#when I tell you this isn't even the good part oh my GOD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tinystarbites · 2 months ago

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accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)

#tinywrites #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fanfic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #tinywrites:accidents #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #criminal minds x reader

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mecachrome · 4 months ago

Text

notes from nicole piastri's interview on red flags pod

oscar started playing monopoly and chess when he was 4-5 but he was too good at chess (relative to nicole) that she boycotted it

nicole opened her twitter account because oscar wasn't replying to her at boarding school and she needed a place to chastise him ("can you not answer... i KNOW you're on your phone") (it worked because he started replying to her there)

instead of unflappable she calls him "conservative"

even during christmas and birthdays he was never super excited, one time they went with a group of 5 mums and 5 kids to a hi-5 concert (popular australian kids' musical group) and while all the kids were "going nuts" oscar just sat there "focused the whole time" and didn't smile or move lmfao. they were like 3 years old

didn't know what she was doing with oscar as a baby because he was her first child and her mothers' group was her only reference and they went "isn't the best part of the day when you wake up and go to their crib and they smile at you?" and she was like ??? because oscar would wake up and just SCREAM every single day needing to be out of there immediately and she thought that was just normal... then she had the girls and went "ahhhh... so that's what they're talking about"

when he was younger than 2 he needed them to read car magazines to him and was already obsessed with all things automotive and while they were driving would just name off and point out car brands by their badges

for a long period of time he behaved like he was a car and would "spin" his wheels and pretend to accelerate and run like a car lol

did a big burnout the first time he was on a bike (it had training wheels but he still learned very early)

as a mum she wishes he'd chosen golf or tennis since it's much safer than f1 and sometimes people tell her that she technically had a say in that when he was a kid and she said "but i didn't! it was just in him!!!"

won an academic award when he was 13 and she was president of the parents' community so she presented it to him, normally these events are super formal and you simply shake hands but she gave him a big kiss and instead of acting embarrassed or spluttering he looked at the crowd, nodded silently, and walked off

came back for the summer a few years ago and they were biking on the beach together when she had to brake hard to avoid a kid and went over, when she recovered and got back on he went "are you all right?" very deadpan but after they got home they checked his heart rate monitor and saw that he was totally steady the whole time except for when she crashed and his heart rate went through the roof, told him "ah so you do have a heart... we just don't see it"

"there's no sibling that can piss him off?" "well he's a boy with three girls so he just doesn't go there because he's never going to win"

met lily in person for the first time when he came home for the melbourne grand prix (was still alpine reserve), at midnight oscar was like "hey mum you know the dts film crew are coming tomorrow morning right?" and she was like WHAT... and he was like yeah it'll be chill they just want to film us having breakfast like a normal family or whatever and she was like Mate you haven't lived here for 5 years now do you know what breakfast looks like. it looks like your sisters storming downstairs and grabbing an inappropriate breakfast and storming out the door giving me the finger!!! and then the next morning lily comes down and nicole is like "oh is oscar up?" and lily is like no... i think he's still in bed... (many such cases) and then mae refused to be in it so she got dressed and ran off to school 2 hours early to escape them. and then the mclaren fiasco happened and the whole thing got cut out of dts anyway

when she said "oh my god you met matt damon!" he was just like (shrugs) "yeah... yeah..."

they communicate by facetiming and he's Always lying in bed. one time in bahrain he was leaning back on an ornate tapestry and she asked what hotel he was staying at and he was like oh i'm at the royal palace i'm like a guest of the crown prince. she freaked out and was like "oh my god!!! get your head off the tapestry!!!" and he just looked back like ? no it's fine it looks pretty old lol

called her to tell her that he signed his f1 contract and when he said mclaren she Realized and was like oh no i love daniel!! and he straight up deadpanned "yeah everyone loves daniel. that's going to be a problem..." and said verbatim "of all the f1 drivers ever daniel is the worst one to be replacing"

one time in f4 chris couldn't go to a race and billy monger had just had his crash so she flew to the uk for the weekend to support him and when she was driving him back to boarding school she was happy because she had 2 hours to spend with him and she wasn't sure when she'd see him again but instead he slept the whole way through and the moment they got back to school he went "ahhhh... home sweet home" and she wanted to slap him lmfao

first day of primary school when he was 5 years old he said he didn't need her to walk him to school and she was like "well i actually do mate" so he forced her to walk behind him the whole way and the moment they got there he turned to her and went "all right i'm here you can go now" 😭

the chinese & italian & yugoslavian is on chris's side of the family while nicole's is scottish & irish ("that's where the pasty skin comes from")

red flags pod sent her a shirt with oscar's face composed of His Tweet and she showed it to him and he immediately said he wanted it

he gave her a small warning before he posted the tweet but it was just like "mum so this is going to happen just don't worry about it. it's all under control. it'll be fine" and was very calm the whole time

"we just had to trust that his personality would come through at some point, because the way he came across was not at all what he's like. people will work out who the real you is so just continue to do what you do" 🥺

all of the kids were obsessed with Cars (2006)

likes his mum's golden syrup dumplings and grandmother's rumballs

AT THE SINGAPORE GP IN 2023 HATTIE DISAPPEARED FOR HOURS TO GO SEE A K-POP CONCERT 😭😭😭😭 i think it was p1h lmfao (nicole was asked for her favorite group and went "i have no idea. five boys") ((it's txt)) meanwhile oscar is only into house music and she thinks everything he plays is the same song

did pilates when he went home but never with her and thinks it's a lot harder than it looks

takes him minimum 24 hours to respond to anything she sends

she had an exact conversation with oscar where she asked who he wanted to be teammates with and he said "well if i go up against lando i don't even have to get close the first year because everyone knows how good he is" 😭

oscar you are so you 🧡

#listening to podcasts on 2.5x speed is my passion #oscar piastri #text #*m #op meta

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foxstens · 1 year ago

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submerged superstructure my beloved

#my posts #gameblogging #liveblogging rain world #as confusing as getting to the heart might be this is definitely one of my favourite areas #it might even become my favourite if i ever get fed up with sky islands #ITS SO FUCKING GOOD #its huuuuuge and a lot of it is underwated but there's also parts that aren't #and it looks so cool like even just by looking at the rooms you can tell it's been underwater for a long time #not to mention the atmosphere like when you first enter and 'ascent' plays is an unforgettable experience #but even apart from that there isn't much music but there's all sorts of sounds #basically what you would expect from a barely functional underwater supercomputer #and since there's so few creatures and most of the ones that are there you can just zoom past it's really just you against the water #oh my fucking god i love it so much #it's also pretty fun for x-karma saint :')

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playfully-sadistic · 2 months ago

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Getting yourself off again, angel? Second time today, isn't it? Or already the third, fourth, fifth? You're such a greedy, insatiable thing. Now, now, don't stop on my account - no, keep going, you're doing great.

But your touches are a little too intense, don't you think? A little too... on the nose, too obviously intended to make you come. Good little pets don't finish fast - if at all - no, they edge and edge, over and over again, until they finally get permission to let themselves go and succumb to their primitive needs. So... Lighter. Slower. No rubbing, only caressing, no fingering, only teasing your hole with your fingertips.

But first things first, fingers off entirely. Apparently, you need someone to guide you through the entire process, don't you? You're just too impatient and worked up, full of hormones and heat, to be able to regulate yourself, poor baby. Don't worry, I'll do it for you, step by step, nice and slow. Nothing makes it easier for you than having someone to order you around and tell you exactly what you're allowed to do. Now, isn't it extra fun that, even though nothing stops you from going further before I allow you to, we both know that you won't? You'll be good and behave, just for me, less even, just for a few written words, the illusion of a dom hovering over your barely clothed body and whispering sweet commands against the shell of your ear.

Touch your chest first. Even if it does nothing for you, even if you barely have any sensation in it, I want your fingers circling your nipples, your fingernails gently scratching over them, pinching them between two of them, pulling, massaging. Put on a show, as if someone was watching you. If you have some clamps around, get them, and tease yourself with them - not quite putting them on, but rubbing over your areola, using it to pinch and pull as well. Feel that, treasure? That's what you get for being patient and taking your time. That nice pulling feeling in your stomach... Yeah, that's good, isn't it? Good job. Toy with your chest and nipples some more, make them swollen, sore, red, make sure they already ache before you finally put on those clamps. If you don't own any, you go ahead right now, and order some. The most humiliating, the prettiest ones you can find. And I want you reading through this post again when they arrive, so you can properly get off to it.

Now, I'm sure by now your legs have fallen open all by themselves, mh? Revealing a soaked, hot mess in between, throbbing and begging for attention. So tempting to put your hand right in the middle of it and grope yourself, but you'll be good for me and keep your hands to yourself, love. For now, all you're allowed to do is let your fingers brush over your stomach... Drawing little circles around your belly button, long swirls that slowly go further down, ah, there's that nice feeling of your guts tensing up, isn't it? God, you're so predictable, such a simple thing. Oh, it's fine, you're merely a body in need of being fucked right now, no wonder your brain turns into simple mode.

Gently tease yourself with your fingernails along your lower stomach, before you move onto your thighs - oh, my, you're really desperate, spread them out as far as possible, and let me guess, you only just noticed now how far you've opened up, haven't you? A proper slut for the taking, good job, my angel. Touch your thighs, not the inner parts yet, just explore yourself, palms tracing your muscle, reaching up to your hip, moving onto your stomach again, where that nice, tight feeling comes back. Slowly let your fingers glide to the inner part of your thighs, where your ticklish, and it usually only works to get touched there when it's someone else's fingers, but, oh, fuck, darling, today's different, isn't it? Touching yourself so intensely, yet thoughtfully, it's really showing its effect on you, mh? That's perfect, you're doing so well, yeah, touch and tease your thighs some more, move those fingers up until...

Now you're allowed to move them right in between your legs. That feels good, hm? Finally letting your fingertips feel your own heat, swollen and twitching, feeling your own wetness, only caused by a post. Doesn't that truly show how desperately you need guidance and being made to feel utterly submissive? Don't keep those moans in, show everyone that you're such a needy, horny doll, so desperate to touch themselves. Why the modesty? Let it out. Rub yourself - slowly, dear - and feel yourself up, and know that you've done anything to this point because you followed orders, because you obeyed, because you just couldn't do it yourself and needed someone else so fucking badly, you needed someone to tell you what to do, does it feel like I'm there with you, do you like it, mh? Does it turn you on to know that I took the time writing this, for you to follow every step and work yourself up?

If you own a vibrator, you'll use it now. If it's the kind that you shove inside your needy hole, then do it, don't be gentle, don't be slow, shove it inside of you on the highest settings, as deep as it can go, and use your hand to continue rubbing. If it's the kind that you put on yourself, lay it on you, don't press it against you - we wouldn't want you to get too excited now, would we? - and shove your fingers inside of your instead. Fuck yourself. Make it good. Make it hard to not fall off the edge. Make it as rough and fast and overstimulating as you possibly can. Make it feel humiliating how fucking close it gets you that you're doing this in the first place. Feel the weight and tension that your heat brings - lean into it. Open your mouth, let the moans and whines and all those pretty noises out, don't close it to swallow, let your drool run down your chin - pant. It's getting hard to not come, isn't it? Poor baby.

Do you want me to give you permission? You do. I know. It's okay, baby, relax, keep fucking yourself open like that. A little patience.

Getting harder, mh? Feeling it in your guts already? God, you're so...

Think you can manage a bit longer?

Soon, my angel. You sound so good when you're desperate.

Almost there.

Ready, love?

Come for me, right now.

#my own #female sub #male sub #nb sub #trans sub #gender neutral post #degradation.#humiliation.#praise.#joi.#dirty talk.#psychological domming.

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isp-annafer · 6 months ago

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Ohhhh my god I love this.

youtube

#epic the musical #eurylochus epic the musical #odysseus epic the musical #luck runs out #but i especially love the part in the beginning #Odysseus is smiling and he's clearly in a good mood despite everything #And when Eurylochus is first telling him his concerns Odysseus softens #like oh my friend I understand #this is normal banter for them #Eurylochus seems like a worrier “Are you sure this is the right way?”#And especially now when Odysseus is willing to climb up there and ask help from a god #which Eurylochus is rightly concerned by #And then you've got Odysseus smiling and carefully touching Polites's headband because likely #this is the part where Polites would likely argue the opposite #“Of course Odysseus can do it! He's carried us through war and now he'll lead us home.” And also asking for help seems like a Polites thing #But Polites isn't here anymore so he attempts to channel his friend himself (hello grief. help me keep him with me still)#“Lead from the heart and see what starts” Pretty sure thats a paraphrase from a line in Open Arms #And for a moment he can feel his friend with him #And Eurylochus just pushes (Polites. damn i love that detail u put there) Odysseus's words off and retariates his point #And u can see Odysseus's mood change with it #Also the snapshots of the crew listening in?? perfect #i like that this animatic captures the mood perfectly #even Eurylochus's uncertain mood at the end #I'm betting on his side #(this is just my hc)Polites was also the one who'd reassure him. But he's not there to provide that listening ear anymoreee #this was great op

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xo-cod · 1 year ago

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this wasn't supposed to be a poly thing but here we are lmfaoo, nsfw version <3 rushed/ooc/the usual. i'm not that happy w this, could've more nsfw but 🥴

cw: p in v, cockwarming, eating out, unprotected sex, a bit of everything 😭 18+/mdni!

sfw version

POSSESSIVENESS!!!!

oh my god, they are all so possessive

if you've spent too long with one of them, the other immediately scenting you in their musk

"you smell much better now" he finally grumbles having finished removing the scent from the other man and he can finally take you in his arms

high libidos, i mean they're big burly men 🤭 it's both a blessing and a curse </3

price is a passionate lover. you've got him hooked on your taste and he damn well sure explore every nook and cranny you've to offer. he will learn your body like the back of his hand, knowing what parts usually respond to and what gets you turned on. how to touch you, how to caress you, this is all his forte

ghost is an intense lover, especially when he's been away from you. instantly marking you and devouring you the second he gets his hands on you. really hands on with you, his tactical gloves thrown behind his back and his mask rolled up over his nose before he's kissing you like a starved man

gaz is a doting lover, he's all about the small moments :") kissing you when the head of his cock rubs against your slit, holding your hand when his thrusts get deeper and longer, whispering the most prettiest words when you're whimpering against him :((

soap is a fun lover. sex isn't serious with him unless he's been away and couldn't have you. he likes all the sounds you make and he encourages you to make them, he loves seeing your pretty smile as he makes you feel good. wants to try different positions but heavily enjoys the ones that have you as close to him as possible

price and ghost are definitely the type to make it their personal mission to get you to moan louder when you've spent the night with another man, being forced to hear your pretty whimpers and losing it completely when they hear you cum

won't burst into the room but will bide his time until the night where he'll do everything and anything to get you a moaning mess

"does he fuck you like this? tell me princess, is he better than me?" you'll hear some taunts during the peak of your orgasms and depending on the mood, he might just even withhold your orgasm 😗

soap and ghost really like cockwarming afterwards, purely to feel close with you after a particularly hard day <3

something about feel you so close to his body, your warm cunt gently squeezing around him as he lays on your chest brings him the most joy <3

price and gaz hold you in their huge arms and whisper sweet words as you both nod off to sleep, his touch lingering against your skin as he drifts off

fivesomes when you're bored lmfaoo 😵‍💫🫣😮‍💨

price situates himself in the back, ghost in your cunt, soap in your mouth and gaz in your hand.

your body is sandwiched between the thick warm bodies of price and ghost, both of them kissing and pawing at your skin to feel more

price taking control over your hips, gently rolling against it so not to overwhelm you, "taking us so well pretty, eh?"

"look at 'er, such a good love" ghost chuckled softly, pressing down on the bulge he's created in your stomach causing both of you to groan.

soap's cock in your mouth, his hand caressing the bulge he's making in your neck as he eases himself more, "that's it, bonnie. such a good fuckin girl"

gaz cooing at how much of a good girl you are while you stroke him, his lips peppering soft kisses on your neck no doubt leaving behind marks in their wake, "so beautiful like this, sweetheart"

will 100% buy you an anklet with all their initials on it

will go absolutely feral over you when one of them needs you and another wants you

testosterone levels hitting the roof, a fight will break out if they're ansty enough. will not share, he needs you for himself ‼️‼️

they are obsessed with your cunt

there has been times when you've been incredibly overstimulated from pleasure and how much they've latched on to your clit, his face buried as deep as possible while he licks and sucks

soap and ghost could honestly spend hours lapping at your clit, spreading your walls to get in deeper. using their fingers to stimulate the bundle of nerves hidden inside, enjoying how responsive you are

you'll usually have to push their faces away, their eyes blown and their bottom half of their face covered with your slick

gaz loves to suck your nipples, his mouth latched on to your chest while his tongue rolls over the sensitive bud over and over. releasing with a pop and a string of saliva before he gives the same attention to the other, his hands pressing into your back to bring you closer <33

price loves marking you anywhere he can get his lips on. loves sucking your skin and the taste, pressing a tender kiss afterwards.

they love fidgeting with you!! :")

ghost would have you in his lap, his cock buried deep inside your cunt as he goes over his work. his hips occasionally rolling up a little to give you some friction while he works away, his hand snaking down to gently rub circles on your aching clit while he presses sweet kiss to your shoulder blade, soft promises that he'll be done in a half hour or so

price would have you on his lap, one hand in your panties while the other works on his paperwork. his fingers toying and teasing your clit, running down to press his middle finger inside up at the first knuckle before going back up to tap at your clit again. loves making your folds all puffy and sensitive :(

soap having you under his desk all cosied up as you suck him underneath, licking lazy strokes over the head of his cock. lapping up at his precum, gagging softly when you push your head down until your nose touched the soft tuft of hair at the base of his cock. his legs wrapped around your body, holding you steady cooing softly at how good you are <3

gaz touching and caressing your body while he has to finish a task price set up for him. absentmindedly stroking your your thighs and hips until they reach between your legs, his fingers gently stroking against your eager cunt. not enough to actually get you off but enough for the tiniest bit of pressure, lazily separating your walls and fingering you with his middle and ring finger as he works <3

they all 100% have breeding kinks and together?? 😵‍💫😵‍💫

"wanna put my baby in you, you'd look so fuckin beautiful" ghost panted, watching him cum drip out of your hole fucking it right back in. making sure not a drop is wasted

"one kid might not hurt, what do you say gorgeous, hm?" price's breath was shuttered as he leans on his forearms, his eyes sparkling with desire and passion. the king of breeding, he'll continue to thrust his cum into you until your stomach bulges a little from how stuffed you are

"so so beautiful" gaz hummed, hiking your legs higher on his shoulder while his hand gently pressed down against your stomach, your whimpers music to his ears as his balls tightened. sending him over the edge as he thrusted his cum deep inside your womb

"you'd look so fuckin beautiful pregnant with my kids, wouldn't you bonnie?" his groans are echoing with your moans, with every powerful drive of his hips you can feel your control slip further away. he's so feral, not giving you a chance to even speak before he holds you close and his cock filling you up with his seed. overfilled and you can feel it rush out, dripping down between your bodies

heaven forbid another recruit even hands you a compliment, their ears will have picked it up no matter where they are

and the tension levels in that room will have risen to the skies

silent death stares, stiff postures, the poor recruits looking around wondering why his superiors are suddenly giving him the meanest death glares known to mankind and why ghost looks like the grim reaper

you'll spend the evening with all four of them, not moving a single inch unless you absolutely have to

price and ghost get jealous when you have toys, why would you need them when you can use him??

soap and gaz like the toys to bring you orgasm after orgasm, watching you break apart in his arms from the pure pleasure

threesome with price and ghost is very intense. both men are the top dogs, trying to beat the other and competing with each other. it usually ends with several orgasms from uou before either one of them has cum

gaz and soap are devious, finding different ways to stimulate your body and new ways to pleasure you. gaz kissing you, his tongue working your mouth while soap's mouth has latched on to your wet cunt, nuzzling and lapping while he holds you down with his hands

soft sex!!! all of them crave it :") <33

they're not all rough and tumble all the time

price and gaz love having soft sex in the early morning, not only to get his day started right but the morning is so peaceful with the birds singing and the sun barely peeking over the horizon

soap and ghost are more night time enjoyers, the peace and quiet of the darkness and the silence that comes with it. he just wants to be fully immersed with you, not a single thing on his mind

"how's that feeling, beautiful?" price murmured out, brushing away the strands of your hair as he pushed inside you again. he can feel his shoulders slump against yours tiredly, you always manage to make him feel so safe his guard is almost always down when it comes to you. you look so beautiful underneath him, he can't help but stroke your skin pulling you in closer so that he's snuggling right on you <3

"feel so good around me lovie, so good f'me" ghost whispered in to your ear as he caged you between his huge arms, putting you in a mating press as he angles his cock in deeper to your sopping cunt. drawing soft mewls from your lips which he drinks up eagerly with his own lips. he lives for the soft moments, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist while his lips kiss yours, never wanting to leave the safe haven he's found between your arms <3

"squeezin me so tight, baby" soap's breath was hitched as he gently bottomed out, his lips finding yours as he presses tender kisses. his life can become so hectic and chaotic, he really does cherish every single second he can with you and he loves how close he can be to your body. and for him, it's not even about the sex. he just wants to bury himself as much as he can in you <3

"that's my girl" gaz nuzzled into your neck, his hips rolling lazily against yours while he cradles you close to his chest. a soft groan leaves his lips when he feels the pressure around his cock, his head still hazy from sleep and pleasure. bringing you closer as his face rests in the crook of your neck, just able to be kyle instead of a soldier <3

aftercare is a must for all of them, no matter how intense the sex was.

each of them have their preferred way but they all bundle you up close to them, holding you tightly to their chest as their heartbeat provides a steady rhythm in your ears

gentle tender kisses pressed on your forehead, your back gently stroked as their voices offer you water and a snack

depending on each of them, you'll either find yourself being cleaned very softly with a towel thoroughly before he holds you close as you settle to bed

or you're being carried in his arms for a shower, him mostly taking care of everything for you <33

#call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #john price #john price x reader #john price x reader smut #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader smut #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x reader smut #141 x reader #cod 141 #task force 141

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matchingbatbites · 1 year ago

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"What the fuck did you do?"

Eddie wasn't expecting hostility when he answered Jeff's phone call, his best friend's usual calm demeanor replaced with open annoyance. And yeah, okay, the annoyance itself wasn’t new, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s actually done anything recently to earn it.

"Well-"

"Actually, no. I'll tell you what you did. You retweeted photos of Steve Harrington - internationally beloved heartthrob actor Steve Harrington - along with the caption 'not to sound like a subby slut but GOD I would be his puppy baby boy in a heartbeat'. So I guess the better question is, what the fuck were you thinking, Eddie?"

Eddie's jaw clicks shut because- yeah, he had done that. Had seen those photos of Steve smoking circling the internet and spent god knows how long just staring at them, had curbed the desire to shove his hand down his pants by posting a single thirst tweet about it.

“I was thinking, Jeff, that I'm allowed to post whatever I want to my private fucking twitter, man. I mean it's a free country, isn't a guy allowed to make a horny tweet about a sexy man every now and then?”

“You are, when you actually post it to your private account and not our award winning band's main account.”

No. Oh no. There's no way Eddie actually-

He rips his phone away from his face to open twitter, and realizes two things simultaneously. One, Jeff is right, he had posted it to the band's account. Not on his private, locked, personal account, but on the account that's actually open and free for literally anyone on earth to look at.

The second thing he realizes is that their notifications are currently flooded with responses to Eddie's tweet, somehow racking up into the thousands in the few hours it's been since.

Jesus Christ.

“Eddie?”

The metalhead jerks back into the moment and put Jeff on speaker so he can scroll through the horde of replies, says “Fuck, I fucked up. Are we gonna have to do damage control on this?”

In the mess is a reply from Gareth's own personal account: @ corrodededdie stop tweeting from the band account challenge 🙄🙄🙄

”Maybe. There hasn't been any type of response from Harrington or his people, but they might ask us to take it down if it blows up too much.“

Eddie hums, thinking they might be too little, too late about it blowing up too much, and flips over to his main account so he can reply to Gareth's little jab appropriately. He isn't surprised to see that he has a couple of new messages, probably from other people wondering just what the fuck Eddie was thinking, but when he goes to check them-

He's never been happier that he turned on messages from followers only, because then he would have missed this, missed Steve Harrington's little profile picture beaming up at him from the screen of his phone, along with a new message request.

”Jeff, I gotta go,” he says, not even realizing he's cut the other man off.

“Eddie, what-

”Harrington messaged me. I'll call you back.“

Eddie doesn't wait for a response as he hangs up on Jeff, and his hands definitely aren't shaking as he opens the message from Steve. And listen- Eddie is a fan of the guy, that much should be obvious.

Steve had grown in popularity around the same time Corroded Coffin had; he’d gotten some part in a drama film that had skyrocketed him into stardom, and Eddie fell in love the moment he saw that gorgeous face on the silver screen for the first time. He's never had a chance to interact with the guy, has been in the same place a few times but always missed him, like ships passing in the night, but Eddie's been fine with pining from afar, just like every other person on the planet that's even remotely attracted to men.

Besides, even with how popular Corroded Coffin has gotten over the years - a couple of Grammy’s here, a dozen chart topping metal songs there - Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to just. Know who Eddie is.

With all of this in mind, Eddie is expecting some kind of semi-casual request to take the tweet down, that it's not a good look for his image-

Anything other than what Steve actually sent.

'If you're puppy baby boy, does that make me Master? Or Daddy?'

And Eddie-

Eddie slides down, sinks into his couch cushion as all of the blood in his body suddenly shifts, rushing to fill his dick like it's a fucking race. The phone almost slips out of his hand and he fumbles it briefly before taking a deep breath.

Is Steve serious? He wouldn't send that if he wasn't serious, right?

This could be it, could be Eddie's one chance to impress Steve, to get his foot in the door of Steve's interest. He bites his lip and types out a reply, something quick that he sends before he can change his mind.

‘I’m open to either, actually. Do you have a preference, sir?’

He doesn’t expect the typing indicator to come up immediately, and just knowing that Steve is somewhere right now, typing out a response to Eddie, is enough to have him nearly vibrating in his seat.

‘I’m partial to Daddy, myself.’

Fuck fuck fuck.

Eddie takes a breath, tries to think of a response that isn’t just ‘Please, Daddy, can I sit on your massive dick that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that one indie film you did that just had all of your junk out in the open?’

Steve saves him by sending another message.

‘But maybe we could start with Steve, and possibly dinner? Though I’d be happy to see where things go after that.’

He- What-

Eddie must have stopped breathing, because the next time he takes a breath his lungs burn, his mid races because there’s no way Eddie’s long term celebrity crush just asked him on a date. He sits there long enough that the screen goes dark and he scrambles to turn it back on, sees the message still there, real and unchanged.

There’s no way he can say no to this, to Steve, and his hands shake as he types out a response.

‘Dinner would be great. Just name the time and place, Daddy.’

#like everyone else those new pics of joe keery left me kind of #feral. horny. slutty.#so i channeled my feeling a bit #i miiiight do more of this but no promises #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #rockstar eddie munson #actor steve harrington #joey writes #ficlet #fun fact: eddie's tweet was my actual real life message to my friends about those pics

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arminsumi · 1 year ago

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First request ever: Can you make a story about Gojo, where their both in a relationship but gojo had to end it because he was afraid that she would be in danger?

Thank you! Keep up the good work, I love your stories!!!

LET ME MARRY YOU

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

The risk of dating you his too much for him to handle, so he breaks it off, only for him to come back to your doorstep years later and ask: "Let me marry you."

Note : istg each time i edited this... the wordcount grew lol. i hope u enjoyyy 🥹💗 tysm for enjoying my work it means everything

Warnings : angst -> fluff (?) -> happy ending trust me, Shibuya arc spoilers (Ep 9), manga spoilers (chapter 221)

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

The risk of dating you is thrilling when Satoru's just a teenager in puppy love. But as he grows older, and heads into those dreaded 20s, the risk makes him more and more nervous.

What if something happens to you?

He presses kiss after kiss to your forehead and feels his chest tremble, feels his lips quiver, as he refrains from telling you the truth about the Jujutsu world. Satoru just can't do it.

There are so many instances of him saving you from curses that you're oblivious about. He just smiles strangely, and you wonder why he looks like he's just seen a ghost. Because he has, those pretty eyes see ghosts. But those pretty eyes also see you, "What am I looking at?" he responds after you ask why he's looking at you so tenderly, "I'm looking at my future wife." he flirts just to fluster you.

That's at the cafe, when things are still simple. He keeps thinking to himself, as he lays with you in bed some nights;

I want to marry you.

I'm going to marry you.

Please let me be your husband one day.

As if he's trying to manifest it.

Everything is okay-ish... until he gets pangs of fright when your name starts to be known outside of his closed circle of friends.

It's October 11th.

Gojo Satoru breaks up with you.

He leads you to believe that the two of you are just "right person, wrong time". It all hurts an incomprehensible amount for him, to finally cut the string that tethers the two of you together.

He sits on the stairs, head in his hands, mourning.

He starts many mornings with crying spells that last until midday.

He destroys evidence of you and him. In case anyone ever finds it and thus finds your apartment, or work, or college... or anything.

But he can't part with a very special photo. It's you and him in Okinawa, sharing a cheesy kiss at the beach. In the moment this photo was captured, Gojo remembers having whispered some dirty joke in your ear and that's why you smiled so big into his kiss.

He drifts to sleep to the lullaby lovesongs that defined your love.

Years pass, he refuses to even talk to you. The heartbreak worsens with time, he laughs when he realizes that on his 27th birthday.

Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds? Someone said that to him once. Well, they must have been lying without realizing it.

The day Gojo Satoru is sealed, he looks into Suguru's eyes, and remembers you through them. When he resides in that awful prison realm, he only thinks of you you you you you you you oh god he misses you so much that it feels like the very thought of your smile stabs his chest. Every memory is painful. Every flashback puts one more crack in his heart.

"Can't I ever catch a break...?" He laughs to himself, chattering skeletons making their eerie symphony around him.

He thinks. Ponders. Wonders. Broods. Daydreams. All about you. Always about you. Never anything else. Just his first love, from the late spring of his 17th year.

His earthly goddess.

The purpose of his benevolent actions.

He cries. And sobs. And weeps. Because no one can hear him but the skeletons and he's sure they don't mind the sight or sound of a 27 man howling in pain over a lost lover.

It's not just your relationship that he's mourning. But the fact he can't feel you in this cube... that he can't feel your presence in the world... that's worse than the heartbreak. At least through all these years, he's been able to sense your existence. Feel the subtle ripples of your soul no matter how distant you are; you'd be stood in a coffee shop, he'd be at Jujutsu High teaching, and yet feeling you.

Because as he promised to you at 17, "Half my soul is yours. And half your soul is mine. I'll always be with you even if I'm not there."

He has the biggest breakdown of his life in that little cramped suffocating claustrophobic eerie creepy box.

It's 19 days later. He's out. He's back in the world. And he feels the sense of you, your existence, swelling in his chest, tickling his mind, prodding his heart.

"Gojo sensei, where are you headed?"

"I'm gonna go find my other half." he says cryptically.

It's a stark bright day.

Gojo Satoru knocks at your apartment door.

You open it.

He looks at you, and you look at him.

"Hi."

"...hey...? Wow. Haha... you grew into your features, huh?"

Your voice fills his heart with life.

"You too... glad you still live in the same place... I was worried you might have moved out..."

"... Ah, Satoru, you'd be able to find me no matter what corner of the world I resided in."

Your laugh fills his mind with pleasant memories.

There's an a magnetism between you and him just like there always used to be. It feels like two magnets connecting at last, after feeling the distant attraction throughout all these years of distance.

"You're right." Satoru says after a silence of just staring into your eyes.

"I'll always find my way home."

A silence ensues after he says this.

"...haha... don't cry... or I'll cry..."

"... Satoru... I thought of you every day after you left me at the station."

"... me too."

"... why did you leave?"

He stares at you.

"... I was scared of you being in danger."

He gulps.

"Me? In danger? But you're the strongest, why would it matter."

Oh god that's right. You said it then when you were 17, "You're the strongest" and he carried that title with him from then. And now you've said it again. He's reminded. He feels a bit stupid. A bit ridiculous. A bit...

"You're right..." he chokes up. "I am. I could have protected you I guess..."

"... yeah, duh."

He smiles meekly.

It was more complicated than that, sweetheart. But I won't tell you.

He hesitates. He contemplates.

"I have to tell you everything... will you promise to believe everything I say even if it sounds insane?"

"Of course. What is it?"

He inhales deeply. And instead of blurting out his whole life story of being a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world, he just leans in and kisses you hard and truthfully. Cups your cheeks. Closes his eyes. Tastes you like a sweet from his childhood that he hasn't had for years. Presses to you. Takes in your scent.

Yeah yeah... he'll tell you everything in a minute.

But for now just let him kiss you until he runs out of breath.

Let him just...

"Hey..." he pulls away, gasping, "Let me marry you."

"Haha, Satoru..." you take it as a joke and laugh, because it sounds as bizarre and unexpected as one. Then you realize there's that serious look on his face. "... Satoru?"

"Can I?"

"... what?"

"Can I please?"

"... huh??"

"Can I marry you, please?"

He looks at you and waits for your answer. His poor heart. It's palpitating. His whole chest cavity inspires with love for you. This man that you haven't seen in years has just asked if you'll let him marry you — with very specific wording.

Can he? Will you let him?

It's funny in a way, because you think to yourself; this is such a Satoru thing to do... show up unannounced years later on your doorstep and ask for your hand in marriage as if no time has passed, as if you know the full story.

"Satoru... what happened to you throughout these years for you to come back to me and ask for my hand in marriage?" you ask, genuinely baffled.

He swallows slowly. "I know I sound like I've lost my mind. But I promise I haven't."

"That's hard to believe. The Satoru I remember was always on the brink of mania. A bit insane but not quite."

You make him laugh. "Yeah..."

"So are you asking to marry me out of insanity?"

"No."

"Well alright then. I guess I'll marry you."

You make him laugh again, with that funny tone. He hasn't laughed genuinely in years... it's always been that plastic laugh. But this is his genuine laugh. Silky and quiet. The opposite of his demeanor.

"I guess I should be explaining everything to you properly... before I ask you something like that."

"You're damn right..."

"... don't scold me too hard when I tell you all the reasons I left. Or, if you do, then at least hold me while you scold me. And run your fingers through my hair like you used to."

"Satoru."

"Yes?"

His heart throbs. He looks at you.

"Stop standing at the doorway and come inside."

"Oh."

You sigh. He smiles. Then he bows his head so it doesn't hit the top of the doorframe. Damn tiny Tokyo apartments. Your archway always had it out for the crown of his head. You laugh when he bumps into it just like he always used to.

So the two of you sit down and just talk. And talk. Maybe cry a bit. Actually, you cry a lot. And he holds you. And he says he's sorry. He says sorry over and over, as if the word is a bandage he's trying to wrap around all your heartbreak wounds that he caused.

"I'm sorry."

Satoru's apologies aren't easy to come by, and when you receive them, they nurse your heart. It's the gentleness with which he says it, and earnest too. Each successive sorry means more than the last.

"My angel..."

When you call him this after he vents to you about his time in the Prison Realm, and his overwhelming duty of being the strongest, he breaks down completely and just weeps in your arms.

He sobs like you've never heard him sob before, like a dog.

Finally. At least for a moment. He could be weak. Let down his guard. Be raw. Be emotional. Not a teacher. Not a sorcerer. Just your boy. Your Satoru.

Your consolation is all he wanted throughout these years. He looks up at you, eyes red and sore, nose sniffling, and stares at you like he can see your soul.

"...Satoru?"

"Marry me."

You chuckle again.

"If that will stop your tears..." you joke.

He sniffles loudly and swallows, composing himself.

"I thought about marrying you so much when we were together... 'n I tried so hard to bite my tongue when your name nearly rolled off it while talking to my students some days. I was always..."

On the verge of saying your name.

He sniffles long and hard and waits for your hand to weave into his hair.

"Will you think about it?"

"I will."

There's a silence. Satoru feels hopeful. He lays on your chest, arms around you like you're his whole world that he won't dare let go of again.

"There." you say with finality. "I thought about it. Let's get married."

"That took you, like, ten seconds."

You laugh with him. "Yeah... I already knew in my heart when you asked me at the doorway... you know... Satoru... it's funny. When you left, it felt like half my soul was gone. And when you knocked on my doorstep, it felt like I was whole again. Does that sound freaky, or does it tie into all this... Juju... Jujutsu stuff?"

He's silent.

"I have no idea."

"Wow. My future husband isn't knowledgeable at all." you joke.

His heart flutters at 'future husband'.

"Sorry." he says, smiling softly, "My mind is blank when your fingers are running through my hair."

The two of you go on and on, until you're laid in bed sleeping at each other's side. Resting. And god, did Gojo Satoru need a good rest.

In your arms, he's no longer an insomniac.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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denwritesandcries · 1 month ago

Text

Fall(ing for You) – S.C

Pairing: sam carpenter x soft goth!reader

Summary: Sam is certain that Tara's new quiet friend may turn out to be Ghostface, unfortunately – or not –, that friend is you.

or, it takes the help of tara and a dog for sam to finally come to her senses.

Word count: 6,0k.

Content: scream 6 but without the killing, r's 23, cursing, wingman tara ft. yr dog, jokes abt r being ghostface, fluff, pining, sam falling first AND harder, silly movie references.

Note: hey guys, It's been a while since I've written for scream but I rewatched it recently and finally got some inspiration again! I describe the reader a little more in this but it won't really affect anything if you choose to ignore it.

English is not my first language.

Tara made a new friend.

Sam still isn't sure exactly, but the only plausible explanation for the way Tara has been acting lately is that her sister met someone interesting enough to keep her attention so that she gave everyone a break from her tantrums and reckless behavior since their new start outside of Woodsboro.

Now, that could be a good thing, it had been months since the kids started college and they were all doing relatively well. Mindy had Anika, Chad had Ethan and also there was Quinn, even though she wasn't very close to anyone. Tara should have someone too.

The problem is that Sam has no idea who this person is. Tara just won't tell her.

You see, Sam understands that she might have been a little too protective of her sister and that this made Tara's behavior become defensive towards her. Her new therapist – after she got rid of that quack – is helping her work through that, okay? But curiosity and worry were eating away at her insides. The curfews, the tasers and pepper sprays, and especially the ID checks were all important to keep them safe, dammit! Mindy and Chad had no problem with it, and it was only after all the appropriate measures were in place that Sam could breathe and let these new people be a part of their lives. Not knowing this so-called friend, let alone who they were, was driving her to the brink of a breakdown.

She was trying to give her some space, probing with subtle questions here and there and the most she got was an eye roll and ‘It’s just a sophomore I met at the film club, haven't you said I should try to be part of something that didn’t involve frat parties?’

Well, at least it wasn’t a boyfriend, given the lack of dreamy sighs, giggles into the phone and late-night escapades. That was good. They already had enough problems to deal with and a new relationship so quickly was the same as asking for a ghostface to go for them again and Sam hadn’t been back in Tara’s life long enough to know how to deal with this part of being a big sister yet.

Sam had understood that she wouldn’t meet this mysterious person for a while, at least until her sister’s tantrum had passed, and between two shitty jobs and trying to keep a structured life being responsible for a bunch of teenagers in the big city, she couldn’t find it in herself to insist on the subject any further and get the risk of causing a fight. She thought it would be forgotten.

Now just imagine Sam's surprise when she came home one night after a long, exhausting shift, expecting to eat the leftover pizza she had hidden in the fridge and fall into a deep sleep, only to be knocked over by an noisy and strange dog with a piece of pizza in its mouth as soon as she opened the apartment door. Her pizza.

“Koda!” Someone called. Someone unfamiliar. It wasn’t just the dog, there was a stranger in her house.

Sam’s hand instinctively moves to reach for the taser hidden in her jacket when a pair of black-clad legs show up in her vision. Does Ghostface work with dogs now? She wonders in confusion for a moment, and has given up on the voice changer?

The only thing stopping her from tasing this potential killer in front of her is the pure bewilderment and Tara’s laughter filling the room.

“Oh my god,” the figure bends down, picking up the dog who turns out to be a very excited puppy, the pizza falling from its mouth and onto her shirt, getting it all over her, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s a girl, a face she’s never seen before, looking completely mortified.

“Hey, Sam,” Tara stops beside her, a barely hidden tone of satisfaction in her voice, “This is my friend. I thought you’d like to meet her.”

It's safe to say that Sam didn't like Tara's new friend at all.

“You didn’t think about telling me you were bringing someone?” Sam exclaimed, rubbing her temples wearily, “Especially that Lydia Deetz project right there? I almost shocked her in the middle of the hallway!”

Quinn shifted from where she was leaning against the counter in the small impromptu meeting and didn’t bother to hold back her laugh, “Nah, I think Tara would fit that role better.”

“Quinn,” Sam groaned exasperatedly.

“If I had told you you would have said no,” Tara shrugged.

“Yes! Because we don’t know her!”

It was quite awkward sitting on the couch in their living room less than five feet away from the kitchen and being able to hear every word spoken as if you weren't right there, with your messy dog happily chewing on the sock on your ankle.

This wasn't the turn you expected your night to take when you decided to accept Tara's sudden invitation for a movie night, visiting her off-campus for the first time since you became friends.

You met her at the start of the school year, the day she showed up for a film club meeting before anyone else arrived, well, anyone except you. She seemed completely lost and suspicious, even though she was clearly struggling not to show it, which made you like her right away.

Getting attention and starting conversations was never really your thing, this whole club thing wasn't either, honestly, but you ended up being one of the last older members to join with most of the others having recently graduated and the responsibility of looking after the new freshmans gradually fell on you. Most of the time you kept to yourself, preferring the behind-the-scenes side of things to participating in the long-winded debates of high school teens obsessed with slashers and making Stab parodies, but you noticed the way Tara seemed desperate for any sense of normalcy beneath her laid-back facade and the whispers of murder that haunted her.

You took what seemed like a rabid kitten under your wing and ended up cornered by the personification of a Doberman because of it. Talk about doing good deeds and stepping out of your comfort zone. What a joke.

Tara’s older sister, Sam, if you got it right, stared at you with narrowed, suspicious eyes – just like Tara when you first approached her – towering over your figure that tried to look smaller than it actually was on the couch, as if she was trying to learn every little hidden detail about you.

“So…” you began hesitantly, wanting to break the awkward silence that had ensued, “you have such a beautiful house.”

“Aren’t you too old to hangout with a freshmen?" Sam cut in coldly, one eyebrow perfectly arched in distrust.

You sighed, this conversation sure started off very well, “I’m 23,” you cleared your throat, “Tara’s in the same club as me, and I’ve just been helping her with some classes I used to take when I first started here.”

You hear Tara’s distinct chuckle, clearly amused by your frustration, which doesn’t help your situation much. What a wonderful friend, indeed.

Sam hummed with fake indifference and the other two housemates watched the exchange intently, eyes darting between you like they were at a tennis match, amused by the sight of Sam trying to intimidate the poor unsuspecting twit that you were.

A great friend, for sure. Ugh, this is why you don’t sponsor obviously troubled kids.

It’s not like Sam Carpenter is really intimidating or scaring you out the way she seems to want to, she has bags under her eyes and a greasy pizza stain on her shirt and you’re a grown woman, for God’s sake! It’s just that it was extremely embarrassing to cause a scene like that, especially with someone who you really wanted to make a good first impression.

Interacting so much socially lately was becoming relatively exhausting and you expected it wouldn't become a thing, as you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything. You hoped this would be the last big meeting you had for a while. Tara had told you a lot about her sister, mainly about how it was a pain in the ass to always have someone hovering over her, but it was something you never took seriously because of the way she sounded when she talked about it, too loving for someone who hated the situation so much. No, Sam was important and Tara had insisted that you meet her after doing the same with the twins just a few days ago. You had carefully planned how it would happen, what clothes you would wear and what you would say and now your chance to make things right was ruined, the words seeming to have escaped you in a flash. You were reserved, quiet, small in the midst of so much hustle and bustle, used to watching everything go by from the safety of the shadows. Being a mouse was easy.

“Is that all you have to say?”

Less easy when caged with a lion.

“Look,” you tried again, silently squirming as your pup start sniffing Sam’s combat boots furiously as you stood to pick him up, “I really didn’t want to cause any trouble or misunderstanding, Tara called me earlier while I was walking this little guy and insisted it would be okay if I came over for a movie. I can leave now if you want to, I’m really sorry for… well, all of this.”

You noticed Sam's expression became conflicted, as if she didn't know exactly what to make of you standing in the middle of her living room without showing any threat and wasn't used to people actually listening to her on sight. Still, she wasn't going to give up that easily.

“Great,” Sam nodded, her voice sounding less firm, “go then.” She pointed directly at your dog, now sitting at her feet with its fluffy head tilted to the side in a guiltily innocent manner, “And make sure to take that pizza thief with you.”

(You swear he looked personally offended.)

“What? No!” Tara seemed to realize that her little game could backfire and came out from behind the counter in your defense.

“Tara—”

“Come on, Sam, it's movie night!” She stomped her foot loudly, “I refused the invite to Jason's party for that, we were marathoning all the Texas Chainsaw Massacres!”

You don’t even have to be good at reading people to know that Sam had lost that fight the moment Tara looked at her with pleading eyes, knowing that there was no way to blame her for simply doing what she asked.

That didn’t stop Sam from rolling her eyes and huffing in irritation.

“Fine,” she practically growled, shifting her attention back to you, “But I’m gonna keep an eye on you, so you better not act all smart and keep that fleabag away from me.”

“His name’s Koda.” You pointed out, before softening, “And thank you, I promise I’m not gonna—”

“Shush.”

Sam was sure this was all part of an act of yours, just the first step to infiltrate their lives and pull the rug out like others have done before, because no one in their right mind would sit quietly next to someone who nearly shocked and threatened them in many ways just a few minutes ago.

Especially if that someone is burning holes in your head with their eyes, like she's doing now.

Sam watches shamelessly and intrigued, shooting daggers at your figure as you lean back with Tara babbling enthusiastically between you, your puppy completely knocked out on her lap, oblivious to the sounds of death and fake blood spurting from the TV. She notices the way you effectively ignore her, responding to Tara’s remarks with genuine interest, even if your voice doesn’t match her enthusiasm.

You remained quiet beyond those moments and the tiredness along with your lack of sudden movements made Sam feel secure enough to leave the room and finally take a shower – because along with everything she never saw much fun in these movies like Tara –, warning you that it was better for everyone to finish the night when the movie ended.

(She also forced Quinn to take her place on the couch and promise to scream if anything happened. You didn't comment on that either.)

Sam only falls asleep when she hears the sounds of goodbyes coming from the living room and the door house being closed, finally relaxing after all the interaction, deciding that it was enough. You could have been at her house, but that doesn't mean she would let you come over again.

You come back, because of course Tara doesn’t give a damn about Sam’s warnings about being careful around strangers – incessantly claiming that you’re not a stranger – and there you are at the next game night that Chad insisted on making a tradition.

At least there’s no sign of the shirt-destroying furball this time and there are pizzas smelling good on the kitchen counter.

“‘Sup, Sam!” Chad greeted loudly as she walked through the door, waving excitedly from the couch, “We’re playin’ uno!”

Her eyes landed on you, who waved at her with a small, tight smile, awkwardly sandwiched between Anika and Ethan, the way you stood out among them so comical that Sam suppressed a snort. She decided to join in without much protest, someone responsible still had to watch you, after all.

Sam wouldn’t admit to anyone, absolutely anyone, that she was enjoying the evening, listening to the heated exchanges as everyone got competitive. Strangely, she noticed that you didn’t try to engage much in the conversation, just like the other night, seeming happy to just be there. She thought you had been withdrawn then because of her behavior towards you, but maybe you were just shy.

That made her raise an eyebrow, Tara didn’t usually embrace introverts. Actually, she had always been pretty popular even before Sam left, if she remembered correctly, so this was new. She felt a small piece of curiosity spark inside her instead of more mistrust as she expected and it disconcerted her.

“The whole point of the 7 card is that you're not supposed to talk, man!” Mindy throwing chips at Ethan interrupted Sam's flow of thoughts.

“This rule is stupid! The manual doesn't even mention it, read it for yourself!” Ethan shuffled the cards wildly – everyone at the table had seen his hand – pointing, “And you’re talking too!”

“Whatever! Nobody reads the fuckin manual to play uno, Ethan!”

Tara groaned, “Guys, just shut up and everybody buys a card.”

“But that’s not how you play!”

She decided to abandon the game and all the fuss in favor of getting some air and a slice of pizza and was surprised to find that her favorite was still untouched, which was a miracle in such a crowded house.

“Tara said that you liked this flavor,” your voice coming from nearby startled her and Sam saw you gesture to the box in front of her, “My treat, for the other day.”

She cleared her throat hesitantly, “You didn’t have to.”

“I did,” you dismissed with a wider smile, “My dog left you without dinner.”

Sam didn’t respond, but you leaned against the counter next to her anyway, picking at the dark polish on your nails casually, listening to your friends arguing in the background.

“Get tired of the crowd?” Sam asked, deciding that ignoring you wasn’t an option since you clearly weren’t leaving.

“Yeah,” you agreed, shrugging with an odd laugh, “I guess I’ve had enough socializing for one day.”

Sam wasn’t sure why she didn’t just send you away then, seizing the perfect chance to dismiss you like she’d wanted all along and avail everyone's presence to remind that you weren’t welcome, but that strange spark flared in her and made her smile unconsciously, more sincere than the previous tense ones.

“Oh, I know what you mean,” she agreed slowly.

Your expression brightens in surprise, as if you expected a cold, blunt rejection or maybe a slap (probably both) and Sam feels a bit guilty by it. Sighing, she waves you towards the apartment’s tiny balcony, silently inviting you to join her, to which you respond with a firm nod as you watch her unwind the chain on the sliding door – they keep everything locked up tight now – and follow her.

Sam swears she’s not doing this to be nice or anything, all she wants is to repay you for your politeness, that’s all.

The night breeze is refreshing and sends pleasant shivers down your arms and shoulders as Sam leans against the railing and the two of you fall silent. It’s pleasant, actually.

Sam takes a moment to look at you, like, really look at you for the first time since you met and her breath hitches.

Your relaxed features look cheerful and are well-emphasized by the makeup you’re wearing – she tries to search her memory and gets frustrated when she can’t remember if it’s the same style as the night you met – your hair blows a little in the wind and your clothes just fit. Every single thing about you seems to have been specially made to be this way, charming, beautiful.

Your elbow brushes hers in the small space as you lean in to better contemplate the dreary, empty New York sky and Sam’s skin is burning and she doesn’t understand why.

Sam didn’t realize, through all the haze of anger and suspicion and tantrum, until she was touching a pretty girl, that you were, in fact, a pretty girl.

Shit.

“You’re trying so hard not to like her that I’m getting embarrassed for you.”

It’s late. Everyone has already left, including you, who went early claiming you had to work the next morning. Tara should be in bed by now, but she’d be upset if Sam told her to do that, so she doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam dismisses, packing up the last of the leftover pizza to put in the fridge.

“But you do,” Tara hums smugly, stifling a yawn, “Just admit that you were wrong and that I’ve made a friend who’s not a potential serial killer. And that you might have a crush on her. I saw you two on the balcony.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she grumbles, “And I wasn’t wrong for being worried that you brought home a stranger without telling me, even if she’s not dangerous.”

“Ha!” Tara points out, “So you admit she’s no danger.”

Sam sighs tiredly, bringing a hand up to massage her temple, “She can keep coming over for movie nights or whatever if that’s what you're asking me.”

Tara cheered, jumping up from where she was sitting on the counter to finally go to sleep. She stopped just before turning the corner to her room.

“Seriously though,” she caught Sam’s attention, “You guys have more in common then you might think, that’s why I like her. I think you could too, if you get to know her better.”

“That’s impossible, Tar,” Sam says weary, looking at her sister with the most done expression, “I don’t ‘get to know’ anyone, I already have all the people I need in my life.”

“Maybe you’ll be surprised,” she shrugged, “It would be good for you anyway.”

Sam's approval was all Tara needed to make you a regular fixture in their lives and make movie nights an official thing. Sam usually walks in when they're in full swing, with the two of you deep in conversation about the completely random movie you decided to watch that day, and now she greets you back instead of ignoring like she did before and you look happier every time she does it openly.

She finds excuses to wander around the living room and kitchen when she hears Tara pause the tv for whatever reason, just so she doesn't leave you unsupervised in their house – it was still too early to rule out all the care, after all. It ends up making her feel kind of ridiculous, because, hell, she shouldn't have to make excuses to wander around her own house! But you guys talk during these moments, sometimes.

Sam learns more about you as time goes on, and she tells herself that it's just gathering information, that you're not friends at all, but she finds herself soaking up every bit of detail. What are you majoring in, how long have you been in town, if you live close to campus like most students or if you have roommates like them.

(Actually, when she thinks about it now, Sam probably sounded more like a maniac trying to find out where you live, but at least you didn’t call her out on it.)

Then movie nights are joined by study sessions that Tara insists on having as her first week of finals approaches, and you manage to convince Sam to let you bring your puppy too so he won’t be alone for so many hours and she can act a little more normal around you and have a conversation that doesn’t sound like a job interview. You tell her about the movies you like – which consist of more than just an extensive list of slashers like she initially assumed – in a loud and excited tone instead of your usual repressed one, and it stirs something inside her, which leads to several other facts. Your favorite color, what kind of music you like, what you do when her sister isn't dragging you somewhere, and why you decided to adopt a dog so young when you already had so many other responsibilities.

“He helps me not feel alone,” you replied, looking deep into her eyes, “my roommate graduated last year and moved out. I guess I couldn’t stand coming home to empty houses, you know? And he’s my guard dog, he takes care of me and I take care of him. The little guy might be small but knows how to do damage.”

She could relate to that, in part.

And then you start asking too, suddenly and Sam finds herself with a dilemma after so long avoiding your attempts to get to know her. She’d rather remain closed off.

But a trade isn’t a fair trade unless she gives you something back, is it? And you’ve been quenching her thirst for knowledge for a long time now, you gave her a lot.

So, during one night when you insist on helping her make dinner, she confides in you – somewhat reluctantly – that she really enjoys cooking, especially healthier meals. She doesn't look at you, nor does she say it clearly but still, you listen and Sam is surprised when she finds herself speaking.

“You really should ask her out.”

And of course, Tara is always close enough to raise an eyebrow with a knowing look at her on practically every occasion.

“I've told you already, it's not like that.”

“You're cuddling her dog right now.”

“Just so he stays quiet and doesn't disturb you two! Shouldn't you be studying, by the way?”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

Sam can almost, almost admit that you're her friend too.

(Though she kinda wished it were a little more than that.)

Movie nights evolve into sleepovers, because Sam argues that it’s simply too late and dangerous for you to come back alone and she feels embarrassed – and guilty as much – when Quinn brings up that it has always been dangerous and she didn’t mind letting you go before, when she didn’t care about you.

Now there are some of your clothes in a drawer Tara set aside for you just like a colorful food bowl in the living room for your dog – Mindy jokes that it's theirs now – and there’s rarely a day that goes by where she doesn’t see you.

And when you don’t come over, Tara makes sure to remind her of how anxious she looks waiting for a knock on the door and how she lights up when you greet her first when you finally arrive.

“I swear that now she comes here more to see you than me.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Yeah, sure,” she huffs, “And when are you gonna make a move again?”

“Never, Tara.”

Sam hasn't heard a thing about you in days. Tara said yesterday that you ended up getting really busy with a college project, preparing a presentation that, her sister quotes, 'needs to be perfect because public speaking is horrible and there's a big chance I'll embarrass myself.'

It's not that Sam asked, it's just that she doesn't text you often and Tara thought it would be convenient to talk about it out loud when she was on the phone with Mindy.

Anyway, it doesn't really matter, it's not like you two are close. You are Tara's friend. If it weren't for her, you two wouldn't even have a reason to see each other. There's no reason to be so stressed.

But she misses you anyway. She's having a shitty day at her shitty job and everything seems to go by even slower because Sam knows that when she gets home at night you probably won't be on the couch waiting with the soft smile she's grown accustomed to looking forward and if she has to deal with another group of rude teenagers she'll freak out.

The sound of the bell ringing at the entrance draws Sam’s attention back to the counter and she ends up face to face with the person who has been on her mind all day.

“Sam!” you approached with a tired smile, your dog wagging his tail happily on a leash in one hand and a paper bag in the other, “I was looking for you.”

You'd never visited her at work before, she didn't even know you knew where it was, having only mentioned it in passing, but there you were, with the smile she wanted to see and bags under your eyes.

“Hi,” she cleared her throat, feeling her face heat up. Damn, she looked like a teen girl with a crush, “I didn't expect to see you here, what, uhm, what do you need?”

You snorted at her flustered attending voice. Seeing her show any kind of nervousness was very unusual.

“Tara called me today demanding I get out of the house for a bit and ‘touch some grass’, so I decided to bring this buddy along, he was begging me for a proper walk,” you shrugged, “And she asked me to bring your lunch.”

Sam paused at that, Tara definitely didn't make lunches for her, much less go to the trouble of delivering them like that.

“...Thank you,” she accepted the paper bag you held out delicately, eyeing the package suspiciously. You held back a giggle when she looked at you again, “Anything else?”

“Oh, um,” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, obviously nervous, “I’m taking Koda to the park nearby and I thought maybe you’d like to come with us. If you can, of course.”

Sam couldn’t really, it was still a few hours before her shift ended at the coffee shop, but she didn’t want you to leave without the promise of seeing you again.

“Of course,” she found herself replying instead, “I can meet you there in a few minutes.”

She knew she’d made the right decision when you gifted her with one of your warm smiles.

“Okay! Nice,” you nod, absently twirling your dog’s leash around your fingers, startled by the sudden, loud bark he lets out at the delay, breaking the oblivious bubble you were in, “Alright, I should go before he starts trying to jump over the counter.”

Sam barely hears the sound of the bell announcing your departure over how loudly her heart pounds in her ears.

It takes a lot of willpower and her last pack of good cigarettes to convince her insufferable coworker — who’d watched the whole thing with a bored expression and loudly chewing gum while cleaning the coffee machine — to cover the rest of her shift. He ended up ordering her lunch too, thinking it might be something special, only to complain when he was met with a sad peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a carton of warm apple juice. Tara really didn’t cook… but then why had she done that?

(She laughed at him anyway.)

“You owe me, Carpenter,” he grumbled, taping a note to her arm that had fallen out of the package.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Sam was out the door before he could change his mind.

Taking a deep breath of the damp autumn air, she picked up the yellow post-it note curiously, recognizing her sister’s handwriting immediately.

‘u looked so depressed lately that I

decided to send u a gift

DO something this time

good luck!!’

She knew. She fucking knew that smartass had set her up. Sam should have guessed it before. Tara would never let her get away with this without doing something with her own hands. At least she hadn’t brought Mindy into the scheme this time.

The park you had mentioned was more like a small square and with the rainy cold weather of the last few days, it was pretty empty. Sam could spot you without difficulty, sitting on one of the few benches watching the scenery and she made her presence known when she got close enough.

“Can he even sit still sometimes?” Sam asked, hands in her bomber jacket pockets, pointing with her chin at the dog playing alone on the grass. You moved a little so she could sit next to you and subtly moved closer when she did.

“It rained last night and he's a big fan of puddles,” you chuckled, “I guess he's just excited, we haven't been out much lately.”

He wasn't the puppy he'd been when Sam had first seen him a few months ago and the sight of him running around the trees chasing flowers and stray twigs was actually quite funny.

“He's so covered in mud that it looks like a bear.”

“Well, his name's Koda,” you pointed out amusedly, “I would have called him Pongo but he always looked more like a small bear than a dalmatian anyway.”

She snorted, “If you say so.”

Sam couldn't remember a time when she felt so relaxed, with the weight of your shoulder resting against hers, enjoying the weather of the early season, the ground covered in orange and yellow leaves framing your surroundings.

She couldn't stop the restlessness she felt inside her chest, watching your profile. Feeling warm inside, but also shivering with a terrible fear of ruining everything. Do something, do something, do something echoing like a mantra in her head.

Sam took a deep breath. She'd faced murderers before, for God's sake! She could be braver than that.

"So..." She coughed, "Tara set this up, you know? The lunch stuff and everything."

You turned your attention to Sam, raising an eyebrow with a confused look.

"She did?" You asked, "Why would she do that?"

It's now or never, Carpenter. Focus.

“She did it so I could see you,” she looked away, “Because I missed you. Because I…” She felt your hand reach for hers and noticed a fallen leaf on your shoulder.

“Because you…?” your voice echoed anxious. She could do this. She's going to do this.

“I—”

A loud howl scared the two of you and you turned to see Koda behind a pile of leaves, pupils dilated and jumping up and down.

“Oh no.”

“What?” She stammered.

“He saw a pigeon.”

You see, Sam is not a pet person. She has only had one guinea pig her entire life and only before her father left and a 6-year-old Tara let it escape from its cage never to be seen again – poor Darwin would always be remembered – she does not know how to handle dogs, much less big, excitable ones like yours.

Yet she grabs the leash from your hands when you finally reach your dog who won't stop barking at a tree and ignores your warnings that he is heavy and strong, Sam, it will end up dragging you away and tries to gently pull him to convince him to let go so you can get out of there. Because she is big and strong and she wants to show you that she can handle a mere happy dog.

He acknowledges her like she wanted and also drags her like you said he would.

This manages to surprise her more than the first stab wound she took, how one minute she’s standing still, telling your silly dog to walk in a confident condescending tone, and the next she’s running at full speed through the trees and puddles of the park, your worried voice ringing behind her, as does your laughter.

“Sam!” you exclaimed from a distance, hands cupped around your mouth and dark red scarf falling from your neck, “You need to stop!”

She does stop, yes, but only after your dog has already circled her and Sam must be a ridiculous sight with a colorful leash wrapped around her legs and a dog panting with its tongue out next to her.

“Oh my god,” you lean in closer, unable to hide the amusement in your voice, “Are you okay?”

Sam huffed, feeling a strand of hair fall across her face: “A little help would be appreciated.”

“Sure,” you laughed, reaching out to carefully untangle it, “Maybe I should call him Pongo after all.”

She rolled her eyes: “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not mocking you, it’s just cute.”

Sam opened her mouth to retort, only to realize how close you two were, with your hands resting on her shoulders to steady her and your faces just inches apart, your breath tickling her skin. You seemed to realize the same thing, tongue coming out to wet your lips, your gaze fixed on her mouth.

Do something. Do something. Do something.

She finally does something. She kisses you.

It's all a mix of sensations, she feels when you sigh, breathing through your nose in surprise and satisfaction, she feels where your hands tighten on the fabric of her jacket and tastes you, warm lips contrasting with the cold skin of your cheeks, with traces of coffee, lipstick and something else so undeniably you that Sam swears her heart might stop.

You pull apart hesitantly, breathing fast, noses touching, eyes shining, and she feels herself falling, literally. Your dog jumps on your waist, demanding to be petted, and you fall, taking Sam with you.

Landing in a pile of leaves is more uncomfortable than the movies make it out to be, but Sam can’t find it in herself to protest when you’re the one on top of her. She smiles and you laugh out loud. She didn’t mess up.

“You’re covered in leaves,” you say, running your fingers through her hair, “And your face is smeared with black lipstick.”

She scoffs, “I wonder who’s responsible for that.”

“He is,” you point innocently at the dog standing next to you.

Sam rolls her eyes, but cups your face with her cold hands to pull you close again, and the second kiss she gives you is just as magical as the first.

Tara doesn’t expect to find a dog taking up the entire couch for the first time in days when she comes back from Chad’s dorm after sending you off on a fake mission to find her sister. Yet, hours later, there it is, with one of the sneakers she forgot to put away when she got home from class stuck in his mouth and trails of mud and leaves across the room.

“C’mon, man, that’s not a toy!”

She hears a laugh and finds herself face to face with Sam, looking completely filthy despite the sound of the shower running in the hallway and Tara knows Quinn isn’t home yet. Oh.

“So, you finally did something?”

Sam nods solemnly, pointing to the dark kiss etched into her jaw.

“I did.”

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