#which i think was done really really well

[inkandapex]

Stream Madness

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary : To the world, Y/N had always been Lando Norris’ closest friend—before the fame, the podiums, and the roar of F1 engines. Their bond had always been well-known, shared through countless moments on and off camera. But as the months went on, something started to shift, and it wasn’t just between Y/N and Lando. It became apparent through streams, where their chemistry couldn’t be denied.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: some swearing

Max's Cooking Stream

“Done! I think they came out quite well,” Max announces, lifting the pan toward the camera, showing off the results of two hours in the kitchen.

The chat is already flooded with reactions—compliments, jokes, and the occasional disbelief at Max’s culinary skills.

"I'll be the judge of that" Lando states as he steps into view "Like master chef" he continues

Pietra is chatting with someone just out of view, her voice light and engaged. The mic, which has been filtering most background noise throughout the stream, only picks up bits and pieces of conversation—muffled words, distant laughter. But this moment? This one, it catches perfectly.

Lando steps away from where Max’s mic is propped, moving slightly out of frame. He reaches for a fork, his attention focused on someone unseen. And then, clear as day, his voice carries through.

"Love, come here a sec. Try it with me."

The chat explodes. But all three were too busy to realize what had just happened

"LOVE?? did he just say love??" "Stop rn who is he talking to" "someone find out rn pls" "it might be y/n, she was seen with them around monaco yesterday" "yeaa he calls her love sometimes i think its just a normal endearment for them lol"

All three, oblivious to the brewing chaos, all continue with what they were doing. Because whether it was intentional or not, Lando just dropped something big.

"Y/N’s here too, everyone! The whole gang’s here—Y/N, say hello to the chat," Max finally acknowledges, glancing at the flood of messages. It’s clear he’s doing some damage control, but the chat is already too far gone.

With a small wave and an amused little smile, Y/N finally steps into frame, grabbing a fork as she inches closer to the pan of food her friends have spent the past two hours making.

"Doesn’t look half bad, to be honest," she muses, inspecting the dish. "P’s really doing wonders, getting you this far into cooking."

Pietra laughs in the background while Max rolls his eyes, but before anyone can add to the banter, Y/N is already taking a bite.

"You’ve gotta—"

"Bloody hell—"

Lando’s warning comes a second too late. Y/N’s eyes widen as the heat hits, steam practically pouring out of her mouth as she waves a hand in front of her face, trying to cool down.

"You muppet, that’s literally fresh off the stove—c’mere," Lando chuckles, already unscrewing a bottle of water. He hands it to her, shaking his head as she takes it gratefully.

The chat? Utterly unhinged.

"NOT THE WAY HE JUST—"

"‘C’mere’ HE SAID ‘C’MERE’ I’M GONNA SCREAM."

"I AM LIVING FOR THIS CHAOS."

And just like that, what was supposed to be a casual cooking stream has become a full-blown internet event.

------------------------------------------------------------

Lando's Annual Stream

Everyone teases Lando about how he’s practically become a Twitch relic, only gracing the platform with his presence once a year. A far cry from the frequent streams he used to do. Some argue that it makes his rare appearances even more iconic, like a seasonal event the internet gathers for.

On one of his rare Twitch streams, Lando found himself diving into Backrooms with Max and a few other friends. As expected, chaos ensued—shouting, panicked laughter, and the occasional unintelligible screaming into the mic. But one moment, in particular, sent the fans into an absolute frenzy.

The doorbell rings, making both Ed and Lando pause mid-game and glance at each other.

"Food’s here," Lando announces into the mic.

Ed, already taking off his headset, ready to stand up. But just as Ed moves, they both hear the faint sound of the door unlocking.

"Oh, I think Y/N’s grabbing it, mate," Ed says, blinking in surprise. He relaxes back into his seat for a second before standing up anyway. "I’ll go help her."

"SHES STILL IN MONACO" "i thought she went back to London with Max and P" "omg she's staying with lando" "loool stop reading into it guys ed's also staying with lando. theyre just friends" "my delusions are being fed"

Both Y/N and Ed return, arms full with bags of food and cutlery. Ed drops back into his chair, already digging into his meal, while Y/N pauses beside Lando, holding a box of food in her hands.

"Do you want yours transferred to a plate, or is the box good?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

"Like that is fine, thank you—oh, I’m streaming, by the way. They can see and hear you," Lando adds with a grin as he takes the box from her.

Y/N barely reacts, too used to this by now. Instead, she casually leans in slightly, scanning the chat as she asks, "Is Max here? Can you tell him to let P know I’ve been trying to call her?"

Lando doesn’t even look away from his screen. "He can hear you—he says sure. You wanna sit here and eat with us?"

She shakes her head, stepping back. "I’m good, got my own thing going on. I’ll see if I can join you guys later if you’re still on. Do you want water or anything?"

Lando glances up at her, smiling. "I’m good, I can grab some myself later."

"You know he’s lying, right?" Ed chimes in, chewing his food. "He’s just gonna wait until you leave so he can ask me to grab it for him."

"Shut up," Lando laughs, shaking his head.

Y/N only smirks knowingly before rolling her eyes. "Alright, whatever you say."

"Okay, okay, go back to doing your thing," Lando says, refocusing on his screen. "Connor’s complaining we’re taking too long."

The chat, meanwhile, is already in shambles.

"She’s literally taking care of him at this point." "Ed exposing Lando is my new favorite thing." "The domestic energy here is sending me."

"What is she up to now? Too busy to play with us?" Max teases as they dive back into the game.

"Nah, mate, she's busy building Legos in the other room," Lando replies casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Max snorts. "Another new hobby? You know she gave us a shit ton of air-dry clay stuff she made that one time. My apartment is literally full of it."

"No, Max, I stepped into the apartment today, and I genuinely thought I was in a Lego store. It’s insane," Ed laughs, shaking his head.

Lando chuckles. "Some of them are mine too, alright? They're not all hers. She’s been building some sets I’ve had lying around for ages."

The chat, of course, goes wild.

"Their apartment is a Lego store. I am crying." "WAIT SO THEY HAVE BEEN LIVING TOGETHER RIGHT??" "Domestic life with Y/N and Lando sounds like a fever dream."

Max just laughs. "Well, tell her to finish up and come scream with us in the Backrooms when she’s done playing with her bricks."

------------------------------------------------------------

Taking Lando's Seat

The stream opens with Lando and Max sitting side by side, each focused on their own PC as they prep for a game of Tarkov. There’s an easy banter in the air, Max teasing Lando about his gear while the two get things set up. But it’s the subtle detail in the background that catches the chat's attention—Lando’s racing rig.

It’s glowing softly in the background, the LED lights creating an almost otherworldly vibe against the dim room.

Max finally glances at the chat, giving a quick nod to thank some of his new subs. But his eyes stop when he spots a few of the comments scrolling by.

Max smirks, leaning into the mic with a grin. "The rig? Oh—it's Y/N. She’s playing F1 right now."

With that, Max casually moves his chair out of the way, revealing Y/N sitting just behind him. She's fully immersed, headset on, brows furrowed in concentration as she steers through a corner on screen, oblivious to the fact that she’s now in full view of the chat.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Lando’s lips as he turns back to look at Y/N, still fully engrossed in the game, unaware that both he and Max are watching her with amusement.

"She's prepping for the season too," Lando continues, keeping his voice casual, though there’s a playful edge to it. "Chat, I think she’s planning on taking my seat—she’s been on there for hours now."

Lando laughs, but the chat immediately picks up on the vibe.

"HE'S JEALOUS, LOOK AT HIM."

"Lando knows he's been replaced."

"Imagine Y/N taking his F1 seat. I’d pay to watch that."

Max, who’s been watching the scene unfold, looks back at Lando with a raised brow. "She’s putting in more practice than you are, mate. Maybe she is taking your seat."

Lando chuckles, shaking his head, though his smile lingers. "Nah, nah, she’s still got a lot to learn... but she’s getting there. I’m just here for moral support."

The chat, of course, has already spirals into chaos.

"Moral support? He’s just trying to hold on to his seat!"

"I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE RACE BETWEEN THEM. WHO’S GONNA WIN??"

"Lando’s literally her biggest fan and her biggest competitor at the same time. I love it."

Y/N, still completely absorbed in the game, lets out a frustrated grunt as she crashes into the wall during a tight turn. "I've fucking crashed—how is AI Lando also a little shit?"

The pair immediately burst into laughter, unable to hold it in. The moment is too perfect—Y/N, so focused on her race, completely unaware she’s been on stream the whole time.

Max wipes away tears, trying to calm down. "What?" Y/N finally takes off her headset after pausing her game, looking around in confusion, only to notice the commotion between the two.

"We’re on Twitch," Max manages between laughs, still struggling to breathe. "They heard you calling Lando a little shit."

Max, still grinning, leans back in his chair, clearly enjoying the moment. "I mean, I honestly don’t know if you should be more offended by the fact that she just called you a little shit... or the fact that she’s not racing as you."

Lando looks over at Max, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, who are you racing as right now?" His curiosity gets the best of him, and he stands up, walking behind Y/N to peer over her shoulder at her screen.

Y/N barely notices him, still intensely focused on her race. "You’re racing as Max?!" Lando exclaims, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. "I feel so betrayed!"

Y/N doesn’t respond, grabbing her water bottle beside her, taking a sip.

But Lando’s eyes widen as he looks at her screen again. "Wait, you're were P3?!" he says, his voice rising in shock. "What the fuck, Y/N—this is on 110 difficulty—did you change it?"

"Yeah, well I was but you crashed into me you knob"

Lando's completely taken aback, mouth agape, staring at her settings in awe. Without thinking, he takes over the controls, fully inspecting her game setup. "This is... this is insane. You’re actually doing really well."

Y/N, now realizing the level of chaos happening around her, turns to look at him with a grin. "What? Like its hard?"

Max, who’s been watching this unfold, laughs. "I told you she’d be better than you at this rate. I’m not surprised."

The chat, of course, is losing it.

"SHE'S RACING AS MAX AND BEATING LANDO. WHAT A MOOD."

"Y/N: 1, Lando: 0."

"Lando looks like he’s seen a ghost. How did she do that?"

Y/N just laughs, clearly loving the moment. "I told you, Lando, I’m coming for your seat."

"Alright, we've got to put a screen time limit on you from now on, love—fucking hell," Lando says, still shaking his head in disbelief, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He ruffles her hair affectionately before heading back to his seat.

The chat explodes with excitement.

"Lando’s whipped for her. I can’t breathe.""The way he ruffled her hair? That’s the couple energy we’re here for.""Y/N just casually destroying him, and Lando’s still soft with her. I’m obsessed.""I can’t believe they’re just out here living their best life on stream. I’m living for this dynamic."

-----------------------------------------------------------

Gaming Trio

The trio can be seen in Lando’s usual gaming spot, the atmosphere relaxed but buzzing with excitement. In an effort to accommodate everyone, an extra table has been pulled into the room, holding the laptop they’ve set up for Y/N so she can join in on the fun. The new setup feels a little crowded, but it only adds to the chaotic energy that’s been building up since they all logged in.

"Y/N is right behind you!" Max shouts into the mic, pulling the same trick he did to Lando the last time they played Backrooms

"Max, shut up, oh my gosh—NO IT'S CHASING ME, WAIT—PAUSE IT, PAUSE IT!" The panic in Y/N’s voice is unmistakable, and it sends both Lando and Max into fits of laughter.

Max, already losing it, grins widely. "You’re telling me to pause, but I’m the one who’s not controlling it!"

Lando, equally amused, can’t help but tease, hiding comfortably from the monster "Didn’t know you were this scared of a game, love."

Y/N’s frantic clicking can be heard through the mic as she scrambles to escape whatever horror was chasing her in the game. "I can’t— I swear it’s going to catch me!"

A sigh of relief escapes Y/N’s mouth as she finally reaches the room, the monster stopping its chase just in time. “Right, so you two do all the work and I’ll run out when it’s time to escape.”

Max lets out another laugh, clearly amused. “That’s not how it works, Y/N. You've got to carry your weight”

“Come on then, let’s go. Just stay behind me and you’ll be fine.” Lando moves his character closer to hers, ready to lead the way.

Y/N, still a little nervous, responds with a grin. “I’ll keep my eyes closed.”

Lando laughs, shaking his head. “Y/N—darling, it’s fine. It’s not that scary. It’s not gonna jump out at you. You just die and respawn, it’s all good.”

Max joins in, teasing, “Yeah, but if you keep closing your eyes, you’ll miss the whole thing. We’ll be done before you even open them.”

Y/N scoffs but can’t help but laugh, her character hesitating slightly. “I’m not opening them. I’m just here to run when the time comes.”

Lando smiles at her, his voice light. “Alright, well, try not to panic. We’ve got your back.”

The chat erupts in excitement, fans loving the playful back-and-forth between them.

"Y/N’s already planning her escape route. Classic." "he calls her darling im sobbing " "Lando’s trying to act all calm but he’s lowkey making sure she’s okay." "Max is enjoying this way too much, lol."

Lando glances at Y/N with a grin. “Stay close, alright? We’re doing this together.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

Y/Ns Instagram Live

Y/N was live on Instagram, chatting with fans while showing off her latest air-dry clay creations. She’d been getting non-stop requests to share her work ever since Max mentioned it in one of his streams, and now here she was, crafting away on camera.

Sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, Y/N focused on the delicate jewelry plate she was shaping. She was giving her followers a detailed look at her process, her hands moving skillfully as she explained what she was doing.

"See, then you build the sides and stick it to the plate part you just made," she said, carefully adding a border to the plate. "So it kinda has a nice little border around it, and that way, you can put your jewelry in the middle without it all rolling off."

"Who you talking to?" A voice, unmistakably Lando's, makes Y/N's head snap up to look at him, her concentration momentarily broken.

Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of him standing in the doorway, and she quickly responds, trying to maintain the calm vibe of her live stream. "I'm on Instagram live— you didn’t see my text?" Y/N says, her voice soft but carrying a hint of a warning as she tries to focus on her work again.

Lando, walks into frame to stand beside her, only half his body on screen. “I saw it, but I didn’t think you’d actually be live. What’s going on in here?”

"I'm doing a jewelry plate tutorial, see?" Y/N smiles up at him, gently lifting the plate to show him the progress she’s made, the edges perfectly formed and the design coming together nicely.

Lando leans in a little closer, clearly impressed. "That's actually pretty sick. Have you shown them the other ones you've done?"

"Mhmm," Y/N nods, setting the plate back down on the table and continuing to work on it. "I did earlier. I have a few that are dried, so once I'm done with this one, I'm gonna show them how I paint it."

"Cool, cool," Lando says, grinning as he takes a step back. "I’m actually pretty curious about the painting part."

Y/N shoots him a glance, arching an eyebrow. "You want in on this too?"

Lando looks at her, then at the camera, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Can I join you?"

Y/N pauses for a moment, clearly trying to keep a straight face. "You gonna try your hand at some clay art, Norris?" she teases, but her tone is warm.

"Gotta try to beat you in something after you've somehow managed to get close to beating me on the racing sim" a smirk on his face as he plops down on the floor beside her "Right what am I meant to do?"

The two sat mostly in silence, both deeply immersed in their work. Y/N’s focus was on finishing her jewelry plate, the soft clink of clay against the table the only sound as she shaped it carefully. Lando, on the other hand, was determined to paint one of the already dried plate, though it was clear his attention was divided between the task and watching Y/N work.

"Oh, I’ve messed up, bub," Lando admitted, his voice a little defeated. "I’m sorry, this looks horrific. I think I’ve ruined it." He leaned back dramatically, letting his shoulders slump as he rested his back against the foot of the sofa, casting an apologetic look her way. "This is a disaster."

"What? No! It's cute—you even painted flowers on it, it's nice!" Y/N exclaimed, her tone playful as she tried to hype him up, a grin tugging at her lips.

Lando looked at her with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused. "Those are strawberries, you muppet," he said, laughing as he gently nudged her with his elbow, clearly not buying her attempt to boost his confidence.

Y/N burst out laughing, her hands up in surrender. "Oh, I'm only kidding! Of course they're strawberries," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

She quickly mouthed a playful I didn’t know to the camera as Lando became distracted with his painting again, a smirk creeping up on her face as she watched him carefully work on his next stroke.

"add bub to the list of names lando calls y/n" "theyre actually so cute im going insane" "not y/n gentle parenting lando" "im telling my therapist about this" --------------------------------------------------

I'm telling mom

Max’s loud voice cut through the quiet apartment, shattering the late-night calm. It was already past 10 PM, and he’d been streaming for over two hours, fully immersed in whatever chaos his Twitch chat had cooked up for him.

“Y/N! Get in here a sec!” Max’s voice carried from his gaming room, loud enough to startle Y/N from where she sat beside P, half-watching a Netflix show.

With a sigh, she got up, padding toward his room. She hesitated at the door, peeking inside carefully, mindful of the camera that might be angled her way.

“It’s almost 11 PM, Max. What the fuck are you yelling about?” she laughed, eyes landing on him. He stood in the middle of the room, VR headset strapped on, controllers gripped tightly like his life depended on it. "You look ridiculous by the way"

“Can you call Lando? He’s fucking with me,” Max huffed, shifting on his feet like he was bracing for something. “He told me to download this horror VR game, and now he’s in chat claiming he’s in bed. I swear to God—he set me up.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Y/N started, arms crossed. “You want me to call Lando—”

“Yep.”

“—to ask him to get out of bed and play a game with you—”

“Mhm.”

“—instead of letting him sleep, because it’s nearly midnight in Monaco?”

“Exactly.” Max stood firm, pointing a VR controller at her like this was a life-or-death situation.

Y/N blinked. “Oh, you’re serious—right.” She sighed, shaking her head as she leaned against the wall, already dialing.

“I swear, if he doesn’t hop on after I’ve set this up and put my contacts in—”

“Lan, you’re on speaker,” Y/N announced the second he picked up, barely giving him a chance to breathe.

Before Lando could even say hello, Max exploded. “You muppet! I’ve been standing here waiting for you for the past ten minutes!”

“Oh, piss off! I’ve been waiting for you for nearly an hour, Max! Can’t believe you actually made Y/N call me for this.”

“You weren’t picking up my calls!”

Y/N let out a slow, tired sigh and turned to the camera with a deadpan look, the exact kind of exhausted stare straight out of The Office.

“So you tell on me?! How mature,” Lando huffs

“Just hop on the game!” Max shot back, exasperated.

“This behaviour at 25 is diabolical,” Y/N muttered, dragging a hand down her face.

Through the speaker, you could hear Lando moving around. “Fine, fine! Okay, I’m on,” Lando said, voice muffled as he adjusted his setup. “Max, hurry up—I’ll send Y/N the code. Love, show him the code before you leave.”

Y/N sighed, holding up her phone as she walked over to Max. “Right. I’ve been dragged from my peaceful night just to moderate a sibling fight.”

Max squinted at the screen. “Got it. Thanks, Mom—right, I’m joining. You can leave now.” He was already fumbling with the game settings, barely paying her any attention.

Y/N rolled her eyes as Lando’s voice softened on the phone. “I’ll call you later, alright? Go watch your show with P. I’ll text you when we’re done.”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N hummed in response, finally making her escape.

As soon as she was gone, Max turned back to chat, shaking his head. “Right, let’s go. See? He’s such a knob—I have to call Y/N every time he’s being an ass because he actually listens to her.”

The chat was loving this interaction

"Y/N staying with Max and P is actually so wholesome" "NOT Y/N BEING MOM" "LANDO LISTENING TO Y/N ONLY IS PEAK BF BEHAVIOUR U CANT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE" " "i'll call you later" is so cute he's down bad for her"

--------------------------------------------------

Big Reveal

At this point, they’d practically exposed themselves. The subtle interactions hadn’t gone unnoticed—small moments that seemed insignificant alone but painted a clear picture together. The lingering looks, the casual slips of affectionate nicknames, the way their conversations always carried a certain ease.

Everyone had a general understanding that the two were a couple, but they’d come to accept that Lando and Y/N weren’t quite ready to make it official—at least, not publicly. But what really sealed the deal? Max’s most recent stream, just before the season kicked off.

“Right, chat, Lando and I are finishing up the download, and we’ll hop on as soon as it’s done,” Max said, scrolling through chat and tossing out quick thanks for subs and gifted memberships while they waited.

“Is anyone else joining us or nah?” Lando asked, finally looking up from his phone where he sat beside Max, his own setup in front of him.

“Nah, don’t think so. Connor just texted—he’s out,” Max replied, making Lando nod before going back to whatever he was scrolling through.

“Chat, I’ll be back—I’m gonna grab some water,” Max announced, tapping his mic to mute it before standing up.

Completely unaware, Lando reached over and tapped the mic again, turning it back on.

“Baby?! C’mere a sec!” Lando called out, sitting with his back to the camera, casually waiting for someone to walk in—completely oblivious to the absolute chaos erupting behind him.

“OH BOB, YOU’RE NOT MUTED!!” “HES HOPELESS.” “NOOOOOOO LN TURN AROUND!!!” “HE FULLY EXPOSED HIMSELF IM CRYING.” "baby??!"

A moment later, Y/N appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "Hello my pretty girl, wanna come join Max and I?" “Aren’t you live with Max right now?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, yeah, I muted it—don’t worry,” Lando reassured her without a second thought. “Wanna join? Max is still downloading it, we can set yours up if you’re up for it.”

Y/N smiled. “Yeah, sure, I’ll go grab the laptop.” With that, she turned and left the room.

Max walked back in, settling into his chair. “What were you two chatting about?” he asked as he put his headset back on.

“Y/N’s gonna play with us,” Lando answered smoothly. “Oh—by the way, I muted your mic. Chat can’t hear you right now.”

Max blinked. “Well, yeah, I muted it before I left—” His head snapped toward Lando. “Did you fucking tap the mic again?”

Lando visibly paled. “…No, I muted it.”

Max hurriedly glanced at chat, eyes scanning the messages flooding in before exhaling sharply. “You fucking unmuted it, you idiot.”

Lando sat there, frozen. Then, with an almost comically slow realization, he sighed. “Damn… well. Secrets out.”

Y/N practically skipped into the room, excitement clear in the way she carried her laptop against her chest. But the moment she stopped behind the two, her smile faltered.

Max and Lando both looked at her with identical guilty expressions.

“…What?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Max didn’t hesitate. “Your dimwit of a boyfriend just exposed you two. He unmuted the mic.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “No...”

Lando was already reaching for her hand, pulling her close. “I’m so sorry, baby. I swore I muted it.”

Y/N groaned, running a hand down her face. “Oh my God. How bad?”

Max snorted, scrolling through chat. “Let’s see… ‘We’re witnessing a live trainwreck,’ 'my pretty girl', ‘Bruh did he just expose himself?’ ‘Send help, I can’t breathe,’ and—oh, this one’s gold—‘My parents are finally public.’

Lando groaned, burying his face in Y/N’s side. “This is your fault, Max.”

“My fault?! You tapped the damn mic!”

The two went back and forth, bickering like a couple of siblings, while Y/N just stood there, still trying to wrap her head around what was going on.

“Oh, Y/N, come on. Don’t worry. It’s not like it’s a big surprise. He hasn’t exactly been subtle about it either.”

“Yeah, but until now, it was all just rumors and whispers.”

Lando shot her a reassuring smile. “Aww, baby, it’s fine. They love you, you know.”

Max groaned, leaning back in his chair and teasing them both. “See? Now he’s gonna go full PDA mode, more than he already does. We’re all doomed.”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “I swear, I can already see it.”

Lando reached over to take her hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Max teased, rolling his eyes. “Just wait till he starts calling you ‘babe’ every two seconds on stream.”

Lando grinned mischievously. “You love it, Max. Admit it.”

Max shot him a playful glare. “I’m really starting to think I’ve been cursed.”

“Right, come on then, let’s play before I get called for an impromptu PR meeting,” Lando chuckled, giving Y/N a wink as he pulled his headset on.

[mournthebird]

Knots.

summary: You help the soldier with some self care.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior | Flashbacks of HTP | Past dehumanization | Flashbacks of SA | Intimate handlers

a/n: Bit of a short one, but I thought helping him shave would be nice <3 And maybe trim his long hair a bit too. Two more chapters to go and I think that will be it for this series. I wrote this quick so please don't mind any errors. ;; wc: 3.1k

"Your hair has grown a bit."

Your voice cut through the air, startling him out of his previously zoned out mindset where his thoughts had been drifting aimlessly through memories and half-formed ideas. He blinked several times, slowly turning to look over at you with slightly unfocused eyes that gradually sharpened with awareness. It was then that he truly noticed his hair, for the first time in what felt like forever - the weight of it, the way it fell across his vision, the unkempt state it had fallen into. He hadn't really paid any attention to how he looked since he...well, he couldn't remember when. The days and months had blurred together into an indistinct haze.

"...sorry." He mumbled, the word coming out soft and uncertain, not exactly sure what else to say in response. You didn't sound like you were upset or berating him, which was a small comfort, but old habits died hard. He never got to tend to himself before, he wasn't allowed to - personal care had been a luxury far beyond his reach. You never asked him to look after himself either, so he wasn't sure what he could've done to avoid your comment, leaving him adrift in unfamiliar waters of self-care and personal autonomy.

"It's alright, don't apologize," your reassurance was nice, washing over him like a warm blanket and helping to ease some of the tension from his shoulders.

You gently reached out, your fingers carefully threading through his dark, unkempt hair. Over time, he had grown increasingly comfortable with your gentle touches, no longer tensing or pulling away when he knew your hands were approaching. The progress had been slow but steady - though he would still occasionally flinch if caught unaware by sudden contact, the reflexive response born from years of conditioning never failed to go away completely. In those moments, you would always take extra care to reassure him with soft words, reminding him that he was safe.

"I can trim it for you, if you want." You offered softly, studying the way his hair had grown past his collar. Your hand drifted downward, fingers ghosting along his jawline where several days' worth of stubble had accumulated. "And shave some of this," you added, feeling the rough, prickly texture beneath your fingertips. The soldier's own hand rose hesitantly to mirror your gesture, touching his jaw as he swallowed thickly, considering the offer.

"...if you want to." His voice was quiet, uncertain, still struggling with expressing his own desires.

"Do you want to?" You emphasized gently, wanting him to make the choice for himself.

"...yes." The word came out barely above a whisper, but it was decisive.

The ceramic sink gradually filled with warm, gently bubbling water as the fragrant soap and rich shaving cream created a luxurious foam inside it. You swished the gleaming razor through the water, the metal catching the bathroom light as you turned back to face the patient soldier. He sat perfectly poised on the wooden stool in the bathroom, his big blue eyes gazing up at you without much of an expression.

"Keep still alright?" You spoke in gentle, soothing tones, bringing the well-honed blades up to his stubbled cheek and carefully drawing them down to his defined jaw in smooth, measured strokes. Of course, Soldat remained absolutely motionless, like a masterfully carved statue perched on that little wooden stool, his posture relaxed yet perfectly controlled. He allowed you to delicately adjust his head to whatever angle was needed as you continued shaving his face, your movements precise and unhurried to make sure every swipe was perfect.

"Doing okay?" You asked gently, pausing to check in with him about halfway through the intimate ritual. The soldier lifted his gaze to meet yours, his expression almost innocently vulnerable, making your stomach suddenly flip with unexpected emotion. In all your time together, he had never looked at you quite like that before - with such openness and implicit trust.

You took a moment to admire his features in quiet appreciation - the strong, defined angle of his jawline that spoke of nobility, the soft pink hue of his perfectly shaped lips that almost held a permanent, precious pout, and those remarkable eyes that drew you in. Those eyes, windows to his soul, held such warmth and vitality that it made your heart ache. Despite all the pain and suffering he endured, despite every obstacle that could have dimmed their light...his eyes remained steadfastly, beautifully bright.

"Almost...done." The words left your lips in barely more than a whisper, gentle and soothing as you finished your careful ministrations. You took a warm, soft cloth and delicately dabbed his face dry, making sure every spot was attended to. You reached for the aftershave, applying it with gentle strokes across his smooth skin.

As your hand came to rest on his cheek, you found yourself lingering there longer than strictly necessary - drawn in by the warmth of his skin, unable and unwilling to break this moment of connection.

Your heart fluttered as you observed how he responded to your touch - the way he ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, pressed his cheek further into your palm, seeking more of that tender contact. It was a small gesture, but one that screamed at you in the quiet of the bathroom.

Focus, focus.

"Now let's see what we can do about that hair." You reluctantly pulled your hand away from his cheek, watching as his expression shifted - his brow furrowing deeply and lips turning downward in a small, almost imperceptible frown that tugged at something deep within your chest. The warmth of his skin lingered on your fingertips, a sensation you tried desperately to ignore.

No, you couldn't feel like this. It was wrong.

Moving behind him, you took to brushing out his hair first. Your hands worked with practice having to do this with your own hair, gently running the brush from the ends and gradually moving higher to ensure the least amount of discomfort when working through the stubborn knots. The methodical strokes seemed to calm you both. He sat perfectly still for you, but you could sense there was more he yearned for in your touch - an unspoken desire that radiated from him in waves.

He wanted you to hold him, to continue the gentle ministrations with his hair just as you were doing now, to show him that tenderness wasn't just a distant memory. Every careful stroke of the brush seemed to remind him of a truth he had long forgotten: that touch doesn't have to hurt, that it could be soft, nurturing, healing instead of harmful.

The man yanked its hair with savage force, causing sharp pain to radiate across its scalp. "I told you not to miss," the handler spoke with a familiar malice that it became familiar with. The spot where its hair was continuously yanked developed that persistent, throbbing ache that it desperately tried to push from its consciousness, knowing any reaction would only make things worse.

It couldn't flinch, wouldn't dare to show even the slightest reaction. HYDRA had made it clear what happened to assets that showed weakness, that dared to respond to discomfort. Even the smallest involuntary movement could result in severe consequences.

A gentle tug of the brush running through his hair pulled him abruptly from the dark memory, your soft and immediate apology working to ground him in the present moment, reminding him he was safe now. "Sorry, just found a stubborn one in here..." your caring voice helped chase away the lingering shadows of the past.

As he sat in the silence of the bathroom, his mind began to wander yet again, drifting through the corridors of his fractured memories like a lost ghost. His thoughts scattered like broken glass, shards between gentler memories with you - moments of peace and quiet understanding - against the more vicious ones that lurked in the shadows of his consciousness. Their dark tendrils constantly tried to wrap around and forcefully pull away all the lighter, precious memories he desperately held onto, attempting to corrupt them in classic HYDRA fashion.

Even still, it held onto him, refusing to let him go.

The soft, ambient light illuminating the bathroom in a gentle, warm glow caught his metal arm at just the right angle, creating a mesmerizing play of shadows across the surface. He found himself caught in an almost trance-like state, meticulously tracing the intricate grooves and carefully engineered plates with his eyes, his gaze tiredly half-lidded as he tried to focus his scattered thoughts by counting how many precise lines were drawn against his titanium forearm.

This handler was different from the others it had in the past.

He was unpredictable in his actions and reactions, displaying a volatility that made every interaction an exercise in cautious observation. It found this characteristic particularly distressing, as it undermined any attempt to establish reliable behavioral patterns.

The man exhibited a jarring duality in his demeanor - he could be loud and openly sadistic one moment, taking visible pleasure in displays of unnecessary cruelty, while in the next breath he would transform into something completely inverted.

His manipulation took on an almost hypnotic quality, reminiscent of a serpent's mesmerizing sway, as he would speak in soothing, honeyed tones while orchestrating harm with calculated precision. Like a constrictor coiling around its prey with deceptive gentleness, he would wrap his victims in a façade of care and comfort, all while administering his particular brand of venom - a poison that worked through words and actions rather than fangs, but was no less deadly for its subtlety.

A snake. That is how it described this man.

Sometimes beautiful to look at, but knowing the true nature of his scales, it knew better.

Then why did it fall for his sweet tone, why did it fall for the gentle touch?

Soldat blinked slowly, struggling to maintain focus on your gentle hands as you carefully brushed through his tangled hair, but he found his troubled mind inevitably wandering back to darker memories.

He ran his calloused fingers through its matted hair, feeling his way until he discovered the painful knot hidden at the base of its skull. His fingertips were uncomfortably warm and sticky with blood, but he purposefully ignored that sensation. He quite liked it, but held his tongue. As he roughly prodded at its injured head, examining the wound, the slight involuntary flinch it gave in response only caused his cruel smirk to grow wider with satisfaction.

He struck without warning or mercy. Like a perfectly trained rattlesnake that had been patiently coiled and waiting for precisely the right moment to unleash its deadly strike.

The handler's iron grip suddenly seized its hair, violently yanking backward with such unexpected force that it actually cried out in genuine pain this time, unable to maintain its usual stoic silence.

Why did it feel so much more vulnerable and powerless with this particular handler?? How did he possess such an uncanny ability to draw out its voice when others could not?

"Goddamn, babe. You're bleeding quite profusely now, aren't you? What did we discuss earlier about this situation, hm? No crying whatsoever. We simply cannot afford to keep weak assets in our organization - you understand that, don't you?" He maintained that eerily gentle tone he typically used when offering comfort to the thing, a purposeful torture that only intensified its mental confusion and emotional distress.

The asset writhed in discomfort, experiencing an excruciating burning sensation across its entire scalp that made it desperately yearn for solitude and rest. Sleep called to it like a siren song, but given its handler's current temperamental state, it knew that such relief would likely remain frustratingly out of reach.

The night before, it had been tasked with cleaning the entire arsenal belonging to the agents - a task that consumed countless hours just to achieve the required gleaming finish on each weapon. Even after completing such an exhaustive task, the asset wasn't granted even the briefest moment of respite, ordered to remain awake as punishment for a small misdemeanor it couldn’t even recall.

It harbored an overwhelming desire to beg for mercy. Every fiber of its being wanted to plead desperately with its handler for some small measure of compassion. However, such displays of weakness were strictly forbidden and promised a horrible punishment.

The soft, rhythmic snip of the scissors cutting through his hair acted as an anchor, helping to ground him in the present moment. You moved with care and gentleness, working to trim his hair back to that familiar length - the same as when you met, falling just shy of his shoulders. Your hands moved with a focused steadiness, fingers carefully carding through the strands while the comb followed in their wake, creating a gentle, repetitive pattern before the precise, delicate snip of the scissors would break through the quiet once more.

He made a conscious effort to focus on the floor tiles now, trying to count the individual squares, to trace their patterns with his mind. But there was only so long he could maintain that fragile concentration before the memory's dark tentacles began to wrap around him, inevitably dragging him back down into those depths he fought so hard to escape.

The comforting rhythm of the snipping gradually faded away, growing distant and muffled, as the harsh, commanding voice of his last handler in HYDRA took over, flooding his consciousness with unwanted recollections.

Hand after hand, yank after yank, a relentless rhythm of violation and control.

A different flavor of foul tasting fluid spread along its taste buds as the asset was kept down on its knees, forced into submission. The men surrounding it formed an impenetrable wall of bodies, barely giving it any room to move or breathe, pressing closer and closer until the weight of their presence crushed against its consciousness. It felt - wait…no. It quickly corrected itself - it didn't feel.

It didn't feel.

It didn't feel.

Bad asset. Disobedient asset. Failure of an asset.

It deserved this. This was necessary for its conditioning and punishment for ever developing feelings. It wasn't supposed to feel humiliation or be opposed to anything they do.

Assets don't have preferences.

Assets don't have desires.

Assets simply obey.

It licked their boots, it let them insert themselves without resistance, no matter how painful it was, no matter how much its body tried to reject the intrusion...it didn't feel. It couldn't feel. Assets don't have the luxury of feelings.

It did feel.

Somewhere deep inside, buried beneath layers of conditioning and denial…it did feel.

The soft shudder that rippled through his broad shoulders suddenly broke your careful concentration, the final decisive snip of the scissors having just been completed moments ago. Your attention immediately shifted from the scattered clumps of dark hair on the floor to his hunched form, noting with concern how he seemed to physically withdraw into himself while perched uncertainly on the weathered wooden stool beneath him.

Despite his imposing physical presence and considerable stature that normally towered over your own frame, he had a peculiar way of carrying himself - shoulders drawn inward, head slightly bowed - as if he were trying to occupy as little space as possible.

"Soldat?" You asked softly, carefully making your way around to face him, your heart clenching at the sight that greeted you. His nose was red and running, skin mottled and blotchy, fresh tears carving glistening tracks down his trembling face. He remained frozen in that tense, hunched position on the stool, head bowed so low his chin nearly touched his chest, eyes squeezed firmly shut as if to block out the world around him.

"Hey, hey...what's the matter? Did you not want me to cut your hair?" You asked with gentle concern in your voice, reaching out with to brush aside the newly shortened bangs that had fallen forward to hide his eyes from your worried gaze. The dark strands were still slightly damp from the earlier wash, sliding easily between your fingers as you tried to establish some sort of connection with him.

You remained in patient silence, giving him the space and time to express himself naturally without any sense of obligation or hurry. Your fingers moved with gentle, soothing motions through his hair in a repetitive pattern, while your other hand occasionally lifted to tenderly dab away the moisture from his flushed cheeks and reddened nose with your sleeve. To your surprise, he accepted these gentle touches without any resistance or signs of discomfort, allowing himself to be comforted by your presence.

"...Н-Нет [N-No]," he finally managed to vocalize after several long moments, his voice emerging fragile and unsteady, trembling with each syllable. Though he had slipped back into his native Russian tongue, you found comfort in recognizing the simple word.

"Can you tell me what it is?" You inquired carefully, your hands moving to cradle his face between them. You made no attempt to direct his gaze upward, instead letting your palms rest against his skin with gentle reassurance, offering silent support through your touch.

He kept his eyes tightly closed, focusing intently on your hands as they rested on his face while your thumbs gently stroked back and forth across his cheekbones. They felt so different from what he had grown accustomed to - gentler, warmer, filled with an unfamiliar tenderness that made his breath catch slightly in his throat.

He remained silent, something you had come to expect from these sessions, though you couldn't help but wish he had grown comfortable enough to open up by now. Still, you quickly pushed aside these thoughts, knowing it was not your place to feel these selfish things when he was still so deeply hurting. No matter how well and gentle you were with your ministrations, you knew this kind of deep-seated pain and suffering wouldn't simply vanish overnight. These wounds needed time to heal, perhaps more time than either of you initially realized.

Your attention was suddenly drawn back up as his trembling hands wrapped around your smaller wrists, the contact unexpected but not unwelcome. The soldier finally opened those glistening eyes - pretty, baby blue eyes that seemed to hold a sea of unspoken emotions within their depths...

"I...I just...want to feel you." He whispered, the soft admission tumbling from his lips like a secret, making your heart equally speed up and ache all at once. His gaze was pleading and gentle, vulnerable in a way you rarely saw, as several strands of his disheveled hair fell into his face when he raised his head to look at you better. "...Пожалуйста [Please]."

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover image from Pinterest. I do not claim as my own.

Taglist: @millercontracting | @teafangirl | @questionableratatouille00 | @buckybarneswife125 | @hazydespair | @leighta | @knoxic | @ghostlyfleur | @beckies000 | @seventeen-x | @freyjhasdesiredreality | @curlycow01 | @blackstabbath6 | @devilslittlehelper | @regics | @honeybee-hayes | @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger | @gabriella-aesthetic | @sapphirebarnes | @animechick555 | @chimchoom | @regics | @frombkjar | @tummyyellin

Let me know if you'd like to be added/unadded anytime.

[gojoest]

from pregnancy freak to postpartum freak — satoru finds himself in a tough spot while your body is recovering from giving birth to his child. he tries to be patient but motherhood looks so beautiful on you… and unfortunately, after you’re ready to have him again, there seems to be another little issue — one that likes to cry and disrupt the moment satoru has been longing for

MDNI, established relationship, f!reader (she/her), pregnancy and postpartum, you have a beautiful baby daughter, mentions of breastfeeding and satoru being really really weird about it, mentions of male masturbation, somno if you squint really hard (just to be safe), pet names (baby, beautiful, sweetheart), nothing too explicit going on here tbf, but there’s a sweet little hint of a potential breeding sesh at the end, not proofread, wc: 1.8k+

your husband (gojo satoru) and you have always had a marvelous sex life, one that would naturally induce a sense of envy in anyone who came to know of it, accidentally or not — the walls were thin, but sometimes it was the mouth of your husband that was too big.

but in all honesty, there has never been a day in which you didn’t desire each other carnally, even after so many years.

you thought, maybe, this might change after he knocked you up with a baby — you had read a handful of articles on the topic and how some men become more distant during that sensitive timeframe — but as it turns out, you could not have been more wrong. either those magazines sucked or your husband was some sort of mutation. maybe, it was both.

your pregnancy could be, in fact, easily considered the peak of your sex life — that round belly of yours really did a number on him, as well as on you. well, with you it was the hormonal changes your body was going through that made you so borderline sexually insatiable, and the mood to bounce on him would strike you more often than ever. at some point, your sex drive went off the roof — you’d ask him to fuck you multiple times a day and satoru couldn’t be more fortunate — he’d drop everything and oblige in an instant, like that was all he had been waiting for, which was not so far from the truth. it was safe to say that you enabled the freak in him, and he was grateful.

“thank god… i don’t know how else i could survive those 9 months with you glowing like this, becoming more and more beautiful with each passing day”, he’d say to you every time you pressed and rubbed your ass against his cock in the middle of the night, not so innocently waking him up because you had a craving.

you had a lot of sex, but he was always careful with your aches and pains, no quirky positions until the baby was born — your physique didn’t allow it as the pregnancy progressed anyway. but the passion was always there, undeniably so, growing along with you.

but things changed after you went into labor and your daughter was born. the perfect little angel, his and his baby’s baby. satoru has never been happier.

to be honest, he didn’t think about sex at all in the beginning. he was on cloud nine, overjoyed. every second of his day was spent exploring this new light in his life and taking care of the both of you.

after you got discharged from the hospital, he took it upon himself to look after the house and deal with the chores — he handled the cooking, he washed the dishes, cleaned, did the laundry and everything else that needed to be done — while you were healing and navigating through motherhood. he helped you nurse your daughter, there wasn’t a single night where he didn’t wake up along with you whenever the baby needed feeding or randomly started crying.

but soon enough, after he adapted to this new pace, his sex drive started showing signs of its return. it came back strong — in fact, stronger than ever, and once again it was none other than you to blame for it.

…because, being a mother looked so good on you.

you have been his wife for years. but now, you are the mother of his child, and that is a title that somehow makes you his even more than ever. it is so permanent. because, even if you leave him one day — which you never would since he would simply never allow it — being the mother of his child will always tie you to him, he will always have a place in your life. that’s it, you just made it impossible for yourself to run away from him. like it or not, you will be his eternally and irrevocably.

he liked watching you be a mother and couldn’t help but get bricked up each time you held your daughter close to your chest, revealing your breast and holding it to her mouth in order to feed her.

was this normal? to get this hard? now of all times? — he didn’t know, and honestly, he didn’t bother finding out. because, when was he ever normal about you to begin with?

all he wanted to do in those moments was pin you down and fuck himself into you. you could see it in his eyes and in his bulge that he was trying to readjust.

“don’t try anything funny in front of the baby”

“i would never — i am simply watching and engraving this scene into my mind, for later”

‘for later’ obviously meant when he was jerking off.

the doctor said “no sexual intercourse for six weeks”

your body needed time to heal after giving birth, and that was only natural. and it was okay.

but it didn’t mean it wasn’t arduous for him. he had to watch you day and night without being able to touch you in ways he wanted to.

and now it’s been two months. two whole months without him laying a finger on you. his urges were back with full force, but yours? not really.

sure, you cuddled plenty while the baby was sleeping, which made it even harder for him. but you never got sexually intimate after you gave birth. he was well aware that you needed more time, that your body was still not ready, that you were exhausted physically and mentally because, once again, you were going through all these changes — because of him.

he understood that. but still, he missed you so much.

he’d jerk off whenever he got the chance, more than once a day, in fact. religiously so in the shower, it was a must — or else he would find it more difficult to manage himself around you.

sometimes he’d watch you breastfeed the baby and secretly sneak into the bathroom midway through it to rub one out, because if he didn’t — he’d bust right then and there. but can you blame him? you looked so maternal, so ungodly and unapologetically beautiful. the way you hissed whenever the baby sucked too hard on your nipple made him wish it was him dragging those sounds out of you…

fuck. he was becoming a freak again.

there were nights when he would wake up, as hard as a rock, and watch you sleep while fisting himself in the spot next to you in bed. he would be careful not to wake you when pushing the cleavage of your gown down, just enough to take your breasts out. he’d peck you softly on the nipples and that would inevitably and always lead to him uncontrollably unloading himself inside his palm. sometimes he would make a mess of the bedsheets, other times — of your nightgown.

“shit— if simply touching your skin does this to me, then i don’t want to think what will happen to me the second i slide it in”, he’d curse under his nose while washing off in the bathroom. “fuck. i miss you, baby”, he’d brush a hand over his face. “look what you made of me…”, and he would get hard all over again, just because for a split second he thought of being inside you.

luckily, you soon started dropping subtle hints of desiring him — initiating longer morning kisses, biting your lower lip and giving him the look whenever he walked out of the shower, saying his name in that same sweet voice with an undertone of fake innocence you would use in the past every time you wanted him to do things to you, rubbing his chest as you cuddled in bed or on the couch, sometimes your hand would slide a bit lower down his abdomen… but, that was it.

satoru never saw past the pearly gates, because his sweet angel of a baby would always start crying in the most inappropriate of times, as if on purpose.

“you go — i don’t want to face my daughter with a boner”, he’d whine, and you’d chuckle.

he loved his daughter more than anything, but he was genuinely bummed out and he had to do something about it.

one afternoon, after you fed the baby and left her in the care of your husband to go and take a shower, satoru put his daughter in the crib and leaned over with a serious expression of a parent about to lecture their misbehaving kid.

“listen, little miss, because we have a problem”

the baby chuckles in response.

“…and apparently, you know it”, satoru snorts. “but listen here, i know you love mama and you want her all to yourself. but what about papa?”, he pouts. “papa loves her too and wants her all to himself, at least once a day, but you’re not giving him a chance here. it’s not like i am asking for an entire day, just stay put for 15 minutes — 15 minutes is all i am asking for. deal?”

his daughter lets out another sweet chuckle.

“i’ll take that as a yes”, he caresses her cheek before leaving the room with the baby monitor in hand to join you in the shower.

finally. it was happening.

he stripped out of his clothes and walked into the bathroom, placing the baby monitor on the sink countertop before stepping into the shower cabin, letting the hot stream wash down his body as he reached for you.

“hello, beautiful”

“oh—“, you jolt. “you’re here? but what about the ba—"

“shh—“, he puts a finger on your lips, his free hand snaking around your waist to pull you close. “don’t worry, she’s fine. if something happens, we’ll know it from the baby monitor — so just relax”

you smile against his fingertip and softly peck it before sucking it in between your lips. his cock, already hard and squished between your naked bodies, throbs with a powerful twitch. a low growl rolls out of his mouth.

“god… i’ve missed you so much”, his hips involuntarily push against you, a desperate attempt to seek more friction by humping himself on your stomach. with how starved he was for you, he could probably finish just from this. but he wanted to take it slow and savor every second.

“it’s been so long, isn’t it?”

he nods. “i thought i was going to die”

you laugh. “you’re exaggerating”

“i am not… i never thought our tiny little angel could be such a huge devilish cockblock”

“you shouldn’t speak like that about our kid”, you snort.

“but it’s true. she’s a sly one, and obviously she’s obsessed with you”, he pouts.

“i wonder who she took it from…”

“she’s going to cause me a lot of trouble, isn’t she? but maybe, if we gave her a friend, she wouldn’t feel as lonely. maybe then, we’d get to have more alone time — like this. what do you think?”

“she’s too young for a pet, satoru. you know that”

he laughs. “i didn’t mean a pet, sweetheart. but we can get that too at some point”

[luveline]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

you get a good dose, confess your affections, and leave poor, oblivious hotch to fix things up neatly. 

cw painkiller high, light suggestive theme 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“Hello.” 

You lift your gaze without blinking. Hotch is standing in the doorway, making his way in with a bouquet of flowers tucked under one arm and a white envelope against his chest. 

“Hello,” he says again, meeting your wide, still eyes with concern. “You okay?” 

“Flowers for me?” 

“You’re the one here in a hospital bed. They’re from me and Jack. He insisted.” 

You nod up and down robotically. Your heart is unhappy today. You’ve been fast and slow and now it’s running fast again, a tip-tip-tip on the heart monitor that makes Hotch frown. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “They told me you were on a lot of pain medication, you shouldn’t be hurting anymore. Is it not working?” 

“I feel a lot.” 

“And that’s unsettling,” he surmises.

“Can I have my flowers?” 

Hotch offers them to you immediately. “Why don’t you count to a hundred for me?” 

“They’re beautiful, but there’s not that many.” 

“Count to one hundred. I can start. Do you need me to start for you?” 

You dip your face into the flowers. “I love when you say stuff like that.” 

Hotch doesn’t answer you. You begin counting, hoping he’ll say a nice thing if you do as he asked. The numbers get mixed up after thirty five, there really aren’t enough flowers to count to a hundred, but when forty five and fifty four begin to feel like the same number spiritually, Hotch reaches for your forearm and gives it a squeeze. That means job well done. Nobody else in the team gets arm squeezes —they’re for you. Nobody else has noticed, but you have. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

You beam at him. The heart monitor beeps in slow loops. “You’re welcome. Did it help?” 

“I’d say so.” He takes off his suit jacket and puts it over the back of the chair, pulling the chair towards the bed with his foot, and getting comfortable beside you, a little lower down than you but tall regardless. “Are you feeling alright?” 

“I can’t believe you got me flowers.” 

“I got you flowers the last time you were injured.” 

“I know,” you say with a laugh. “I know, it was amazing.” 

“Here’s your card from Jack. I’ve opened it for you, I hope that’s okay.” 

“I cannot open anything. I tried to stab my pudding open with a spoon and broke it and can’t find the sharp part in my blankets. I’m worried it’s going to poke me.” 

Hotch stands from his chair. “That’s not good.” 

You take up Jack’s card, pinching the folded printer paper and pulling all of its homemade glory from the envelope. The front has a red heart drawn with bandages wrapped around it, and inside is a message written in impressive penmanship considering his age. To Y/N, it says, Please get well soon. We are hoping you to have a speedy recovery! Love you, Jack and Aaron 

“It says you love me,” you say. 

“Mm, Jack wrote the message. He misses you.” 

You catch the feeling of Hotch’s hand where it slips between your legs and almost burst, giggling excitedly, which makes his hand jump away from you like a fish out of water. “You have the spoon!” 

“Found it. No more danger.” 

“Thank you. I knew you could find it.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

The pain medication Hotch spoke of is starting to make itself known. You hadn’t felt very different to begin with, the only worthy note your absence of pain, but right now you feel weird. Light. Happy, but strange, like the opposite feeling of missing a step. You know something’s wrong and you know it’s the medication, but you’re elated at the same time. Hotch is here. Maybe it’s just him. Maybe he’ll know. 

“Do you think I feel happy ‘cos of you or the morphine?” you ask. Softly, slurring, you swallow and try not to sound as drunk. “I feel amazing.” 

“It’s the morphine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Well, it’s been a long time since I had some myself, but I remember feeling amazing at the time, and you’re on a lot more of it than I was.” Hotch sets himself back down in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Are you staying for long?” 

“Until they make me leave,” he says. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. Yesterday you were here for ten minutes and I felt like my heart was bruised.” 

He doesn’t speak for a moment. His eyes seem darker than usual. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I had to be home to take care of Jack.” 

“I know you had to, it’s not your fault, but I still missed you.” 

You prop Jack’s amazing card on the nightstand with a proud grin. You love Jack Hotchner, he’s the smartest, kindest, sweetest boy you’ve ever met, and it must be because of his parents. You’ve not met Haley many times, but Hotch is amazing. It makes sense that his kid would be just as awesome as he is. Turning your attention back to the flowers, you find the courage to ask, “Do you think you could bring Jack to see me?” 

“I think he might be a little young for hospitals, I’m sorry.” 

“Well, maybe I can see him when I’m out of the hospital? How can I say thank you for the card? Does he still like bears?” 

“He has enough bears,” Hotch says gently. “You don’t need to buy him anything, he just wants you to get better soon.” 

“You’re such a good dad.” Your lashes kiss with the force of your smile. “You’re lovely. Jack is really kind.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re handsome,” you continue, slinking down in the bed. You feel tired but not sleepy, craving a really big, hot sandwich. Hotch holds your gaze. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“What?” he asks quietly. 

“Can you please get me a big, hot sandwich? Maybe with hot chicken? Or spicy chicken in a burrito? I really need it to be hot.” 

Hotch laughs aloud and reaches for your forearm to squeeze you again. “Of course I can. I’ll call Derek and I’ll make him get you both of those things, if you like.” 

“Oh, good. I really really don’t want you to leave but I really want the sandwich more than I want you to stay.” You tip your head to one side. “If you hugged me again I’d say I want you to stay more than I want the sandwich, ‘cos you haven’t hugged me in a long time.” 

“Does that bother you?” he asks, the pad of his thumb working against your wrist. 

“No, I know I’m not supposed to want you to hug me.” 

“We’re friends,” he says, shaking his head, “good friends, aren’t we? It’s alright if you want a hug. I should be better at giving them.” 

When he was with Haley you wouldn’t have dreamed of wanting it, because your affection for him has always been more than a friend‘s. You’ve guarded the secret carefully over the years. What’s more unfair to a wife than to fancy her husband? But Haley left Hotch, and he’s been single for a while now, and you think that lately he’s actively dating. He’s always had pride in his appearance, but his suits are tailored again. His hair is left to grow beyond what’s easily maintained. He and Dave occasionally joke about him getting back out there —he doesn’t need to get out there, you’re right here. 

You can’t help frowning. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“I think I’m a bad friend.” 

“You aren’t a bad friend.” 

“I am, I have ulterior motives.” 

Hotch rolls his eyes. “Honey, everybody does. You’re fine. You’re a good friend. You know you’re the sole member of the team who’s remembered Jack’s birthday every year? Remembered mine?” 

“I don’t do that to be a good friend, I just love Jack.” 

His hand slips down to yours. He holds it briefly. “I know you do.” 

“It’s why I remember yours,” you say, shaking your head, annoyed he’s taken his hand back but ready to move on to better things. “Can you ask Derek for my sandwich now, please? Please, please, I’m so hungry I’m gonna die.” 

Hotch gives you a funny look. “How about I go and get you your sandwich? I’ll be very fast. I’ll go to Sam’s across the street, would you like that?” 

“Can I have maybe a donut too?” 

“Sure, honey. I’ll get you a half dozen.” 

“Really?” 

“Sure. Do you want any in particular?” 

Hotch goes off to get you a sandwich and you click the button for more morphine without really thinking. You’re asleep before he gets back.

—

You wake up shaking. 

Aaron straightens in his chair. He hadn’t meant to doze off, but it’s nearing the end of your visiting hours and he’s been here since three. Your sandwich is stone cold in the bag and he’s not sure how he’ll get it warmed up.

Your arms are trembling badly. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

“What for?” 

“Hotch, where am I?” 

Aaron stands. “You’re in the hospital. You’ve had some morphine and it ended up sedating you. The shaking will calm down soon, but nothing’s wrong, okay?” 

You’re noticeably confused, and Aaron hates it enough to sew his fingers between yours. His are thicker by quite a bit, but he’s used to smaller hands. He’s careful with you. He can’t stop thinking about what you said earlier. 

The undercurrent of fear you’d been harbouring begins to ebb. You let Aaron hold your hand and settle back down into your sheets, turning your face toward him and shutting your eyes. You don’t seem sleepy. He’s not sure what’s wrong. 

When you say you love him, he understands. He loves you, too. He doesn’t think that he’s in love with you, but he could be. He’s had enough guilty daydreams about it, batted them away, moments doing the dishes or at the gym or when you’re standing together working a case, where he forgets to forbid himself the pleasure and imagines you in simple intimacies. He sees himself taking your hand. He pictures waking up to the smell of you on his pillows. When he’s especially pent up and you’ve haunted him with your bare face or a shy smile, he ends the day thinking of you. How he’d kiss your head with just a little of his weight atop you, or a lot. 

And then he feels so horribly wrong for doing it that he resigns himself to the distance between you forever. 

Aaron doesn’t know what you want from him, but he knows he could fall in love with you if given the chance. He has to determine how honest your morphine-confession was, and there’s no time like the present. 

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks softly. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back. 

“I brought you the donuts and a sandwich, but I’ll have to reheat it. I’m sorry.” 

“Did I ask for a sandwich?” you ask, startled.

“A hot one. You emphasised.” 

“Thank you, Aaron. I don’t think I’m hungry now, I’m kinda queasy.” 

“You had a little bit more morphine than you should’ve.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says under his breath, “that’s not your fault.” 

You squeeze his hand weakly. Any want to draw the truth from you is quickly dwindling. All he wants now is to make sure you’re okay. 

He spills himself closer to you and, without untangling your hands, brings your thin blankets to your shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay. The queasiness won’t last long. In fact, eating might help, but we can wait.” 

“Don’t you have to go home?” 

“No, I can stay if you want me to.” 

“Please, I want you to.” 

“You’re still on the morphine,” he says, rubbing your hand, “I can ask them to lower your dosage if you don’t like it, but you have to remember that it’s keeping you unaware of your pain.” 

You hesitate. “I don’t want it to hurt.” 

“Then it won’t,” he promises. You had more than your fair share of pain. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whisper. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“This is all I want. For you to look after me.” 

He takes a measured breath. “I would love to look after you.” 

You turn your head half an inch to see him. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” He’s trying to blend the half of him you know at work with the half of him responsible for his outer life, the part of him that flirts with beautiful women at bars, the part of him that loved being a husband. “I don’t know what you want, and now isn’t the time, but,” —he prepares to be brave— “if you want me to look after you, then I will.” 

“You promise?” 

“I promise.”

“Can you kiss me?” 

His heart skips a beat. “No, honey, I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

“Not even on the head?” 

His stomach aches, but it’s a good feeling. Like worrying you lost something and finding it in the first place you’ve looked. “On the head I can do.” 

You squeeze your eyes closed in wait of his kiss, a light, chaste brush of the lips to your temple. The morphine makes you laugh, a girly, giggly bubble of it as you burrow into the sheets, like he’s tickled you. He’s twice as endeared when you squint at him like you’re waiting. 

“Can I–”

“One more,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. “Any more than that and you’ll die of embarrassment when you’re not drugged out of your mind.” 

“I’m not out of my mind. I’m just hallucinating. Or having a great dream.” 

He’s inclined to agree, but he knows with confidence he hasn’t had any heavy medication today. He gives you a fond look and sits back down, obliging you when you scramble to put your hand in his again. It’s a weight he could get used to holding.

“I really like you,” you confess quietly. 

He quite likes you in return. “That’s great, honey. Do you want to talk about it later? Maybe you can have one of your donuts.” 

You don’t take his misdirection as rejection, you just pull his hand to your chest and smile. “No thank you. I can wait.” 

He can wait too. 

[minswriting]

MARKED TERRITORY - A.H x Reader x S.R

About: After that fateful encounter in Hotch’s office, a few weeks later you’re all on a case. Spencer decides he’s had enough waiting and visits yours and Aaron’s hotel room.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, threesomes, blowjobs, oral (f), fingering (f), masturbation (m), dom!aaron, switch!reader, switch!spencer, loss of virginity (spencer’s), talking through it, boys kissing, etc. NOT PROOF READ because this is 5k of PORN.

A/N: This is part two of Unknown Territory! I just wanted to make a comment and say that I do not ship hotchreid but I do fantasize about getting fucked by them both while they also fuck each other in front of me. So live your slutty truths homegirls and let the demons consume you. If you don’t like, don’t read! Don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all! Border was made by my homegirl @esote-rika because I love her.

Word Count: 5.3k words

After that fateful encounter that night in Aaron’s office, you could not stop thinking about it. The way you felt while Aaron was pounding into you, the way Spencer’s cock felt in your hand, the way your lips felt on Spencer’s, you wanted nothing more than to do it again. You wanted Spencer’s cock inside of you so badly. It had been a few weeks since the encounter, everyone had been so busy with cases upon cases that none of you were able to really sit down and discuss anything.

You only had time alone with Aaron which wasn’t really surprising as the two of you had already a pretty good dynamic going on. However, one night you had whined to Aaron about how much you wanted Spencer, and Aaron couldn’t deny that he wanted it too. The way the three of you meshed well together just seemed…natural. It was inevitable that the three of you would end up sleeping together.

So you had spent the past few weeks teasing Spencer—small compliments about how good he looked in his sweater and lingering gazes into each other’s eyes. Aaron would pat Spencer’s shoulder when he did well, praising him for the good work he’d done. And you would rest a hand on Spencer’s thigh occasionally when no one was looking, causing the boy’s breath to hitch.

It was no wonder that one day, while on a case out in Los Angeles, at the hotel, Spencer came to yours’ and Aaron’s hotel room dressed in nothing but a thin pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. Completely out of the ordinary than his usual sweater vests and cardigans that he usually wore. When you had opened the door, freshly out of the shower in a silk nightgown, Spencer invited himself into the room, looking at you and Aaron, sitting leisurely against the bed's headboard, reading a file.

“You guys are unfair,” Was the first thing to leave Spencer’s lips after he had closed the door behind himself.

Aaron quirked an eyebrow, looking at Spencer. “How are we unfair, Reid?” He asked in his usual velvety voice, tilting his head ever so slightly.

Spencer glanced at Aaron and then at you, not-so-subtly checking you out. “I-” He paused as he tried to collect his thoughts, furrowing his eyebrows. “You guys have been…teasing me since that…night,” He said weakly, meeting your eyes.

You let out a tiny giggle, unable to help yourself. “What night?” You asked, feigning innocence. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific. There are many nights in a year.” You were standing next to Spencer.

Aaron hummed in agreement, closing the file and standing up off of the bed. He walked over to the two of you. “She’s right, Reid, you’ll have to be a bit more specific,” Aaron said in a teasing tone.

Spencer let out a small whine of frustration, realizing that the two of you were going to keep teasing him. “T-that night,” He swallowed, feeling dizzy. His heart was pounding as the memories of that fateful night roamed around in his brain rent-free. “When we-” He stuttered. “When you-” Spencer let out a groan in frustration. The only thing making you guys take pity on him was the obvious hard-on that Spencer was sporting, his cock straining almost painfully in his pants.

“What do you want, baby?” You asked softly, putting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

He looked at you with his beautiful brown doe eyes, licking his lips. “You,” He whispered. “And you,” He looked over at Aaron.

You gave Spencer a hum of acknowledgment, moving your hand to graze his chest. “What do you want from us?” You asked gently. Aaron was watching the interaction with a small smirk on his lips.

Spencer let out a shaky breath as your hand moved on his chest. “I-I want to learn,” He whispered. “To please you, to feel you.”

You glanced at Aaron, biting your lip in a small question. He simply nodded his head at you, a subtle sign for you to keep going. You moved your gaze back to Spencer. “So you want to lose your virginity, Spence?” Your tone held that same gentleness from before, giving Spencer a sense of comfort.

He nodded his head, looking at you with parted lips. “I-if that’s okay,” He whispered, looking at Aaron. He wasn’t entirely sure what your dynamic was. Whether the two of you were in a genuine relationship or if you were just being intimate with one another. You didn’t really know the answer to that either. You just knew that what you and Aaron had was enjoyable and that’s all either of you needed to know.

Aaron approached Spencer, standing behind him, causing Spencer to be entrapped in the middle by the two of you. “You want to fuck Y/N?” Aaron murmured into Spencer’s ear, sending a shiver down the genius’ spine. “Want to pleasure her as well as I can?” Spencer nodded his head again. Aaron tsked, putting a hand on the back of Spencer’s neck. “You need to use your words.” He commanded.

Spencer let out a tiny whimper, unable to help the noise from escaping his lips. “Y-yes,” He stuttered, maintaining eye contact with you.

“Good boy,” You replied, giving Spencer a small smile as you praised him. You saw how Spencer’s pupils dilated from the praise and how his cheeks reddened more than they already were. You grabbed Spencer’s collar, pulling him towards you as you placed your lips on his. The two of you kissed one another deeply and hungrily, just like you did a few weeks ago. And after a few moments, you pulled away. “Do you want me to stop?” You asked breathily.

“Just the opposite,” Spencer replied hurriedly.

So you kissed him again, this time with more passion as your hold on Spencer’s collar loosened. Your lips moved in sync as you bit his bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore his mouth with your tongue. Spencer parted his lips and made a soft noise, allowing you to do so. Your tongue explored him, tasting the inside of his mouth.

After a little while, you pulled away to look at Spencer. Aaron turned Spencer’s head to the side, immediately attaching his lips to the genius’. You watched for a moment, seeing how Aaron and Spencer kissed one another quite hungrily. You couldn’t help the way your thighs clenched as you felt your pussy throb at the sight. You licked your lips as your hands trailed along Spencer’s torso, reaching the waistband of his pajama pants.

Spencer let out a small gasp in the kiss with Aaron as he felt your hands pull down his pants, his cock springing free from the confines. He was already so hard, his cock red and angry. Being the kind and amazing person that you were, you dropped to your knees in front of Spencer. He pulled away from the kiss with Aaron to look down at you, his brown eyes wide and blown out.

Aaron cooed, looking down at you before looking at Spencer again. “See that, Spencer,” He murmured into the younger’s ear. “She wants to make you feel good. Will you let her?” Aaron’s voice was sultry and smooth as he spoke.

“Y-yes,” Spencer whispered, licking his lips as he looked down at you.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you,” Aaron replied, smirking at you as he spoke to Spencer.

Spencer let out a small whine as you ran a ghost of a fingertip from the base of his cock to the tip. “Yes,” Spencer gasped, speaking a bit louder.

“Good boy,” Aaron murmured as he leaned down to press small kisses along Spencer’s neck.

You grinned at the two of them before wrapping your hand around Spencer’s cock. You slowly moved your hand upward, giving it a few experimental tugs. And then you leaned forward, giving the tip of Spencer’s cock a kiss, causing Spencer’s breath to hitch once more. You stuck your tongue out, swirling it around the tip of Spencer’s cock. He let out a whimper, unable to help the subtle way his hips moved forward.

Giving head was always a treat. Whenever you gave Aaron a blowjob, you always relished the way his body reacted to your touch. It’s something primal, something so natural in the way the human body reacts to such pleasures. Especially when you’re the one causing it.

You slowly eased your mouth onto Spencer’s length, making him moan as he finally felt what your mouth felt like for the first time. You made it about halfway before moving your head back up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip once more. “O-oh,” Spencer moaned, his eyes fluttering shut.

“She’s so lovely, isn’t she?” Aaron murmured into Spencer’s ear.

“Uh-huh,” Spencer nodded his head, his eyes still closed.

You quickened your pace, getting into a nice rhythm of bobbing your head up and down Spencer’s length. You put your hand on the base of Spencer’s cock, jerking off what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. This action caused Spencer to moan loudly, his hand going down to your hair and entangling his fingers into it. “So good,” Spencer whimpered, opening his eyes to look down at you, seeing that you were already looking up at him through your lashes. “I-I’m so close,” He gasped, expecting you to stop.

But instead, you simply hummed in acknowledgment as you continued your ministrations on Spencer’s cock. You wanted so desperately to feel and taste him. Sucking Spencer off had been something you’d been thinking about for quite some time, wanting to see how he fell apart simply from your mouth. You felt Spencer’s cock stiffen in your mouth, signaling he was about to cum as the grip on your hair tightened.

Spencer was whining and moaning, unable to help the subtle stuttering of his hips as he began chasing his high from your mouth. And when you bobbed your head back up his length and swirled your tongue on the tip, Spencer let out the most beautiful noise you had ever heard as he moaned your name and came down your throat. You continued to suck him off through his orgasm, only stopping once Spencer shuttered from overstimulation.

You pulled away from Spencer’s cock, leaving a trail of saliva and cum on your chin. You used the back of your hand to wipe it away as you stood up. “T-thank you,” Spencer murmured to you.

You simply grinned. “We have the whole night ahead of us, Spence,” You exclaimed. “We aren’t done yet.” You moved over to Aaron and kissed him on the lips. “Isn’t that right?”

Aaron hummed as he smiled against your lips. “Absolutely,” he murmured. Aaron put a hand on your hip while he reached his other hand to Spencer’s, pulling him over to the two of you. Aaron looked at Spencer. “You’re going to watch and learn,” he commanded softly. He kissed you again, putting both of his hands on your hips.

You kissed Aaron back, your eyes fluttering shut as you put your hands on his shoulders. The two of you moved together in sync, kissing one another roughly. Aaron’s hands moved to the bottom of your nightgown, slowly pulling the fabric upward. He pulled away from the kiss to take the nightgown off of you, throwing it somewhere in the hotel room. You weren’t wearing anything underneath as you normally don’t when you wear such an article of clothing.

“Look at you,” Aaron said, looking you up and down. “Such a pretty girl for me.” As Aaron looked at you, you couldn’t help the smile that graced your lips. “Isn’t she so pretty, Spencer?”

“The prettiest,” Spencer replied hoarsely as he watched you and Aaron.

Aaron hummed, bringing his lips back to yours for a moment before kissing your jawline and down your neck. He gently pushed you until the backs of your legs bumped the edge of the mattress. “I’m going to make you feel good, okay?” He whispered to you.

You nodded your head, biting your lip as you looked at Aaron. “How do you want me?” You whispered back.

“On the bed,” Aaron exclaimed. “Lay pretty for me, yeah?”

You grinned, nodding your head. “Yes, sir,” You teasingly said as you got onto the bed, lying down on the mattress with your head on the pillow. Aaron couldn’t help the smirk on his lips as he watched you obey him so willingly.

“And you,” Aaron turned to look at Spencer, who was standing there watching rather a bit awkwardly. “I want you to sit on the edge of the bed and watch,” He said, pointing to a spot on the bed. Spencer didn’t hesitate to obey either as he took a seat, turning himself to face you. Aaron looked at you both for a moment, unable to help the muttering under his breath as he said “If only you two were this obedient out in the field,” before he moved over to you.

Aaron grabbed your left ankle, pressing a light kiss onto the skin as he worked his way upward. He had a habit of worshipping your body any time he was going to go down on you. He wanted you to know that you were valued, not just a means of stress relief to him. He made his way to your thigh, kissing the inside of the flesh. You watched Aaron with anticipation as he kissed your skin and spread your legs as he took in the sight of your glistening cunt.

“Already so wet,” He said huskily, licking his lips as he looked at you.

“Yeah,” You whispered back, looking at Aaron’s dark eyes as he watched you with hunger.

Aaron glanced over at Spencer, seeing how engrossed he was in watching the scene. The boy was already hard again but made no moves to pleasure himself. How endearing. Aaron then turned back to look at your cunt, no longer hesitating as he buried his head between your thighs.

He slowly licked a strip from your hole to your clit, collecting your juices on his tongue. You moaned softly, still biting your lip as you watched Aaron begin his ministrations on your pussy. He took his time with it, wanting to savor the taste and put on a show for Spencer. After all, Spencer needs to learn how to make you feel good.

Aaron’s tongue began running laps around your cunt, making figure eights before his lips moved to wrap around your clit. He sucked gently, causing you to moan and bring your hand to his hair, tugging at the locks. “Aaron,” you whined, your eyes fluttering shut.

He began kissing your pussy, practically making out with it as his tongue circled around your clit. You were whining and moaning, basking in the pleasure that Aaron was giving you. You suddenly felt one of his fingers probing your entrance, slowly easing inside of you. You gasped at the intrusion before throwing your head back in pleasure. “Oh my god,” you whimpered.

Aaron began moving his finger inside of you, thrusting in and out slowly while his lips remained on your clit. You had one hand in his hair while the other gripped the sheets. The feeling of Aaron’s finger inside of you while he also ate you out was such a wonderful feeling. You knew you wouldn’t last long.

He eventually added a second finger, immediately curling them up and hitting your g-spot. The action caused you to cry out in pleasure, instinctively clenching your walls around Aaron’s fingers. “Aaron!” you cried out in pleasure.

He responded by humming and sucking on your clit, moving his fingers faster inside of you. You felt that familiar heat growing inside of you as you got closer. “I’m so close,” you moaned, arching your back. Aaron continued his movements, determined to make you feel good.

With the rhythmic movement of Aaron’s fingers moving inside of you combined with the feeling of Aaron sucking and licking your clit, your orgasm overcame you quickly and harshly. You came with a loud moan of Aaron’s name, pulling his hair and thighs clenching around his face. “Oh fuck, Aaron, oh fuck,” you moaned repeatedly as you came, head thrown back with your back arched high.

Spencer watched you, mesmerized by the way your body reacted to Aaron’s touch. In that moment, Spencer was grateful for his eidetic memory. The way Aaron moved his mouth against you and used his fingers, Spencer knew that one day, he’d get to make you fall apart against him. He licked his lips at the idea of eating you out. He should be grossed out by it, being a germaphobe and all. But the idea of eating you out was enough to have his cock stiffening. He had to will himself not to cum untouched, wanting to be inside of you before he allowed that to happen.

When you relaxed against the mattress, relaxing your muscles and unclenching your thighs, Aaron pulled away with a smirk on his lips. He removed his fingers from your cunt, the digits soaked from your juices as was his chin. Aaron looked over at Spencer, seeing the way he was looking at you and Aaron. “Do you want a taste?” Aaron asked hoarsely as he held up his hand that was covered in your juices.

Spencer nodded pathetically, his lips already parting as he looked at Aaron with big doe eyes. Aaron couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped him as he moved over to Spencer, bringing his fingers to the genius’ lips. Spencer immediately took them into his mouth, sucking on the digits as his tongue lapped around them. He moaned around Aaron’s fingers, loving the way you tasted.

“She tastes so divine, doesn’t she?” Aaron murmured, his other hand caressing Spencer’s hair. “She feels even better.” He practically purred.

You watched the scene happening in front of you as your breathing evened out. The way Spencer looked at Aaron with that blown-out expression he’s had all night, you could feel yourself getting wet again. You let out a small whine at the sight, clenching your thighs together.

Aaron glanced over at you, seeing the way you were already turned on again. “Needy, baby?” He asked.

You nodded your head. “Yes,” you said in response.

Aaron turned his attention back to Spencer, removing his fingers from his mouth. “Are you ready to feel her?” He asked, still caressing Spencer’s hair.

“Yes,” Spencer rasped out, glancing over at you. No other thoughts were in his brain as he thought about finally being inside of you. Over the past few weeks, it had been embarrassing how much he had jerked off at the idea of fucking you, feeling how wet you’d be on his cock.

“Good boy,” Aaron praised, sending a shiver down Spencer’s spine. “Go over to her. I’ll teach you what to do.”

Spencer nodded his head at his boss, licking his lips in anticipation. He cleared his throat as he got up from his seat at the edge of the bed, moving closer to you. Aaron stood next to the bed. “How do you want me?” You asked, looking at Spencer this time.

Spencer didn’t quite know how to respond. He wanted you in every way imaginable. But he knew tonight was about learning, about losing his virginity and learning how to make you feel good. He looked over at Aaron, who looked at Spencer with a quirked eyebrow. Spencer’s cheeks flushed as he was put on the spot. “I-uh-“ Spencer stuttered, looking at you. “J-just the way you are?”

That would be the best way, wouldn’t it be? You were already on your back, hair sprawled out on the pillow, with your legs spread and ready for Spencer. Spencer couldn’t help but look at your cunt. The way you were still so wet. He couldn’t wait to bury himself deep inside of you. But he waited for further instruction, not wanting to ruin the moment by his own greed.

“Are you ready for me to guide you?” Aaron asked Spencer in that soft velvety voice.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, nodding his head. “Yes, please.” He murmured.

Aaron looked at you. “And are you ready for Spencer, darling?” He asked you in the same tone.

You nodded your head enthusiastically, giving Aaron a small grin. “Want it so bad,” you replied breathily. “Been dreaming about it for so long.”

Aaron chuckled as Spencer blushed. “I know you have, baby,” Aaron cooed, putting a hand on your thigh. “You hear that, Spencer? She’s been wanting you for a while now. Will you give her what she wants?”

“Y-yes,” Spencer stuttered as he confirmed. To say he was nervous was an understatement. What if he wasn’t good? What if he came too soon and didn’t even make you feel anything? What if you decide you don’t want to speak to him anymore after this and things get awkward? All of those thoughts rushed through his head as his nerves began getting to him.

“Relax,” Aaron murmured into Spencer’s ear, as if attuned to Spencer’s ray of emotions. Spencer took a deep breath. “Firstly, you’re going to pull her closer to you. Don’t hesitate to manhandle her a little bit. She likes that,” Aaron spoke, teasing you slightly as he did so.

“Don’t tell him that,” you replied lightly.

The small banter between the two of you helped ease Spencer’s nerves. He put his arms underneath your legs, gently pulling you closer to him. You gave Spencer a soft reassuring smile. You could feel the tension radiating off of him. “There’s no need to be so tense, Spence,” you said softly. “I know it’s your first time and that’s scary. If you want to stop, that’s more than okay.”

“I don’t want to stop,” He replied immediately. “I just-I’m nervous is all. What if it’s not good? Or I don’t make you finish?”

You shook your head. “Firstly, it’s about the experience which is why foreplay is so important. If I don’t finish, that’s okay because I got to be with you and that’s all that matters.”

Spencer took your words into consideration. “You don’t care if you don’t finish?”

“Well nothing says you can’t do the job with your fingers after.” You grinned.

Spencer let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding as he relaxed. Your words really did help to make him feel better. He looked at Aaron. “And that’s okay?”

Aaron nodded his head. “More than okay,” He replied. “Are you ready to continue?” He asked.

“Yes.” Spencer replied, sounding more sure of himself which made you smile.

Aaron hummed in approval. He reached down, grabbing Spencer’s hand and guiding it to the base of Spencer’s cock. “See how wet she is?” He leaned in so that his breath was fanning Spencer’s ear. “You’re going to spread the wetness around with your cock.” He whispered. Aaron moved Spencer’s hand that was gripping Spencer’s cock to your cunt, using the tip to spread the wetness up and down your slit. Aaron let go of Spencer’s cock, allowing the boy to do it himself.

You let out a soft noise, the feeling of Spencer’s tip against your pussy making you want him even more. Spencer couldn’t help the small whine that escaped his lips as he felt your wetness against his length. He was careful to make sure he was slow with it, not wanting to ruin the experience at all. He looked down at the way his cock moved against your pussy. Spencer swallowed and let out a shaky breath. Experimentally, he rubbed the tip against your clit to gauge your response.

And god, it was the right thing to do as you let out a “Spence!” in a way that he had been dreaming about for so long.

Aaron watched the two of you. He was the only one that was still dressed. The obvious tent in his suit pants was proof enough that he was affected by this whole ordeal. But he ignored it, wanting to focus on the two of you.

Spencer continued to circle the tip of his cock against your clit. “Spencer, please,” you said in a whiny tone that could’ve had Spencer cum right on the spot.

He let out a small moan. “You’re so wet,” he rasped out.

“Please fuck me already,” you said, still in that same tone.

“You heard her, Spencer,” Aaron spoke, his voice rough. “Give the lady what she needs.” Spencer bit his lip as he looked down at you and then at Aaron. He brought his cock to your hole. “Go slow,” Aaron commanded gently. “You don’t want to cause any discomfort or blow your load too soon.”

Spencer nodded his head. He looked down at you again as you looked at him with lustful eyes. And without any further hesitation, Spencer slowly eased himself into you. He let out a choked gasp, bringing his free hand to his mouth and biting down slightly to ground himself. The feeling of your wet cunt engulfing his cock was a lot and it took everything in him to not cum right then and there. Especially because he wasn’t even fully inside of you yet.

You moaned at the feeling of finally getting filled. Like anytime you had sex, there was a sting at the feeling of being stretched. But it was a good sting and you adored the feeling.

Aaron began unbuttoning his shirt, watching the scene unfolding in front of him. “When you’re fully inside, you’re going to wait. Don’t move until she’s ready for you to,” he spoke, tossing his shirt to the side.

As soon as Spencer was completely inside of you, he stayed still, taking deep breaths to not cum so quickly. “Y-you’re so tight, oh my god,” he couldn’t help but groan.

You laughed breathily. “You’re big,” you replied simply.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes as you adjusted to having Spencer inside of you and he calmed himself down enough to not bust inside of you immediately. “I-I’m ready,” you said softly, reaching your left hand out to intertwine your fingers with Spencer’s.

Spencer held your hand with his, the action helping him feel better. He looked over at Aaron. “Start slowly,” the older man stated, palming himself through his suit pants. “You don’t want to go too fast at first because you want it to last.”

Spencer took one more deep breath before pulling his cock out and thrusting back into you slowly. The action made him whimper as he felt his cock glide against your walls. “Oh-oh my,” He whimpered out, his grip on your hand tightening as he tried to control himself.

The first few thrusts were experimental, to familiarize himself with you and your pussy. And the look on your face helped reassure him that you at least liked it with the way your lips were parted in an “o” and how you were letting out your own small noises.

He began to get into a rhythm of slow movements, not wanting to go too fast. The feeling of your pussy around his cock was absolutely heavenly. You were so wet, so tight, and so warm. Spencer had wondered why it had taken him so long to lose his virginity. The way his cock moved against your walls made him feel as though he was going to burst at any moment. And the soft noises you were making? All because of Spencer's cock? You were truly a work of art that blessed the Earth with your presence.

“Faster,” you breathed out, licking your lips as you did so.

Who was Spencer to deny such a pretty request?

He began moving his hips a bit faster, picking up the pace. The change in friction made him let out a slutty whine as his cock dove in and out of your pussy. You moaned loudly, moving your legs to wrap them around Spencer’s waist, deepening the angle.

Aaron had removed his pants and boxers and was thoroughly jerking himself off, matching the pace that Spencer had set. He pumped his cock, watching the two of you as he brought his thumb to the tip, spreading around the precum that had already leaked. Watching the two of you was more than enough for him. He’s been having you all to himself for the past few months. It was only fair that he took a step back and allowed Spencer to have you all to himself.

As Spencer’s pace quickened, the squelching sound of your cunt filled the room with each thrust of his cock. “Oh my god,” Spencer whimpered, looking down at the way his cock moved in and out of you. Your cunt was soaked, glistening with your juices. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. So in order to make it good for you, Spencer put his fingers to your clit. Thank god for anatomy classes and studying the human body as he began rubbing circles against the nub.

You gasped, throwing your head back in pleasure. The way Spencer’s cock thrusted in and out, grazing against your g-spot, as he rubbed your clit. You could feel your release coming which was definitely surprising.

The room was filled with a chorus of grunting, whining, and moaning as everyone basked in the pleasures. Aaron quickened his hand, pumping himself faster.

“Feels so good,” you moaned with your head thrown back against the pillow.

“I-I’m not going to last much longer,” Spencer whined, looking down at you. Your breasts bounced with each thrust. At some point, Spencer would love to fuck you with his face buried between your tits. He continued to rub your clit and thrust his hips, trying to focus on your pleasure while chasing his own.

“Me neither,” you mewled. You opened your eyes to glance at Aaron as he had been so quiet. Seeing the way he stared at the two of you while pumping his cock. You could tell by the way his chest was flushed that Aaron was close. You reached out for him with your other hand, replacing his hand with yours as you jerked him off fast.

“Oh fuck,” Spencer moaned. “So close. Can I cum inside of you? Please, please, please,” He babbled as his hips moved more frantically.

You nodded your head. “Yes,” You moaned loudly.

And with a loud groan, Spencer buried himself deep inside of you as he came, filling you with his cum. The feeling of being filled sent you over the edge as you arched your back and moaned Spencer’s name rather pornographically, cumming hard around his cock. The feeling of you cumming making Spencer let out a rather pornographic whine.

The sight of the two of you finishing was enough to send Aaron over the edge as he came on your tits, his seed painting your chest as he grunted. You continued to jerk him off through his release.

And when the three of you were finished, the room was filled with heavy breathing. Silence overcame you guys as you all basked in the post-orgasmic bliss. After a few minutes, Spencer pulled out of you and laid down next to you just as Aaron leaned down to kiss your forehead before going to the bathroom to get a cloth and clean you up.

When you were all cleaned up, relatively so anyways, Aaron gently moved you over and laid down next to you. You looked between him and Spencer before finally breaking the silence. “So we’re in agreement that this is happening again, right?” You asked with a cheeky grin on your face, causing them both to chuckle.

“Oh absolutely,” Aaron replied.

“I’d like that,” Spencer said softly.

Well, let’s just say after that, that threesomes were now a frequent occurrence in your everyday life when you guys weren’t working.

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: a tweet by @genmxn "gen 🍻" which says "why do men feel the need to go through things alone".

@SilverSecun "Silverwing Secundus" replies "My first GF got the ick when I cried after learning my childhood best friend had terminal cancer at 21".

@KatieMPatton "Katie Patton" (verified) responds "I doubt that was it, but ok"

@PantsuInspector "Mei Overwatch's Feederism D..." Replies ">Why do men feel the need to go through things alone?

>Man shares an anecdote about a woman to answer the question

>Another woman immediately proceeds to downplay his experience

Absolutely hilarious lack of self-awareness."]

[The rest of the images are screenshots of Reddit comments, which say:

DewyRoadkill: Shit... my bestfriend in the whole world passed away 3 years ago. My GF (at the time) wasn't done with an argument we had prior to his death. So here I am, head in my hands crying at the kitchen table. She proceeds to bring up the argument knowing my best friend passed 3 days prior. I'm trying to think through the pain and articulate answers in a rational way. It was taking me some time to gather all my fleeting thoughts. I didn't want to blow up and I could feel my blood boiling whenever she would press me to "answer the fucking question" "if you have to think about this then you clearly don't give a fuck about me". I explained that I was trying to weed through my thoughts to come up with something because this wasn't the priority in my head at the moment.]

[Then she said the words I never forgave...

"you're NOTHING like [bestfriend]. How were you even friends when you're so different? He treated his GF like a queen while you can't even answer my questions". It was at this moment I shut down; completely. It was either that or I lose my shit. I had flashes of me grabbing all her shit and tossing it out of the house I paid for (along with all her bills). But I didn't. I stuck around for almost a year - silly me. Now it's tough for me to talk about anything to do with my bestfriend (or any part of my life that was really hurtful) with anyone out of fear it'll be used as ammunition.]

[AwkwardEducation: I had a friend that told me she'd had a crush on me in undergraduate, but thankfully "got over it" when she saw me crying. She'd showed up unannounced the day I learned my uncle had finally drank himself to death and I had no chance of getting home for the service.

[-] FlamandAnse11: Because I opened up to my wife about my struggles with burnout at work. And the next time she got drunk, she berated me for being a pussy.

The word "pussy" is censored with asterisks.]

[kmikek: Because at your best, you can only make a bad thing worse. My friend was grieving his father. Thats when his wife decided this isnt fun anymore and divorced him and sued for his house and his dog.

Middle_Philosophy_54: My wife spent 4 yrs convincing me to go to therapy for combat ptsd.

She then left me because I "just wasn't as manly anymore"...

She still has no idea what happened over there lol oh well never will now!!]

[hookem98: My most recent girlfriend broke up with me because I started therapy. She said we were incompatible because she needed a rock for a partner.

Plot twist, she was a therapist.

Reply by WoppingSet: I got that from my second to last girlfriend. She said "I can't open up and be vulnerable if I don't know my partner is a rock". She was also the sort of person who wondered why men hide their feelings.

Reply by CornNooblet:

If all a person wants is rocks, all they end up with is a shitload of rock walls.]

[CitySeeker Tron: The longer answer that this exchange perfectly exemplifies is that we generally tell men that crying is something that men don't do.

I knew someone who once posted loudly and proudly that men cry as a means to emotionally manipulate, and that it's a terrifying thing to see. So I proceeded to explain the issue, and they quietly deleted their post.

There's a time and place for stoicism, but expressing ourselves emotionally is a human thing to do, and to demand that we don't is to dehumanize one's self.]

[purplestatic10: "men cry as a means to manipulate" now thats rich

Reply by gentle-weeping-angel: Sounds like projection]

[Baltihex: I used to be a rather emotional young man, open with my feelings and direct in communication and in addressing how something made me feel with friends and family. As I grew up, all I was told was to "grow up/have thicker skin/man up" by the women in my life, who kept telling me "that's how men play/are". When I was fully an adult in my 30s, I just realized that while people like to complain about male toxicity, they actually expect / WANT people to be the stereotypical "tough/hard/stoic/independent" man, who has no "weaknesses".

You know, like "feeling" or "crying". Men are only allowed to be sad when drunk, apparently.]

[dduane]

Oh, just in passing: a couple of SPOCK'S WORLD notes

(from @magicalgirlcrazycatlady:

!!!!!!! AUDIOBOOK SPOCK'S WORLD!!!! EXISTS? READ BY THOSE TWO?????????

Yep. If you go over to, say, Ebay, you can usually find somebody selling the audiobook on cassette (and if you're very lucky, on CD).

It hasn't been reissued in decades, and I can't really be sure why. It may be that there are union-based (meaning SAG[-AFTRA]) issues with the way Nimoy and Takei were compensated for the original performances; so that if the audiobook was reissued in more modern media, the publisher would have to deal with the way union rules for such performances have changed. (Which might run into serious money.)

In any case, it's a shame it's not more readily available. Both of the gentlemen involved did a fabulous job. I've had the pleasure of telling George so, and I'm sad not to have been able to tell Nimoy the same. (sigh) Anyway, it was a pleasure and a privilege to be involved in the endeavor.

...Also, per @rightspocko:

#oh my god you did that in 2 weeks#and you rewrote it so quickly and it’s still superb!#i never would’ve guessed because it’s so well structured and well written

The rewrite went as well as it did (and frankly as well as it could have done, under the circumstances) because before I ever started work on that book, I'd written a comprehensive outline.

It's not widely understood, I think, that when you're writing for a big IP owner / licensor, it is impossible to sell them a new project without first writing an outline that makes plain what it'll contain. Pantsing—however much some writers may enjoy that mode of novel writing, however much some may feel it to be the superior mode—has no place in the licensed-universe sales process. No licensor is going to even agree in principle with your agent that you're going to be brought in to do an original novel, let alone write the contract to back up their intent, until you've submitted an outline that tells Corporate in considerable detail what they (and their stockholders) are going to be getting for their money.

In the case of Spock's World, this rule went double, perhaps triple—regardless of the success of my previous work for Trek and Pocket. Spock's World was going to be their very first ever hardcover Star Trek novel. The whole project was a gamble... and the corporate Powers that Be therefore needed to know exactly what I was going to be giving them. So I did what I usually do for a book of the projected length—an outline somewhere in the neighborhood of 20-25 single-spaced pages. (ETA: For the hell of it, I just spent half an hour or so digging around for it, and [at the virtual "bottom" of a storage hard drive] found the ancient .arc file in which it'd been packed away. The outline is dated March 3rd, 1988, and comes to about 22 single-spaced pages. ...Call it 8K words and change.)

The outline, as always, was the "road map" I'd drawn for where I was going, to avoid wasting time in possibly getting lost along the way. All the structural work and serious plotting was already complete in the outline... ready to have the prose racked up in it, as a bookshelf's built ready to house its books.

And that's why the result, despite the near-disaster, still looks okay. All I had to do* was write again what "lost material" I'd already written, with the outline to guide me, or prompt me, where my memory failed. To this day I feel strongly that the book was significantly better because of that second write-through, however enforced. So this whole process turned into kind of a blessing in disguise (despite my poor lower back's more or less constant screams of protest).

That outline was what saved my butt... as others would, in years to come, further down the line. Those interested in having their own butts saved when necessary, and their writing life generally made less stressy, can look over here and see the outlining "blueprint" I use. C. J. Cherryh put me onto it; and what Carolyn doesn't know about writing a well- and tightly-plotted SF novel, seriously doesn't matter.

...And now I'm going to go make some spaghetti sauce. :)

*"All I had to do." CAN I EVEN HEAR MYSELF. (helpless laughter) It was like climbing hand over hand out of hell. But at least I could always see the light at the top of the tunnel...

[f1cflcfic]

Won't Say I'm in Love (SMAU ft Lando Norris) part i

pairing: lando norris x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n); past carlos alcaraz x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n)

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

January 2025

[Excerpt post-match interview]

“I’m with Channel 9, Y/N – do you think that it’s fair to say that you were struggling a little bit this match, making more unforced errors than strictly needed?”

“Well, I won in the end, didn’t I?” Y/N answers, not unkindly. “I think that she’s a very strong opponent, so I had to take some more risks, which might result in some mistakes, but it also gave me the points I needed to take two consecutive sets. So no, I wouldn’t say I was struggling.”

“How did you feel going into the tournament here, knowing that there’s also increased rivalry amongst fans of Carlos Alcaraz and yourself? Does that reach you on the court?”

“I think there’s always fan rivalries, and it’s very normal to play some matches where you know you’ve got the public support, and sometimes you won’t. One of the things I like about the Australian Open is that there’s usually a really positive atmosphere in the crowds though.”

“But there’s obviously more eyes on you than on your opponent, doesn’t that have consequences for how you mentally prepare yourself?”

Y/N sighs. “I really thought we’d exhausted these type of questions already. There’s a long season ahead of us, and I’d really like to move on.”

“Hi, I’m here with ESPN. Congrats on the win today, and for getting into the semis. Last year didn’t end on the best note, and your early exit at the US Open cost you a lot of points on the WTA rankings. But you’ve certainly shown here so far that you’re ready to get back to that #1 position. What do you think has changed?”

“I really feel like I’m in a great place, I’m physically and mentally fit and just super focused. Of course I’d like to gain back the #1 position, but it’s honestly not really my main goal. My mentality is that each of these matches is just another regular match, until I’m holding a trophy in my hands.”

"Would you also say it's easier to excel when you're not constantly having to balance a relationship on top of everything else?"

"I think that greatly depends on the other person. But I'd say that the most important relationship for me as a player is with my coach, and I'm really grateful to have had Kim's support over the past year."

"Hi, I'm with Sports Inc., congratulations on your win. We saw you hit the fastest forehand of the tournament so far. Do you ever watch back your own matches to see where you can improve?"

"Thanks so much for the nice question. I don't watch things back, but usually if I or my team feel like there's bits and pieces we want to analyse, we might look for specific footage or film during practice. And what a nice stat, I didn't know, is that across the entire tournament?"

"Fastest average speed amongst all players, fastest forehand amongst WTA players. As you probably well know, Carlos leads the ATP players. Are there other players that you look up to or get inspired by?"

There's a tick in Y/N's jaw, and she whispers something to her publicist before answering the question. "I'm really excited to potentially play Coco if I get through the next match, because we train together quite often and can really push ourselves to play our best, most fun tennis. That'd also be great for the crowd, I hope. Thanks for everyone's time today."

Semi Final Australian Open, 2025

[Excerpt interview with Oscar Piastri]

"What a joy to have another Aussie athlete here in the Rod Laver Arena, enjoying some beautiful tennis today! Is this your first time visiting the Australian Open?"

"It is, actually. Which is funny, because I grew up around here. But it's definitely been amazing to come here and soak up the atmosphere, especially so close to home. So I'm super grateful to Mastercard for the invitation."

"Are there any players in particular that you're rooting for, or hope to see advance into the final?"

"Well, I'm of course rooting for our own, but I have to say that I'm also quite excited to see Y/N L/N take the win."

"She's also good friends with your teammate Lando Norris, isn't she? Had you two met before?"

"Yeah, she's also been to a few of our races. I'm honestly surprised that I got to see her here before Lando did - they're proper mates. And Carlos, too."

"Carlos?"

"Carlos Sainz. Yeah."

"So can fans of Y/N expect to see her at one of your races this year, too? Will she be in Williams or McLaren getup?"

"Gotta be papaya, of course."

Final Australian Open, 2025

Men's Final Australian Open, 2025

A/N: welcome officially to this new universe! I'm hoping to have part ii up next week and keep to a semi-regular weekly schedule.

taglist (open): @linnygirl09

♥ likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated ♥

[nixierain]

Alright, I did my research!!

So buckle up for a long ass post of inchoherent thoughts that somewhat explain this. Also dont mind the grammer and spelling errors... :/

Sources first though - even tho thats not right and they will not be "cited" in the text like they should be

Reality shifting: psychological features of an emergent online daydreaming culture - PMC (I really recommend looking at this one, theres a LOT of info here)

What Is Shifting Explained: A Beginner’s Guide to Reality Shifting (Ik this aint credible at all, but I looked at it... sooo)

The 16 most common reality shifting symptoms (complete list)

A Psychologist Explains The Phenomenon Of ‘Reality Shifting’

Astral Projection Vs Lucid Dreaming Vs Reality Shifting

Ok, lets get into it now:

What is Reality Shifting (RS): RS refers to the practice of "shifting" from one reality to another. This is taken from the multiverse theory; A theory that multiple universes and dimensions exist. With this logic, in these multiple parallel dimensions, there would be multiple versions of yourself. So, in theory, you would be able to shift your consciousness's to another version of you and live through that. Many people use this as a gateway to their favourite dimensions, most of the time being fictional.

Though there is almost no scientific evidince to back up that this "Quantum jumping" actually exists, it is a wide-spread online community that likes to share their own experiences, just like any other internet group.

To get this out of the way, Lucid dreaming and RS are not the same thing, in fact they are quite different, as well as RS and Astral Projection. Lucid dreaming has been around forever and also has been backed up by science. To put simply, Lucid dreaming is when you become aware and conscious while you are dreaming. This state doesn't happen too often either and typically happens by accident, then again, there are ways to highten your chances with specific substances or techniques. Astral projection on the other hand is when you leave your physical body and go about in the astral plane. This phenomenon long belived and even dates back to anceint times when spiritual leaders would go on spiritual journeys or go talk to the gods. This practice mostly being done while awake and meditating. When thinking about it, RS has many similarities with both of them, but it is a far different concept. RS is more where you shift your consciousness into that of another you.

Whether the practice of RS is real has not been proven and likely never will be. However, there are many common themes among those who experince it and several other phenomenons that share similarities to the subject. Some of the themes include: Absorption, disassociation, and fantasy-proneness. While the other phenomenons: Lucid Dreaming, Astral Projection, Tupla, hypnosis, dissociative absorption, and maladaptive daydreaming. To be clear, none of those mentioned previously are the same as RS, just share simmilar features.

Now, there are several meathods of reaching your DR, some of these include; Alice in wonderland method, the elevator method, Raven method, and the pillow method. About half of these are ones that require the subject to fall asleep, while the others are done while awake. All of which require affermations and a script to follow while in one's DR.

Going on about the symptoms when RS, there are many overlaps with Astral Projection like; Seeing lights, vibrations, feeling weightless or heavy, tingling, and ect. This makes me belive that there is a part of Astral Projection that goes into RS. I may be wrong, but the symptoms are quite similar.

Now, with my takes and opinions. I still am quite confused on the subejct on shifting to another version of yourself. Sure I belive in the whole multiverse thing... I belive in a lot of things. But What really confuses me is how you pretty much posses another version of yourself, and how something is supposed to follow a script. Versions of yourself exist seperately, they are not a hivemind, thus you cannot just possess them and live their life. That makes no sense. Maybe a whole world can follow a script, but, I would think it would be imporbable. Our world isnt on script, why is theres? If there is something that is missing, let me know. and if I offended anyone, sorry

I’m glad ppl on tiktok are doing ok

[jiminomenon]

punk! karina and mean girl! reader in detention

pairing: punk! karina x mean girl! reader

word count: 2.5k+

summary: stuck in detention together, jimin and y/n do anything but serve their punishment quietly. while y/n tries to pass the time without losing her mind, jimin makes it her mission to get under her skin—tapping her pen against the desk, whispering teasing remarks, and finding every excuse to pull her into trouble. between stolen glances, quiet laughter, and a battle of wills, the tension between them only grows. by the time detention ends, it’s clear that for these two, even punishment feels like a game they both enjoy playing.

from my series: match made in hell

detention was the worst place to be on a friday afternoon, especially when it was because of something as stupid as “inappropriate conduct in the school hallway.” as if jimin casually slipping her hand into the back pocket of y/n’s plaid skirt was some kind of felony.

it wasn’t like she was making out with her against the lockers—this time, at least. but of course, the teachers had it out for them, always looking for a reason to punish the school’s two biggest troublemakers. not that y/n cared about their dumb rules, but wasting an entire hour sitting in silence? now that was a crime.

she sat at the back of the room, arms crossed, leg bouncing impatiently under the desk. the classroom smelled like old books and dust, the air thick with boredom from the other students forced to serve their time.

jimin, however, looked completely unbothered. she was slouched in her chair beside y/n, boots kicked up onto the desk in front of her like she owned the place, chewing lazily on a piece of gum she probably wasn’t even supposed to have. the way she carried herself, so effortlessly cool and careless, made y/n both admire and want to strangle her at the same time.

she exhaled sharply, side-eyeing her girlfriend before finally breaking the silence between them.

“this is your fault,” y/n muttered, glaring at jimin out of the corner of her eye. her arms stayed crossed, fingers digging into her sleeves as if physically restraining herself from smacking that cocky grin off jimin’s face.

jimin merely smirked, tilting her head toward y/n. “you didn’t seem to mind earlier, babe.” her voice was smooth, teasing, dripping with the same arrogance that got her into trouble in the first place.

y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes. “yeah, well, that was before i realized i’d be rotting in here for an hour because of you.” she leaned back in her chair, shifting her gaze to the front of the room, where mr. choi was pretending to grade papers but was probably just counting down the minutes until he could leave.

jimin wasn’t done, though. she leaned in, voice dropping just low enough for only y/n to hear. “you know… we could sneak out.”

y/n turned her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “and get caught? you really don’t think ahead, do you?”

“c’mon,” jimin grinned, voice dripping with mischief. “since when did you care about rules?”

y/n hated that jimin had a point. she was the last person to care about rules. if anything, she had broken more than jimin had—just in a more strategic way. but she also wasn’t stupid. and she knew that with their reputation, one more stunt would land them in suspension, which meant no sneaking around between classes, no excuses to “stay late for group projects,” no making out behind the gym when they were supposed to be in p.e. detention was bad, but being kept apart? that was worse.

“you’re insufferable,” y/n muttered, shaking her head.

“and yet,” jimin drawled, dragging her knuckles along y/n’s arm now, sending a slow, deliberate shiver up her spine, “you’re madly in love with me.”

“debatable.”

jimin let out a low chuckle, shifting even closer, her breath warm against y/n’s ear. “oh yeah?” she murmured, fingers now ghosting over y/n’s thigh, making her muscles tense despite herself. “wanna test that theory?”

y/n clenched her jaw, knowing exactly what jimin was trying to do. this was her game—push, push, push until y/n finally snapped and kissed her just to shut her up. it was infuriating. but also? kind of hot.

“you’re lucky we’re in public, meanie,” jimin added, her smirk widening as she leaned back, watching y/n’s reaction like a cat playing with its food.

y/n scoffed, shaking off the warmth creeping up her neck. “i’m lucky? you’re the one who wouldn’t survive in here without me.”

jimin hummed, pretending to consider this. “yeah? so what, you’d just leave me all alone?”

y/n didn’t answer immediately. instead, she reached over and took jimin’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together like it was second nature. she kept her gaze forward, acting nonchalant, but the way her thumb absentmindedly stroked jimin’s skin gave her away. jimin blinked, caught off guard, before her smirk softened into something less cocky, more genuine.

“guess i’m the lucky one then,” she murmured, giving y/n’s hand a small squeeze.

y/n sighed, pretending to be annoyed, but she didn’t pull away. detention was boring, sure. but if she had to be stuck in here, at least she wasn’t stuck alone.

jimin was quiet for a while after that, which was a rare occurrence. normally, she always had some smartass comment, some teasing remark to get under y/n’s skin. but now, she just sat there, hand still in y/n’s, tracing slow, lazy patterns against her palm with her thumb. y/n didn’t say anything about it, didn’t acknowledge the way her heart did a little flip at the feeling. she just let it happen, pretending she wasn’t affected.

the rest of the classroom was dead silent except for the occasional sound of someone shifting in their seat or mr. choi clearing his throat. the clock on the wall ticked painfully slow, each second dragging on like the universe was punishing them specifically. y/n tapped her fingers against the desk, already growing impatient.

“if you’re gonna get me in trouble,” she muttered, keeping her voice low, “at least make it worth my while.”

jimin perked up at that, turning her head with a grin. “oh? what’s this? my mean girl wants a little fun?”

y/n rolled her eyes but smirked slightly. “i’m saying, if we’re stuck here, we might as well make it interesting.”

jimin’s grin widened, the troublemaker in her awakening immediately. “interesting, huh? what are you suggesting, princess?”

y/n leaned in slightly, making sure mr. choi wasn’t looking before whispering, “bet you can’t get out of here without him noticing.”

jimin’s eyes practically sparked with excitement. “oh, babe, you really do love me.”

“debatable,” y/n shot back, but her smirk gave her away.

jimin didn’t waste another second. she stretched her arms above her head like she was just adjusting, then, in one fluid motion, slid down lower in her seat, boots soundlessly hitting the floor. she moved like she had done this a hundred times before, which, knowing her, she probably had. y/n watched, amused, as jimin slid under the desk, crouching low, making sure mr. choi’s eyes were still glued to his book.

then, ever so slowly, jimin started crawling toward the door.

y/n had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. the sight of the school’s resident bad girl—tattoos peeking from under her sleeves, ripped uniform, dark eyeliner still sharp despite the dim lighting—literally crawling on the floor like a damn cat burglar was almost too much. she covered her mouth, pretending to rest her chin on her palm as she kept watching.

jimin was almost at the door now. just a few more inches.

and then—

“ms. yu, where do you think you’re going?”

y/n shut her eyes, exhaling through her nose. so close.

jimin froze mid-crawl, then slowly, slowly, turned her head toward mr. choi with the guiltiest yet most shameless expression y/n had ever seen.

“uh…” jimin started, blinking up at their teacher like a deer caught in headlights. “dropped my pen?”

mr. choi looked unimpressed. “get back in your seat. now.”

jimin sighed dramatically, getting up with zero shame, brushing invisible dust off her pants. she strolled back to her desk, plopping down beside y/n like nothing happened.

“so close,” y/n muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

jimin leaned in, whispering, “hey, at least i tried. you know you love me for it.”

y/n scoffed, looking away to hide her smile. detention might’ve sucked, but at least with jimin around, it was never boring.

jimin didn’t even look the slightest bit ashamed. in fact, she looked proud of herself, stretching her arms behind her head as if she hadn’t just been caught trying to escape like a cartoon villain. y/n shot her a look, a mix of amusement and exasperation, but jimin only grinned in response.

“what?” she whispered, nudging y/n’s knee under the desk.

“you’re an idiot,” y/n whispered back, shaking her head. “next time, maybe don’t be so obvious?”

jimin gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in mock offense. “excuse me, i was incredibly stealthy.”

y/n snorted. “you literally crawled like a raccoon digging through trash. it was pathetic.”

jimin leaned in, resting her chin on her hand, eyes flickering with something teasing. “oh? so you were watching me that closely, huh?”

y/n’s face heated up. she opened her mouth to respond—probably to call jimin insufferable again—but before she could, mr. choi’s voice cut through the room.

“both of you. zip it.”

they both turned their heads forward at the same time, mumbling a half-hearted “yes, sir.”

for a few minutes, they actually behaved. y/n tapped her nails against the desk, staring out the window, watching as the sky slowly turned gold. outside, students were probably on their way home, couples were probably getting ready for their friday night dates, and here she was—stuck in a musty classroom with her reckless, shameless girlfriend who had no idea how to sit still.

because, of course, jimin wasn’t done being annoying.

it started with her finger, lightly tracing random shapes on y/n’s arm. slow, soft strokes, up and down, barely there. y/n pretended not to notice.

then it was her foot, nudging against y/n’s under the desk. y/n kicked her ankle lightly in response, but jimin took that as encouragement.

then—then—it was her hand, slipping under the desk, resting on y/n’s thigh.

y/n’s breath hitched.

she turned her head slightly, giving jimin a warning glare. “don’t.”

jimin smiled. “don’t what?”

y/n grabbed her wrist, nails digging in just enough to make a point. “don’t start something you can’t finish.”

jimin’s smirk widened, eyes darkening just a little. “who says i can’t finish?”

y/n let out a sharp breath through her nose, grip tightening. “you are so lucky we’re in public.”

“you keep saying that,” jimin whispered, voice low, “but i think you’re the lucky one, meanie.”

before y/n could respond, mr. choi sighed loudly, closing his book with a thud. “y/n. jimin. do i need to separate you two?”

they both turned to look at him, blinking innocently.

“no, sir,” y/n said, tone perfectly polite.

“never, sir,” jimin added, smiling sweetly.

mr. choi looked at them for a long moment, then exhaled through his nose. “i don’t get paid enough for this,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

y/n bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. jimin, however, wasn’t as composed—she let out a snicker before covering it with a fake cough.

mr. choi checked the clock, sighed again, and waved a hand. “just go. both of you. detention’s over.”

y/n didn’t need to be told twice. she grabbed her bag and was already halfway out the door before jimin even got up, a satisfied smirk on her face.

“so,” jimin said once they were in the hallway, sliding an arm around y/n’s waist, “wanna go finish what we started?”

y/n groaned, shoving her off. “you’re the worst.”

“yeah, yeah,” jimin grinned, lacing their fingers together anyway, “but i’m your worst.”

y/n sighed, shaking her head—but she didn’t let go.

they walked through the empty hallways together, the sounds of their footsteps echoing against the tiled floor. the sunset cast long shadows through the windows, painting the walls in warm hues of orange and pink. y/n should’ve been annoyed—detention had been a waste of time, and jimin had spent the whole thing making it her personal mission to drive y/n insane—but instead, she just felt… content.

jimin swung their intertwined hands slightly, glancing over at y/n with that ever-present smirk. “so, where to now?”

“home,” y/n replied, rolling her eyes. “unlike you, i actually have things to do.”

“boring,” jimin drawled. “c’mon, let’s do something fun. let’s sneak into the pool, or steal the principal’s parking sign again, or—”

“or we could do absolutely none of that,” y/n interrupted, giving her a deadpan look.

jimin pouted, leaning her head on y/n’s shoulder as they walked. “you’re such a buzzkill.”

“and you’re a menace,” y/n shot back, though she didn’t push jimin off.

they reached the school gates, the cool evening air brushing against their skin. the streets were mostly empty, students having already left for the day. for a moment, they just stood there, the world feeling strangely quiet.

then, jimin suddenly tugged y/n closer, wrapping her arms around her waist. “so you really just wanna go home, huh?” she murmured, tilting her head up.

y/n raised an eyebrow. “yes. obviously.”

jimin hummed, then, in a move so quick y/n barely had time to react, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of y/n’s mouth. it wasn’t a deep kiss, just a teasing brush of lips, but it sent a warm shiver down y/n’s spine nonetheless.

“jimin—” y/n started, but jimin pulled back with a satisfied grin.

“just a little reward for surviving detention with me,” jimin said, winking.

y/n exhaled sharply, trying to suppress the way her heartbeat had picked up. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet, you love me,” jimin shot back, voice annoyingly smug.

y/n sighed, then—because she hated giving jimin the upper hand—she grabbed the front of jimin’s leather jacket, yanked her forward, and kissed her properly.

it was fast and unexpected, but it did the trick. when y/n pulled away, jimin was left momentarily stunned, blinking at her like she had just short-circuited.

y/n smirked. “see you tomorrow, troublemaker.”

and with that, she turned on her heel and walked off, but she didn’t get far. the low, familiar roar of an engine starting made her pause.

jimin swung a leg over her motorcycle, the matte black machine gleaming under the streetlights. she rolled her shoulders, adjusting the collar of her jacket before slipping on her helmet. even with her face covered, y/n could feel the smirk she was giving her.

“need a ride, princess?” jimin called over the engine, voice dripping with amusement.

y/n scoffed. “i’d rather walk.”

jimin revved the engine, tilting her head. “suit yourself, but if you change your mind…” she tapped the seat behind her. “this spot’s always yours.”

y/n didn’t answer, just shook her head with a small laugh before turning away. jimin watched her for a moment longer, then kicked the stand up, peeling off into the night, leaving behind the scent of smoke and leather in her wake.

God, i’m so in love with her, jimin thought, grinning under her helmet as she disappeared down the street.

[cockettechris]

ASSISTANT'S WORK - M.S.

Matthew Sturniolo. One of the best lawyers in Boston, if not the best. He was 25, young for being so successful at what he does. Being as successful as he is means he needed an assistant, which happens to be you. As you fill out important files of some sort you're called to his office.

You gently knock on the door, knowing how 'cranky' he could be sometimes. After he tells you to come in, you walk across the carpeted floor before softly sitting in the leather chair across from his desk. He's still on the phone, getting frustrated with what you assumed was his girlfriend or something.

"Yeah no- what? Okay bye." He said sort of harshly as he hangs up, running a hand over his face before he looked at you. "Sorry, my brother Chris wanted to know what shirt he should wear. Fuckin' idiot.." You just sat there, not wanting to interrupt him. "Anyway Y/N, I called you in here because I noticed you've been slacking off on the tasks I've been giving you." "I'm sorry- I don't mean to-" He interrupted you, "Y/N. To be honest I don't really care. But since it's the right thing to do I'm gonna ask if something has been going on."

Truth be told yeah there was something. It's not everyday your boyfriend of 6 months cheats on you and sends you a video of him doing it. "Uhm well, just my boyfriend, or ex I guess cheated on me and-" He interrupted you again. "I don't need the whole sob story alright? Just make sure you get your tasks done on time if you wanna keep your job. Also I need to stay back tonight."

You nodded, knowing if you protested he'd get pissed. Not that you didn't like it, it turned you on if anything. "Alright well, continue filing those files and just, try to forget about him alright?" He said the last part softly, as if he spoke too loudly about it something would happen. "Got it, thank you Mr. Sturniolo". He nodded as you got up, shut the door and went back to your desk.

The rest of the day dragged on with a blur. A blur full of filling out files, answering phone calls, getting lunch and coffee, and other stuff. Then the clock hits 8:00. Closing time. A couple minutes after everyone left he calls you into his office. Again. You slowly open the door and see him taking off his suit jacket, setting it on the leather couch carefully. "Ah, Y/N. Sit." He says as he points to the leather chair across from his desk. You notice how when you sit his eyes linger on your body.

"I've been thinking about what you said earlier. About your ex cheating on you. It's messed up. Truly. I'm sorry if it sounded like I didn't care about it, I do. I care about you aswell. But you need to forget about it." You smiled softly at his words, before speaking. "I don't know how. It's hard." He smirked. "I know a way. Trust me you'll forget all about him."

"Fuck.." You barely managed to moan out. You're not sure how you ended up bent over your bosses desk as he pounds into you from behind. You were complaining? Hell no. "Yeah thaats it." He hissed out as he went almost all the way out before slamming back in. This was beyond anything better than you ever experienced. Yes you've had sex, but not like this. You could feel every vein on his cock.

God he loved how you felt around him, it was heaven. "This all ya needed?" You could only nod at his words. He suddenly grabbed your hair, forcing you against him as he continued moving in and out of you. "What? Can't even talk now?" You barely managed a small "n-no." He smirked at your pathetic attempt to talk. "Just needed your boss to fuck you dumb? Such a good slut, squeezing me so tight."

"Not gon' last long in ya sweetheart." He let go of your hair and gently put you back on his desk. "Can feel ya clenchin' me baby, gonna cum?" You whimpered softly, not even trying to talk. "Yeah atta girl. Come on, cum on this dick." He reached down in between your legs to rub your sensitive clit, trying to make you let go faster.

"F-Fuck." You moaned out loudly. "Go ahead. Cum all over my cock." A loud moan left your dry and parted lips as you came, running down his veiny dick. "S-Shit baby, 'm not far behind." He kept going, becoming faster and faster as he chased his orgasm. "Fuckk. You feel so good. Fuckin' made for me I swear." With one final thrust he came, pouring all his cum into you.

After the fact when you're putting your clothes on, after he helped clean you up. He came over to you as he fixed his tie and gently kissed your forehead. "You alright?" He asked softly. You managed out a small 'yeah'.

"I don't why we haven't done that before to be honest. But you do know we have to pretend this didn't happen right? You work for me. This meant nothing." You nodded. You understood it would be hard to try and just forget about it.

"I gotta go home to my daughter, my mom's watching her. See you tomorrow Y/N." He said, kissing you softly before he left.

Shit.

A/N: Do we like?? Also briefcase divider is by @bernardsbendystraws. This took me wayy longer than I intended lmao😭. Lmk if you wanna be on the taglist!!

Tags:

@sturnobsessedwh0re @sturniolos-manslut19 @sturniolosluttt @mattsfavbitchhh @livy4swift @pip4444chris @christophersturnn @ariastur9z @sturniolosarethebest @r0set0y @chrislilcumslvt @conspiracy-ash @courta13 @emely9274 @liiixsturniolos @ifwdominicfike

[weneeya]

hi, i had this idea for a while that jason is very s/o that thinks they're too hard to love (plus if they've never been treated right) x guy that loves them as easily as breathing</3

maybe I'm projecting and honestly thinking about it gives me a lot of comfort because I've never experienced something like that, and that's why I decided to request this anonymously, i feel a little ashamed T-T

too hard to love m.list | rules

pairing. jason x reader

note. hi! don't be ashamed it's fine to find comfort in this, and i hope my writing will help you get even more comfort <3

You couldn’t be loved, that was what you kept repeating to yourself all the time since your last breakup. Why? Because it was what everyone always told you. You had never, ever, been treated well before, but in your eyes, it was all your fault. You weren’t loveable ; you had your own problems which always ended up ruining your relationships. Your lack of confidence was probably the worst thing, you knew it, but you couldn’t do much about it. You tried, really, but everything just brought you back to this fact. You weren’t loveable. 

Until you met Jason. The man was surely traumatized and tortured himself, but when he met you, it was like everything made sense for him. He fell in love with you in one look, and it was easy as breathing was for him. He knew the troubles you had believing it, but he never understood it. How could you think you were difficult to love? It was the simplest thing he had ever done. 

It took months for you to accept to go out on a date with him. Not only you thought he was doing it to make fun of you or because of pity, but you also thought it was useless. A date for what? To see the disappointment in his eyes? You’d rather not. But after weeks of him asking you again and again, you finally said yes. 

It went well, you couldn’t deny it. Jason was a sweet guy, probably the sweetest anyone had ever been with you before ; but it might hide something. it had to, you were sure of it. He spent months and months of yearning for you not silently until you agreed to go out with him, for real. 

You were afraid, because you haven’t been in a relationship since so long ; and the last one surely didn’t end well. But Jason kept on reassuring you that it would be okay, and that everything would only be fine. He was enough of a sweet talker to convince you. 

But the doubt never left. It never left the back of your mind, and even if sometimes it was easier, there were nights where everything was so difficult. Jason was out tonight, because the man was a vigilante after all, so it wasn’t rare for you to spend nights on your own.

Tonight was specifically rude for you. You couldn’t sleep at all, and after turning around over and over in your too large bed, you decided to leave it. You walked in the living room, going back on your own steps. Your mind was driving you mad, until you began to feel dizzy. You sat on your kitchen’s floor, your breath heavy. A panic attack. Great. 

Your nails were scratching your poor damaged wrist, your eyes lost the void, not able to focus on anything else. You didn’t even realize the tears which were falling down your cheeks, until you noticed a broad figure in front of you. You looked up, only to meet Jason’s worried face. He wasn’t touching you at all, knowing it would overwhelm you more than anything else. 

“Deep breath, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay,” his soft whisper slightly brought you back to reality, making you close your eyes to try to focus on him and nothing else. “That’s it, listen to me.” And it kept going for a few more moments until you were able to calm down at least a little. 

Once you were feeling a bit better, Jason took you to the couch, making you lay down there while he was on his knees next to it, your hand in his own. He stayed silent for a moment, waiting for the right time to ask you the question that was burning his lips. “What happened?” He finally asked, and you took a deep breath, trying to explain it to him. 

It was your own insecurities that made you like this, the way you were so scared that he would disappear one day because he had realized how difficult you were and how better his life would be without you in it. You expected him to frown, be frustrated, anything ; but it never came. His fingers reached for your face, putting a strand of hair away from your face with the most gentle touch anyone ever had towards you. 

“Loving you is not difficult. Actually, it’s the easiest thing I've ever done. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met in my life, and if you want me to, I could make a whole list of everything that makes me love you so much.” You slowly looked up at him, expecting everything but this. You blinked a few times, before you simply nodded a little, which made him chuckle a bit. 

Sitting down on the floor next to the couch, his fingers gently playing with your hair, he began to say one by one all the small things that you were doing that made his heart race like crazy. It made you realize that perhaps he really wasn’t lying at all ; and maybe you weren’t as hard to love as you thought you were. It would be a long path until you completely accept this, but you knew that Jason would be by your side during the whole process ; and it warmed your heart.

thank you!

[ldydeath]

You’re the Only One | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: Ever since you broke up with Jiyong you’ve been miserable. You fly out to his show to surprise him and get him back, but will he still want you? Warnings: Mild Language Author’s Note: This is a sequel to We Were Never Meant to be, which you can read here. I am obsessed with his look from yesterday and had to give them another shot. 

It had been three months since you’d moved out of Jiyongs place. Three months since you’d broken both your hearts because that’s what you thought was best. Turns out you were miserable without him and you’d heard through mutual friends he was too.  You weren’t usually the one to go back on your word, but how long were you supposed to wait to be happy? If this had been the right decision you wouldn’t be checking in on his life, waiting to see if he posted something cryptic about how he was doing everyday. You wouldn’t pick up the phone wanting to call him all the time.

Sure you’d had your problems there at the end but maybe that really was just because he’d been so stressed about the upcoming album, variety show, and world tour. Maybe you’d been a little too selfish to think he needed to fit you into that schedule. You should’ve been there for him more, like he’d always been there for you when you needed him.

Jiyong had always been big on romantic gestures so you hoped as you flew the few short hours to Thailand that he’d actually be happy to see you. He was playing a festival that night and Daesung, his always loyal friend, had promised to help pull this surprise off. You weren’t going to see him until after his set and you knew he had a flight straight back home so you had to move quickly. 

“Hey!” Daesung's cheerful voice greeted you as you made your way backstage. “You made it!” 

He embraced you in a warm hug and you smiled up at him. It was good to see him, even if it felt weird that he was the one greeting you. You could hear Jiyong’s laughter down the hall and your heart clenched. All you wanted to do was run to him, tell him you loved him, and never let him go again. Daesung smiled at you before leading you to his room. 

“He’s on right after me, if you want to watch from the stage.” You nodded, opting to watch Daesung’s set from the safety of his room. Once he was done, you grinned at him. “That was amazing!” 

It had been so long since you’d seen him perform his own set, it really was like the old days again. Except that you weren’t here with Jiyong, not technically. You watched the start of his set with Daesung in his sitting room before you both agreed that it was probably safe to watch the rest up close.

You knew his routine in his old songs so well, he’d be too distracted to look your way. You watched proudly as he moved around the stage without missing a beat. You’d seen his performance in December and January through crappy live feeds, seeing him in person was so much better. It was as if no time had passed, as if he’d never forgotten who G Dragon was. It truly was a sight to see. 

He’d just gotten done run-rapping across the stage when his eyes met your and his breath caught in his throat. He’d officially gone crazy, right? He shook his head, his hands going to mess with his hair and he turned his gaze towards the fans. He only had a couple songs left. He’d get himself checked out with medical right after. Maybe the heat was finally getting to him. Maybe he just needed to take his jacket off. He shrugged out of it, turning to throw it backstage but there you were again. What the fuck? 

You hadn’t wanted to be caught, not while he was busy, but you offered him a small smile of reassurance and he raised a brow at you, clearly confused before turning back to finish his set. You noticed that he made it a habit to not turn towards you for the reminder of his songs. That was fine, you were enjoying the view either way. Maybe you shouldn’t have been though.

Your heart started racing the second his set finished and the lights went dark. You hadn’t exactly practiced what you were going to say when you came face to face with your ex, you figured you’d just let your heart speak for you. But now here he was and you had nothing to say.

“Hi.” Smooth. He blinked at you before moving to walk past you. “Jiyong, wait.” 

He turned slowly as if afraid that once he did you’d be gone. He blinked a few more times before ushering the dancer and his security away. You saw Daesung poke his head out of his sitting room before quickly ducking back inside.

“What are you doing here?” There was nothing malicious in his words but you still couldn’t help the panic rising in your body. Your heart really needed to slow down. 

“I missed you.” You bit down on your bottom lip, making eye contact with him. “I think maybe I made a mistake with this whole breakup thing. I’m miserable, I can’t get you out of my head. I honestly don’t think I want to. I love you so much, I’m going crazy.” 

His arms were around you before you could even register what was happening. You melted into him, wrapping your arms around him, burying your head in his chest. You didn’t even mind that he was drenched in sweat as you breathed him in. It just felt nice to be close to him like this.  

“I missed you too.” He mumbled into your hair. His heart thumping so loudly in his chest he thought you’d might be able to hear it.

It didn’t matter anymore that you’d broken his heart. The late nights he’d spent awake trying to find the words to make you come home, or how fucking lonely he’d felt releasing songs, going to shows, and launching his show without you by his side. It didn’t matter anymore because he was holding you and that broken piece inside of him had healed the second he’d met your eyes. 

Without any hesitation he bent down, his finger lifting your chin until your lips met his and he practically devoured you. Every ounce of pain he’d felt over the last few months poured into that kiss, but so did all the love he still felt for you. You held onto him tightly, pulling him closer never wanting this moment to end.

When he finally pulled away, you felt dizzy. Bringing a hand up to your chest, to calm your breathing, you dared a look at him and he was grinning at you. You couldn’t help but grin back, his smile had always been so contagious. 

“I love you. Can we please try again?” His eyes were wide as he asked the question and your heart just about leaped out of your chest. 

“Yes, if that’s what you want. I want it too.” He nodded at your words, his hands reaching to grip yours.

“All I have ever wanted is you. None of this has ever meant anything without you. Please come home.” 

You nodded your head at him and he leaned in to kiss you again. He turned, leading you down the hall and towards the awaiting car. This is where you belonged, it had just taken you some time to figure it out. Once you were both in the car you leaned over to peck his check. You were never going to make the mistake of leaving Jiyong again. You were his and you’d be his for as long as he’d have you. And he would have you forever if he had any say in that. 

tag list:@wcnderlnds @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @loveesiren

[delugyu]

idek why i have a sick thought about this. im on my period rn thinking about how soobin begging or maybe reader begging to be fucked on her period. (sorry for being weird ass)

ur not weird bae i like dis 👅

(wc: 1.8k / warnings: soobin is a fucking freak lmao, unprotected period sex!!!, soobin being a sweetie pie and cutie patootie)

soobin’s laying on top of you, head resting on your chest as you lay in your bed. you hate to disturb his peace, but you’re cramping and his weight on top of your whole body isn’t helping you. “babe, you’re squishing me,” you say, tapping his back to signal him to move.

he whines and snuggles further into you. “i don’t wanna get up yet,” he complains. you’d probably giggle if it didn’t feel like you were getting stabbed in the uterus.

“i’m cramping,” you explain, shoving his shoulders until he lifts himself up. he hovers over you, looking down at you with a pout. he leans in to place a peck onto your lips, which you just barely accept. “can you get me tylenol or something?” you ask when he pulls back.

he sighs. “yeah.”

you make a face at him, you can’t help it. you’re on your period, it’s justified. “what was that sigh about?”

“i wanna cuddle,” he says, hands smoothing down your sides sweetly.

“get me tylenol first.” you cup his face and let your thumbs brush his cheeks. he smiles at you before kissing you once more.

“okay,” he agrees. he leaves and comes back with two pills in one hand and a cup of water in the other.

“thank you.” you take the items from his hands and down both pills at once. he takes the cup from your hands once you’re done with it, setting it on your nightstand. “this better kick in soon,” you groan as you lay back against the bed. soobin sits beside you and brushes his hand through your hair.

“can i lay next to you?” you can’t help but smile at him when he asks that. he’s so funny.

“of course you can. you don’t have to ask, weirdo,” you say teasingly.

“well, i’m not allowed to lay on you, apparently,” he explains as he gets comfortable on your bed, leaving a bit of space between the two of you. your smile doesn’t leave your face—in fact, it only grows fonder at how cautious he is.

“you can still hug me, just don’t squish me.” the winning grin he gives you doesn’t go unnoticed. he tugs you gently toward him until he’s spooning you, and you allow him to drape his arm over your waist. you close your eyes and try to slow your breathing, thinking you might just nap away the pain. you lay in comfortable silence, letting the minutes pass by slowly.

you’re probably a couple minutes away from falling asleep when soobin’s voice brings you back to reality. “is the medicine working?” he asks softly. you’re a little annoyed that he broke you from your sleepy haze, but you don’t want to bark at him when he’s being so considerate.

“not really,” you answer. he coos and lets his hand rub over your lower stomach, trying to soothe the pain. you appreciate the effort, but it’s really not doing anything.

“i’m sorry baby,” he says. his warm hand slips under your shirt to rest against your bare skin. “can i help you?”

you almost laugh as you roll your eyes. this isn’t the first time he’s tried to pull this stunt. “i’m starting to think you have a thing for period sex.” you look back at him to see his mischievous smile. your suspicions are confirmed further when his pinky dives beneath the hem of your panties, lightly brushing against your skin. you can’t deny that it brings a little heat to your core.

“can i?” he asks, leaning in to pepper kisses across your face. you swoon, he’s such a sweetheart. “i want my baby to feel good, hate it when you’re in pain.”

“i’d have to go take my tampon out,” you say. you feel like teasing him a little, so you add, “and i don’t really feel like getting up.”

“i’ll take it out for you,” he jumps to say. you laugh immediately at his eagerness.

“you are literally so nasty. you’re such a freak.” you love the guilty little laugh he gives you at that. he’s adorable.

“i will though,” he says, doubling down.

“oh i believe you.” you get up, making soobin frown. you look at him with heart eyes and squish his cheeks with your hand. “i’ll do it myself though.” you leave to do exactly that and clean yourself up a bit, coming back with a towel to lay on the bed.

you don’t miss the excitement in soobin’s eyes as you set the towel down. he’s practically buzzing as he waits for you to lay back down onto the bed. as soon as your body meets the mattress, soobin’s hands are on you, peeling your shirt off and throwing your clothes onto the floor piece by piece until you’re naked. his hands are greedy, wanting to feel all of you at once, running from your tits to your waist to your hips to your thighs and anywhere else they can feel up.

“i really wanna make you cum,” he says, looking at you for permission. his hands wait at your hips, gripping the flesh like it’s the only thing he can do to hold back.

“then what are you waiting for?” you jump a little at how fast he moves when the words leave your mouth. his lips are on your breasts, licking and sucking as he pleases while his fingers run between your folds. he moans like this is getting him off, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he was enjoying himself more than you right now. he’s a pussy fiend, it’s ridiculous.

he draws tight circles on your clit, trying to get you wet enough to stretch you open on his cock. his desperation is a little endearing to you. you love how devoted he is to your pleasure, even if you act like his eagerness to have period sex is gross. his lips wrap around your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud until your back arches off the bed. your hand wraps in his hair and tugs at the strands, a habit you’ve picked up once he told you how much he likes it.

“are you ready? can you take me?” he asks, looking up at you from your chest. his fingers move a little slower but press against you harder, so much so that it has you throwing your head back and moaning out shamelessly. he laps at the valley of your breasts, mindlessly licking all across your chest as you whine and writhe beneath him.

you don’t answer him, in part due to your throat being too busy drawing out moan after moan, but also because you’re evil and want to hear him beg for it a little. it doesn’t take long to get what you want—it’s not even a minute later that he starts whining, mouth getting more frantic and frenzied as he sucks and bites your tits, rubbing your arousal all over your pussy. you’re dripping like crazy, and you both know you’re ready to be fucked, but he won’t move until you permiss him. he’s perfectly respectful and well-behaved.

he looks up at you again, eyes carrying much more urgency this time. “baby, can i put it in now?” he keeps his gaze on you as he licks a stripe up to your shoulder, biting then kissing your flesh.

“can you ask a little nicer?” you prompt sweetly, running a gentle hand through his hair just to tug at it harshly once you reach his nape. he whines at the sensation and starts rubbing your cunt with more fervor.

“please let me in your cunt! i need to fuck you so badly! i’ll die without it!” aww. that’s what you like to hear.

“i’m all yours, my pretty boy,” you say, and he pulls himself up to capture your lips in a heated kiss as he brings his tip to your entrance. his tongue explores your mouth impatiently, taking from you as he pleases while he finally starts pressing in. he moans into your mouth, the noise making your heart flutter.

he detaches his lips from yours, a string of saliva connecting you until it breaks. he pushes in inch by inch, watching your every reaction because he’s sweet and doesn’t want to hurt you. you need this just as much as him though, so you both sigh in satisfaction when he finally bottoms out. you let him stay like that for a minute, smiling when you feel his cock twitching inside of you.

“are you not gonna last, baby?” you tease, caressing his face. he pouts at you.

“i will,” he promises. he starts moving then, pulling out of you at a slow, calculated pace. he makes sure to draw back as far as he can without leaving you and bottom out completely with each thrust. his pelvis hits your clit deliciously when he rolls his hips into you.

you feel so full, so nice and stretched around soobin’s dick. you take his face in your hands to pull his lips back to yours, taking your time and letting your tongues tangle. you eat up his whines and moans, hands running down his neck to rest on his shoulders. your fingers dig into his skin when he starts thrusting more forcefully, pulling a gasp from your lips.

you eventually lose the ability to kiss him properly anymore, too caught up in the pressure building in your stomach. he bites his lip as he takes in your blissful reactions—the whimpers leaving you, the tilt of your brows, all the signs telling him you’re nearly there. his fingers start rolling your nipples, making your body tremble. your nails rake down his back, clutching onto him desperately.

“i love you, you’re so pretty, i need you to cum for me,” he rambles, fucking you with more determination. you cry out, legs clamping around soobin’s waist, pulling him in until he’s in as deep as he can go. your walls spasm around his cock as your climax comes over you, pushing soobin right into his orgasm too. you feel his cum spurt out of him, filling you up as he grinds his hips into you. he’s a mess of babbled words above you, hands squeezing your tits greedily until he calms down and starts softening inside you.

you soothe your hands down his back as he stays bottomed out inside you. his weight collapses against you, but it’s not so bad this time. “still cramping?” he asks, out of breath.

you giggle and pat his head. “not anymore,” you answer.

he looks up at you with a hopeful smile. “so i can lay on top of you now?” he blinks up at you cutely. you could never say no when he’s looking at you like this.

you give him an exaggerated sigh. “if you insist…”

(you fake nonchalance very poorly. you both know that you love this just as much as him.)

[prentolomaea]

i think ptolomaea by ethel cain is one of the most brilliantly crafted songs i’ve ever listened to.

the way it opens with this distorted deeper voice (isaiah) and you hear the sound of flies buzzing in the background underneath the voice, thats such a cool detail. and while isaiah is singing, you hear ethel incoherently mumble (you literally hear her say “mama?” its so 😭😭) as she’s waking up from the drugs. when we finally hear her voice, it’s high pitched, raw, and vulnerable. because of how vulnerable of a situation she is in, but she doesn’t realize it yet because of the drugs she’s on. so this whole beginning is echoey and it captures the whole aloneness she’s feeling.

and then we get a beat drop at “even the iron still fears the rot,” where the instrumentals are a little heavier, her voice is still high and raw but there’s a sense of knowing in it. (“hiding from something, i cannot stop. walking on shadows, i cant lead him back”) as her hallucinations and the drugs start to wear off, she’s facing this darkness that’s been eating away at her with “daddy’s left and mama won’t come home,” which is something she rarely comes to terms with.

then we get that dark distorted voice again saying “you poor thing, sweet morning lamb. there’s nothing you can do, it’s already been done,” which is incredibly terrifying. not to mention that deafening crash of the drums, god the way those drums thunder so intensely like you can feel the dread in your bones. and then we hear ethel’s voice again saying “what fear a man like you brings upon a woman like me? please dont look at me..” which refers to when isaiah tells her to “show me your face,” during that line. and she’s pleading for him to stop looking at him, you can’t hear it because it’s in the background but he says “come here,” and right after you hear ethel say “i can see it in your eyes, tell me, what have you done?” which then goes into a sea of begs and pleas for him to “stop, stop” until the final “stop” is not sung, but instead a bone chilling shrill shriek. which is cut off by “i am the face of love’s rage.” and if you listen to the acapella, during “i am the face of love’s rage,” right underneath that main vocal, you hear a second high pitched scream, you hear bundles “no’s” and even a “no! please!” which i think ties the story really well together.

in the acapella, while “blessed be the daughters of cain,” is being read out, you can hear the gargling and choking noises as ethel is struggling to breathe and as she’s literally dying its really sickening but so well executed from an artist perspective. and then at the very very end, you hear a death rattle like that is INSANE

i love ptolomaea, i love how the instrumentals create such a unique atmosphere that makes it as terrifying as it sounds and how hayden uses her voice in different ways to tell the story effectively. and it works, it all works.

ptolomaea is the best song on preacher’s daughter thank you for coming to my ted talk

[drdemonprince]

I should probably preface this by saying that this is a genuine question, not an attempt to "own" anyone, not a troll, etc. I'm genuinely curious and interested: Has there been any good scientific studies done on the question "Does having a kink about a 'problematic' subject, reading about it, fantazising about it, roleplaying it, etc., make a person more or less likely to do that problematic thing in real life?" Do you know of any good research papers or articles on the subject? Maybe it's a whole field of study?

I feel like if I ever (god help me) would have to defend a position of "other people's kinks, no matter how disgusted they might make me feel personally, are none of my business" to someone, it would be useful to have some kind empirical science to point towards.

Again, I'm not trying to be a jerk saying "source, please?", I'm genuinely interested in reading about it.

So a good place to start here is in thinking about how this kind of topic gets data collected about it. So if you're wondering about the relationship between, for example, fantasizing about bestiality and actually abusing animals, your primary way of being able to study actual, real-world behavioral outcomes would be to identify a source of data on acts of bestiality...which would almost exclusively come from the police state. If you really wanted to study who actually does commit these acts and what their history was, you'd have to look at people who were convicted for having committed animal abuse of a sexual nature.

The problem is, that data isn't necessarily representative of what abuse actually occurs and how often. The police aren't trustworthy, the carceral justice system is profoundly unjust, not every person gets investigated or tried fairly, and even if all those systems DID operate justly and fairly, you'd still be missing all the people who never got caught. And we know that since these systems are racist, classist, ableist, etc, that they are not 'catching' real offenders from all groups equally. Poor & Black people who have committed these acts are most likely to get caught, rich & white ones least likely. And so the data is skewed.

This is FURTHER complicated by the fact that even if you do look at this data, you are only seeing the people who *have* harmed animals sexually, not the people that haven't, and so that is going to be susceptible to confirmation bias of your prior assumptions and not be representative of the whole population if you use it to draw conclusions. So, for instance, if you look at the porn habits of every person who has been convicted for bestiality, you will probably find a lot of bestiality porn (both fantasy and real) in their histories. Okay, not surprising... but of the average people watching this porn, how many actually go on to offend and how many don't? We have no way of knowing. And because such an activity is so stigmatized (and in the case of real porn, itself illegal), you're going to not be able to get self-report surveys from the general population on this.

If you did try to give out surveys on this kind of stuff, you might be forced to report any of your respondents who did admit to doing something illegal. It wouldn't really pass most ethics boards to do this research at all.

So you can see why this is such a shadowy field of discussion. The thing to keep in mind is that the number of people who do get arrested for things like bestiality, child sexual abuse (especially the kind that is driven by an attraction to children rather than your garden variety case of a parent abusing their power over their kids in multiple ways, including sexual, but the sex is incidental), etc are very small. These are vanishingly uncommon crimes. and we can't really trust the police state to give us reputable information on this. and it is very hard for scientists to study well, and most who study it do approach it in a pretty sensationalistic way.

So, to answer your question, yes you can hop onto google scholar and dig around for studies on 'paraphilias' and their relationship to criminal offenses, but most of it is going to be profiles of people locked in mental health institutions and jails that SOUNDS super scary and fucking disgusting but is not a good reflection of whatever the hell is going on in the actual world. I think it's evident that a hell of a lot more people are fantasizing about this stuff than are offenders. Especially if we are drawing a distinction between fantasy and porn that depicts actual abuse. The people drawing dogs fucking on like deviant art or whatever probably do not pose any actual threat to real animals 99.99% of the time.

And if and when a person with a desire to DOES harm animals, it is because of the legal construction of animals as property that it is possible for them to do so. once again power is the root of the crime. more than a 'paraphilia' making someone like, evil. a lot of this stuff is values based and a philosophical case about how the world works rather than a specific statistical claim. but the number of real offenses that happen are so vanishingly thin that we could barely empirically study them anyway -- it's too small a sample size, and there is no ability to locate comparison groups of non-offenders who share these kinks.

I hope this helps answer your question. Obviously I am using bestiality as one example here but you could apply this to CNC and rape porn, child abuse and age play porn, etc etc.