you track me down to tell me how much it fucking hurts. Just so I can say, respectfully Doctor Reid, go burn in hell.”

You stormed past him, flinging the door open and glaring at him angrily. His expression faltered a little, the darkness in his eyes fading.

“Y/N I…”

“Leave.” You motioned to the open door. “Get out of my apartment you asshole.”

He clenched his jaw, feeling a tightness spread to chest. It was as though he had been possessed for a moment, like something else had taken over his body. Now he looked at you, the pain behind your eyes, he wanted to take back every single word he hadn’t meant to say.

“I don’t think that I-”

“Don’t care.” You cut him off. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t care. I am done listening to you now. Get the fuck out of my apartment and don’t even think about coming back here. You might have saved yourself and your kids the pain but you have shattered my heart into a million tiny pieces Spencer Reid. I hope you’re fucking happy.”

“Y/N…”

“Go!” You yelled. “Now! Or I’ll call the cops.”

Spencer clenched his jaw again, rhythmically grinding his rear molars together to try and stem any tears that might threaten to fall. He gave you one last look before he nodded and headed past you through the open door.

Seconds later, before he even made it to your front door, he heard the bedroom one slam, so loudly the walls shook.

And he knew before he even got to the door that he was going to leave here, find a bar and get so drunk he may never wake up.

@foxy-eva @kbakery @chrissyflo3 @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @redbulldinner @derekm24

@pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @hades-disappointment-child @weirdothatwritess

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

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astrowithkaro · 2 years

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𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 💋

My astrology notes but this time they're a little spicy - keep in mind that this doesn’t necessarily have to be 100% accurate to you so take what resonates! I bring up both darker and lighter themes.

Do not copy, plagiarize or reword my posts, thank you! Give full credits if reposted - Karolina

❣️ If you’re genuinely looking for a very straightforward and passionate love, look no further than fire signs. I find that even though water signs tend to represent emotions and such, they’re almost always going to be confusing or give mixed signals. Find yourself a mature fire sign who is very clear about their intentions with you and are attentive to your needs. Fire signs tend to also be the signs who stay passionate the longest without letting the love die out.

❣️ If his mars is in 12H, he has ✨erectile dysfunction✨ These people usually watch porn a lot, especially from a very young age. This might be why they are more prone to any sort of sexual dysfunctions. This placement could also be a red flag in men if they keep their porn addictions a secret - it's probably because they watch hardcore/unusual porn.

❣️ I can imagine Virgo Venus men enjoy having quiet power. I think they might be really attracted to traits such as emotional intelligence and perhaps even trauma bonding through sex. They might like movies/books with themes of psychological sex or crime.

❣️ If you want the type of relationship where they will want to constantly give you money and buy you things, look no further than people whose mars sign is the same as the sign in your 8H. Material gworlll.

❣️ Mars conjunct Pluto are literal sex gods, the Wattpad kind. This is generally a very humble placement who are really mature with their sexuality but don't distance themselves either. They are perfectly capable to swallow you whole with the amount of pleasure they are able to provide. Although these tend to have trust issues, usually taken advantage of or very closed off because no one is able to give the same energy back.

❣️ Scorpio mars/venus have a thing for tight hugs or holding a partner really close during sex and I think it's so so wholesome ;) Generally speaking I'd say touch and sensuality is the way to these placements' hearts.

❣️ The 5º in significant planets can point towards very high sex appeal. That's because the 5th degree is the erotic degree in astrology. For example Marilyn Monroe has her MC in 5º 10H, thus her being the sex symbol from the 1950's.

❣️ If a chart has lots of 5H placements, that can indicate someone who might be non-monogamous. These people tend to make space for their sex life, they enjoy it being active and might not be interested in any long-term relationships. This could also be interpreted as a "player" placement. Bonus point it it's in Aries, Gemini, Aquarius or Sag.

❣️ Virgo mars could use sex or masturbation as a coping mechanism or a stress reliever on the daily. They enjoy having a planned sex routine which brings them closer to their romantic partner. They might really like the idea of a BDSM contract to spice up their sex life.

𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖎𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖞 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

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johannestevans · 3 months

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Fear and Anger

Modern fantasy short. A vampire comes into the GUM clinic with symptoms of syphilis.

Rated M, 5.5k. Aoife Harkin meets a vampire at the Caer Afon GUM clinic who’s certain he can’t contract STIs. Also featuring Ephraim Margolis. Lots of descriptions of genitalia, including a lesion on the penis, and some ED.

---

“AS A VAMPIRE, OF COURSE, I AM IMMUNE TO VENEREAL DISEASES,” boomed Mr DeLuca. “BUT NONETHELESS, IL MIO CAZZO—”

Upon Aoife’s request when giving his initial details, he had lowered his voice, but occasionally the windows of the examination room are still rattling on his more intense plosives, and even after putting a slight dampening charm over her ears to prevent them from ringing at the extreme volume, she knew that she would need to go and have a lie-down in the aftermath to prevent a headache.

Mr DeLuca was a very well-dressed man, of average height and somewhat portly – he wore a waistcoat with golden threads that barely managed to remain closed over his wide, barrel chest, and he had been so confident about dropping his trousers when Aoife had said it was time for an exam that his penis had felt close to slapping her as it bounced free.

It was quite a large penis, even on such a strongly-proportioned man, looking very thick and heavy even whilst flaccid, and she was unable not to think about the loud slap it would probably have made if it had made contact with her.

“That’s not strictly true,” Aoife said as she pulled on fresh gloves, and she rolled closer on the wheely chair, examining Mr DeLuca’s penis carefully, her lips pressed together and her brow furrowed. Strictly, he did not have to have his penis out for this conversation, but it didn’t bother, and unlike some men, he wasn’t being threatening or odd with it. It was just that he was odd. “Are you experiencing anything other than erectile dysfunction, sir?”

“DYSFUNCTION!?” repeated Mr DeLuca, his eyes widening. “IT IS NOT—”

“Mr DeLuca,” Aoife interrupted him, holding up one hand in a sign for him to stop, “I am not criticising your penis. You said you had had difficulty getting it hard?”

“Ah,” Mr DeLuca said, almost at normal volume, and then returned to his usual boom to declare, “YES, I AM FUCKING, WHAT, ONLY THREE TIMES A DAY? WHAT, AM I A CORPSE?”

“I see,” Aoife said. “Previously, you had a much shorter refractory period than you do now?” When DeLuca peered down at her, Aoife said, “Um, refractory, do you need me to look up a translation to…?”

“NO, NO, REFRACTORY, IS REFRATTORIO, I UNDERSTAND. MANY MEN, THEIR COCKS, THEY REST A WHILE AFTER THEY ARE SPENT, HM? BUT NOT MINE! MINE, HE IS ALWAYS READY AND WILLING, HE SPENDS, HE GOES, HE SPENDS, HE GOES, BUT NOW, AH! HE SPENDS, HE SLEEPS – FOR HOURS!”

“Right, I understand,” said Aoife.

Read more on Medium / / Read more on Patreon / / Read more on SubscribeStar

#musings #original fiction #vampires #writers on tumblr

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tiannasfanfic · 2 years

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Jumpstart

Eddie Munson x Reader (Smut)

| Eddie & Steddie Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: Getting older is unavoidable, and neither are some of the unpleasant things that come along with it. But being married to Eddie Munson means mid life doesn't have to be a crisis.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Author Note: Afab reader, they/them pronouns used (if any). Older!Eddie x Older!Reader (late 30's to late 40's, but unspecified in story). Established Relationship. Fluff and smut, with a dash of Hurt/Comfort. No gendered language used when discussing Reader's menopause symptoms.

CW: Menopause symptoms (brief mentions physical and emotional changes, difficulties staying wet, hot flashes, nausea); older amab having difficulties with erections; feelings of being unprepared for midlife changes; brief tangent about differences in men's and women's healthcare; Smut (p in v, dirty talk, praise, begging kink).

Word Count: 4,548

Eddie Munson Taglist: @eddie-swhore

“Damnit.”

Eddie’s voice was soft, talking more to himself than to you as he knelt behind you. He had one hand resting on your upturned ass, the other wrapped around the base of his cock to line it up with your entrance.

You felt him readjust himself to angle his hips a little differently. You shifted around some on your knees and elbows, getting into a better position yourself.

He then proceeded to try again.

You felt the head of his cock start to glide up and down along your slit. Eddie took extra care to circle the tip around your clit slowly, sending small bursts of electricity up through your center. The feeling not as intense as it could be, but still pleasurable enough to be enjoyable, and caused a small moan to leave you.

After several of these long, slow passes through your folds, you felt the tip pause right at your center. Eddie began to press the head of his cock directly against your entrance, pushing with a little extra force in order to finally push himself inside you.

You felt the pressure, bit your lip in anticipation of the feeling of him stretching you out…

Then nothing.

Eddie let go of his cock then. It drooped down from the position he had been holding it and the shaft rubbed against your inner thigh.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” Eddie said, leaning over to kiss you on the shoulder blade. “It looks like we’re gonna need some help tonight.”

That explained the damnit. He knew how much you’d rather not have to use lube. It didn’t feel quite the same to you, no matter how much a brand claimed theirs would.

You turned your head to watch him over your shoulder as he shuffled over a bit so he could lean over and reach over to the nightstand.

“Is it me being difficult, or you?” you asked, genuinely curious because sometimes you couldn’t tell the difference just by feel alone.

“You this time,” he said, pulling open the bottom drawer of the nightstand.

“Figures,” you said, chuckling as you watched Eddie pull the bottle of lube from the drawer.

He didn’t say anything, just chuckled and gave a good natured “mmhmm” in return. After squirting a generous amount of the lube into his palm, he wrapped his hand around his hard length and began to stroke it.

This was something that only recently started happening to you within the last year or so. It wasn’t anything abnormal, or even worrisome, or a sign of some larger problem. It was a natural part of getting older that was just a normal part of your life now.

And it was also something else you got to add to the ever-growing list of Shit No One Ever Warned You About.

While adding something to that list always came with a certain amount of annoyance, this one actually made you angry.

Turn your television to any station and you’ll soon be assaulted by ad after ad spreading awareness about erectile dysfunction and/or low testosterone. But have you ever heard anything about how your cooch may start going dry in the middle of sex, no matter how much you may want your husband to rail the fuck out of you?

Nope. Not one peep. Not even from other people you knew who had been assigned female at birth and had gone through this stuff already. Sure, they would talk about it once you mentioned it finally having experienced a new symptom yourself, but there was no preparation beforehand. No forewarning, no “hey, look out for this,” no nothing.

At times, it really felt like nobody cared what happened later in life for those of you were born with ovaries and a uterus, even from others with them. Once you all were out of your childbearing years, it seemed like society expected you to quietly disappear until needed as grandmothers or crazy spinster aunts. So long as the men in Indiana could get help being “the red-blooded Alpha American males they were meant to be” again, no one gave a shit what the other people might be going through.

Oh, how you hated that particular radio ad.

The silver lining in all this was that you had Eddie. He was such a loving and supportive partner through all of the messy changes you had been going through. Even on the days when your emotions were a bit rough around the edges, he figured out how to smooth them down for you. For that alone you felt like he deserved Time’s Man of the Year award.

Not only was he just an amazing, sympathetic, partner, but he was also an empathetic one. He knew what you were going through in his own way.

Despite the close similarities in your ages, Eddie actually began to experience his own changes a couple years before yours started. Part of that included some difficulty getting hard and/or staying hard. It didn’t always happen but became more common as time went on. There was no way to predict it beforehand, though you did notice it seemed to happen more when you had to stop for any reason, even just to quickly change positions. And, sadly, once Little Eddie decided he had lost interest, there was virtually nothing either of you could do to make him cooperate again.

While you both practically had the commercials for Viagra memorized by this point, medications were not something that could be done. Eddie had no problem with seeking out help, but the cost of the prescription alone was extremely prohibitive, much less the cost of the doctor’s appointment needed to get one.

One thing was for sure though. On the nights when his cock went on strike, as Eddie himself always phrased it, he made sure you were never left unsatisfied. He was always extra attentive, his normal mix of praise and degradation switching to pure praise for you. There was no edging, no overstimulation, just one orgasm after another as he worshiped your body with his fingers and tongue.

With all of the extra attention he gave you, you never had any fears that he wasn’t staying hard due to a lack of interest in you. Eddie made damn sure of that. The one time that inner demonic voice did pop up, you asked him about it just to be sure. He answered your question by making you squirt all over your vibrator multiple times.

Then your body started changing. And once that began, it felt like you were going through a complete upheaval. From your cycle to your emotions, everything started to feel completely different. And then, to top everything off, you started having some difficulty getting wet, which eventually progressed to having problems staying wet.

Just like with Eddie’s, it didn’t happen all the time. It was a purely random, but a fairly common, occurrence. He was always incredibly understanding about it, even perfectly willing to stop and take care of himself later on if you weren’t in the mood to continue. You never let that happen though, always wanting to get him off yourself instead. No matter if it was with your mouth or your hands, you never wanted to leave Eddie unsatisfied either.

And that was how things continued until one of your friends suggested trying some lube.

While the two of you had lube and used it for other sexual acts, it hadn’t occurred to either of you that it might really help with your dryness. You both felt silly about that afterwards once you’d tried it and found that it worked like a charm.

But, on some nights, even giving your body the extra help to get Eddie inside you still wasn’t enough to get you going. You would certainly be in the mood get utterly wrecked, but your cunt would be a cunt and not contribute anything worthwhile to the experience except for the warm hole.

When this happened, you always encouraged Eddie to keep going and finish himself off. There was no use in trying to make you cum at that point, a fact you both were well aware of. Any attempt would just leave you sore, uncomfortable and no closer to orgasm than before. But him continuing to fuck you wasn’t an unpleasant experience. The lube made his hard length glide smoothly through your delicate center. The careful, steady pace he kept was neither too hard nor too soft, too fast nor too slow. He always took his time, even if it took him longer to cum, because he wanted it to be an enjoyable experience for you too.

When your body wasn’t aroused, you discovered that your inner walls weren’t as sensitive, decreasing a lot of the sensations you would normally feel while having sex. That wasn’t to say it was unpleasant. Far from it. You loved having him inside you, even then. With Eddie’s slow, steady pace, and sometimes a little extra lube, you’d soon find yourself opened up to him completely without any sort of discomfort. If you had to describe it, you would say it felt more like an inner massage rather than sex. It still felt good and was even relaxing.

However, the one thing that made the whole experience worth it was getting to focus all of your attention on Eddie.

Usually when you were having sex, by the time his cock finally entered you, you would already be so fucked out that you couldn’t focus on anything else but the feeling of him finally being inside you. But now, during these times when each thrust wasn’t hurtling you closer to an earth-shattering orgasm, you got to notice little things you never had the chance to pay attention to before.

The way Eddie bites his bottom lip when he’s lining himself up to you. The way little tremors run through his body as the head of his cock finally pushes into your cunt. The way his eyes close and his jaw goes slack when he bottoms out. The way the muscle lines of his chest and abdomen flex with every thrust of his hips. The way he groans when he’s getting closer to orgasm, just before his thrusting picks up speed. The way his breathing grows just as erratic as his thrusting. The way his eyes roll back in his head when he cums. The way he’s fucked out and breathless when he collapses on top of you. The way he squeezes your body so very close to his until he can move again.

You didn’t know if it was possible to have mental orgasms, but it sure felt like you did as you watched Eddie in awestruck wonder as he used your body for his own pleasure. It was intensely intimate in its own way. Even if you didn’t get off physically, you were still left feeling satisfied and in bliss as your trembling lover laid in your arms, coming down from his own orgasmic high.

Presently, you watched over your shoulder as Eddie added a bit more lube to his cock before placing the bottle on the nightstand. He resumed stroking his shaft, making sure the hard length was evenly coated with the semi thick liquid.

Once he had come back over to you and repositioned himself behind you, you arched your back so it would push your ass further into the air. You then proceeded to give it a little shake and grinned back at him.

Eddie chuckled, giving your ass a little slap then a squeeze with his free hand.

“Still so needy for me,” he said, scooching forward a bit more in order to line himself up with you again. “Not even wet but you still want to be filled by my cock.”

Eddie could call you the needy one all he wanted, but you both knew the truth. He was far more needy than you ever were. When he needed to be inside you, he might also need you to beg for it first, for example, or he might decide he needs to make you cum three times before he needs to fuck you.

But, even still, between his choice of words and the loving, yet lustful tone of his voice, a small wave of pleasurable tingles washed over you. You bit down on your bottom lip, unable to stop yourself from blushing at how much he sounded like he wanted you.

Sadly, there was no response to Eddie’s words from downstairs despite how the rest of your body was reacting.

“What can I say?” you asked, then gasped softly as you felt the head of his cock starting to push into you. “I just fucking love how you feel inside me, no matter what.”

Eddie didn’t reply with words, he just made a soft humming sound of approval.

Once the head of his cock was nestled just inside your entrance, he stopped moving for a moment to let your body relax around him. Then he began a slow, shallow thrusting, at first working you open with just the head of his cock. Soon though, he began sinking a bit further and further into you with each inward thrust.

He only paused once after starting, and that was to check in with you briefly. When you verbally confirmed you were okay, he resumed that same slow and careful thrusting until he was almost fully inside you.

There was a longer pause now, both to check in with you again and to let your body adjust. Even with everything you did before during foreplay and the aid of the lube, your body still wasn’t fully ready to take him. It didn’t hurt but wasn’t exactly comfortable either. Not at first, at least, during these first few moments with his hard length resting inside you.

Soon, Eddie began to slowly, but carefully, do half rolls with his hips. He wasn’t pulling out more than halfway before sliding back in to not overwhelm you, gradually working you open. As your muscles relaxed, the head of his cock naturally probed deeper with each inward thrust.

When he was finally able to bottom out, the head of his cock pushed against that one hard to reach spot deep inside you that made always made you gasp.

Instead of gasping though, you moaned as a small and unexpected wave of pleasure washed over your body.

While it didn’t happen every time Eddie fucked you through a literal dry spell, sometimes he could hit that spongey spot just right and it was like he crossed your wires to jump start your body.

This was one of those times.

“Fuck, Eddie, just like that,” you managed to gasp after he did it again, resulting in another loud moan. “That, keep doing that!”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

It only took a few more thrusts against your most sensitive of spots before you felt heat finally start to build inside you. It quickly spread outward through your whole body, then finally settled between your legs. Your gasps and heavy breathing gave way to moans and whimpers. It wasn’t long before you could feel a texture change between your inner walls and his cock as your own wetness was added. The sensitivity of your inner walls increased, making the drag of his cock through you feel even better.

Finally, your body was responding properly to your husband’s attention.

Eddie could feel it too, your natural slick taking away some of the artificial feeling of the lube and making your cunt feel more like you again.

“That’s it,” he softly groaned down at you, keeping the same steady pace as one hand left your ass to softly rub up and down the center of your back for a moment. “That’s my girl. Let’s get that pretty cunt all nice and wet for me.”

Just as he intended, Eddie’s words went straight to your core. You felt your inner walls twitch around him for the first time tonight, which made him groan at the feeling. Hearing Eddie voice his pleasure in turn only made you wetter.

Now that you were closer to your normal state of arousal, Eddie picked up speed for just a few moments, making your moans come out higher pitched, before slowing back down to his previous pace.

“Gotta say,” he panted as his hands softly kneaded your ass cheeks. “I love how it feels when your cunt starts getting wet around me.”

“Yeah?” you asked, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder again.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, then pulled his cock out to the tip before slowly sheathing it back in you, making you both groan deeply. “It’s like- fuck! It’s like your body just starts fucking begging for my cock.”

While the two of you didn’t get as rough as you used to when you were younger, some of the lower impact kinks had carried over through the years. One of these was begging. No matter how many years went by, Eddie still absolutely loved to hear you beg for his cock. It made sense that he would interpret your body suddenly becoming responsive in this way.

Before he could start going faster and fuck you senseless, you stretched one hand above you to grab one of the pillows at the head of the bed. Seeing this, Eddie stopped for a moment so you could pull it down under your head and make yourself more comfortable.

After placing the pillow where you wanted it, you laid your upper half down on the bed, keeping your ass in the air. One of Eddie’s hands softly stroked your body, caressing up and down your side as you arranged your arms under the pillow then laid your head on it. You gave a little shake of your ass to let him know when you were ready.

He resumed at a careful pace, thrusting into you way more gently than normal. After slowly building back up to his previous speed, he gradually began going faster, giving you plenty of time to adjust with each increase.

Now you could feel that your body was completely back to its normal state, where every thrust was now intensely pleasurable. Your cunt now dripped with your own wetness, making the lube from earlier run down your inner thighs as Eddie fucked it out of you.

But not only that, you felt that coil in your belly start to tighten, the first sign of a building orgasm.

“Fuck, Eddie, harder!” you cried, your eyes squeezed shut.

“Gonna cum for me tonight, baby?” he asked, groaning as you nodded frantically into the pillow in response. “Fuck yes. Music to my ears.”

Now he no longer held back. With sharp thrusts of his hips, Eddie slammed his cock deep inside you. You moaned loudly, clutching onto the mattress under the pillow now. He gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back into him with every thrust. The head of his cock pushed deep into you, delightfully rubbing against all of your most sensitive areas.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he said, then groaned as you clenched around him at the praise.

You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, but not fast enough. You didn’t think either of you would make it at this pace. Since both of you had similar issues where your bodies could simply loose interest halfway through, you two had gotten really good at shorter sessions. You had been going for a while now and there was the very real chance that if you both didn’t finish soon, neither of you would get to.

“Eddie,” you gasped between moans. “Please.”

Without a word, Eddie shifted his position one last time, then pounded into you in that way you both loved. You cried his named and gasped curses, and he answered with grunted praise and breathy moans. One of his hands slid around your body and down between your legs, his fingers extending to rub the lips of your cunt around the shaft of his cock. When his fingers were slick with a mix of lube and your wetness, he dragged them down your folds to start rubbing circles around your clit.

“Fuck!” you screamed into your pillow, the force of his thrusts pushing your face into it.

As your cunt started to twitch around his cock, Eddie rubbed his fingers around your clit faster. He continued thrusting his cock into you, but his movements were starting to grow erratic as his own orgasm approached.

“C’mon, baby,” he panted, the hand he still on your hip griping onto it tightly. “Need to feel you cum first.”

The circles around your clit grew smaller and smaller until the pads of his fingers were circling directly over the throbbing nub. You nearly screamed in pleasure at the sensation. His fingers were so slick there was no friction, the tips of his fingers gliding easily back and forth over it.

At the position you were in, you couldn’t exactly move too much, but that didn’t stop you from trying to buck your hips forward into his hand. When Eddie felt this, he added a bit more pressure to your clit with his fingers.

Between the attention on your clit and his cock hitting deep into you, you were soon coming undone. When the coil snapped, you cried out his name and your cunt clamped down around his cock. You could feel yourself getting wetter just from your orgasm, so wet that Eddie actually slipped out of you as you were cresting over the edge. He cursed loudly, quickly reaching between you two to push himself back into your cunt.

His thrusting was the same hard and fast pace it was before, almost restarting your orgasm as he chased his own now. You felt yourself getting pushed over the edge again and your body trembled under his. The cry of pleasure that left your lips sounded closer to a sob as the feeling washed over you like a wave.

“Fuck, that’s it, fuck, fuck!” Eddie cried, slamming himself into you.

With a one last thrust so hard it made you squeak, his cock began to unload inside you, shooting his cum deep into your cunt.

His movements gradually slowed, and he continued to gently fuck you until hips finally came to a stop, his cock fully sheathed in you still. Your moans softened into breathless whimpers, finally settling into a heavy pattern of breathing.

It took a moment, but Eddie was finally able to pull out of you, then moved over so he could lay next to you on the bed. You turned to face him, and he slipped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest.

The two of you laid like that for quite a while, not talking but just enjoying being in each other’s arms. Eddie softly ran his hands and fingertips over your body, lovingly caressing you while he nuzzled the side of your head.

While he was always tender after sex, he always put in so much extra care after times like this where your body started off being unresponsive to his touch. Regardless of how it ended, with you being able to cum from it, Eddie knew how it started. You had only been doing this for him. In his eyes, you would’ve gotten nothing out of it had your body not decided to play along.

It still amazed him that you were still willing to do that, were willing to suggest it even since he certainly never would’ve had that idea on his own. He was always perfectly willing to stop anytime you couldn’t get wet, his needs always secondary to your comfort. Continuing to fuck you if you weren’t aroused was usually the last thing on his mind. Indeed, it had taken quite a bit of convincing for him to do it the first few times. He only became okay with the idea once he saw it wouldn’t hurt you.

Little did Eddie realize that’s exactly why you were so adamant that you make sure he’s taken care of. He never asks for it, never expects it even. He always took your lead on anything sexual that could cause you unintended discomfort. He even took no for an answer and would completely drop the subject immediately once the word was said, even in his body language.

As a result, in your eyes, Eddie Munson was more than deserving of all the best orgasms you could provide him.

After you two had been laying there for quite a while, another feeling of heat began to start in the lower part of your belly, but this one was quite different than the heat you felt earlier. It quickly spread through your body like a wildfire, finally settling in your stomach, twisting it around until you were nauseous.

You quickly scrambled away from Eddie, the normally comforting warmth of his body suddenly way too much for you. Swinging your feet to the floor, you sat up and leaned over, your forearms on your knees and your head dangling down. Despite the heat you felt all over, a cold, clammy sweat broke out from the top of your head.

The bed shifted around behind you, then you felt Eddie come sit next to you. He was close, but not touching you, since he recognized what was happening. You closed your eyes, feeling him watching you, but you didn’t mind.

It took a couple minutes, but the nausea eventually faded a little bit after the heat started to recede to somewhere back inside your abdomen.

You slowly sat back up and took a deep breath. It sounded a bit shaky as you let it out, a fact Eddie immediately picked up on. He placed one hand at the center of your back and started rubbing it in comforting circles.

“Bad one this time?” he asked softly, and you nodded. “Want me to help you get to the shower?”

You thought about it for a second. This was definitely one of those times where you needed one immediately after sex. The combination of lube, your wetness, your cum and his had coated your cunt and the skin of your inner thighs. But you shook your head. When the hot flashes were bad enough to make you sick like that, they also made you feel very weak for a while afterwards.

“Not just yet,” you said. “My legs are feeling shaky after that one.”

“I would hope so,” he said, grinning at you playfully as he puffed out his chest with pride. “That was some pretty good fucking work, if I do say do myself.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you playfully slapped his arm.

It never failed, no matter how badly these hormonal changes made you feel, Eddie could always make you feel a bit better.

When he left the room to get you a cold, wet washcloth for the back of your neck, you couldn’t help but wonder again why they were called “hot flashes” anyway. Calling them that was a huge understatement, like if you were to call the fires of hell a mere barbecue pit.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson one shot

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sourholland · 1 year

Text

teardrops on my guitar || jack hughes

making the bold choice of writing a fic for every song on debut by taylor swift, i’ll do it sporadically and for different people as well!! once i finish debut, we will see if i’m feeling fearless tv ☺️ ambitious, believe me I KNOW. anyways send requests

this is dedicated to @folklorelvr333 —tomg is her fave song on debut and jack is her fave guy (appreciate this bc i had to learn jack hughes LORE for this)

debut masterlist

Jack had moved to Michigan during his last years of high school to further his career in hockey and to try to secure his spot as a draft pick. When he started playing for the U.S. NTDP, he attended Plymouth-Canton Educational Park when he wasn’t on the rink. There, he met you.

Jack hadn’t ever claimed to be good with girls, not really. He liked you, though. He liked you a lot. He remembered being paired up with you in lab during his first week. He thought he’d made his interest incredibly obvious. That was, if his pink cheeks and clammy hands weren’t a telltale sign of his trying to flirt with you. Mistakenly, he’d realized he’d done just about the exact opposite. He’d made himself out to be a best friend to you, a shoulder to lean on.

It wasn’t like the NTPD staff had really given him the choice of having a girlfriend, they’d actually discouraged it more than anything. He was on an extremely strict schedule, right down to the time he should be in bed every night.

“So you’ve pretty much got it all laid out for you then?” You’d asked him at lunch one day, sitting across from each other and picking at your food.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” He laughed, confused.

“I just mean—I don’t know, you’re seventeen years old, Jack. You’re always here or at the rink. I get it and everything, like you’re going to go pro and stuff. I just wonder sometimes if you ever do anything for you, you know?”

Jack’s lips formed a thin line, inhaling deeply as he thought about your words. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand where you were coming from, it was just all he’d ever really known. His parents had him on the ice before he was two years old. He’s eat, slept, and breathed hockey his entire life.

“I do all this for me,” he finally said. “I want this.”

“Come on,” you huffed, teasingly. “You’re telling me you never think about going out and partying? Or like, I don’t know, having a girlfriend?”

His face flushed almost instantaneously, trying to avert his gaze to anything but you. Of course he though about having a girlfriend. He thought about it every time you’d call him after practice to talk about homework. He thought about it each morning when he pulled up in front of your house and you climbed into his passenger seat, laying your hands on his forearm to tell him whatever girl drama you’d found out the night before.

“No, I guess I don’t really think about it much.”

“Bullshit,” you chided. “If that’s true, do you think you have erectile dysfunction or something? Like a hormonal imbalance?”

“What the fuck?” He laughed, nearly spitting out his Gatorade. “No, I definitely don’t have—”

“You’re blushing!” You cut him off, smiling ear-to-ear.

Jack cherished your time together in school; he rarely had a free moment outside of classes that he wasn’t playing hockey. He always felt horrible declining your offers to hang out, but he genuinely couldn’t find a free moment.

A part of him feels this is to blame for your relationship never progressing further. He thought you’d maybe felt something more than platonic feelings for him at one point, but who wants some guy who is too cool for any school functions and can’t see you on weekends because of practice or tournaments. Although, he’d never been honest with you about his feelings either.

It was only a matter of time before you moved forward with your life, leaving him to wonder what could’ve been.

Jack wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t sting every time you’d bring a new guy up, what might’ve taken the cake was when you’d brought one to a hockey game of his. It was like one of those movie moments, Jack thought at practice the next day. He’d seen you in the stands, face lighting up, only to notice the guy beside you with his arm around you.

He wanted to hate the kid, too. Only then did he realize how jealous he truly was. He was heartbroken over a girl he’d never even dated. How was that even possible, Jack would wonder as he stared up at the ceiling in bed.

He could’ve told you, could’ve been honest about how he felt about you. Who knows what would’ve happened, but at least you’d have known. It was too late, he saw how happy you were and had to match your expression with fake smiles and words of encouragement laced with frustration and envy.

Jack tried not to hate himself for how he’d let the situation play out, but he truly couldn’t.

You’d fall in love, and he’d watch. And there was nothing he could do about it.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x yn #jack hughes fanfiction #jack #hughes #elle’s fics

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 6 months

Note

hello! is hair (similar to pubic in "texture") growing around the nipples a sign of hormonal imbalance or some shit for an afab person? i'm 27 and this has never been sth my body does, i started noticing the hair maybe two months ago and there is more and more of them... for the context ive never been on any hormones and i am most definitely not underweight (i know body hair does weird stuff when people are malnourished)

hi anon,

hair growing on the areola (the pigmented skin surrounding the nipple) is extremely typical for anyone, regardless of the gender they were assigned at birth or what hormones are most prevalent in their body. humans are hairy creatures, and it's considered "normal" for hair to grow pretty much everywhere except for on our lips, the bottoms of our hands and feet, and right out of the actual nipple itself.

for most people the growth of body hair begins in earnest around puberty, although there's no reason why it couldn't happen in your twenties - bodies are always changing!

the only reason I'd say this might be cause for concern would be if you've also noted any other changes consistent with certain conditions that can also cause unexpected hair growth. polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) is a common offender, as it causes people with vaginas to experience a higher-than-average amount of "masculine" hormones. those can cause more hair growth than is typical, although the big tell with PCOS is usually going to be an irregular menstrual cycle that swings from missing periods altogether to painful, heavy, long-lasting bleeding.

the other option is cushing syndrome, which results from having unusually high levels of cortisol in your body. this can cause such a buckwild buffet of symptoms that it's simply going to be easier for me to borrow this handy graphic from our friends at Healthline rather than list them all out:

and that's not even all of them; my personal favorite is that is can also cause erectile dysfunction! and, yes, for people with vaginas, it can also include an excess of hair in places where hair wouldn't usually be.

anyway, cushing syndrome is triggered by an over-production of cortisol and is most often triggered by a significant source of last, chronic stress: physical injuries and illness, pregnancy, rigorous athletic training, severe malnutrition, or mental health issues like depression and anxiety.

in all likelihood there's no reason to be alarmed about the hair on your areolas, but if you're experiencing any other notable physical changes that sound like they could align with PCOS or cushing syndrome I'd definitely recommend doing a little research on your own to see how well the symptoms match up and decide if you want to take your suspicions to a healthcare provider.

#sex edventures 2024

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babygirlispunk · 1 year

Text

Summer Fling - PART FOUR

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: fun in the sun gets interrupted but Pedro has something new planned for you...

Warning: 18+ MDNI, drug use, oral (f receiving), fingering.

Word count: 5.6k oops

A/N: as always ily a milly to everyone sharing and liking the story, I look forward to writing this and posting for yall so enjoy 🧡

PREV - MASTERLIST - NEXT

"Why are you dressed like Adam Sandler?"

Standing at the doorway Syria eyes you up and down, looking at your borrowed outfit and last nights hanging over your arm, boots in hand. Pedro let you borrow a pair of his shorts and tee along with a pair of slippers provided by his hotel. You insisted on wearing your own clothes but he felt bad about you going commando in a dress when your underwear somehow slipped underneath the egregiously heavy and low couch.

"Jesus, is this couch made of cement?" you strain as you try to lift it up. "I'm starting to think you kicked them under there on purpose."

Pedro, already having given up with the couch, is rummaging through his luggage. He pulls out a pair of briefs and waves them your way. "Would you like purple or red?"

Rolling your eyes and also giving up on the couch, you slump down staring at the sunny city. Listening to him shuffle around behind, you look out the window seeing other people in the buildings across and wonder if you should be sitting naked in front of a large window.

"I'll just wear my dress, as long as I stay up straight, no one will see anything."

You rest your head back and look up to see Pedro looking down at you through his glasses with a goofy smile before your view is muffled when he drops some clothes on your head.

"I haven't had much trouble here with paps, but just to be safe. I'm sure you'd rather be snapped looking like a little boy than flash the world." The clothes slide down your face, allowing him to give you a smooch. "As pretty as it is."

You scrunch your face at Syria mockingly. "You know why."

Entering your shared apartment you bee line for the bathroom, Syria hot on your heels.

"The sex must have been life changing."You look great for someone who was munted last night."

You stop in your tracks to face her. "Trust me, my head is pounding."

"So was this a 'hit it and quit it' sitch? The way you were dancing together, I wasn't expecting you back for a few days."

"Me too." you say apprehensively.

"Did you have to sign an NDA?"

"No. I'm gonna shower now."

You try to make your way to the bathroom but Syria is eager to get answers out of you and is blocking your way.

"Erectile dysfunction?"

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "What!?"

"He is older... it's possible..."

"SYRIA! He didn't fuck me!" you say aloud, frustrated.

Before you can further explain yourself, there is a knock at the front door. Simultaneously turning your heads, you look at the door wondering who your uninvited guest is.

"I'll explain everything later okay? I have to shower and get ready."

You rush to the bathroom, letting Syria answer the door. You hear muffled conversation over the running water. It must be the postie with another one of Syria's thousands of online orders.

Wrapped in your towel, you leave the bathroom to your bedroom only to see a curly headed guest on your couch conversing with your room mate.

"I can't believe you left him out there to boil in the car, it's already 30 degrees out there!" she fakes being concerned, a very obvious snicker on her face.

"It's okay, I had air con. I just needed to use the bathroom."

While Pedro is looking your way, eyebrows raised by your lack of clothes and wet hair as if he hasn't seen you naked already, Syria is bouncing excitedly in her seat and you can only glare at her like a mother silently telling her child off.

"Well it's free now. I'll be ready soon." you awkwardly point to the steaming bathroom.

Levering himself off your couch, he makes his way to the bathroom, not before pulling your chin with his finger and kissing you. Once the door is shut, Syria is of course ogling you.

"A lot to unpack there." she says smugly.

"I'll pack your shit up and throw it out the window if you don't kick back." you whisper so Pedro can't hear you.

She throws her hands up in surrender, giggling maniacally.

Once you've changed into something beach appropriate, shorts and a top, you say your goodbyes to Syria and head back to Pedro's rental car. As you're placing your beach bag in the back seat you hear a rapid clicking sound in the distance. Your head whips around looking for the source but all you see are everyday people making their way.

"Maybe you should drive?"

"Huh?" Your attention is pivots back to Pedro.

"Not used to driving on the left side and you know the city better than me."

"It's weird how you drive on the right but it's wrong."

He sucks air through his teeth, holding back a smile. "I'm not even going to give you the satisfaction of a laugh. That was a horrible joke."

"Come on, you know it was funny."

He shakes his head, still holding in his laugh, gesturing you to take the driver seat. You do so not without him stealing another kiss from you, hand holding tight on your hip and the other cradling your face.

Slow, intimate... longing...

(For the vibe: Porcelain, Natural Blues and/or Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad? by Moby)

Windows down, warm breeze whipping through your hair and Pedro's ruffled curls, getting closer to the ocean and the smell of sea salt wafts into the car, the sun kissing your skin playfully, you are engulfed in a sense of freedom that only summer can summon.

You both bop along to music he has playing from his own playlist. Some Fleetwood Mac, Madonna, Pretenders, Moby and others. Driving along the esplanade, music pumping, the blue of the sky and the sparkle of the ocean connect on the horizon to your right and you peak Pedro admiring the view from your left peripheral.

When you arrive Pedro starts taking pictures of the view, even brining you in for a selfie together. Some goofy, some cute, you're glad he wants to memorialize your time together. You follow the path down the cliffs to the beach, passing a sign that catches Pedro's eye. You join him to see the hazard signs, wildlife info, beach history and acknowledgements.

"You are on Bunurong Country. Wominjeka. (Welcome)" He reads out. "What this?"

"It's an acknowledgement to Australia's Aboriginal People. The original custodians of the land along with the Torres Strait Islanders before it was... colonised."

"Oh that's cool that they do that."

"Its the bare minimum after what they've been put through..."

"Fuck the colonisers."

"Yeah, fuck them." You feel relieved that he understood your sentiments.

You tip toe your way through the scorching sand to find a spot near the water. Even though it was mostly families from the area that frequent this beach, Pedro suggested you two set your stuff somewhere more quiet. So you settled for a spot closer to the cliffs that close in onto the water.

Eagerly, wanting to be free from the confines of your clothes because it is quite frankly, boiling hot, you undress your self down to your bikini. Welcomed by the harsh rays of the sun, you reach into your bag for the sun screen and wasting no time to lather it on yourself. Looking over to Pedro, he has set his towel down and you feel yourself shy away as he watches you through his sunnies.

"Make sure you slip slop slap. The sun is pretty rough down here."

"Make sure I do what now?" he raises his brows high enough over his sunnies in confusion.

"Put sunscreen on?"

"So many weird words and sayings you have here."

You blow raspberries at him and continue lathering yourself down, squirting some into your hand and applying it to your chest making sure to be extra slow and meticulous reaching into the cups of your bikini. You hear him groan out a 'mierda' under his breath, leaning over and grabbing the bottle.

"Turn around, I'll do your back for you."

Seated on your knees, you face your back to him, so he can rub the sunscreen onto your back. His hands glide over with a nice level of pressure that feels like a massage making you purr with enjoyment. The pressure deepens as his thumbs press harder into your skin, closing your eyes and slouching your head down. His other hand lifting at your strap, you follow the feeling of his hand only for him to let go of it and snapping your skin giving you a sudden jolt, getting a titter out of you.

Hands move to your lower back, again, applying that nice pressure. His fingers skim at the hem of your bottoms almost tickling you, then grabs handfuls of you ass, diligently making sure to cover every part of them.

Once he's sure he is done, he moves in closer and hugs you from behind, pressing his hard on against your lower back. Lips next to your ears he whispers. "It's actually no fair how much you turn me on just from your existence."

"I'd be more than happy to help with that." you murmur back.

"Soon. But for now I need you to do my back too."

You swap positions and admire how lean and broad his back is, impressed with how well his taken care of his body over the years. Hands spreading across, you lather his back and make your way down. Sliding your fingers slightly under the hem of his shorts, you follow it around to the front, brushing the soft snail trail and just teasing to go lower before his hands move them away.

He was adamant on not letting you touch him. You start to feel like you might be coming on to him too strong and pushing his boundaries like a creep.

"What's wrong?" he asks when he notice your visible discomfort.

"Am I being too much? If me touching down there is uncomfortable for you, just tell me now and I'll stop. Just hard to tell when we keep feeling each other up." you feel slightly embarrassed.

He gives a soft laugh and kisses your forehead. "I like it, don't worry. Just keep it above clothes for now, okay?"

"Okay." you smile and nod back, now understanding where he stands but still unclear about his reasoning.

Not dwelling on the conversation, Pedro jumps to his feet and scoops you up in his arms, bridal style with a smile from ear to ear. Taking you by surprise, you squeal as he runs to the water. Hooking your arms around his neck not wanting him to drop you but you're soon startled by the cold as he plunges you both underwater.

Resurfacing, you gasp for air and rubbing hair and water away from your face, eyes slightly stinging. Pedro has his face half submerged in the water staring at you cheekily as bubbles pop around his face, giving off a boyish charm that keeps him looking younger than he is.

"The waters a bit fuckin' fresca." you say, splashing water at him that he chuckles away from.

Whipping his wet hair from his face, spraying you a little, he closes in to you for a hug. You're surprised by the warmth from his body, getting in closer, revelling in the friction as your goose bumped skin presses against each other. Wet and salty kisses are exchanged as water slaps around your enclosed bodies, sharing small moans into one another. You don't think you could ever get sick of kissing him.

"So tell me about yourself Soleada." he asks while grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his waist for better balance.

You had noticed every other time he had used that word for you. You just weren't sure what it meant and a bit shy to ask. He definitely knew your name, so he wasn't calling you someone else so you were curious why he kept calling you that.

"Sol... means sun... so-"

"Sunny or like sunshine." he intervenes your thought process.

"Why do you call me that?"

"Just have sunny disposition to you."

You blush from his compliment and look at him curiously, brushing the hair sticking to his forehead aside, wanting him to elaborate.

"You just seem like-like the type to really brighten up a room, like your presence c-could cheer anyone up and have that 'half glass full' type attitude. Yeah... like people would go to you, trust you. You have that type of vibe and would just have a natural attraction that people lo- gravitate towards."

"That... that's actually really sweet. Like such a meaningful compliment..." Feeling a warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest despite the cold waves slapping against your body, it's almost overwhelming how sentimental he is. "Thank you."

As the sun beats down and your body acclimates to the cold water, or just gone numb, you and Pedro never let go of your embrace as he listens to you talk about yourself while the waves pushed and pulled your bodies. You spoke of your career that you studied hard for and love to do despite the down days, you spoke of your family and your relationship with them, your friends and how you and Syria became besties in Uni despite your polar opposite personalities. He listened intently and asked questions, never turning the conversation onto himself, even keen to listen to mundane things like your favourite music and artists, movies, shows and what food you liked.

"-and I just really love the beach, you know? Growing up, I always had an affinity for the ocean. My family would call me a dolphin because I took every opportunity I could take to be in water. Even in the dead of winter I convinced my parents to let me swim in this outdoor pool." Pedro's lip quirks up, amused. "Regretted it of course, but you get the gist. Just felt like all my problems are gone when I'm in here. If I'm ever rich enough, I'd buy a nice boat and sail in some tropical archipelago country. Living off of the local islands and the sea."

"That would sound like a nice way of living."

"One can dream..."

After talking some more, you two finally decide to swim back to land and dry off. Walking towards your towels you notice some people, mainly girls and women looking your way. More so Pedro's way. You look at Pedro seeing if he's noticed but he's already getting himself comfortable on his towel, patting on yours to lay down with him.

Before you can say anything- "I noticed them. If they want to say hi, they will come. Otherwise I just go about my day."

Frowning at the thought of being a walking exhibit for the public, you think about when you kept gawking at him the first time.

You follow his lead and lay down on your stomach, ignoring the onlookers, pulling out a book to read while you soak some sun. Concentrating on the words on the pages, you're comforted by a hand placed on one of your ass cheeks. He just rests it there and you look at him, eyes closed and blinded by the sun with a lopsided grin, topped with wet curls frizzled on his head. You snort out a laugh and go back to reading your book.

If the waves and cawing seagulls weren't loud enough, you would've missed that clicking sound you heard before. It was faint but you could just make it out. Looking around through squinted eyes, trying to see where it is coming from you're distracted by a small group of girls making their way in your direction. You hope they are just heading for the cliffs to climb them. However, the hand resting on your ass slips away indicating he knows they're on their way.

"Hiiiiiiii. Sorry to bother you but can we get a picture with you? We're big fans!" A high pitched voice asks nervously.

"Of course." Pedro chimes.

The girls all huddle around him, each taking selfies with him. You admire him while he does his thing, impressed by how unbothered he seems by it. Guess he really does appreciate his fans. Though he does keeps his distance, holding his hands behind his back while posing. A few of the girls look your way and you just smile back not wanting to come off as hostile.

"Do you mind taking a group photo of us?" A blondie asks, slightly standoffish.

You nod your head and smile. Getting up, a phone is passed to you and watch as they crowd around him while Pedro stands in the middle of them. You press the button multiple times to make sure they have few to choose from knowing that one photo is never enough.

Once you're done, you hand the phone back to the girl and they finish off their praises and compliments to Pedro as he tries to humbly deflect them and thank them. Then they walk off, giggling amongst themselves.

"Hope you don't mind." he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his freckled chest.

"Nah, its cute seeing them get all excited to see you. And you're real sweet and attentive to them. All of them actually. Like that loser last night."

"Don't worry, I won't let them take all my attention away from you." his voice lowers and closes in to your face.

"It's all good, as long as you make it up to me." you flirt back, pouting your lips to invite him in.

He sees his invitation and accepts it, kissing you gently and you wrap your hands around his waist to feel his warm skin against your own.

Between pecks you ask, "Wanna check out the cliffs and rock pools? There's even a rocky pier we can climb to."

But again you here that sound that is so jarring against the sounds of nature and you notice the smile on Pedro face drop as well, jaw tightening and eyes stern. Looking over your shoulder, you see the source of the sound.

A guy holding a large camera and looking through the view finder was taking photos of Pedro. And you. Did this guy follow you all the way from your apartment? Fuck. You snap your head back to face away so the guy doesn't get a shot of your face. Having your face and identity plastered all over the internet was the last thing you wanted.

"Fuck me dead." You groan into Pedro's chest, knowing your time at the beach is now interrupted and invaded.

Pedro plants a kiss on your forehead for reassurance and starts packing up his stuff from the sand. "Time to go."

You stand there, annoyed, watching him pick up his stuff.

"We're just gonna let him ruin our day?" you pout.

"Trust me, he'll hover around and it won't be fun for either of us. I'm hungry anyways."

You reluctantly agree and pack up your belongings as well, placing your towel over your head to cover your face. You head back to the car, your hand in Pedro's as he lead the way and walking past the pap, who continues to snap away like you're some zoo exhibit.

When you pull up back to your place, you let out a big sigh, releasing the tension that had built up while you were driving and grovelling over the pap who cut your beach day short.

"So..." Pedro begins rummaging through his bag looking for something. "I was saving this for the beach but I guess having this now wouldn't be so bad."

He pulls out what you assumed was a rollie at first, only to realise it was bigger and more coned shaped. Your face drops and eyes widen when you realise.

"Is that bud?"

"Bud?" He quizzes back, again imitating your accent.

"Marijuana."

He nods seemingly proud of himself.

"You know that's illegal here right?" you utter in disbelief, glancing around the street to make sure no one is around. "Where did you even find that?"

"Some guy sold it to Nico that he met at a bar."

"Christ on a bike Pedro." you say it flat and he just shrugs a 'what'. "If its illegal here, that also means it's not regulated either! That shit could be laced!"

You have your fingers squeezing the bridge of your nose at the absurdity that he'd just buy some bud from a random. A random that could have also been an undercover jack.

"Oh it's safe. I already had some the other day."

All you can do is stare at him, deadpan, blinking rapidly in shock.

"I'm guessing you haven't tried it before. If you don't feel like it, I get it."

Eye flicking between the joint and Pedro's face, you think about it. There had been times you wanted to try it but never felt quite comfortable to do so. Especially knowing how messed up drugs can be, being unregulated here. But Pedro said it was fine, and he was experienced with it so there wasn't really anyone else you could trust more.

"Fuck it." You huff, rolling down the windows so you don't hotbox yourselves.

He lights it up, taking in a few puffs so it stays lit. The smell is strong and you start to get nervous, looking around to see if anyone is near or walking past. Especially keeping an eye out for that pap.

Pedro passes the joint to you but pauses. "Are you sure?"

Before you can chicken out, you grab it from him and place it between your lips. Inhaling it like you would a cigarette, you are taken aback by how rough it felt in your throat causing you to choke and cough aggressively. You shove it back to Pedro so you don't accidently drop it during your coughing fit.

He laughs playfully as you struggle, while patting you on the back sympathetically. Looking at him through teary eyes, his face is framed by a haze filling the car. You try to come off as intimidating for laughing at you, squinting your eyes at him but as he nods his upside down smile and raised eyebrows indicate you might already look high.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine." you lie, head already spinning. Taking the joint back to take a another puff, more slowly this time as to not cough your guts out.

Eventually you get used to smoking the joint but Pedro makes sure to have the majority of it so you don't have too much on your first go. You feel as stiff as a rock, sinking into your chair while simultaneously feeling airy and like you could float out the car. You're becoming more aware of your surroundings, eyes darting around scoping the area and can feel every fibre of your clothes against your skin, you're even a little nauseous. When did it get so bright and loud around here? You don't even notice Pedro getting out of the car till he opens your door, putting the window back up and placing his hand in front of you to take.

"Let's get something to eat." his voice is low and scratchy from the smoke, bringing a giggle out of you because you find it hot.

You're not sure how you look to the public, but you're sure it's silly because you can't seem to the get rid of the smile spread across your face. Your cheeks hurt from laughing at nothing and everything as you two walk down the street to a local burger shop. Your mind is elsewhere and you can't even comprehend most of what Pedro is trying to say to you and you just giggle and nod in response repeatedly.

"You're being real cute right now you know." he whispers to you. His words are soothing and you nuzzle into his shoulder, taking in a deep inhale of his scent. That sweet musky scent that smells extra enticing right now.

Feeling his body come to a halt, you look around realising you had reached the end of the street in front of the burger shop. You scramble through your brain trying to remember how you got here so fast. You were just at the start of the street a second ago? Right?

Pedro speaks to the cashier and places his order.

"I swear we were still at the start of the street." you mumble.

Pedro chuckles, motioning you to the cashier. "Order what you want."

After squinting at the menu for some time, you tell the cashier what you want and he tallies up the price. "That'll be twenty-six forty, thank you."

You look over to Pedro to make sure he doesn't pay and thankfully he is distracted by a fan behind you in line. You peep into your purse and pull out 2 tens and hand it to the cashier before looking through your purse again to find the other ten note you swear you had.

"Here's your change, your order will be ready soon."

You look at the change in his hands disoriented and confused. "No no, I was suppose to give you another tenner."

"You gave me thirty dollars Miss." the cashier insists.

"No I only gave you twenty, just let me find the other-" you don't know why but you feel slightly panicked.

A pair of hands grab your shoulders. You hear Pedros voice thank the cashier who is smiling awkwardly back at you, grabbing the change and moves you to the side so the next person can order.

"I swear to God I only gave him twenty and I swear I had three tens in here." you ramble on as Pedro places the change into your purse.

He cups your face and lifts it up to look at him, immediately entranced by his deep brown eyes, that cheek aching smile forming back on your face.

"You're just really high right now Soleada." You shake your head aggressively not believing him. "Thank you for paying, but next time I'm paying okay?"

"How un-feminist of you." You joke.

He fakes laughs and rolls his eyes, squeezing your shoulder playfully and holds onto your swaying body while you wait for your order.

After comically scoffing down your burger, munchies coming in full charge, you walk back (more so Pedro is leading you back by hand like you're a lost child with your scattered brain) to your apartment needing to rest as the weed starts to really set in heavy.

"Syria?" You call out as you open the door. The room is quiet and there's no response. She must be out. Letting Pedro in, you lock the door behind you. "Looks like we have the pl-"

Back pressed hard against the door, you're almost winded by the sudden movement as Pedro leans his body into yours, hungrily kissing you. Your heart skips a beat, mind and body catching up with the moment and returning the feeling, kissing him back as deep as you can, desire immediately pooling your underwear.

The door shakes from the weight of your bodies desperately pressing into each other, your core yearning for the feeling of his hardening cock rubbing up against you.

Still high, the feeling of his hands grazing up and down your skin blazes with intensity you haven't felt before. You follow the fire trail down to the hem of your shorts, fingers roughly pulling them down along with your bikini bottoms.

He doesn't waste a second to slide his fingers through your folds, wetting them with your slick. Your breathe hitches when his finger tips find themselves on your clit, applying a soft pressure while circling slowly. You buck your hips forward to pressed harder against his fingers.

"Need. You. Now." he growls between hasty kisses.

You mewl in agreement, relishing in the most simple action; feeling tens times more pleasurable then if you were sober. He sweeps you off the floor, hooking his hands underneath your thighs and you wrap your legs and arms around him.

Sounds of furniture getting knocked and giggles echo in your empty apartment while he walks blindly to your room never letting go of the kiss. Stopping at the end of your bed, Pedro gently lowers you down.

Slivers of the sun shine on your body through the slatted shades on your window and he gazes down on your body, watching you slip your top off and undoing your bikini strings, eyes heavy with lust, licking his lips, breaths shallow.

Your heart rate accelerates when he lowers on top of you, one hand placed firmly beside you and the other tightly griping your hip, his thumb applying pressure into your pelvis. Haphazardly kissing up your neck, you wrap your legs back around to bring him closer and he grinds into you.

"So needy Soleada." he whispers into your ear, each roll of his hips into you building the tension.

Realising he is still at the end of the bed, you try to squirm up to make space for him to get on, anticipating what is to come but his grip on your hip holds you in place. You keep trying to wriggle underneath him so he'd get the hint but instead it just create more friction against your clit as he grinds on you, small whimpers slipping out of you.

He starts sliding down you, leaving a line of kisses down your chest. Watching him slowly leave wet spots along your torso, he gets on his knees. You hold yourself up onto your elbows to watch him continue to kiss around your mound, getting softer the closer he gets.

"Fucking tease." you say, sounding more like a beg than in annoyance of how he keeps edging you.

He reaches one hand for your nipple, rolling it between his fingers and nibbles at your thigh in response and your lips press together hard in a moan.

Lifting both your legs over his shoulders, he brushes his lips down your thigh and finally reaches onto your clit, throbbing and waiting for him. Expecting him to tease you further, you whine when his mouth takes you whole and his tongue swirls around your clit. Your head falls back at the welcome surprise.

Even with how gentle he is being, the sensation is already buzzing through your body from the added high off weed. Light headedness building as he laps his tongue around, down to your entrance tongue fucking you and up again, moaning into the extra sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Never... felt... like this... before." you struggle to speak while breathless.

Your moans deepen as you lift your head back up to look at him to see that he is already looking up at you while his mouth his planted firmly devouring every bit of you. You feel your pussy pulse from the intense but soft look, his signature puppy eyes putting you in a hazy trance.

As he continues to suck, lick and kiss you, it becomes a warm comfort making you languid. Lulling you and your body relaxing, you lay back down with your hand reaching to play with his hair with your eyes closed and whispering sweet praises to Pedro.

It just felt so perfect, you could lie there with his head deep between your thighs and eating you out for hours. Your body starts to sink into the bed, getting dozy.

"No falling asleep just yet beautiful."

His hot breath tickles against your exposed skin, you hum in delight only for you to gasp a moan when you feel fingers firmly pushed inside of you. Applying more pressure and speed with the point of his tongue now, you hold tight on his hair as he fingers you rhythmically.

He keeps the pace going as your legs begin to shake from the growing pleasure bubbling up inside you, moans and whimpers getting louder and more frequent. Both of your hands gripping onto his locks and your legs using his back as leverage, you pull him in closer while bucking your hips up so you can ride his face, getting closer to that high.

Pedro pumps faster inside you, curling his fingers and hitting in just the right spot, your lungs are burning for oxygen as you continue to moan, borderline sob at the unbearable pleasure that is begging to be released as you pelvis grinds harder into his mouth and your stomach goes taut.

"Soleada. Come for me."

On command, you let go of all the built up arousal inside you, moaning his name out loud. Your body slackens and simultaneously shudders from bliss, eyes shut tight, stars flashing. Pedro stops fingering you, arms wrapped around your legs and still licking your clit helping you ride your orgasmic wave.

Once silence settles and your breathing evens out, Pedro climbs on top as your body occasionally spasms. He pecks you on your satisfied smile, praising how delicious you taste, how beautiful you are and that he can't enough of hearing you moan his name.

"That was definitely a first." you happily sigh, words slurred and eyes heavy.

He climbs further up the bed and hoists you up to your pillows like a rag doll. Covering you with your throw blanket, he tucks himself behind you and wrapping his body around yours, nose nuzzled into you.

Sweet hums and kisses along your neck and shoulders comfort you, drifting into sleep...

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wyn-n-tonic · 1 year

Text

That's a Real Fucking Legacy: Burgundy

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/former Tommy Miller x f!reader Word Count: 4.6k+ Warnings: Unprotected PiV. Soft Joel. Talk of death. Somno mentions. Allusion of erectile dysfunction. Body image talk. Anxiety/depression talk. Author’s Note: I got lazy at the end.

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Jackson’s fine.

Maybe.

Truthfully, it’s more than fine. It’s perfect.

It’s perfect for what this world is now.

But it’s not… it doesn’t feel right.

In the years that followed the outbreak, there was a feeling that if something like this existed, you wanted to be there. But that’s the thing about trauma and time.

The longer you give these things to sit in your brain unaddressed, the worse they become. But these things couldn’t be addressed, there was never the time for that and, so, they lingered and built and grew with every day that something new stacked on top.

All this time being in survival mode, this feeling that you don’t deserve safety is tangible in the way it shakes your hands and catches your breath in the most random of times.

Only they were deserving in your eyes. The baby, her father. Her uncle who set off across the country to find this safety for you; who dreamt of this life and that baby in a way that would belong to him and not his brother. Who has accepted the things that happened in reaction to his leaving and his silence and has forgiven you.

There’s no guilt now. Not in that space, at least. But so much guilt knowing that you’re here and the QZ is still up and there were miles and miles of death and danger between the two.

It’s that hand-shaking, breath-catching guilt that paralyzes you now, leaned up against the sink—a genuine sink with running water—as you try to focus on anything at all. Colors. Sounds. Numbers as you count your own breaths both in and out.

It clouds your mind back into that dark space.

That gray space.

That unsafe, half dead, death around every corner space.

Baby is the first thought that really comes through, her small face grown so big with a toothy smile where, before, it was all gums and cheeks and doing her best to always stay in yours or her father’s arms. She’s safe though. She’s safe right now and you have to remind yourself that. She’s with her Uncle Tommy, working in the gardens today with the woman who came not long after you. Who took his breath away. Who’s now Baby’s aunt and one of the only people you trust with her safety.

Then Joel, with the deepening lines across every curve and corner of his face, the ones you love to trace in the soft darkness of your shared nights. Always only illuminated by whatever spills in through the threadbare curtains on the windows.

Sometimes, you think these moments might be the end.

And how peaceful, how sweet, to endure and survive all of this for so long only to be taken down by guilt and panic.

But you can’t go first. You can’t. You can’t leave him alone with a baby and another crack in his heart. He has to go before you, he deserves to go before you. If anybody’s heart is going to be broken by more death, please, God, let it be you and not him.

That beautiful man with his beautiful eyes, his rough but gentle hands and his coffee rich voice.

It’s that voice that pulls you up and out of your head now; off of the floor.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, pushing tears across and back into your graying hairline. “Not these again, baby.”

“I'm sorry.” It’s not just your hands that shake now, heat climbing up your neck to flood your senses in blood rushing waves. Because that part comes with the embarrassment of him seeing you like this; of having to take care of you again when you’re put so much effort into not needing to lean.

Because he doesn’t deserve to be the strong one all the time. Not anymore. He’s allowed to be and be soft and give in to late nights and later mornings. All these miles from Boston, kept safe by different walls and different rules, and he’s still turning up to save the day. He deserves to rest.

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry about,” he says against your cheek, lips ghosting across the warmth of your skin as he pulls you in closer. So close in those well worn, worked through arms with his hand sliding up the expanse of your back and between your shoulder blades until he’s wrapped his fingers in the hair at the base of your skull. “How many times have I woken you up, hmm?” He asks directly into your ear. “How many nights have you spent tending to all the broken parts of me?”

“I shouldn’t be here,” you insist. “I don’t belong here, I’m not good enough.”

Joel pulls away, back just far enough to look down at you with pinched eyebrows and a half broken heart behind those big, brown eyes. “If you’re not good enough, then what the fuck am I?”

Two beats, maybe three. Moments of silence that stretch between you both as he gently swipes his thumb back and fourth through the saltwater streaks. The tears slowed but they’re still here and Joel patiently pushes every one away.

“You’re perfect,” you finally break. “You’re the second best person in my life.”

“Oh, so Tommy wins after all?” He asks, one dimple pocketing his cheek under a crooked smile. It drops just as quickly as it appeared, an exaggerated expression of pain on his face as you hit him in the chest. “I’m kidding, I know it’s Baby but”—he leans down, his whisper turning from concern to suggestion—“I think I have something that might bump me up to top place for the night.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s your dick,” you beg. “I love you, I love it, but I look like shit and—“

He stops you, more soothing sounds hitting your ears until you’re quiet again; less tearful and pushing what you were going to say away. It’s hard to believe that, years ago, he was just Tommy’s gruff older brother. Intimidating and prepared. Not a leader but capable of leading should it all come down to it. That’s why Tommy told you to go to him if something ever happened. Not the Fireflies—Joel.

Looking back on that instruction, it makes all the more sense that you’re here with Joel now and not Tommy. Something happened and you went to him.

Stayed with him.

Laid with him.

Built a family with him.

Built a whole life and, now, that man you were so afraid of with all his hard edges is so soft and real in front of you. It was hard to find good men before, even worse now, but he has never been anything but great to you. Even when he’s upset. Even on those nights where there was yelling and misunderstanding and a growing baby in your belly that neither of you knew how to care for, he was great.

“I got you a bottle of wine,” he says, so proud of himself with that smile making itself at home again. “And not that blueberry bathtub moonshine bullshit Seth’s been peddling.”

“I haven’t had real wine in years, Joel.” There’s a piece of you that’s skeptical until he’s turning you in his arms and pointing to the counter. He must’ve set it down before picking you up off the floor but it’s there—a bottle of red wine marked for 1999. “That was a good year.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning back against his broad chest. It’s only gotten stronger since you arrived in Jackson, built up by good food and work that makes him proud. You don’t let him go out on many perimeter runs, afraid to have to watch over him as he slips away again, but he goes sometimes. Mostly he just tends to the horses, works in the dirt, builds this or that and plays with the Baby like his life depends on it.

It’s your life that depends on it, though. Your life depends on seeing him strong and well-fed and happy, chasing his daughter around the yard and not trying to stifle her giggles or her cries to protect her from everything else that’s out there. But you know he feels the same.

“Go wash your face,” he whispers into the crown of your head, “I’ll pry it open and pour you a glass.”

It’s strong. Strong enough cloud your mind over and replace the bad thoughts with blurred ones. Barely two sips from the mug he poured it in and your head is falling back easier beneath the laughter he pulls out of you.

Every aching inch of you is flushed over with heat like before, but it’s not embarrassment that floods through you anymore. Tension doesn’t exist in your muscles, there’s no trying to hold it together or hold it back and it’s nice. It’s so nice to give over to this feeling without worry, putting all of your senses on a delayed track because you’re safe.

He’s safe.

As the sun sets, you leave the mugs behind in favor of passing the bottle back and forth. Really, you should save it; pace yourself on it; only bring it out for special occasions.

But this is a special occasion.

Thomi’s staying the night with Tommy and everybody is alive. There was loss that brought what made this family together; pain and the threat of more loss. All those sleepless nights you spent upright in bed worrying and crying… That’s over now until you let him go and both of you refuse to let that happen for a long time.

“What are you thinking about now?” He asks, eyes heavy with twenty-something year old alcohol and it makes you wonder what he looked like in his twenties, too.

“Thinking about you.”

“Hopefully not all the ways I could die again,” he laughs, “don’t wish that shit into existence, baby.”

“I'm not wishing anything into existence,” you tell him. “I’m begging the world not to take you from me yet.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” he promises. “You and Thomi make damn fucking sure of that.”

“But you do,” you insist. “In my dreams, all the time. I dream that I don’t even get to say goodbye and I wake up and you’re not even there with me because you’ve already gone off to work or you’re taking care of our daughter and I feel so selfish for wanting you to take care of me, too.”

“So you don’t feel me in the mornings?” He asks. “Do my efforts to turn those dreams around not make it to your beautiful head.”

“I don’t understand,” you whisper, eyes tracing the curve of his nose and his lips. “What do you mean?”

Joel tips the bottle back and then hands it over again, lips stained a deep purple-red as he sits back on his heels and considers you. “You talk in your sleep, honey,” he says. “I hear you almost daily, always muttering for me or Thomi to be spared for whatever horrors are in your head. I wish I could say that I can’t fucking imagine but I can, I think of it all the goddamn time. Think of you or my child or both ripped apart by bullets or monsters or men.” He shrugs. “I always try to leave you in the mornings with something good, I thought I was succeeding because there’s always a small smile on your face when I come back out from the bathroom and kiss you goodbye.”

So many of your dreams do turn good but you thought it was your subconscious willing you to believe in the best. Lately, you’ve woken up wet for him and ready, usually having to wait until much later for the touch of tired hands under threadbare blankets or the running water you usually share.

The rough pads of his fingers ghost across the skin of your upper thighs, heated over with alcohol heavy blood, a racing heart and the want for him you always hold. Realization hits on another sip from the bottle, wine falling out of your mouth and onto your shirt in a choked out sound

His low laugh tumbles down your throat from a heavy tongue as he pushes your mouth open, body crawling over yours until the space between is negligible at best. He’s all soft touches from hands that have worked so hard, moving from your cheek to your neck to your shoulder, before he finally takes the bottle from your hands to set it to the side. Somewhere safe, where it won’t continue to seep across you, only within you.

“We agreed a long time ago that we could touch one another while sleeping,” he whispers. “I touch you through those dreams, sweetheart.” He does. For so long you thought they were just vivid, not real. You woke up wanting him because you wanted more. “One time, your eyes blinked open and you told me you wanted my mouth, so I gave it to you.”

His voice is so low, echoing through your mind and traveling down the length of your bones into the tips of every finger and every toe. You remember that, you do. “I thought I was dreaming that, too.”

“I’m sure dream me is a very handsome and capable man,” he smiles down at you, “but I know for a fact he can’t eat your pussy as well as I can.”

“Nobody's ever done anything to my pussy as well as you do.” That fevered heat that spread just below the surface of your skin throughout your veins has finally reached its destination, simmering low in your belly beneath the stretch of skin between your hips.

“Even my brother?”

“I never even let your brother look at it for too long,” you say, shaking your head. “Too insecure about it and the way it looked, I didn’t like the vulnerability of being seen like that.”

“But with me…” He runs a hand down his face and smiles. “You get off on me watching you play with yourself. You like it when I’m down here”—his hand curves around the mound between your legs, laying heavy and hot even with your shorts blocking the full effect of his touch—“like it when I open you up, keep you from closing your cute little legs, and watch you clench and leak around nothing but the mere thought of what I could do to you. It takes everything in me not to fuck every thought out of your head every single day.”

Head spinning, you push up against his grip and fall back again laughing. “Do it now,” you tell him. “Take me apart, Joel, take all of my thoughts.”

“I haven’t even gotten you wet yet.”

“Trust me, the mere thought of what you could do to me has taken care of that. I know you’ve been having some problems getting hard lately, I don’t take it personally. That’s why I like it so much when you look at me, we both still get something out it, but you’re straining against those tight ass pants and I need you inside of me.”

“Need?”

“Need,” you affirm. “Need my good man who brings me out of bad dreams to leave me with good, need my beautiful boy who picks me up off the floor and never lets our daughter see the broken pieces of me. Joel, I need you and that’s why I have the nightmares that I do.

I’m afraid of you being taken away from me and I know it has to be that you’re taken because I know you’d never leave me. I've already come too close to being without you. I’ve already been covered in the deep red warmth of your blood while you go cold in my arms and I see it over and over again every night, don’t make me do it sooner than later.”

“Are those what the panic attacks are about?” He asks.

“No,” you shake out. “The panic attacks are because I don’t feel like I deserve the sacrifices you and your brother made to get me here. To get my daughter here, yes. But me? There’s not an ounce of me that deserves this place.”

“Oh, baby.” He pulls you closer to him, one hand tightening around your side as the other puts further pressure between your legs. You’ve kept all of these things hidden from him to the best of your ability. You haven’t succeeded very well. “You deserve to be here more than Tommy or I ever will,” he whispers. “I begged you not to leave me as you came close to bleeding out after birth. You deserve to be here, our daughter does, and you both make me deserving, too. Please, baby, stop saying you’re not good when all the best parts of me are because of you.”

“I get emotional when I’m drunk,” you tell him.

“I can see that.” One thing you’ve loved the most about what Jackson has done to him is allow that relaxed accent back into his voice. It helps that he’s surrounded by his brother constantly again but there are others here, too. Some from all over but most from what was the south. “You also have gotten wetter than I’ve ever felt you.”

“How do you know?” You ask. “You haven’t even touched me.”

A smile spreads across his face and he pushes your legs apart before pulling your shorts to the side to expose you to the tepid air of the house and the heat of his hand. “I have never,” he whispers against your lips, pushing one rough finger easily through your entrance, “gotten you this close this fast. Usually, I’m cleaning myself out of you before you swell up to bursting. What did it, honey?”

“You.”

“Just me?” He laughs like he can’t believe it. “The wine helped, didn’t it? It’s okay.”

“The wine, yeah,” you nod, head heavy and light with the effects of it still pumping through you. You were gone off of it a while ago but—“it’s been awhile since we’ve been able to be like this together. Everything is always so fucking desperate or tired or just looking for relief in the five shared minutes of alone time we get together.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think we’ve ever been able to be like this together.”

He’s right. Nothing has ever been soft or easy with us. Full of adrenaline, yeah. But never fucking slow unless it’s laced through with exhaustion. Never a show of love because of love but because of fear of losing one another. He pushes another finger deep inside of you, moving together until you grab his wrist.

“I want you.”

“You want me?” He asks, eyebrow raised. “Missed me?”

“You're teasing me, Joel.”

“It's cause I like seeing your reactions,” he whispers. “When I dream good things about you, I dream of this.”

“Do you have the good ones, often, baby?”

“More and more,” he says, pulling himself away and off of you to stand up but offering his hand and helping you up off the couch and not letting go until you’re steady on your feet. “Makes me feel bad when I wake up from good ones to find you having a bad one, if there’s something you don’t deserve, it’s that.”

“Yeah.”

He takes the bottle and your hand and leads you up the stairs, back towards the bedroom where he doesn’t wait to sit you down in the space that’s usually his. “You want some more, baby?” He asks, holding out the bottle. It’s mostly gone and so is your head but your nerves still haven’t really settled from when he found you on the floor and they’ve only gotten shakier hearing all the sweet things he had to say so you take it.

Take it and tip it back slightly, trying not to choke again when he pulls his shirt off and over his head. With all the ways your brain and you have been altered by this world and these years in it, you look at him with so much happiness for the girl you once were before this all started. The one with posters on her walls of the dark haired, curly haired members of boybands on the walls. With his dimples, he could’ve definitely been one.

Mindlessly, you reach out and touch the still raised scar on his stomach, fingertips tracing across the angry, deep red knot. For a head full of so many bad memories, so much grief and pain, this little scar was the source of the worst of it all.

He encourages you to take another drink and then takes the bottle from you again, setting it on the bedside table before coming back for your shirt. Even with a world gone to shit and no more models or fashion designers to tell you who and what is beautiful, your insecurities are so thick it’s fucking palpable. But never for Joel Miller. Because he looks at your bare body with not an ounce of scrutiny.

He’s enamored, every time, as a low whistle leaves him with every article of clothing he takes from you. Maybe we’ve never had the softness and the slowness but we’ve always had that—this hunger for one another like we can’t believe our wildest dreams are coming true.

With you completely bare, he directs you back into the middle of the bed, tells you to open your legs and let him see you while he pushes his own pants down, eyes never leaving you once as you reach down to touch yourself in front of him the way you know the both of you like.

He wasn’t lying either, when he said this might be the wettest he’s ever felt from you. This fast, at least. The sensitivity and heat coursing through your body makes even the smallest touches feel like the biggest and he reprimands you for getting too close too quick without him.

“This might be the hardest I’ve ever been, too,” he breathes out, dragging the tip of himself through the slick before swatting your hand away completely to push in with unobstructed ease. “Please don’t be mad at me if I can’t sustain it,” he says, pulling you further and further down his shaft until the back of your thighs meet the front of his. There’s so much worry in you already about his knees, how he’s leaning on them even with the mattress beneath him, but it goes out of your head the moment he presses even further forward. “I'm old and this also might be the deepest inside of you I have ever been.”

“I think it is.”

“I almost don’t want to move again,” he whispers against your lips. “Fuck, you’re so warm and I'm already soaked in you but you’ve had a hard day.”

“Sure.”

“You're drunk,” he laughs. “God, you’re beautiful. I love your grays and your smile lines, you are such a fucking knock out.”

You can feel him. Of course you can. But this is so difference and so… new, almost. For years you stayed away from the alcohol that was traded around the QZ. As a woman alone, it was dangerous but, even with the safety of Tommy, the shit that was made and traded was cut through with other shit. Anything to take the fucking edge off the situation of life as it is now. Which is understandable but it also wasn’t you, it wasn’t safe. So, the last time you had any true alcohol was before it all fell down. That was years ago.

Years have gone by since you got drunk in a college dorm and fucked some guy who didn’t look all that different from the guy on top of you now but, still, so, so different. Because before it all went to shit, there was never a snowball’s hope in hell you’d have a man like Joel Miller and you’re certain you wouldn’t have been his type but here he is, saying he wished he met you first. Because he was jealous of Tommy for all that time, being able to find somebody in all this shit.

“You wouldn’t have liked me very much if we’d met first, though.”

“We did meet first,” you tell him. “We had several of the same shifts in different FEDRA duties, I thought you were a grumbly fucking asshole.”

“I'm still a grumbly fucking asshole,” he quips, eyes going soft as he smiles. “I’m really glad you didn’t keep that opinion.”

“Who says I haven’t?”

Dying light from the window hits him when he laughs. It’s the first time you’ve noticed the way the sun kissed his cheeks today at work and every last thought leaves your head the way he wanted it to. On everything you have, you swear he can read your mind, because he was moving against your hips and towards your lips before you even fully reached for him.

The way lays himself on top of you, his whole body weight melting into yours, is like he’s trying to crawl inside of you. This isn’t like the desperate grabs in the kitchen, where he whispers dirty shit into your ear with his fingers shoved down your pants as he hopes to get off against your leg.

No, this is so different.

By now, you’ve fucked drunk with grief. Then with what you thought was love. Then grief again only to find that turned into the true feeling of love. What all those poems and songs were about all those years ago. But you’ve never been actually drunk in his arms. He’s never seen you this way because finding what could make you this was was difficult. It was dangerous. But, here, it’s available and it’s red.

Not red in the way his blood was, not red in the way he blushed over with fever and not red in what you saw when you turned on his brother and told him to fix it. No, this is red in the way blushes up to his ears every day when you call him handsome. This is red in the way the hinges on the door to the backyard are rusted over with years of rain and lack of use. This is red like the wine he picked up with every beautiful intention of giving you a proper date.

Even the sounds he’s making are different. Breathy and desperate because he’s not commanding anything here; not making any declarations; not using his lowest register to push you through it.

Not even the smallest bit of, “you can do this, sweetheart, you can take it,” like he usually gives me. But it’s been a while since he’s even been inside of you so maybe he's the one who needs the encouragement.

“I-I—“ No words come out because he covers your mouth with his own, hand gripped tight around your jaw as he breathes into you.

“You’re so fucking close, sweetheart,” he whispers when he pulls away. “So fucking-ah-fuck.”

His head falls into the crook of your neck, lips mouthing at the sensitive spot just below where your jaw hinges as you feel his muscles start to tighten up against yours.

There’s no real warning for either of you, no theatrics or big finale. This is so different in every way relief cascades through your body, transferring from his to yours in inch of connection between you as his body relaxes down fully on top of yours.

Not an ounce of strength or tension remains. He’s not trying to hold himself up or give himself leverage anymore. He’s content to lay here, drunk and twitching, as he catches his breath against yours.

And that’s fine. That’s perfect. It’s what you always wanted; what you felt like you’d never get. He’s here and you’re here and there’s safety in these walls to feel and explore each other in every aching, relief giving way.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #2nd person pov #o writes #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character

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fortheloveofwonderland · 10 months

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Rusty | Chapter 6 | S.R

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Chapter Summary - Spencer struggles with thoughts of his assault before giving you your first riding lesson. Just as things seem to be going well, you’re shocked to find Spencer in the midst of a dissociative break.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - mentions of sexual assault and use of “rape” several times, talk of therapy and a deep dive into Spencer’s therapy journey, stress inoculation therapy, prolonged exposure therapy, erectile dysfunction, graysexuality and demisexuality, mentions of male masturbation, blood, dissociation, self-harm.

WC - 6.3k

Chapter 6 - Tumbling Tumbleweeds

Spencer didn’t not wake with a start, nor did he wake slowly. His mind undulated long before he opened his eyes, ebb and flow, ebb and flow.

The thoughts were undiluted and raw, building worlds behind his eyelids whilst he was still barely semi-conscious.

He was cognisant of the hard shell beneath his back, pressing, prodding his aching spine. The lingering chlorine scent of bleach was attacking his nasal cavities, tickling, scratching.

He was aware yet he was not. He was asleep yet he was alert. Conscious sleep. It was a self preservation tactic he’d taught himself after his first sexual assault.

The ability to be aware of the self, but not of the body or surroundings during non-dream sleep. It was a form of deep meditation, requiring him to distance himself from his physical nature.

The hardest part was getting rid of the mental blockage clouding his mind to achieve such a state. It was the very psychological clutter he had to banish which was the cause for needing this coping mechanism in the first place.

It was a way to help him rest enough to replenish his energy supply but would keep him responsive enough to perceive a threat.

It hadn’t come easy to him at first but once he’d mastered it he often found himself falling into this state without meaning to.

He knew the signs upon awakening, how he would never feel quite as rested as if he’d slept properly, how he could recall various movements and noises during the night.

And this was how he found himself this morning, not quite asleep, yet not awake. He knew it for what it was and it would be easy for him to rouse himself completely. But once he allowed himself to reach that fully conscious state he would have to face reality and for that he wasn’t quite ready.

But it was inevitable. The bleach was starting to burn his nose, causing his stomach to turn violently. He knew it was unlikely he had anything left in him to vomit after last night but it didn’t stop him feeling nauseous.

His fingers of his right hand twitched against the floorboards, his mind starting to flicker, reality just within his grasp.

He was in an incredible amount of pain. He had pushed himself way too hard since his accident and every part of his body from the top of his head down to his toes growled in agony.

He didn’t wait to let himself adjust to the wakefulness, he forced himself to his feet before the pain grew any worse. He tried to ignore it and went to the bathroom for some Tylenol and his paroxetine.

He knew what needed to be done. Maybe it would be easier while his mind wasn’t yet fully with it.

Shuffling back to his bedroom he opened the bottom drawer of his nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled out a manilla folder and a few other items which he set in his lap.

His good hand trembled as his fingers brushed over them and he hoped to keep his brain in this foggy just woken state for a little while longer so he might be able to do this.

When he’d moved to Bandera he’d gone through two separate courses of therapy to try and help him process what he’d been through.

The first was Stress Inoculation Therapy, a psychotherapy technique intended to help patients prepare themselves in advance to handle stressful events successfully with minimal upset.

SIT was broken down into three stages - education, skill building and application. His manilla file was full of papers regarding the first two stages.

His therapist had given him information and encouraged him to do his own research on rape and sexual assault factors. Spencer didn’t need to do his own research as it was all already in his head.

It was supposed to teach cues that triggered the trauma within him but again, it wasn’t hard for him to understand what those were. Sexual contact. Alpha males. Loss of control.

During the skill building his therapist had tried to help control his fear reaction. He had been encouraged to use mental rehearsal and guided self talk. He opened the folder and flicked through the pages to find the small scrap of paper with his own scrawly handwriting on.

I was sexually assaulted, but I am not a victim. I was coerced but I am not weak. I am in control of my own body, of my own mind. I will not let them win, I will not let them ruin my life.

I didn’t deserve what happened to me. I am a good person. I am a strong person. I will move past this. I won't let them break me. I am still worthy of love and affection. I am still whole.

I am still whole.

He gripped the paper, his nails digging into the flimsy material as he read his own words over in his head. His chest heaved and he clenched his jaw tightly.

It was supposed to serve as a reminder to himself that this wasn’t the be all and end all of his life. He’d suffered something exponentially cruel, for which he didn’t deserve but it wasn’t the end of his life.

He was still whole, whether he believed that or not. This self penned affirmation was supposed to help him remember that.

He tucked the paper back between some other sheets so he didn’t have to look at it anymore. It wasn’t supposed to be the end of his life but it damn near felt like it.

The application stage of SIT was the biggest bump in the road. His therapist encouraged him to use his new skills to engage in the fearful behaviour which in his case was sexual contact.

It had taken him weeks to even attempt this part. He’d told his therapist of a man named Grant who owned a nearby ranch and worked part time at a local BBQ joint. He was around Spencer’s age and undeniably handsome.

He’d caught Grant’s eye on occasion in town. The two often exchanged smiles in the general store or whilst passing on their respective steeds. Spencer knew well enough that Grant was interested in him.

At his therapist's encouragement, after weeks of her trying to prod him to take this next step, eventually Spencer had asked Grant to join him for a drink. Grant had readily accepted.

Spencer had been more nervous than he ever remembered being as he got ready for his date and rode Willow down to the 11th Street Bar.

But he never made it inside. And after standing Grant up, the man never even so much as made eye contact with him again.

His therapist explained, although Spencer already understood this, that due to the nature of his assault being carried out by men, it might be easier for him to ease himself back into the engagement of this behaviour with a woman.

Spencer shut this idea down. He’d always been slightly more interested in men, in the few sexual encounters he’d experienced with either gender, he always found being with men more fulfilling.

And thus she had suggested another form of therapy when he couldn’t move past the second stage. This time was Prolonged Exposure Therapy.

This somehow was more gruelling than SIT. It involved him having to recount, in intricate detail, his rape over and over again.

He had to recall the sounds, the smells, the feelings. He had to dive deep into what he experienced before, during and in the aftermath.

Again and again. Over and over. It was only on approximately the fiftieth recitation that he’d let slip that he’d gotten erect during the act.

It was a piece of information he’d decided early on into his therapy he was going to keep undisclosed. Obviously it was incredibly pertinent, but Spencer already felt vulnerable enough and didn’t want to admit this facet to his therapist or even himself truly.

His therapist had cut him off with a simple, “ah”. She went on to explain that this was a salient part of why he may not be able to let himself move past his assault and lightly chided him for not being more forthcoming with this earlier.

He’d reluctantly then had to explain in great detail his apparent erectile dysfunction and the guilt he suffered over getting aroused while they assaulted him. This had then led her to ask about his sexual history.

He’d been adverse at first, not thinking his past could bear any weight on what he was currently experiencing. But even geniuses were wrong sometimes.

He gave a brief rundown on his limited past experiences including - much to his embarrassment - his feelings towards self stimulation.

After going into too much detail for his liking, his therapist had offered him an explanation, able to give a name to what he was experiencing.

In her opinion, it sounded like graysexuality. People who identify as graysexual feel infrequent sexual attraction, less desire to engage in sexual activity. That’s not to say he never did, but his impulses were few and far between, even before his ordeal in prison.

It was on the same spectrum as asexuality, and stems from the idea that sexuality isn’t black or white and there is a gray area that many people fall into.

She didn’t believe it was anything to with libido after he’d reluctantly spoken in depth of his and Luke’s sex life. Prior to prison, they could barely keep their hands off of each other, often spending entire days off together in the throes of passion.

When she’d told him her understanding of the term, graysexuals don’t see sex as important, not in the way some others do. They do feel sexual attraction but not very often and only in certain circumstances.

She also believed he may fall somewhere on the demisexual spectrum as his most intense physical relationship had been Luke, someone he had a prior emotional bond with.

When Spencer had grown confused and questioned how he could be both she’d simply told him that orientation was constantly switching, sexuality was a spectrum and we are consistently roving up and down the scale.

Years later he would be sitting on his porch with you, a woman he barely knew and explaining his sexuality in much the same manner as his therapist had explained to him.

It made sense to him, he understood and it made him feel a little better to know that there were words that existed to describe what he was feeling. He made him feel less alone, knowing that he wasn’t the only person that was going through these things.

As was par for the course with Prolonged Exposure Therapy, his recital of his abuse was recorded. One of the items in his lap was the cassette tape of his own full admission of what he’d gone through at Milburn.

He’d never listened to it, he couldn’t bring himself to, no matter how much his therapist tried to encourage him to do so. It was supposed to help distance himself from it, listen to the confession from the sidelines as though he were a bystander.

“Doctor Reid, as an agent with the BAU I can only imagine how many times you had to listen to people recount the horrible things they’d gone through. Hearing your own retelling might allow you to be objective the way you might be with a victim interview.”

She was right and he knew it. But he couldn’t listen to it. He knew he never would.

Exhausting most of her options on a patient who often seemed as though he didn’t want to get better, her final instruction before Spencer stopped seeing her was for him to at the very least make a concerted effort to try masturbating more frequently.

After she’d dropped that frankly horrifying piece of advice, Spencer had never returned to her office.

He stuffed the folder and cassette away again, shaking his head at his own intrusive train of thoughts. Revisiting this was not going to make things better, he had to power on, accept the things he couldn’t change as his former drug rehabilitation taught him.

If only it were that easy.

He forced himself to shower despite the pain he was in, before dressing and eating a bowl of cereal in a thinly veiled attempt to energise himself for the day ahead.

***

When a gentle knock sounded at the door of the lodge you were sitting on the edge of the bed with a towel wrapped around you after your shower.

You scrambled to quickly throw some clothes on but by the time you made it to the door, swinging it open, no one was there.

Brows furrowing you looked around and caught a glimpse of Spencer’s retreating form as he limped in the direction of the stables. He’d barely given you time to answer, what had he even bothered knocking for?

Shaking your head you went to recede back inside but noticed something on the floor in front of the door.

A red tray, the likes of which reminded you of high school, lay on the porch with an array of items on top.

You bent down and lifted the tray, careful not to drop anything while you stepped back in the cabin and nudged the door closed with your hip. You cautiously carried it to the kitchen counter and set it down.

A large mug in the shape of an octopus had steam rising from it and after a cursory sniff you knew it to be honey and lemon tea. Next to it, a small glass containing thick, pulpy orange juice.

The bowl in the centre of the tray housed cereal and there was another small glass filled with milk presumably to pour on it.

Wedged under the spoon was a small scrap of paper with almost completely illegible writing scrawled on it. It took several minutes to ascertain what it said.

I’m sorry about last night, I hope that things can remain amicable between us. I’ll be at the stable if you feel like joining me. I’d understand if you didn’t.

Spencer

A smile crept to your lips and you pocketed the paper. You downed the orange juice in one before pouring the milk upon the cereal and taking the bowl and mug of tea over to the couch.

It was almost impossible not to feel slightly scorned by his sudden change of demeanour last night. The way he’d changed so dramatically, like a light switch had been flicked had hurt and there was no other way around it.

But that’s not to say you didn’t understand.

It was startlingly apparent to you that Spencer had suffered some kind of psychological trauma, possibly even physical trauma. You wouldn’t be at all surprised if he’d endured some kind of sexual assault judging by the way he panicked at the simple act of your hand palming him through his slacks.

Or were you just drawing connections where there weren’t any? He’d said himself his sexuality wavered across the spectrum, perhaps when it came down to it, the possibility of being with a woman hadn’t appealed to him and he’d overreacted.

You didn’t intend to bring it up either way so you supposed you could either bother yourself worrying about it or just let it go.

You chose the latter.

You ate your cereal and drank the tea before brushing your teeth. You went to slip your sneakers on but before you reached the door, you had a change of heart.

***

“I only called because…no, no…you have to stop - please. No…I said…please just listen to me for a moment? Yes, I know…I get it I do. I-I…you’re not letting me speak. You have to…it’s been two years I…no. Please? I just want…need…to heal. Yes. No. Please can you…yes, yes I know. I need…space…more space. In time I might…I don’t kn - no, no. Okay. Thank you…I’ll try…you too.”

You told yourself you hadn’t meant to eavesdrop again on Spencer’s phone conversation. When you’d approached the stable you’d heard his voice and at first assumed he was talking to his horses.

But his feverish tone and staggered breaths gave you pause. You didn’t want to interrupt or interfere so you’d hung back.

When he hung up the phone you could only assume by his fractured expression and slightly trembling hand that he’d been talking to his ex - Luke you reminded yourself - the strangely familiar Luke.

He was sitting on a wooden chest in the far corner of the stable, opposite Willow’s paddock. He slotted the phone into his pocket and leaned forward, his casted arm cradled against his stomach while his other elbow rested on his thigh.

His hand scored up and down his face, kneading between his brows, pinching his nose, rubbing his scratchy facial hair, back up to the nose, the brows and so on.

You waited a little while longer to enter for two reasons. One, if you strolled in now he’d know you’d heard something and two, he clearly needed a moment.

You leaned against the side of the stable and counted slowly to one hundred in your head before you moved back toward the door and opened it.

The creaking of the hinges alerted Spencer to your presence and he immediately looked up, plastering a smile on his face you knew wasn’t genuine.

“Oh, uh, hi.” He cautiously pushed himself up, groaning a little as he did so. “I, uh…wasn’t sure you’d be…here.”

You offered him a smile in return, taking a few steps into the stable, trying to ignore the watchful eyes of the large black horse.

You felt an uneasy pang in your chest as you took him in. He wore a pair of black jeans which fit him so well it should have been illegal, paired with a dark green button up flannel shirt. His black stetson had been replaced by a beige one with a large brim.

His hair seemed to be perfectly curled beneath the hat as though he’d spent hours on it. The few days worth of stubble growth on his face made him appear rugged.

He looked delectable and it didn’t seem fair.

“Thanks for breakfast.” You spoke as you got a little closer.

“Oh it’s no problem, I uh…” his eyes wandered, downwards to the floor and he trailed off as he noticed the fire engine red boots on your feet. His eyes snapped back up to your face. “You’re wearing the riding boots.”

“I am.” You nodded. “You’re astute.”

“You’re willing to learn how to ride?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“I don’t feel as though I have a lot of choice in the matter, seeing as you can barely walk.” You chuckled lightly.

“Full disclosure, I have never taught someone to ride a horse before.”

“This is going to be fun then.” You started towards Willow’s paddock, placing your hands on the gate keeping her enclosed.

“Oh, uh, you won’t be riding her just yet.” Spencer’s voice stopped you before you could open it.

You looked at him over your shoulder with confusion.

“Why?”

“She’s more of a handful. You need to be a lot more experienced before you can handle her. But Franklin is a great horse for novices.” He moved down towards the black horse which was still giving you a stern look.

“Him? No way. He hates me.” You shook your head.

“He does not.” Spencer scoffed, unlatching the end gate.

“He looks at me funny.” You grumbled.

“Did you try giving him attention?” Spencer swung open the gate and stepped inside.

Franklin shuffled closer to him and bowed his head until it was resting on Spencer’s shoulder. In turn Spencer stroked his mane and cooed in his ear.

“He doesn’t like to be ignored.” Spencer cradled the stallion's head while you took a few cautious steps closer.

“He’s a horse.” You clucked somewhat indignantly.

“A horse with feelings and a personality.” Spencer laughed, fingers brushing to and fro in his mane. “Frank is sensitive. Willow gets most of the attention around here and he feels that deeply. Wilbur is aloof, doesn’t need the same level of attention. As long as he’s being fed and groomed he’s pretty content.

“Willow is my main companion and she goes everywhere with me and it does grate on Frank. He gets jealous I suppose. He would have seen you bringing Willow home and thought there’s someone else who prefers her over me. I’d bet you didn’t even try to engage him?”

“He scared me, I guess, the way he was looking at me. I didn’t want to get my hand bitten off.”

To this, Spencer laughed again, edging himself away from Franklin and closer to you. He held out his good hand palm side up, fingers spread.

“Put your hand in mine, back of the hand to my palm.” He looked at you encouragingly.

You swallowed thickly, tentatively stepping inside Frank’s paddock. You did as Spencer instructed and cradled the back of your hand against his palm.

Spencer’s fingers thread through yours and moved both your entwined hands closer to the horse's head.

Spencer didn’t have to do all the work as Franklin met you halfway, practically forcing the side of his face into your palm.

He made a soft sound of content by way of air rushing out of his large nostrils as he nuzzled against you. Spencer wiggled his fingers, which moved yours too, so you were scratching the horse's coarse head.

“See?” Spencer smiled at you. “He likes you already. Try taking your other hand and brushing it through his mane, he likes that.”

Rolling your lip between your teeth, you raised your other hand towards his hair. You curled your fingers and brushed your knuckles through his thick, dark mane.

Once again Franklin huffed out a breath of thanks. A soft giggle left your lips at the sound he made and Spencer was smiling to himself, unable to stop watching you.

Even when you started moving your hand of your own accord, Spencer kept his fingers laced with yours, allowing you to move his too.

“Maybe he’s not so bad.” You agreed, making quiet clicking sounds with your tongue against your teeth which Franklin seemed receptive to.

“Trust me when I say he’s the horse you want to practise on. Wilbur’s all about speed, Willow is tempermental unless you know her like I do. But Frank is as laid back as they come.” Reluctantly, Spencer let his hand slip from yours but you continued stroking him.

“Okay, so how does one ride a horse?” You asked without looking at him.

“One must first learn how to properly saddle a horse.” He chuckled, limping back over towards the wall where the saddle equipment hung.

Spencer had already fitted Franklin’s bridle which was tied to the fence in his paddock in anticipation of this. He grabbed one of the brushes off the wall and limped back over to you.

“First we’re gonna need to groom him.” He sidled around you, side stepping you and trying to ignore the pulsing in his knee as he trod precariously.

You heard the overt puff of air leave his lips and glanced at him, at the reddening in his ears and cheeks, his stiff jaw.

“You okay?” You removed one hand from Franklin and reached for him but he brushed you off.

“Fine, fine.” He shook it off. “Just, keep doing what you’re doing.”

His jaw remained clenched while he went about brushing down Franklin’s back and you remained stroking his face. Spencer gave attention to the horse's sides, his belly and rear before running the brush through his tail and then passing it to you to do the same to his mane.

Keeping one hand on Franklin’s snout you used the other to brush his knotty locks and he huffed again in appreciation.

Spencer hobbled around you, back to the wall and then returned with something for which swapped with you for the brush.

“This is a saddle pad. It helps protect his back and keep the saddle in place.” He guided you without touching you to Franklin’s left side. “It wants to sit just below his mane.”

You draped the slightly squishy fabric over Frank’s back, as instructed, letting it rest just beneath the stallion's mane.

“Is that okay?” You looked back at Spencer who was nodding.

“Perfect. Can you…” he nodded towards the wall. “Grab the saddle closest to us?”

He was bent over a little, massaging his knee between his fingers. You understood that he was struggling with the simple back and forth.

You slid past him and unhooked the saddle from its wall mounted position and carried it back into Frank’s paddock.

“So this is the saddle horn,” he pointed to one end which protruded from the leather saddle, almost looking like the top of a stick shift. “You want this at the front. Place the saddle on his back just like with the pad…yep that’s it. Toss the stirrup and the cinches up so they are out of the way.”

You did as he said before turning to him with a flourish of your hands.

“I’m a natural.” You joked.

Spencer simply rolled his eyes.

“Give it a little rock back and forth to make sure it’s sitting comfortably. Great, looks good and make sure the centre of the saddle is lined up with his spine.” Spencer inspected it himself. “The stirrups should be even on both sides and the saddle should be just below his shoulder blades.”

You fidgeted with the saddle a little, ensuring it was in the correct position. Spencer shuffled it down slightly before giving a nod of approval.

“Okay now we need to secure the front cinch, this is really important. So you’re going to pull the cinch under his belly, towards you, and slip the latigo strap down through the cinch buckle. Pull it all the way through and make sure neither the cinch nor the latigo strap are twisted.” He pointed out each new thing he explained.

“Like this?” You worked on following his instruction.

“Perfect. Now lift the latigo and slip it through the saddle’s D-ring, from outside-in and leaving the ring angled towards the left. Make the cinch snug, but not overly so. Do the same again a few times if there’s still a lot of length left in the latigo strap. Yeah, that’s great.” He nodded.

Spencer continued to talk you through the process and you followed each step. When confused you asked questions and he was quick to explain himself.

You then moved onto securing the rear cinch. Franklin remained still throughout the whole thing, clearly used to this procedure.

“Great, that looks great. Now if you were on your own you’d untie his reins from the fence before mounting him but in the interest of everyone’s safety I can untie it after you’re up.” Spencer took a step back.

“Okay, how does this part work then?” You gulped, a sudden flood of nerves washing over you.

“You’ll be fine,” Spencer tried to sooth you, sensing your fears. “Step up on that mounting block for me.”

You turned around and spotted the little wooden steps you assumed he meant and climbed up them. Spencer meanwhile clicked his tongue at Franklin and with a series of hand gestures the horse was moving into place next to you.

“What are you, the horse whisperer?” You scoffed.

Spencer placed his hand on the side of Franklin’s neck to keep him still although Franklin could usually be trusted he didn’t want to take any chances.

“Okay use your left hand to grip the saddle horn and your left foot in the stirrup. That’s it. Rest your weight on the ball of your foot, shift your body weight onto your mounting foot and swing your other leg over the top of the horse. One swift move.”

You sucked in a breath and before you could let the nerves get the better of you, you took the leap. Using your left foot to take most of your weight, you swung your right leg up and over his body, plopping down into the saddle and making Franklin jolt a little.

“Oof, careful. Next time try to slowly lower yourself down.” Spencer chuckled, giving Frank a pat. “You alright boy?”

“Sorry,” you baulked.

“It’s okay, he’s tough, he can handle it. Get your right foot in that stirrup.” Spencer rounded the horse, making quick work of untying the reins from the fence. “Right I’ll keep hold of these while we head up to the field. Once we’re in there I’ll give them to you and give you some pointers. You good to go Frank?”

With a light tug on the reins, Frank neighed at his owner before he jolted forward. You wobbled in the saddle, your right hand joining your left on the horn and holding on for dear life.

Spencer used the reins to guide Franklin out of the stable and briefly let them go so he could latch the door closed behind you.

Moving again and you wobbled once more, the ground beneath you not entirely level and you felt yourself swaying side to side.

“You sure this is safe?” You whined a little.

“Very, Frank knows what he’s doing, trust me.” Spencer chuckled.

“I, uh…whoa, Jesus.” You groaned as you wobbled to the left. “This does not feel natural.”

“Tell you the truth, I hated horse riding when I first moved out here.” Spencer told you as he led the horse up towards the field.

It was a slight incline and you felt yourself slipping back a little, hitting the raised back of the saddle and whining a little.

“You? Mister big tough cowboy?” You clucked but your voice gave way to your nerves.

“Not always the case. I had these crises of faith where I just thought, what the hell have I done? I don’t even like horses!” He chuckled. As if he understood, Franklin made a noise of frustration. “Calm down Frank, that was a long time ago.”

“What was it about this place for you? You wanted to get away, to escape your city life, I get that. But why here specifically?” You tried to hide the tremor in your voice as Franklin dipped while he walked.

“I wanted a simple life I guess.” Spencer shrugged, looking a little wistful. “My whole life people have depended on me, ever since I was a little kid. I’d been in the same job since I was twenty two years old and although I loved it, it took a toll on me, both mentally and physically. I couldn’t keep up with the demands and I’d always appreciated the idea of living off the grid with nothing but land and animals to rely on me. It’s…I suppose it’s rewarding in its own way and I still needed something to occupy me so I figured why not this.”

You mused over his words, your eyebrows furrowed whilst trying to ignore the way you bucked as Franklin moved.

“Spencer, you weren’t a psychology professor, were you?” You dared ask.

His back straightened a little as you reached the brow of the hill and he continued down as you had to brace yourself on the horn.

“No, I wasn’t. I mean, yeah I was for a while. I lectured from time to time. But no, it wasn’t my main profession.” He confessed, swallowing thickly.

“What did you do?”

“If it’s okay with you, I don’t want to talk about it. I spent fifteen years of my life being defined by my job and part of the appeal of this place is that no one knows who I was in my former life. I might tell you, one day, but for now I’d rather not be that person anymore.”

You couldn’t argue with that. You also favoured not being defined by your past. It didn’t matter where he’d come from, what he’d done for a living, the same way it didn’t matter where you’d been. All that mattered was the two of you were here now.

“Understood. I don’t mean to pry.” You replied and Spencer offered you a small smile in return. Still holding onto the saddle horn for dear life, the path started to flatten out but was still bumpy under Franklin’s hooves.

Soon you came across a large fenced off area with a ravine babbling just behind it. Spencer had to briefly drop the reins so he could open the gate before leading Frank inside.

You watched Spencer inquisitively. You did understand not wanting to reveal too much of your personal life but it didn’t stop you wanting to know more about him.

He was a mystery, you couldn’t work him out. But you wanted to. You wanted to know everything about him. Maybe one day he’d feel comfortable opening up to you, and perhaps you’d even return the favour.

But for now he remained an enigma.

***

After a fairly rocky first horse riding lesson in which you were convinced you were going to die at the hands of this horse, you helped Spencer clean the stables and feed his animals.

He made sandwiches for lunch as well as honey and lemon tea. After lunch he’d introduced you to his cattle.

When he noticed you wincing as you walked he offered you some hydrocortisone ointment, telling you it was normal for your thighs to chafe when you were learning to ride.

The ointment helped and it was a good job too as you had to walk into town to collect your car. Spencer tried to insist he could cope with the walk but you’d seen the way he’d been grimacing all day and you insisted he stay behind.

You found an ice pack in his freezer and forced him to sit down and ice his knee. It didn’t take a lot of convincing.

He’d called in an order at Busbee’s BBQ which you would collect while you were in town for dinner.

It was little under a two mile walk which you didn’t remember being so long in your drunken state yesterday. The sun was setting and thankfully the heat and humidity had died down but it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.

You found the BBQ joint with relative ease, just a little way down the road from where you parked your car the previous day. A handsome man named Grant handed you your food with a dazzling smile. You tipped him generously.

You made quick work driving back to the ranch and carried the food up to Spencer’s lodge, your thighs rubbing from your walk and the horse. You headed up the stairs, the light from the living room illuminating your path.

Spencer wasn’t where you left him on the couch and the ice pack was discarded on the floor in a little puddle where it had started to melt. You weren’t sure why but the hairs on the back of your neck were standing to attention in an instant, your gut telling you something wasn’t right.

You put the bags of food on the kitchen counter and padded towards the closed bedroom door, taking quiet, even steps. You breathed silently, pressing your ear against the wood.

You didn’t hear much other than slightly ragged breaths, sharply inhaling and then exhaling with aggression. Your first thought was that Spencer was indulging in some alone time and you almost turned and left, not wanting to invade his privacy again.

But then you heard a sound which was more of a moan of pain than one of pleasure. He’d been struggling all day with his knee, that much was obvious. Maybe he needed some assistance.

You gently rapped on the door with your knuckles and called his name. No response. You tried again but still no reply.

You weighed up your options. On one hand you didn’t want to irritate him by just barging in, he might not be responding because he didn’t want to see you. But on the other hand he could be really hurt and would you be able to forgive yourself if you didn’t try to help?

You knocked again, spoke his name a little louder. You were met with no more than a grunt.

“Spencer?” You tried again, louder still. “Spencer, I’m going to need you to let me know you’re okay.”

Yet more silence.

“Spencer, if you don’t answer me I am going to come in. If you don’t want that then tell me now, otherwise I am opening this door.” You paused, held your breath. No answer. “Fine, I’m coming in.”

You gripped the handle, pushed open the door.

A cursory glance around the room and your heart tightened in your chest, your body momentarily going limp at the sight in front of you.

Spencer sat on the edge of his bed, naked from the waist up. At his feet on the floor were the smashed remains of his old cell phone. But that wasn’t what alarmed you.

In his limp right hand a silver piece of metal glistened as it caught the light. But it was his left bicep for which you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

His left bicep and the fresh open wound which was spitting with blood, caking his arm, dripping onto the bed sheets.

But the scariest part of all was how Spencer didn’t even seem to notice. He didn’t seem aware that you were even there.

His expressionless eyes were trained somewhere across the room, his chapped lips moving as though he were chanting.

“S-Spencer?” You croaked but he didn’t register you.

You swallowed, unsticking your tongue from the roof of your mouth and cautiously approaching him. When you drew closer you could hear a haggard, monotone whisper of words leaving his lips.

You crouched in front of his eyeline to try and get his attention but even when he had nowhere else to look, his eyes bore through you like you weren’t even there.

And he continued to mutter under his breath, “I am still whole. I am still whole. I am still whole.”

@kalulakunundrum @small-and-violent @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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