#this isn't fanfiction

[ofsilentthings]

Missed Connections

An oddly personal poem about myself and this fictional dude named Astarion.

amateur poetry below~

Missed Connections

Sometimes I wonder

if I'm pretty enough to be kidnapped

if I'm worth seducing and luring

to your master's palace.

I have frequented bars

(or taverns, or inns)

by myself

It is not the first time I've 

put on my most dour face

hoping someone would notice me

someone to pay attention

someone to see my weakness

and embrace it, turn me into something

with a purpose.

The waitress refills my drink. 

The other patrons shuffle past me on the way out. 

They don't notice me.

Why would you? 

After all, I like to drink but not get too drunk.

Gentle swirling of my vision is when I stop.

I'd like to see you approach me then

a blurry bloodless blob in my alcoholic haze. 

I would judge you based on your smell

(a curious mix of bergamot and brandy)

and the sound of your voice.

I would fall for you in an instant. 

I would be such an easy target.

But I don't think you'd notice me.

I wonder if it is the dirt under my nails,

Or the threadbare shirt I've worn for a week.

Is it how I like to keep an open mind

or be aware of the exits

or remember my husband at home

or my weight?

Surely it's my weight.

I think if somehow we existed

in the same plane, same city, same tavern, 

you would miss out on me

(a shame)

and I would miss out on you

(a blessing)

[puraiuddo]

FanFiction.net is not gone.

Right now it's a victim of DNS (Domain Name Service) spoofing. This means that a malicious party is trying to steal traffic from FFn by purchasing a very similar domain.

Correction:

The new "fake" site that people are seeing still belongs to FanFiction.net—they just misconfigured their servers and are not redirecting traffic from the bare fanfiction.net to the main site at www.fanfiction.net. There is likely no malicious agent. Didn't mean to scare anyone! Just wanted to let people know the site wasn't deleted!

So if you want to read fanfiction and not see leaves, you have have to type out "www.fanfiction.net".

Please share so people stop panicking.

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Jason Todd: Listen, I can explain...

Stephanie Brown: You got him to give you $5,000 a month and I only get $2,000! Where do I have to get killed to get $5,000? I need to know!

Cass: Hey don't joke about that with him that's a very sensitive topic for Jason.

Jason: Thank you, Cass.

Cass: You're welcome plus Stephanie it is not that big of an issue we both get $2,000 a month from Bruce. We just have to work up to a higher amount.

Stephanie: This is such bull crap!

Tim: You guys are getting paid?! Why am I the only one that's not getting paid?

Stephanie: You still work for him, that's free labor.

Tim: No it's fucking not!

Stephanie: How much did Dick get?

Dick Grayson: Did? I still get paid $10,000 a month.

Tim: BRUCE! GOD DAMNIT MAN I NEED AN ALLOWANCE!

[iinsomaniac]

ao3 went down and i, like many others, immediately flocked to tumblr

[zephyrchama]

It's the middle of the night. The house is still. All is quiet.

You don't know why you woke up, or if you're even really awake. You're just vaguely conscious. The room is dark, but you're too tired to open your eyes anyway. It's time to go back to sleep.

Your feet are hot. The fact doesn't register in your tired mind, it's just a subconscious feeling that makes you instinctively readjust your feet. You try and shake off the blanket to cool down.

It doesn't work. You move again, nothing changes. Your body knows something is amiss and at this point is waiting for your brain to process what's happening. Your feet are hot, and heavy. When you try to cool off you are rooted in place and there's an uncanny sensation you can't place. It feels prickly.

You wake up enough to crack open your eyes and adjust to the dark room. Conscious thought is booting back up. Everything seems normal - the door is closed, you're under the blankets, everything is where it belongs. Only your feet are really, unusually warm, and something is moving on them.

You sit up in a stupor to discover Belphagor at the end of your bed, wrapped in his own blanket, distinguishable by his two-tone hair peaking out from the sheets. Only he could be comfortable sleeping in such a bizarre curled-up ball by your legs with your feet, of all things, as his pillow.

You experimentally try flexing your toes. The demon reflexively bites your foot until you stop. Perhaps a habit picked up from Beelzebub?

Luckily, the covers soften any real damage. Unlike his dangerous twin, whose bite could be fatal even with protection, Belphegor's gnawing is rendered harmless. It doesn't happen unless you move in some way. The mystery is solved.

You lay back down and sink your head into the pillow. A weird talk might be in order once morning comes, but you can deal with some warm feet for one night.

[talaok]

Training

Pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader

Summary: Peter has never been able to last enough to take care of you, but as it turns out... practice does make perfect.

Warnings: talk about premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, sub!peter and lots of pet names for spidey.

he was always so desperate around you. He was always shy about it, but every time you gave him permission his hands never left your body.

He was so fucking in love with you it was actually a little bit scary.

Nobody had ever made him feel the way you did, and not just sex-wise (although goddamn wasn't that the best thing ever), no, but feelings-wise- like he could breathe more easily around you, like he felt light and soft and the word was perfect whenever you were near.

And everything really was perfect... except one little thing.

he couldn't last.

You weren't making it a big deal, being that you were also teaching him every other way he could make you come, but still, he wanted to do it... he so desperately wanted to feel your walls squeeze him as you came that he was willing to do anything... but it was just so hard.

Andit never got easier...

"c'mon baby" you purred, taking his face in your hands "You can do it, think of something else," you said, out of breath as you bounced on his cock "Anything else baby, I'm almost there"

His eyes were shut close.

He'd found that he didn't even stand a chance at lasting more than 2 minutes if he was watching you.

And he tried, he really tried to get his mind to make something up, to will it to find something else to focus on, but-

"you feel so good y/n- I-I can't"

"yes you can" you shut him up with a messy kiss "You wanna be my good boy, baby?" you ask, eliciting a whimper from his throat

"y-yes" he choked out, not sure how he still hadn't burst

"Yeah?" you breathed "Then you're gonna have to be good and wait a little more" you moaned, his dick hitting a particularly good spot "Can you do that for me, baby? can you wait a little more?"

"mh-mh" he hummed, sounding on the verge of tears

"good boy" you moaned, your nails scratching his chest, as he stretched you so incredibly well "fuck-you feel so good" you cried, your voice drowning out the sound of your skin slapping with his "s-so big baby" you moaned again "s-so f-fucking-"

And then, just like that, it happened- the most extraordinary thing he'd ever felt.

You came, you came on his cock- you came because of him (although, let's be honest, you did all the work), and it felt-

he didn't even have words for it, he only groaned louder than he had ever done, and finally (and inevitably) reached his own release as your walls squeezed his dick and your moans filled the air.

He was grinning like an idiot the moment you opened your eyes back up, and you couldn't help but laugh "You liked it?"

"yes" he nodded, still smiling wide "yes very much"

"mhh" you hummed, bashing in your post-orgasmic bliss as you leaned down to kiss him "I told you you could do it honey"

[dandylovesturtles]

@leisi-lilacdreams post about both of the Donnie's getting their twin sense tingling in the latest CAS arc (by @somerandomdudelmao) inspired some dialogue in my brain and so here.

---

"You let him go!?"

Donnie doesn't bother turning around; he can hear Mini-him pacing back and forth around the lab, and he doesn't have to look to know how this is shaking out.

"What was I supposed to do, tie him to a chair?"

"Yes!?" says Mini-him like he's stupid, which warrants a scoff.

"You know as well as I do that when Leo decides something, you can't talk him out of it."

"Yes, which is why tying him to a chair is the appropriate response!"

"No one's invented a rope strong enough yet, not even me."

"I can. I will. Watch me."

Donnie does not watch. Mini-him is still pacing back and forth, from the sounds of it, so there's nothing to see. It takes him over a minute to finally stop.

"...You feel it too, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Donnie says. He doesn't need any clarification. "We're the same person, I'm just older, smarter, and sexier."

Mini-him huffs, not rising to the bait, which means there are more feelings in the air than Donnie cares for. But he gets it. He wasn't lying about feeling it, after all.

"...We almost lost him," says Mini-him at length, and finally Donnie turns away from his work to look at the kid. He's got his arms crossed tight, looking away, seeing something else. "We did lose him, for a few minutes. But I could still feel it." He sighs, looking down. "If Mikey hadn't been able to open that portal..."

"Then you would have found a way to tear it open yourself," says Donnie, and Mini-him's eyes jerk up from the floor. Donnie just shrugs like he's saying something obvious. "Leos get into trouble, and Donnies save them. Right?"

Finally, a small smile from Mini-him. "He's more trouble than he's worth, though."

Donnie grins, then grabs a wrench and holds it out for the kid to take. "Now are you going to keep angsting or are you going to help?"

"I'm not angsting," he says unconvincingly, but he does come forward and grab the wrench. "What are we working on?"

"Before I tell you, you have to sign an NDA."

"Oh, well, if this is official work, you'll have to pay my contracting fee."

Donnie barks a laugh, even though they both know that neither of them are joking.

[thebrisingamen]

HEY EVERYONE

So, to preface this: My father passed away earlier this year. We have been cleaning things out as much as we can, bit by bit. He was a hoarder and was only hampered by the fact that my mother wouldn't let him dominate the house with EVERYTHING.

This meant he did not throw away ANYTHING at all. So here's something interesting.

in ye olden times before the internet, there were 'zines. And this was the collection of hand-written and drawn, then xeroxed...Star Trek Smut.

Specifically pertaining to Spock. It's WILD that this survived and is in as good of a condition as it is.

1972, as you can see. And Hal Clement (author of Needle) contributed to this collection! (His article is not pictured here, but its still cool!)

I'm sure this is of great interest to some people, how the 70s thought this stuff should go.

Here's some art! There is more but it is not safe to post here, lest staff kicks me. Unless I'm allowed to post stuff like that again, now?

Anyways, Where will this go? Museum of Popular Culture; They Have A Vulcan Harp!!

This one, not the Seattle one

[hamartia-grander]

Just so y'all know, if you as a fanfic writer come up with something, and another fanfic writer coincidentally comes up with the same thing... That is not plagiarism. That is a hive mind, and it happens a lot. A lot. And you do not have the right to make someone "credit you" for an idea that they came up with, just because it's similar to yours. By the way.

[martuzzio]

Let's play the "is it Etho or Kakashi" game

[rax-writes]

↬ when night falls

Tywin Lannister x Reader

intended to be a sequel to the morning after, but it's not necessary that you read it prior to this

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, 18+ ONLY ⇆ P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, age gap, nipple play, bit of breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, pregnant!reader

The journey from Winterfell to King's Landing took considerably longer than necessary, given the Queen's insistence that she travel in that godsforsaken carriage of hers. As such, five weeks after your marriage to Tywin Lannister, you were spending one final night in a lavish red and gold tent alongside your lord husband.

For the entirety of the journey, the two of you spent the entire day apart – your horse trotting behind your father and King Robert, and Tywin a short distance behind, alongside Ser Jamie. Occasionally, Arya would pester you into allowing her to sit in front of you on the saddle, as you quietly conversed with her and taught her how to control the horse. But, aside from that, you were alone with your thoughts all day, every day.

The nights, however, were spent in the arms of your lord husband.

The two of you quite quickly developed a very… peculiar dynamic. You had quickly learned and adapted to the way the fearsome Tywin Lannister operates – preferring you speak concisely and directly, vehemently uninterested in anything otherwise. Additionally, there was a degree of mutual respect, as well as a vaguely guarded openness to one another – but certainly no love, or any semblance of romantic feelings at all. In truth, you assumed there never would be.

But gods was there lust.

On your end, it was your first and only experience with sex, and it was undeniably good, so you were eager for it. On his end… you couldn't be sure. It could be that the man was pent up from years as a bachelor, but it would be safe to assume he had simply sent for a whore when the mood struck him. A more likely reason would be his pursuit of an heir, but surely he wouldn't have needed to fill your cunt nightly to achieve that goal. No, you were almost certain that he was simply enjoying fucking you – just as much as you were enjoying fucking him.

When Tywin entered the tent, you were sitting on the edge of the cot, toying with the goblet in your hands, already undressed to your shift. He met your eyes as he entered, but said nothing, that unreadable (but somehow always leaning toward annoyed) expression on his face. He silently began taking off his boots, then removed his sword and placed it beside the cot. He was in the middle of pouring wine into his goblet when you found the courage to ask your question.

"Will you stop bedding me when I become pregnant?"

Tywin said nothing, setting the pitcher down and turning to face you as he took a sip of his wine. He wore that calm, calculating expression as he stared at you – but you could swear there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. The golden goblet made a faint clank as he set it down before speaking.

"Do you ask because you wish for me to stop? Or because you wish for me to continue?"

"I wish for you to continue."

"Then I shall continue," Tywin stated, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Good," you replied, then added, "Because I am."

"You are what?"

"Pregnant."

The smile dropped and Tywin's eyebrows raised, making his forehead crinkle.

"Already?" he inquired dryly, surprised. Then, incredulous, he asked, "How do you know?"

It was a fair question. You had never been pregnant before, so perhaps you were mistaking soreness and fatigue from travel as signs of pregnancy. But no. You knew.

"I should have bled three weeks ago, but I have not. My breasts are extremely tender, and certain smells make my stomach turn."

Tywin nodded, then stated, "I do not doubt that you are right, but we will have a Maester provide his confirmation and look you over when we arrive in King's Landing. In the meantime, is there anything you need?"

A faint but wicked smile spread across your face, and you stood from the bed, setting the goblet down as you slowly made your way over to him. The metal of his armor was cold beneath your fingers as you idly ran your hands over his chest, before toying with the belt around his hips, looking up at him through your lashes.

"You," was your simple answer. But both of you knew that it wasn't meant in a romantic, sweet sort of way.

Tywin's hand reached up to cradle your face, somewhat harshly, hooking his thumb under your jaw to tilt your head up and kiss you. It was lustful and full of desire, accompanied by the scratch of his beard upon the delicate skin of your face.

When he pulled away, Tywin smiled quite faintly, then hummed lowly and said, "Well, what sort of man would I be to deny his pregnant lady wife her wish?"

The old lion made quick work of removing his armor and smallclothes, and relieving you of the thin linen shift you wore, before guiding you to the luxurious cot. Tywin continued to kiss you, eventually trailing kisses down your neck, until he reached your chest, unexpectedly taking one of your breasts into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

The sensation nearly made you shout, opting to take in a sharp breath instead as your back arched off the blankets. Eyes squeezed shut, you heard a low chuckle, and looked down to see a set of very amused, crystalline eyes staring up at you.

"Hm, I see you were not exaggerating about the sensitivity."

Electing to ignore him, you let your head fall back onto the pillow. However, it seemed he did not intend to grant you any reprieve, moving to the other breast and doing the same thing – prompting you to dig your nails into his shoulders and bite your lip to avoid crying out. Unfortunately, that made matters worse, as Tywin let out a low groan with his lips still wrapped around your nipple, earning a loud, pitiful whine from you.

Seemingly enjoying himself, Tywin began peppering your chest with gentle bites, which he soothed with his tongue afterwards, sure to become small little bruises by morning. Breathy moans and sighs of pleasure filled the tent, as he then resumed his ministrations on the hardened peaks of your breasts before snaking one hand down to toy with your clit, expertly rubbing it in small, steady circles. Astoundingly fast, your release washed over you, soaking his hand as you moaned and writhed beneath the Warden of the West – who only chuckled darkly at your quick climax.

Noticing that the continued kisses and licks upon your breasts began to make you twitch, Tywin captured your lips in a brief, rough kiss, before rolling onto his back. He then pulled you into his lap, with a strength one wouldn’t assume the older man to still possess – which was, admittedly, arousing. Your mind was still foggy from the orgasm, and your movements were not unlike a rag doll, eyes half-lidded and jaw slack, moving somewhat limply as you allowed him to maneuver you. He gripped his hard, leaking cock in one hand, then reached behind you to urge you forward with a flat palm on the small of your back.

A hiss through gritted teeth escaped Tywin, and you gasped lightly, head thrown back and hands flat on his chest. Although you’d already lost count of how many times he’d taken you, it still felt more incredible than anything you’d ever experienced. A passing thought reminded you of the fact that he seemed to share the sentiment, always hissing or groaning when he first sheathed himself inside you.

Tywin’s grip moved to your hips, prompting you to begin rocking them against his own, keeping your pace steady. However, he made no move to halt you when you eventually began to move faster, leaning back to rest your hands on his thighs as you fucked yourself on his long, thick cock. The sound of it alone would have made a Septa drop dead – a symphony composed of wet skin upon skin and gruff grunts intermingling with breathy moans.

He reached up to grasp and knead your breasts in his rough, calloused hands – but he then surprised you, his hands drifting lower, until they rested flat against your lower stomach. You thought perhaps he was focusing on the movement of your hips, but then his thumbs began to stroke across the soft skin of your belly.

At first, it seemed very sweet and sentimental. You thought that perhaps he was basking in the joy of another child being on the way – until you felt the way his cock throbbed, deep inside of you, as he stared intently at your belly. Immediately, you came to the realization that it must be arousing for a man to have successfully fucked a babe into his wife – stroking their ego and their pride to have done their husbandly duty, as well as show everyone that you belong to them.

Truth be told, you were surprised to learn that it aroused you just as much.

Tywin groaned as you clenched around him, and when his eyes flicked up to meet yours, it felt as though he knew you had been thinking the very same thing he was.

That seemed to ignite something within your husband, and in the blink of an eye, Tywin flipped you onto your back and began driving into your soaked cunt with a newfound ferocity. You bit down on your knuckle to keep quiet, but Tywin pinned both of your wrists down, his arms on either side of your head. The act did not last much longer beyond that point, both parties having already been too near the precipice of climax, and the pair of you met your releases in unison.

Tywin rolled off of you, breathing heavily, a light layer of sweat covering his chest, along with the small patches of silver hair. You allowed yourself a few moments of recovery, before moving to leave the cot in order to extinguish the candles, as well as tidy yourself up. However, Tywin grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Where are you going?”

“The candles –”

“Can wait,” Tywin interrupted, voice sounding unbothered as always, albeit with a hint of fatigue. He exhaled slowly, as he gently pulled you back down to lay upon the cot beside him. “One of the guards outside can see to the candles in a moment. You are carrying my heir, so you are to rest. As much as is feasible, from now until the babe is born. And if anyone questions it, they are to discuss it with me.”

Anyone possessing the sense the gods gave a mule knows “discussing” something with Tywin Lannister was just the opposite – it was not to be addressed at all, because what Tywin Lannister says, goes. A fact which made you smile softly.

“As my lord husband commands,” you replied, a hint of sarcasm in your tone, but you did exactly as he bade you, pulling some of the blankets over you and nestling into the pillows. You were already yawning by the time Tywin called for a guard, who extinguished the candles, and bathed the room in darkness as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep.

[kingkat12]

icarus burning (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: stalking, obsession, upir!roman, Roman is a bit of a creep, toxic but sweet relationship?, mentions of sex

summary: sometimes, the deer doesn't know it's being hunted

word count: 2,514

a/n: this was originally supposed to be a requested piece someone asked for, and it was supposed to be a sweet story... but Roman is Roman and I want to do the request PROPERLY, so that's coming up later hihi

It was hard to get a sweet moment out of a guy like Roman, but not impossible— I knew that long before we got involved. Long before that time I started running into him practically everywhere, before he paid for my lunch when I was holding up the queue in the cafeteria because my card didn't work, and before he suddenly started showing up everywhere I was at school. Coincidences. 

I first understood that he was into me the time we ran into each other on my Sunday stroll in the city and he offered to drive me home. It was during that drive that I was trapped with him, unable to run away from the notorious high school playboy my friends had warned me about numerous times. He had put his hand on my thigh, just for a few seconds, just to prove the point of some joke he was making— and I knew I was done for.

Roman eventually got a little weird when he realized his feelings were reciprocated, and it got even worse when he realized his infatuation was growing. He'd text me incessantly, as though he couldn't stay away from me for more than a few minutes at the time, and then proceeded to present as the human form of lukewarm tea whenever we met again in person. Maybe it was the fact that he was absolutely terrified of anything real, or maybe it was the fact that he had his playboy image to uphold— I have yet to ask him this, actually.

However, when I started giving him the cold shoulder, not answering his messages, not caring to put much work into our conversations in the hallway, Roman panicked. Completely. And it was during this time that I started to get a little suspicious about our run-ins— they got more frequent, his demeanour got more and more intense, and I could almost sense that he was spiralling. 

"Just... don't, like, ignore me," Roman mumbled as we strolled through the bread-section at the store, once again having met by coincidence— right? "I get that I've been a little weird recently, but I'm really trying here..."

"Trying what?" I turned to him, hoping for him to be clear about his thoughts for once. "What are you on about?"

Frustrated, lips pursed, Roman ran his fingers through his hair as his voice got lower. "I'm messing this up already, aren't I?"

There was something different about him today. He was fidgety, anxious—  what was happening? I wondered if he felt rejected by my rebellion against his weird habit of going hot and cold. "Messing what up, Roman?" If only he could just say that he liked me out loud. That would make me feel more at ease about liking him back despite everyone around me telling me not to.

Roman clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, nodding to himself, mind clearly racing. "Nothing. Forget it," Without even saying bye, he turned the other way and disappeared into the next aisle, leaving me even more confused than before. 

After having thought about our interaction at the store thoroughly, it dawned on me that I hadn't actually seen Roman with an actual girlfriend on his arm. Ever. He was either with a cheerleader he'd change out every few weeks, racing through the cheer-team as though it was a revolving door, or with some random freshman girl who had no idea what she was getting herself into. Now that I really thought about it, I hadn't seen him with either category during the past few weeks we had been talking. I had a feeling that Roman wasn't faking his cluelessness, and that he was genuinely walking around in the dark concerning how to address his feelings and act on them. 

Something told me I had to give him a nudge in the right direction.

The next day at school, I found him rummaging through his locker, possibly looking for a pack of cigarettes he had buried beneath all the books he never used. I leaned my back against the locker next to his, waiting for him to notice me. And when he did, I watched his usual serious face melt away and morph into a look of cocky surprise; "Oh my, look who it is," 

"Yours truly," I said, raising my hands in defeat as I suppressed a laugh. 

Roman shut his locker, his pupils dilating at a rather obnoxious rate. Was he relieved to see me after our conversation yesterday? "What's up?" he eventually said, his green eyes scanning me without even trying to hide it.

"Just wanted to say something," I had to steady my breathing— was I seriously about to do this? I could crash and burn, an event more damning than when Icarus flew too close to the sun. However, I knew I had to pull myself together, not wanting him to know how nervous this was making me; I wasn't exactly here to stroke his ego any further. 

Roman's eyes practically sparkled; "Yes?"

Fuck it. "Okay, so... I like you. And on top of that, I have a feeling you like me too. So I would like it if you stopped following me around and instead took some action," I held my breath, watching the horror wash over his face— did he really think that I'd believe our run-ins were coincidental at this rate? "There's a movie going at eight that I want to see, and it would be nice if you'd join... I'd like that very much."

Roman's lips parted in partial shock— this was definitely not what he had expected me to say. He cleared his throat, straightening up; "Pick you up at seven thirty?"

I had an inkling that I didn't need to give him my address. "Sure," I said, biting back a smirk. "Bring extra cash, by the way. Popcorn is on you."

Roman let out a laugh as he shook his head, clearly in denial. "As if I'd let you pay in the first place," He leaned against his locker, letting out a relieved sigh as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You look nice today."

I did my best to not blush. Later, I have learned from Roman that my attempt was unsuccessful. "I know," I said, trying to hide my growing grin as I kicked off the locker; "Well, I was waiting for you to say that... And now that you have, I'm off to class. See you later, Rome."

Unable to hold back, Roman chuckled as he watched me go, letting out the breath he had been holding. 

Surprisingly, my plan had worked. The cinema date was the first of several that ensued, and I rewarded his normal behaviour by texting him back a little more frequently. However, I wasn't completely sold on dating him further, because the weird situationship-phase was probably a little weirder than it would normally be. For instance, there were times where I wouldn't respond for a few hours because I was busy with friends or family, and feel... watched. 

There was also that one time where Roman just... didn't let me leave the car after a date. It was quite bad, actually, because it was right in that moment where I felt like I had gotten my period and needed to make a run for it to check. But the doors were locked and the windows shut; his voice dropped and his eyes were weirdly dark when he finally turned to me, suddenly not looking like his usual self. "Could you just stay here... a little longer?"

 I couldn't quite pinpoint what was happening, but I noted to myself that he probably hadn't blinked in about three minutes. "I sort of have a curfew," I tried, tapping my fingers against the door, hoping he'd get the point. "It was really nice today, Roman, I had a lot of fun—"

"A minute," he said, almost like a command, voice turning rather raspy. Roman closed his eyes, breathing heavily. 

I wasn't sure whether he thought this was romantic or if he had some weird plans for me. "... I think my parents are going to pissed if I don't go soon—"

And it was in this moment that he leaned over and kissed me, effectively stopping my trail of words. I froze, unsure what this whole ordeal had been about, but all my thoughts of reason and concern seeped out of my brain, melting into the kiss against his soft lips. Maybe he had just been nervous to kiss me, maybe that's what that was?

In retrospect, I try not to think about it too much.

And just like that, everything was suddenly sailing smoothly— I would sit with Roman and his friends in the cafeteria, his arm proudly draped around me. He had started to insist that he picked me up and drove me to school every day, which usually ended with us making out in the backseat of his car before class. And after class. And outside my house after the trip back, not letting me leave before he got a 'proper goodbye', as he called it.

However, at the end of the day, he was still Roman Godfrey. The same guy that had probably slept with the whole cheerleading team, along with half the school. That thought had me shuddering, and I did my best to shove it as far back into my mind as possible. Eventually, it started gnawing on me that he would probably be expecting something more of me soon, something more than just making out in the back of his car, and it made me go all Roman on him— also known as cold and distant. 

"What's wrong?" he said, staring at me from the driver's seat after he had parked at school. "You've been a little weird... Did I do something?"

The situation was starting to make me feel borderline bad. I didn't like having this conversation in his locked car. "No, Roman, it's nothing... I'm fine,"

This was seemingly not the right answer— later that day, I was cornered in an empty stairwell on my way to class. Roman's eyes were so incessant, so strikingly green, I couldn't help but feel nervous. "Stop saying everything's fine when I can feel that it isn't," he said, keeping his voice low in case anyone would hear. "It's driving me nuts, you know me."

I gulped, needing to look away to collect my thoughts. I hated that I had started to avoid being alone with him, just in case he'd ask or try to initiate anything. In reality, I simply wasn't ready, and the fear of him discarding me after we were done was enough for me to postpone it. I also had a weird feeling that if I gave myself to him in that way, that he'd just never... stop. Roman would never get enough— he had already claimed me in every other way possible. "I just... feel like you want more from me than I'm willing to give at the moment,"

"What?" Roman's brows drew together in confusion. "That's just downright cryptic. Care to explain like a normal person? Are you breaking up with me or something?"

"No, no!" I definitely didn't want that. Feeling the tension grow, I ground my teeth together. "It's just... Have you noticed that you try to take off my shirt every time we make out?"

It was clear that Roman disappeared deep into his mind for a moment, scouring his memories. "I'm... sorry? I'll stop, I guess,"

I let out a rather big sigh, feeling my anxiety rise. "I know you might be used to a certain linearity and timeline with a lot of things when you were with other girls, but that's... not how I work," Finally looking up to meet his gaze, I chewed on my lip, awaiting an answer.

However, Roman looked like a big question-mark. "I suppose?" It was clear that he was lost.

I wanted to shrink into a tiny bug and get stomped. That would probably feel better than whatever this feeling was. "I need us to wait with... that,"

"... What, sex?" The way he followed up his words with a laugh made me even more anxious.

"Yeah," I mumbled. "And if that's a deal-breaker for you, then you have to tell me right now. Because I'm honestly not too keen on getting my heart crushed—"

My nervous ramble was cut off when Roman leaned down, capturing my lips in a rather passionate kiss which probably shouldn't have taken place in a school. "It's fine," he whispered against my lips, running his cold, slender fingers through my hair. "I don't care. I just care that we're okay. Because... we're okay, right?"

Smiling, I snaked my arms around his neck, my nose nudging his. "Of course we are,"

"Good," Roman beamed, letting out a sigh of relief. However, his smile wasn't there for long— his eyes rounded out, getting serious, as though he was about to deliver some very, very bad news.  "But... just so you know, when a guy doesn't have sex for a very long time, his dick turns purple and falls off. So when you're ready for it, the chance might not be there... Just be aware of that."

I watched him crack up, giving in to a rather loud laugh which resulted in me giving his arm a playful smack— this guy, honestly. 

And we continued to be okay for a very, very long time. More than okay, actually; it was a continuous walk on cloud nine, and I was officially convinced that he was the man for me. Hence why I decided to put him through the most nerve-wracking situation a teenage boy could be thrown into— meeting the parents.

I was currently fluffing his hair on my front porch, watching his knuckles turn white around the flowers he had brought for my mother. My sweet, sweet boy. "Don't be nervous," I cooed, getting up on my toes to kiss his cheek. "It's just dinner."

"Sure," Roman breathed, clearly spooked. "Dinner. Just dinner. Food."

I couldn't help but chuckle— he was so damn cute sometimes, and he had no idea. "After this is over, we can go up to my room and cool off, okay?"

Immediately, Roman's pale face turned a little rosy. "That's a consolation,"

"Sure is," Before I turned to knock on my door, I pulled him in for a kiss, stroking through his hair. "You'll be fine, Rome, I promise. I adore you, and they will too."

Roman let out a shaky breath, smiling back at me. His eyes had rounded out at the words of affirmation; it was clear to me that he was absolutely smitten, and he didn't have to speak for me to know what he was thinking— you're everything.

I tried not to think about the fact that it was sort of concerning how much he was into me. That I was his actual everything. How he'd sometimes tighten his grip in my hair to the point where it sort of hurt, burying his nose against the top of my head as he held me closely... and how it only happened when I was on my period.

I didn't care. 

... For now.

[raetttriestowrite]

Me, an author, side eyeing my WIP: you're not going to do anything weird, are you? We've discussed this. There's a plan. We're going to stick to the plan, aren't we?

The WIP: *presents subplot, presents additional conflicts, presents character development, laughs in my fucking face*

[reiderwriter]

You'd Be Like Heaven To Touch♣️

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Female Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: After a whirlwind weekend, you're finally ready to go home and deal with the mess you created in Vegas. But you just cannot get your new Husband out of your head.

Warnings: Oral sex (F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, no mention of birth control, and you're going to hate me by the end of this sex scene bye

A/N: They're officially out of Vegas! I'm so excited to share the next few parts with you guys, and we finally got our first taste of smut!! Also, the Reid in the gif is the exact one I'm picturing in this scene so yeah 🤡 smirk and all 😏

Here's the series masterlist, and my general masterlist!~

Prev. Chapter // Next Chapter

The race back to the hotel was easy compared to the ensuing rush to pack up an entire hotel room's worth of mess in the time between their arrival and their check-out time. Sure, they’d had to pack light as travelling FBI agents, but with the added mess you’d created in Spencer’s room, and the additional luggage of their marriage licence, the packing was needlessly more frantic than usual. 

When you finally did make it down to the lobby, you froze up a little, realising that you were the final one to exit your room. You watched as seven pairs of eyes shifted to you as soon as the elevator door opened, hauling your go-bag further up your arm from where it was slipping down. You thanked your past self for having the foresight to put some makeup into the bag, having used up a copious amount of your concealer to cover up any evidence of your night with Reid. You still kept a small distance from the others, just in case.

“Sorry, were you all waiting for me?” you smiled at them as you got closer, hoping that they’d not ask questions at what had taken you so long. Your eyes caught Reid’s and you could see that he was looking down at your neck. 

After an entire day morning and night in your company, you knew he’d seen the results of his handiwork. You wondered if the look that raked over you now was that of the dominant Reid from the night before, who you presumed marked you in such prominent places so people would know you were his, or that of the concerned team mate, who didn’t want to be caught and questioned by the others. You tried to shake both images from your head, not sure which would please you more. 

“It’s okay, you’re not late, the cars are being bought around now and the jet leaves in 30,” Hotch greeted you when you finally got close enough. 

“Late night, mama?” Morgan laughed at you as soon as he turned to you. “How did all that drinking last night go for you?” 

You were so wrapped up in Reid and what he may or may not be thinking that you had to pull yourself back to reality for a second to realise that Morgan had been talking to you. 

“What? Oh yeah, I guess. I don’t think I drank too much, but I did sleep like a baby, so who knows.” You laughed a little to punctuate the point, and then watched Morgan’s reaction closely. You were still looking for the two “agents” who had been witness to your marriage, after all. 

“Ooh, you didn’t sample the local goods last night then? I’ve heard that Downtown Las Vegas is the best place to meet single men, and you were just complaining that you hadn’t been out in a while,” Penelope said from beside the man. 

“No, no, the place Reid took me to was more library than bar, and as far from Downtown as you could get, so it was a nice and easy night for me.” 

“And if the local men are anything like our resident Las Vegan,” Emily jumped in, looking at Reid. “Then I’m sure they’re not really what Y/N is looking for.” She laughed and they all start making their way out of the lobby. 

You try to avoid meeting Reid’s eyes after that last comment, sure that you wouldn’t be able to stop the grimace of apology from coming to your lips. But you couldn’t help yourself, and you forced your eyes up into a small peak at his face, only to see his downturned eyes and the small smirk that was crossing his lips. 

You hung back for a second, needing to clue this out, and nudged him with your elbow. 

“What’s that look for?” you whisper at him in a harsh tone, hoping that no one was watching the two of you. 

“It’s nothing.” He says, but the smile stays on his lips. You give him another look, silently communicating that you’re not taking that first answer and he nods a little as he walks beside you. 

“If they could see the marks on your neck, they wouldn’t be thinking that I’m not what you’re looking for, right?” You could feel the heat in your cheeks, and you playfully whacked him in the arm a bit, before pushing through the doors of the hotel and feeling the sun on your cheeks once again. 

You watched him climb into the car you took earlier and stop yourself from following him. You were going to need some time to think about how you should take that last comment, and a half an hour drive outside of his presence would probably do you good. Climbing up into the other SUV, you take a deep breath, feeling all the restlessness of the night before creep up on you.

–X–

You don’t know where you are, but you know that you’re burning up under his touch. His lips are on your skin, working their way down from your neck to the valley between your breasts and all you can hear is the sound of your own lustful moans as his hands trail further still. 

You don’t know who it is on top of you, but you know that you’re dying for him to be there, to push his tongue into your mouth and make you submit to his will. His fingers wrap around the waistband of your panties and roughly pull them down, opening you up to him. You feel his lips ghost down further still, until he’s there between your legs. 

“Is this where you wanted me, baby? So desperate to have me, my little slut.” His words send another shiver down your spine as you roll your hips up into his face again. 

He lets out a small chuckle and gives you what you want, finally lowering his tongue again and letting it meet your desperate cunt. He sets his attention on your clit, and your eyes roll back in bliss, not caring who it is between your legs giving you this much pleasure, just desperate for them to keep going. 

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you beg, fisting a handful of your mystery man’s hair. It’s soft to the touch, a little curly at the ends and it feels familiar, but you’re unable to think about it for more than a second before he’s pushing a finger into you. 

“That’s it baby. Look at you, so fucking tight around my finger. You want me to push my cock into you, you’re going to have to relax for me baby, okay?” You still don’t know who it is, but you nod for him, knowing you want nothing except everything he’s telling you that you want. 

He’s thrusting his fingers into you at a relentless pace now, adding one digit every few thrusts, until he’s up to three. His face is still buried in your pussy, tongue still flicking against your clit, his other hand pushing you down by the hips as he forces you closer and closer to the edge. 

His hand drops down to your thigh, pushing your legs further apart, and it stays there feeling overly warm, almost burning you up from just that simple touch. 

“You’re so wet for me baby, going to take my cock now?” You whimper and nod your head as fervently as you can, begging him with your eyes to push into you. He finally pulls his head up to your own, and you’re finally face-to-face with your mystery man. 

“So wet for me, right baby? So wet for your husband?” Spencer questions you as he pushes into your wet, dripping hole, and you’re so surprised that all you can do in response is moan. 

With each thrust, he drops a moan into your ears, and you feel your climax building quickly. 

“Ah fuck yes, Y/N,” you claw at his back, desperate to pull him closer. 

“Spencer, don’t stop, fuck.” Your name begins dropping from his lips like a prayer as his thrusts get sloppier, wetter, deeper. 

“Y/N… Y/N……… Y/N….” 

–X– 

“Y/N, are you finally awake? We’ve been calling your name for a minute now.” Your eyes snap open and you come face to face with Emily and JJ from the seats opposite you on the jet. 

“We thought you might be having a nightmare. Want to talk about it?” JJ asks, her voice in a hushed tone as a look of sympathy crosses over her face. 

Whatever that was, it certainly was not a nightmare. But the scenario you were in now certainly was. 

“What? Oh, yeah. I don’t know, maybe it was a nightmare.” You desperately hope you sound convincing enough for them to drop the subject. The last time you’d mentioned a lack of sleep, half of the team had approached you with different home remedies and tips for getting your full 8 hours. The last thing you needed right now was the constant reminder that you’d just had a sex dream about Spencer Reid on the jet whilst surrounded by all your close friends and colleagues. 

Including the man himself, you realised, as you stretched your neck out from its awkward sleep position, and caught the sight of him there next to you. Your car had reached the jet first earlier that day, and it had taken all of two minutes after boarding before you’d been claimed by sleep, so you hadn’t realised he’d positioned himself next to you. 

A quick glance down had told you he’d done more than that. Wrapped around your legs, and so big that it stretched over his too, was a large blanket, the one that he usually used on your longer trips home. He was asleep in the seat next to you, you noticed after an embarrassing amount of time, head resting in one of his hands, lips slightly open, looking the image of tranquillity. 

His other hand was beneath the blanket, somewhere you couldn’t see, but as you shifted slightly in your chair trying to get comfortable again, you realised it was definitely somewhere you could feel. His hand had somehow fallen into your lap, and he had a firm but sleepy grip on your left thigh, the one closest to him. Now that you had moved, so did his hand, rubbing gentle strokes into your skin every few minutes. Slow enough that you were sure he was still asleep, but still enough to have am effect.

His hand was hot against your leg, and his touch burned. You remembered the sensation from your dream and immediately did your best to temper your facial expressions, not wanting to gather any more concern from the two women opposite you at the table than you already had. 

“Y/N? If you want to talk about it, we’re always here you know? This job can be overwhelming at the best of times, and we just worked a hard case. No one would blame you for needing to take some time for yourself.” Emily looked at you in concern now, and it was taking all of your will to keep your eyes on her, and nod at the appropriate time, your brain short-circuiting now that you realised Reid was so close. 

Where did this sudden infatuation with him come from? You’d always appreciated that he was a good looking guy, but you’d never thought about him so thoroughly before, and certainly not enough to lose yourself on the jet to inappropriate thoughts. 

It was the insanity of the weekend, you told yourself, it had to be. You’d learnt more about him and accidentally, possibly, maybe slept together, and now your body was just getting it out of your system. Either that or you’d just learnt too much about his preferences and your brain was just trying to come to terms with each revelation. 

You settled back into comfortable conversation with Emily and JJ, trying your best to convince yourself that your dream had meant nothing, blocking out any noise in your head that was suggesting otherwise. 

Especially the little thought at the back of your brain that was reminding you that you hadn’t removed his hand from your thigh, and that you really didn’t want to. 

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[qsmpbutwithsignlanguage]

If you really want a treat, scroll through the Wilbur Soot tag on AO3 and go to the most recent chapter updates. The authors have some insanely well articulated thoughts and points about this all, and it's crazy to watch them bring their work to a screeching stop to firmly leave Wilbur to burn and support Shubble. This has been some of the most unanimous support I've seen for any victim online, ever, and it's insane.