#you have nothing to say?? it's fine I just need the physical contact

[dreamlogic]

...

[luveline]

oooh what about hotch's sister calling spencer to pick her up at the hospital after an accident or something because she doesn't want hotch to know since worry and go into protective big brother mode, but spencer tells him anyway and they both show up and lots of fluff ensues :)

adopted fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for panic attacks

You should call your brother. 

You think about it, even pull up his contact, he’s the first person you go to when you need help and he always has been, but lately Aaron has been so stressed you hesitate, clicking the text button by mistake. 

You read back his last message. 

I can feel myself being spread too thin but there’s nothing I can do to fix it, he’d text. I guess I’m frustrated. But how are you, working girl? New jobs are scary. I bet you’re doing better than you think already. Jack and I are super proud of you

You’d sent him a meagre response. You aren’t always sure what to say to him. Sincerity is easier in person, but even then, he can be terse and deflective; he looks after you and no one looks after him. 

You didn’t tell him about work, and you won’t tell him about now. You call Spencer instead. This is a good way to test the almost dating thing, right? 

He doesn’t answer. When you call again, he answers on the first ring. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“No. Are you busy?” 

“I’m not busy if you’re not okay. Two seconds.” There’s a pause where you assume he’s moving from one place to another, perhaps closing a book around his hand, or closing the lid on an early lunch. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m, uh, in hospital. I had a huge panic attack at work and I… thought I was having a heart attack, so I–” You’re so embarrassed your voice turns to a thread. “Sorry, I know it’s so stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid, that’s not stupid. How do you feel now?” 

“Like someone hit me really hard in the chest.” 

“Are you calmed down?” 

“Mostly.” You wince. “They want to talk to me about medications. Uh.” You clear your throat. “I want to go home.” 

“Angel… I’m on my way, okay? I’ll get Hotch and–”

“You can’t tell him.” 

“What?” 

“Please, Spencer, he gets so worried, he’s worried enough. And if he finds out I had a panic attack he’ll try and make me take time off of work and that’s just another thing on his plate he didn’t ask for–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, “please don’t panic. You’ve had a hard morning, panicking again is really gonna hurt. Try and think about things that don’t wind you up, alright? Is there anything you need me to get?” 

“You don’t have to come.” 

“That’s why you called me, right? I’ll be there.” 

You can’t know that he says goodbye and ducks straight back into Hotch’s office, where he’d been, to tell on you. It’s not to hurt you and it isn’t because you told him not to —it’s two parts concern, and one part self preservation. Aaron needs to know and you need him with you, and he also can’t imagine things going well for himself if he kept the news of your stay a secret. The shovel talk plays in his mind. 

Aaron’s shovel talk being, You won’t do anything to hurt her, said simply, and with an impassive expression that bordered terrifying. Not overly unaffected, just casual. 

You’re laying in your hospital bed with your hands clasped across your stomach when Spencer arrives. He frowns at you in your bed, worse when he sees your smudged makeup and the chafed inside of your wrist where you’ve picked and squeezed at your own skin. Your panic has left a physical mark, your chest aching as you force yourself to sit, and it hurts doubly so when your brother lets himself in behind your nearly-boyfriend.

You don’t have it in you to complain. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says, reaching down to give you a quick hug as you sit. “I had to tell him.” 

 Aaron’s hug is similarly apologetic, though much longer. “You weren’t gonna tell me?” he asks quietly, his hand settling at the place between your shoulders. “How do you feel now?” 

“I’m fine, I– I really thought I was having a heart attack.” 

“That’s common,” Spencer says, “it’s the feeling of impending doom, thousands of people mistake anxiety for medical issues every week.” 

Aaron holds you by the shoulders. “It’s okay,” he says. “Was it a doctor that checked you out, or a nurse?” 

Aaron probes the name of your nurse from you and promises to be back soon. He seems to have gleaned that the quickest way to get information today won’t be from you. 

Spencer goes in for another hug when he leaves, and then, to your delight, a very quick kiss pressed to your cheek. He ducks away after that and sits on the side of your hospital bed, his knuckles gracing the outside of your thigh. “Thank you for calling me,” he says, smiling at you, and better when you smile back.

“Thanks for coming.” 

“Of course. I know how it feels, okay? If they want to talk about medication it’s a good thing, but everyone has moments like this.” 

“I can’t believe you told Aaron,” you say, giving a weak but playful glare.

“I can’t believe you weren’t going to. He loves you, he wants to know what’s hurting you, no matter how much stuff is on his plate.” 

You bite the inside of your lip, contemplative for a few slow seconds. “You think so?” you ask finally. 

The hair flicked under his ears wobbles as he nods. “Absolutely.” 

You lean forward to readjust his collar and tie. He’s wearing one of his cutesy waistcoats, dark grey over a light blue shirt. His tie has patterns you trace with your thumb, like fish scales. “Sorry, I know you were working,” you murmur. 

“I think my boss will forgive me.” 

You let your hands fall. Spencer, perhaps picking up on a hint you hadn’t meant to give, takes them both into one of his and squeezes reassuringly. 

“It’s harder than I thought,” you confide softly. 

“It’s an adjustment period. But maybe it’s not right for you, there. That’s what started it, right? Your job.” 

“I’m not sure. I don’t know. I get panicky about all sorts of stuff, but I’ve never had one this bad before. I was a miserable kid, you can ask Aaron, but I really thought I was better.” 

He rubs over your fingers with his thumb. “I think we all have stuff that messes us up. Doesn’t mean you’re not better. You don’t even really have to be better. And I… I am here for you, I promise. I know you have no reason to trust me with it yet, but I’ll listen whenever you need me to.” 

You think about kissing him. Spencer kisses like he’s suffocating and your air, it’s cliche and undeniably true. Whenever you kiss him it’s like a shock —he steals your breath, he can’t stop himself from grabbing your face, and any other time you’d love it, but right now you just need a peck. You’re hoping he can do those kinds of kisses too. 

“Will you kiss me?” you ask tentatively.

He gets the memo on gentleness. You shouldn’t be surprised, your very first kiss was tame, his hand running up your arm as he encourages you forward. Your eyes shutter closed at the feeling of his lips on yours, and the exhausting thrumming that’s lived beneath your skin since you woke up numbs to a more manageable ache. 

Spencer breaks away. He cups your cheek quickly, dropping it immediately when the door opens. 

You shuffle backward nonchalantly. 

Aaron gives you a sarcastic look. Really? it says. I wasn't born yesterday. 

“They want to give you a prescription for Paxil, honey, what do you think?” He turns his attention to Spencer reluctantly. “What’s her best option here?” 

“Paxil could be fine. They didn’t suggest a benzodiazepine? Paxil is an SSRIs, it slows down the rate of serotonin reuptake, basically increasing the effectiveness of your bodies natural serotonin, which could decrease the risk of another attack, but taking it won’t stop her from feeling like this,” —he frowns at your location— “very quickly. Ideally she should have a medication for general anxiety and the option for quicker relief if this happens again.” He smiles at you suddenly, nearly shyly. “If that’s what you want, that is.” 

“What are you thinking, honey?” Aaron asks you. 

You have the two of them here to look after you while you decide. You take Spencer’s hand gently, desperate for reassurance. “I’m not sure.” 

“It’s okay, we’ll work it out,” your brother promises. 

Spencer squeezes your hand. 

[vanessagillings]

I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:  

I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic.  Some people who know me in real life still don’t.  And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM.  I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe?  I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag.  Even so, how could autism describe me?  I was a good student.  I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class.  I can make eye contact…if I must.  And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right?  Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?

If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it.  I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them:  sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak.  It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once. 

So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance.  It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day.  But it shouldn’t be like this.  It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities. 

It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.  This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs.  No two people on the spectrum present in the same way.  And that’s a good thing!  No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.

But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic.  I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway.  I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day.  More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing.  My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network  autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:

What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz

We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia

Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD

Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman

(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).

Thanks for reading 💛

[longlivejemily]

After Office Hours

Pairing: Professor! Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Reader goes to her favorite professor hoping to find ways to improve her grade. He has some unconventional extra credit opportunities in mind...

WC: 1.3k

Warning: Student/teacher relationship, slight sub/dom dynamics, semi public sex, thigh riding, use of y/n, use of “baby’ and “little girl” plz let me know if i’m missing any!

You’re running down the hallway of the law building at your university silently begging that your professor is still there. As you approach the door, he’s exiting, keys in hand. “Wait, Professor Reid! I’m here! Don’t go!” You call out to him closing the last yards of space between you. “Miss y/l/n you’re late, office hours are over.” “No Dr. Reid you don’t understand! My statistics professor wouldn’t let us leave until we finished the lesson on probability distributions! I told him I had office hours to get to and he didn’t care. Please Dr. Reid I really need to talk to you about my grade!” He puts his hands in his pockets and sighs while gears are turning in his head. “Fine, for you I’ll make an exception.” “Thank you thank you.” You try not to read too much into his comment as he opens the door, “after you.” You don’t notice that he locks the door after following you in. 

As he sits across from you at the desk, you pull out your physical midterm paper all marked up in red ink. “I thought I grasped this concept so well! I don’t understand how I got a C-.” “Y/N, you got a stressor and trigger backward. You failed to accurately explain the concept. The points you did get were from the passion in your writing. I appreciated the way you wrote, but I couldn’t give you a higher grade. I’m sorry.” 

“Professor, I have a 3.5 GPA and I can’t have that drop, especially not from my favorite class!” He clasps his hands under his chin with his elbows below him. “Miss y/l/n, it seems you have been struggling in this class for a while now. I see how hard you work but you have narrowly maintained a B-. If this is your favorite class, why didn’t you come to office hours sooner?” “I-” Your mind is moving too fast to form an answer. You look down at the ground and can’t help but press your thighs together. You’ve only had a few moments in such close proximity to Professor Reid before, and definitely not alone. His eyes seem to darken, “Do I make you nervous?” You just press your legs further together “Umm..” “Come here.” He says in a soft yet demanding tone while scooting his chair back. When you walk over to him he gestures towards his lap. “Sit.” You comply. You put your right hand on his shoulder as his left-hand reaches around you and grips your side. He can probably hear your heart beating out of your chest.

“You know how I knew you wanted this? When I guest lectured in your physics class you were wearing sweatpants. Out of anything you could have worn, sweatpants. You tried to hide it, but I saw your eyes widen when you saw me. You never dared to be caught dead in front of me clad from one of your tiny little skirts you love wearing to my class.” He takes the hand not at your side and squeezes above your knee. “Do you wear those skirts just for me? Tell me the truth.” You turn to him but avoid eye contact. In the quietest voice you say “Yes, just for you professor.” Knowing you were coming straight to his office hours after stats, you wore one of your shortest skirts and knee-high black boots. You hoped being alone in office hours on a dark fall night he wouldn’t be able to resist you. It was worth a shot, anyway. He smirks and before he has a chance to reply you say, “Now back to my grade, is there anything I can do to improve the grade I got on my midterm? Can I resubmit it with your notes taken into account?” “I’m sorry miss y/l/n but there's nothing I can do. The university policy states that once midterm grades are locked, any work done before can not be revised. My apologies.” 

“Is there anything I can do? Any extra credit opportunities this term?  I can help you grade papers or clean your classroom! Please I’ll do anything! I need to improve my grade, please!” He just stares at you while you beg. “Anything?” He says with a devilish smirk. “Yes sir.” You say back to him, smiling and batting your eyelashes. He takes a deep breath with his eyes closed and once he opens them he locks eyes with you and says, “Ride my thigh.” “Excuse me, Doctor?” His dick jumps at the honorific. “You said you’d do anything to improve your grade. I know you heard me, ride my thigh.” You cannot believe Dr. Reid just asked you for this. Since the first day of class, he has been the sole object of your fantasies. You’ve fallen asleep many nights imagining him bending you over his desk and fucking you until you scream.

 Without a second thought, you stand up to resituate yourself on his lap, straddling his left thigh. The moment you stand up he reaches for your wrist, “What are you doing?” You smile on the inside, those four simple words have shown you he wants this as badly as you do. “Don’t worry professor, I’m just turning around, I need something to grab onto.” You say as you sink down onto him. You put both hands on either side of his shoulders and begin to rock back and forth finding your rhythm. The roughness of his khakis against your ass and your thong pushed against your clit has you stifling your moans quickly. He grabs your chin to make you look at him, “I want to hear you, baby.” You let the moans leave your lips, still mindful of volume. He puts one hand on the small of your back and the other on your hip, gently guiding you. When he touches you, you are on cloud nine. Here you are, in your professor's office after hours riding his thigh as he speaks sweet praises to you. You swear you’ve died and gone to heaven. “That’s it baby keep going.” You are eyeing the member in his pants start to grow. Every time he speaks you get closer and closer to the edge. He can tell by the way you’re speeding up. “Come for me little girl, I want to hear how good you’re feeling.” The use of little girl sends you over the edge. 

Tightly gripping his shoulders as you ride out the rest of your orgasm, leaving dents in his shoulders through his dress shirt. Once you’re done cumming, you collapse onto his chest breathing heavily. Staring down at his lap you see his dick straining against his pants, and he’s huge. He gently rubs your back as you come down from your high. He kisses your head and lifts you by your shoulders facing him. You’re staring deep into his eyes. “You did so good for me, but it's getting late, you should get home.” “Right right, sorry. I’ll head out now.” As you stand up and adjust your skirt you notice the wet spot you left on his pants.

 He sees you staring and interrupts your thoughts, “Don’t worry about it. Can I plan to see you next week at office hours?” “Yes!” You say a little too enthusiastically. “Um I mean yeah, I’ll be here.” You say in a chiller tone. “Good, I have more extra credit opportunities in mind, I hope to see you in class on Monday. Next week, come to office hours once they're done, okay? Don’t show up before 7.” “Yes Dr. Reid, I look forward to improving my grade however you see fit.” You say with a wink heading towards the door. When you go to turn the knob it's locked. You unlock it and glance back at him. He’s still staring at you with a hungry look in his eyes. You have the biggest smile on your face walking back towards your dorm, next week's office hours can’t come soon enough.

a/n: this is the first fic I’ve written in about 10 years! Should I turn this into a mini series? I have more ideas for how this story could go! Any feedback is greatly appreciated <3

[doberbutts]

Anyway yes, people who can X should be accomodating to people who can't X. People who can walk should accomodate people who can't. People who can hear should accomodate people who can't. People who can see should accomodate people who can't. And on and on. When that doesn't happen, it's a problem that deserves to be talked about.

But the problem is not and has never been "physical disabilities are more important and deserve more accomodations than mental disabilities"- nor the other way around either.

People love to dunk on folks with ADD/ADHD but you know? As someone with ADD raised by diabetic parents I gotta say there's a lot of similarities here. People with ADD, myself included, often forget to eat and when they do eat they often load themselves up with carbs and sugars because those foods make their brains feel good. People with diabetes have to closely monitor their meals and often crave sugars and need a blend of sugary and protein-rich snacks on hand. This is not to say ADD and diabetes are exact one-to-one disabilities.

But having grown up watching my parents manage their diabetes, I too am very aware of meal times and blood sugar and constructing meals that will tide you over and having a blend of sugary and protein-rich snacks on hand Just In Case. I am able to manage my ADD better in this way because I have experience from watching my parents. I also need access to snacks and to be able to say to my boss "I need to go eat something real fast" without being punished.

I had a training client who was the image of "able bodied mentally ill" outside of the usual creaks and squeaks associated with age, her body worked just fine. But after a series of incidents in her youth- a car accident that left her with a serious brain injury, coming home from the hospital afterwards to immediately have her house broken into and herself raped by an intruder, and assorted medical malpractice while she was healing from both- she has a serious and extreme case of agoraphobia and spent the next 40 years completely unable to leave the house. She would hide and wail and scream when deliveries of groceries and other goods would come, because it meant a stranger (and usually a man) would be at her door. She could not go more than a couple steps outside to get her mail and especially not if other people were outside.

At some point her therapist suggested getting a pet, one that *had* to go outside, to help her. So she got a dog and contacted a trainer (me) and we got to work. And she did improve! The dog has been a huge help to managing her symptoms! But you cannot seriously expect me to have worked with this woman for years and then belittle mental illnesses as being lesser when this woman also shares the inability to even leave her house let alone go inside a grocery store. Even today there are times when she simply cannot, she cannot will her body to move out of her door and into transportation let alone into the building.

When she first started coming to me she thanked me for not belittling her or making her feel bad for classes she had to cancel because she couldn't force herself to take the first step over the threshold. That is when she told me what happened to her and that while it sounds terrible she was really happy to have found a trainer who knew something personal about trauma and brain injuries. She is also a case where I feel her ESA should be considered service dog not because of training or tasking but because her need is so high and she is just completely incapable of doing anything without the dog in her arms.

Anyway I think of her any time someone says "but you can walk through the door". There's nothing wrong with her legs so in theory sure she could. But often she *can't*, not because of anything physical, but because she is very severely mentally ill.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 23: stormy night

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

You were sitting comfortably on your sofa, watching who knows what on TV while listening to the shower blending with the storm raging outside.

Unfortunately for your boyfriend, the weather event had caused a power outage in his building, so he called you to see if he could spend the night with you. He needed to shower, iron his clothes in the morning, charge his phone, and review some work files, making it impossible to do those tasks in the dark.

They say that the misfortune of some is the fortune of others, for although your boyfriend had to step out of his comfort zone, you were extremely grateful that he was there. You hated storms; they always made you very nervous, and you usually couldn’t sleep when one was raging outside. That’s why you were happy.

Maybe it was a somewhat archaic idea; however, having your man at home made you feel extremely safe and protected.

You were covered with a gray diamond-patterned blanket, waiting for the hot chocolate in your kettle to finish boiling when you heard the sound of water in the bathroom stop. You knew that Spencer was probably too tired to want anything more than a quiet night, so when you headed toward the bathroom, you did so with no other intention.

You knocked twice, just as a matter of courtesy, and he opened the door. He was wearing a red robe with a black trim, and in his hands rested a brown towel that he was likely about to use to dry his hair.

As soon as he saw you, he asked if something was wrong, given your anxious expression. You still hadn’t dared to tell him about your fear of storms, so he couldn’t know.

“It’s nothing. I just wanted to see you,” you replied, moving closer to him to try to hug him.

“You’re going to get soaked,” he murmured. Still, he didn’t reject the contact.

“You’re so warm; how is that possible if you just showered?”

“The water. While cold temperatures have some extra health benefits, I always shower with hot water because it helps reduce tension in the muscles and relaxes me. It’s like… a moment to disconnect from everything.”

“I hope I’m not ruining it,” you murmured, looking up to meet his eyes.

The height difference between you was something that had always driven you crazy, especially the way he looked at you—with so much love.

“Not at all. You’re actually improving it.” You were about to say something else when a thunderclap resonated in the distance, making you jump into your boyfriend’s arms “Are you scared?”

“A little,” you replied tersely. You didn’t want to look silly in front of him, plus it was a rather childish fear. “The storms, the thunder, and all that… they startle me. That’s all.”

“Did you know it's called astraphobia? The irrational fear of thunder, lightning, and storms in general,” he began to ramble. “It’s a fairly common phobia that can cause intense anxiety or even panic when people experience a storm, particularly electrical ones.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“But you shouldn’t be afraid; storms are part of the natural cycle of the Earth and help balance the atmosphere, providing water for plants and refreshing the air. Although lightning may seem dangerous, it’s very rare for it to strike a person since it generally falls on high points like trees or buildings. As for the sound of thunder, while loud, it can’t cause physical harm, as it’s just rapidly expanding air. Being at home is one of the safest places to be, as buildings are designed to withstand storms and safely discharge lightning energy…”

“Honey,” you interrupted him. Your hands went up to his neck. “You don’t have to fix it with science. Sometimes, I just want to hear that everything will be okay.”

The man felt embarrassed for rambling on about it, but to make up for it, he leaned down to give you a soft kiss.

“Everything is fine, baby. I’ll be with you.”

Another thunderclap resonated, and even though you felt uncomfortable, being with him made it more bearable.

“What would I do without my handsome, strong, and protective man?”

“Are you talking about me? Or are you cheating on me with someone else?”

You rolled your eyes at his joke and tried to walk away, but he pulled you back to ask for a kiss. You didn’t resist, of course.

“I made hot chocolate. Do you want a cup?”

“Uh-huh. Let me get dressed, and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

You went to the kitchen to meticulously prepare a couple of cups with the drink and made sure to include marshmallows, as he liked. Additionally, you added pumpkin spice that you had specifically bought for his visits, knowing it was one of his favorite flavors of autumn.

When Spencer came out, dressed in pajamas that looked too comfortable and warm, you felt happy watching him. You had already placed his cup on the desk where he would be setting up, where several files and notebooks were already resting.

He thanked you with a kiss on the forehead and took a seat, not daring to lie on the couch next to you because he knew he wouldn’t get up again after that.

“Do you need help with anything?” you offered, even if you knew it was probably work too complex for you to do.

“No, it’s not necessary. But if you want, you can stay and keep me company while I work. I’d feel much better,” he replied.

You hummed in agreement and settled back into the armchair, beginning to sip from your cup while keeping the TV off, knowing that Spencer was bothered by noise when he was working. You felt a bit like an intruder in his workspace, but the idea of having him close calmed you.

As Spencer reviewed the printed files, you decided to watch him. His expression was one of concentration, with his brow slightly furrowed and his jaw clenched. It was evident that he was absorbed in his world of research, perhaps analyzing a recent case or reviewing the reports he had received.

You remained silent for quite some time until your curiosity grew, and you dared to ask:

“Is it a lot of work?”

“Kind of. I need to check a couple of details before sending a summary to the office,” he replied without taking his eyes off the paper. The familiarity in his voice gave you a sense of connection, even though you weren’t directly interacting.

“Difficult case?”

“A bit. There are many variables involved. I’m trying to break down the information to make it easier to understand. Sometimes work can be a puzzle,” he said, and although he seemed immersed in his task, there was a tone of passion in his voice that made you admire him even more.

That said, you decided not to interrupt him while he continued working. In his world, he could be a bit more reserved, and while you wanted to know more, you also understood that he needed his space.

As time passed, the rain continued to hit the windows, creating an enveloping atmosphere. Spencer seemed completely absorbed in his task, and at some point, he looked up at you and smiled, albeit briefly, before returning to his concentration. It was a simple gesture, but it made you feel included in his world, even though he was focused on something else.

“You know? I’m glad I came here,” Spencer suddenly said, breaking the calm. “I mean, not just because of the electricity, but sometimes work can be exhausting, and… I know, I feel overwhelmed, like I have a million things on my mind. But when I’m with you, I feel like I can set all that aside. It’s like your presence gives me a breather.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for that sincerity that had always captivated you. It was a vulnerable moment, and you felt grateful for his trust. Without saying anything, you got up and went to him to sit on his lap, letting him wrap his arm around your waist.

You both remained silent for a moment, feeling the weight of the night and each other’s closeness. But it was also evident that the day had been long for him. You noticed the tension in his body manifesting in his posture (despite having showered), as his shoulders were slumped, and his gaze, though still bright, showed signs of fatigue.

“You're not done yet?” you asked softly, running your hands through his still slightly damp hair. You had bought him a conditioner that smelled delightful and gave a silky feel.

“I did. I just need to sign off on the file to submit it at the office tomorrow.”

The vulnerability in his voice resonated with you.

“Do you want us to go to bed then?” you suggested, even though you felt there was more you could share.

Your boyfriend nodded with his eyes closed, a clear sign of exhaustion, and you promised him you’d be with him as soon as you finished tidying up in the kitchen. Spencer organized the desk, and once everything was ready, both of you headed to the bedroom. It was a cozy space, with the lights off, and the sound of the storm could be heard through the window. You got into bed, and he quickly joined you.

When he wrapped his arms around you from behind, the warmth of his body enveloped you and you felt all the tension you had built up during the storm melt away. You nestled against him, enjoying the sensation of his closeness.

“I like being here with you,” he murmured as he wrapped his arm around you. Spencer took a moment to breathe deeply, as if he were grateful for the small moment you had “I always have trouble falling asleep, but with you in my arms, it’s not so difficult"

The sincerity of your boyfriend moved you, and you felt him place a soft kiss on your shoulder, to which you responded by leaning closer to him.

You both stayed silent for a while, listening to the sound of the rain beginning to diminish. The tranquility of the night was like a blanket wrapping around you.

Finally, as the heaviness of sleep started to assail you, you felt the weight of the day fade away.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you said in a whisper, feeling the peace his presence brought you. “Love you.”

“Love you more,” he replied.

And as his eyes closed, you realized that despite the storms raging outside, there was a place where you both felt safe and comfortable.

[p0orbaby]

Not Nineteen Forever

summary: co-parenting with two kids? light work

warnings: are exes a warning ?

a/n: i smell reconciliation in the air…

word count: 1.1k

-

“He’s forgotten his boots? What time is his lesson? No sorry don’t answer that, I’ve got meetings for the rest of the day, I can’t leave the office. Can he play in his school shoes? Can I just ask, have you tried getting in contact with Alexia? No, you just called me, got it. Well it looks like he will have to miss football then doesn’t it. Yes, it’s such a shame! Okay, thank you, bye”

You hang up and smash the phone back into its receiver, frustration boiling over. This is the third time this month something has come up with the kids while you are at work. Balancing a full-time job and single parenthood was taking its toll. You sigh, running a hand through your hair, and try to refocus on the mountain of tasks waiting for you.

It has been a year since you and Alexia divorced. The decision was mutual, borne out of necessity rather than any particular wrongdoing. Her career had always been demanding, but as she rose to greater heights, the time she could spend at home dwindled to almost nothing. The distance, both physical and emotional, had grown insurmountable. You had drifted apart, slowly and painfully.

The kids have taken the separation surprisingly well. They are resilient, adapting quickly to the new arrangement of split weeks and alternating weekends. But despite their brave faces, you can see the strain it puts on them. You miss the days when the four of you were a team, tackling life’s challenges together.

As you stare at your computer screen, trying to immerse yourself back into work, the phone rings again. It was the school. Again.

“You should have Alexia’s number on file but if you need me to confirm-“

“I’m sorry?”

“Luis’ boots. If it’s that much of a problem I’m sure my wife- ex wife, can drop them off”

“Apologies Ms Putellas, but I'm ringing about your daughter. This is the school nurse…”

-

You arrive at the school to find Alexia already there, uncharacteristically nervous as she waits. Despite everything, she always manages to be present when it truly matters. It’s one of the things you admire most about her, and also one of the most frustrating – her ability to show up at the critical moments, even if she couldn’t be there for the day-to-day.

Silently you’re both ushered into the head's office, where your daughter sits with a bandaged arm and teary eyes.

“How did this happen?” you ask suddenly, directing your question to the principal as you crouch down to inspect Liliana.

“She was climbing on the monkey bars and lost her grip,” the older woman explains. “It was an accident. She’ll be fine, but we thought it best to have you both here, given the circumstances”

“An accident?” Alexia echoes sharply, her voice edged with anger she normally only reserves for the pitch. “She’s only four! Why wasn’t she being supervised properly?”

The principal shifts uncomfortably. “We do our best to keep an eye on all the children, but sometimes with kids these things happen. We deeply apologise for any distress this has caused”

Alexia’s face tightens with frustration. “My daughter could have been seriously hurt!”

You place a calming hand on Alexia’s arm, feeling the tension radiating from her as she fizzes on the spot. “Ale,” you say softly. “We can talk about this later”

Alexia finally takes a deep breath, her eyes softening as she looks at Liliana, who is now clinging to her like a lifeline. “Are you okay, Cariño?” she asks, her voice gentler for your daughter's sake.

Liliana nods, though her eyes are still wet with leftover tears. “It hurts, Mami.”

The principal nods. “She’ll need some ice and rest, but otherwise, she should be okay. We just wanted to make sure you both were informed and could decide if she should go home for the rest of the day”

You glance at Alexia, your mind racing. It’s been a long time since you’ve had to make a decision like this together. “Do you think she should come home?” you ask.

Alexia looks down at Liliana who hugs at her leg, thinking as she strokes the top of her head. “I have the afternoon off. I can take her and keep an eye on her”

You’re surprised. “You have time off? I thought you had training”

“I managed to get the rest of the day cleared,” she says, her eyes meeting yours. “I wanted to be here”

For a moment, the tension between you eases, replaced by a shared concern for your child. You nod, before turning to the woman sitting behind her desk. “We’ll take Luis with us too”

The principal smiles, relieved. “Thank you both for coming in. We’ll make sure her things are ready to go”

-

“I finish at five, I’ll come straight here after” you say as the kids run past you into Alexia’s house. Liliana magically healed at the thought of being able to miss the rest of the school day.

Alexia watches them go, then turns back to you with a look that’s hard to read. “I know it’s been… different”

“Yeah, different is one way to put it,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light, inoffensive. “But we’re making it work”

She nods, her gaze drifting to the door where the kids disappeared. “They seem happy. That’s what matters”

You follow her eyes, watching the kids through the window to where they’ve migrated to the garden. “They’re stronger than we give them credit for. It’s us adults who complicate things”

Alexia laughs softly. “Isn’t that the truth?”

There’s a moment of silence, filled with all the words neither of you have dared to say. Eventually, Alexia breaks it. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about everything”

You feel a twinge of something you can’t quite identify, hope maybe, but you push it aside. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes meeting yours in a way that makes your cheeks flush. “I miss them. And I miss… us”

You swallow hard, trying to bat away the emotions rising hopelessly within you. “Alexia, we’ve talked about this. Your career, my job, it just didn’t work”

“I know,” she replies, frustration creeping into her tone. “But just because it didn’t work then doesn’t mean it can’t work now. People change. Situations change”

You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “I don’t know, Alexia. It’s not that simple”

She steps closer, a dangerous move. You can smell the lingering scent of her soap, the gum she chews. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated either”

You look at her, feeling the familiar pull you’ve tried to ignore for the past year. “I need to get back,” you say finally, peeling yourself away from her.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

aaron hotchner x jacks nanny/babysitter

she’s got a crazy ex that stalked and threatened her so she moved far away to live a simple, under the radar life and started working for hotch. he knows her situation and does his best to look out for her, maybe she’s like a live in nanny ? neither of them is bold enough to make a move first until her ex finds her and hotch and the team race to save her. ends with love confessions and all the sappy stuff

could be a one shot or a short lil series i’m sure whatever you write will be amazing !

༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨-𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size babysitter!reader

— summary: your new life as a live-in nanny was wonderful, and with your dark past behind you, there was nothing that could ruin this. but as they say, what goes around comes around.

— warnings: heavily detailed violence BEWARE, surprisingly light angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, physical hurt/comfort, mutual pining, abusive ex's :[, guns, and a horribly written action/fight scene (forgive me).

— wc: 1965

⋆ a/n: okay this is a heavy fic so beware once more, but aside from that this takes a fully turn! i don't really have anything else to say besides enjoy!

masterlist | AO3

“Backpack? Check. Lunchbox? Check. Shoes are tied? Check.” 

You placed your hands on your hips triumphantly, a proud smile on your face as you examined the little boy. 

Being a live-in nanny came with being organizational and making sure that Jack was ready for school everyday without fail. It wasn’t like Aaron was super strict on you; he understands when you have your days where things are a bit out of place, but honestly it was a personal preference, and totally not because you have a big fat crush on the FBI agent.

You had been very skeptical about your babysitting position at first because of your ex who was absolutely bat shit crazy. It was a situation you had barely escaped from, and it had taken almost everything in you to get where you were now, so you were a little afraid of men in general. But Aaron was kind, and welcoming, and fatherly, someone that you felt safe with.

And then, you fell in love.

It had scared the shit out of you of course, but now it was a feeling that you welcomed with open arms, even if you couldn’t act on it. 

Your phone began to ring as you searched for the car keys, the contact name read ‘Aaron <3’.

“Morning!” You greeted with a smile as you picked up. “Good morning. How are you guys?” The older man asked. “We're doing just fine, as always,” You successfully found the keys. “How are things?” You knew better than to ask how he was, because if you had the kind of job that he did, there was no way you could answer positively. 

“We pretty much have everything we need, so we’ll probably be able to wrap this case up early.” 

“Oh Aaron, that's great!” You cheer happily and make your way back to where Jack was waiting for you. “You ready to go, little man?” Jack looks up at you from his toys. “Is that daddy on the phone?”

“Yeah buddy, you wanna say hi?” 

“Yes!” Jack’s answer was full of excitement, and you can’t help but smile. “As much as I enjoy talking to you, it looks like I’m handing you over.” You swear you could hear Aaron chuckle.

Yeah, this was a life that you could get used to.

Having the house to yourself was weird.

With Jack away at his aunt’s for the weekend, it was strangely quiet due to the emptiness of the child’s presence. You suppose you’re grateful for the break even though taking care of Jack really isn’t as tiring as one might think. 

Despite Aaron rarely being home, he’s managed to raise the boy well when he could, and it’s honestly very admirable. It’s one of the many things that made you fall in love with him. You gaze down into the wine glass at the thought, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Ugh, why does love make you such a loser?

Your bashful train of thought was stopped by a suspicious thump coming from the back of the house. Your smile dropped and a feeling of anxiety and worry twisted in your gut as you grabbed your phone that was lying on the kitchen counter.

You’re quick to dial Aaron’s number and your fingernail finds itself in your mouth as you chew on it anxiously. It’s an old habit, one that you had picked up back in your old relationship.

“Hello?” Rasped Aaron. 

You knew he had just recently flown in from wherever he was because you could hear the foot traffic of everyone grabbing their luggage from the plane’s storage.

“Hey,” Your greeting was nervous and it was something that Aaron easily picked up on. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” He asks with a furrowed brow. “Yeah, just um - I’m just hearing some weird things so I just wanted to know when you think you might be getting home.” I miss you.

“Honey what type of weird things?” Before you were able to answer, there was a loud crashing sound. You instantly dropped to the floor to hide behind the counter; you cradled the phone to your ear, “Okay uh - change of claim,” You attempted to joke. “Someone is most definitely in the house.”

Aaron tries not to panic at the way his insides turn cold, “You remember what to do, right?” He asks with a hardened voice. You gulp, stretching slightly to peer over the marble. You stare out into the darkness and a frightened shiver shoots up your spine. 

“Get to your room and enter the safe.” You reiterated what he had told you almost a year ago when you had first moved in. You’ve never shot a gun before but tonight might be the night where you learn how too.

“That’s right, and do you remember the code?” 

As you went to answer him, you were snatched up by your hair and a scream rang out and into the phone. Even though you weren’t on speaker the others that were currently standing outside with Aaron could hear it.

Aaron desperately calls out your name, and with your silence he takes off without any explanation, but his team knows to follow close behind.

“So, this is what you’ve been doing since you tried to leave me?!”

You cried out as another blow was delivered to your gut but a heavy boot. Your lungs burned and there were tears streaming down your face. He had pulled you so hard over the counter that it made your scalp burn, a blistering headache beginning to form at the base of your skull.

“Fuck you!” You spat as you attempted to prop yourself up on your elbows. 

There was a fine line between anger and fear, and this was one of those moments where they blend together. If you ended up dying tonight, at least you didn’t go down in vain.

This time he punched you in the face before snatching you up by your arms. There was a metallic taste in your mouth, a bruise already developing near your eye. “Why’d you leave me, huh?! We had a good thing going and you just… you just ruined it!”

“I didn’t ruin shit asshole!” You screamed and pushed at him but it was no use. “We were gonna get married but you… but you wanted to play house with an old man, really?!”

“You’ve been watching me.” You said in disbelief. It made your stomach twist in nausea and horror at the thought of him watching Jack, what he could’ve done to him. You had actively put the man you loved kid in danger and it devastated you.

“I had no choice!”

“You’re fucking crazy!”

“Put your hands where I can see them.” Aaron’s voice rang out throughout the house.

Before you knew it you were spun around with a gun to your head, his arm locked against your neck, faintly strangling you.

“Aaron!” You called out in relief, but it turned into a grunt as you tugged further into your ex’s chest.

Aaron’s gun was raised steadily, his eyes focused on your attacker, but he doesn’t hesitate to cast you a reassuring look. When he sees your bloody and bruised face his jaw tightens, the vein in his neck popping and visible through his skin.

“Boyfriend to the rescue, huh?” Your ex sneers into your cheek. You shudder. 

“Put the gun down.” Aaron continues to coax, and out the corner of your eye you can see Morgan approaching through the darkness. 

“Why do you want to save this slut? Don’t tell me you’ve already -” A shot rings out into the fair followed by a scream of pain.

Your ex collapses to the ground, cradling the gunshot wound in his knee as blood spills through his fingers. Aaron was the one that pulled the trigger and Morgan is already in the kitchen by the time he’s tugging you away and into his arms.

“Oh God.” You finally cried. “You came, you came…” His arms are wound tightly around you, purposefully tucking your face into his chest. “I’m here, I’m here.” He shushes and rocks you side to side in order to try and lull you.

Aaron – softly – orders you to sit down while he cleans up the blood when the rest of the team has already left.

You can’t help but watch him from where you’re sitting on the couch with his sleeves of his white button up rolled up and his hands gloved. “I’m sorry.” You decide to say, because you really were. “I’m sorry for everything.” There was so much more you wanted to say, but you felt your throat tighten with unshed tears.

“No, don’t apologize.” He says softly, abandoning the rag that he was using to scrub up said blood. “No Aaron you don’t understand. I put you and Jack in danger because of my bullshit and I thought that I had put it all behind me and I don’t -” 

“Stop.” It’s a bit firmer this time. “I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I offered you to live with me and my son. Nothing that has occurred tonight has swayed my trust or opinion about you, you know that, right?”

“Right.” His hand holds your cheek and strokes the soft skin of it. “Good.”

Your eyes flicker down to his lips before peering back into his eyes, “If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I promise this isn’t like a trauma bond thing. I’ve liked you for as long as I’ve worked for you and I didn’t want to tell you because I have nowhere else to go if you say no. Plus,” You sigh, “I just don’t want to make things difficult or uncomfortable for you.”

“You could never do that, feelings reciprocated or not.” He reassures.

“Well are they?”

He grins at your question, “I’d be an idiot not to feel the same way.” You laugh and he leans forward to join your lips together.

A warm feeling spreads in your gut and you knew that this is what love was supposed to feel like.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna @moonysreid

[rafeandonlyrafe]

just not home

words: 1k

warnings: rafe gets kicked out of his house, mentions of hooking up/friends with benefits but not explicit

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

you groan and mentally curse whoever it is that is causing your phone to ring, waking you up from a pleasant dream. 

you grab it off the nightstand, briefly glancing at the contact name before answering, keeping your eyes partly closed as the screen causes you to squint, not adjusted to the light yet.

“rafe, it's late.” you say, not greeting him. “if you're calling to fuck, the answer is no. im too tired.”

rafe has a habit of hitting you up whenever he needs to release some tension. you were sort of friends, at least at first, but it all changed when you slept together once when drunk at a party, then repeatedly ended up in each other's beds until it became a regular thing.

“it's not that um… can i come over though?” rafes voice is softer than you're used to, and it causes you to shake off a bit more of the fog that the sleep has over your mind.

“what's wrong?” you question.

“nothing.” rafe says. you don't respond, waiting to see if he will volunteer more information, but it doesn't come.

“where are you?” you try instead.

“walking over to your house.” rafe says, and your ears then pick up the background noises, the cicadas and frogs in the distance. 

“why are you walking?” 

“my dad took the keys to my truck.” rafe explains. you sigh and switch the phone to speaker as you get out of bed, shivering when you throw back the covers and are exposed to the air. “he kicked me out.”

“ward did what?” you question, putting on a pair of crocs and heading out your bedroom door to find your purse and car keys.

“fuck.” rafe groans. “im sorry, y/n. i shouldn't have called, just go back to sleep.”

“hey, stop that.” you say, heading out the door once you have everything you need to drive. “im coming to pick you up right now, where are you?”

rafe responds with his location. you remain on the line as you drive, but stay quiet to focus on the road. even though there's no cars, you're not fully awake yet and need all of your brain power to focus on getting to rafe safely.

your heart breaks a little when you spot him, head hung low as he walks down the sidewalk. you pull your car to the side of the road, getting out and immediately pulling rafe into your arms, holding him close until he hugs you back.

“i didn't have anywhere else to go.” rafe whispers into your hair.

“it's okay.” you say, rubbing your hand over his back. “im glad you called.”

you pull away from the hug, seeing the look in rafes eye. above everything else, he looks tired, completely exhausted. you have never shared an kiss that didn't lead to or happen during sex, but you can't resist pressing your mouth against his pouty lips. rafe kisses back gently, and you can feel a bit of the tension leave his body as he does.

“come on, it's cold out here.” you tug at rafes hand, watching him sit down in your passenger seat as you round the car to drive you home.

you reach across the center console, linking your hands together. “do you wanna talk about what happened?” you ask.

rafe is quiet for a moment before he squeezes your hand, keeping his eyes on the road out the front windscreen instead of looking at you. “can we talk in the morning? im just so tired right now.”

“yeah.” you nod. “thats fine, rafey.”

you fall into comfortable silence on the way back home, keeping your hand in rafes, your fingers intertwined. it dawns on you that this is probably the most intimate moment you've had with rafe, despite having sex with him multiple times, it's this moment of innocently holding hands, no build up to anything more, just rafe needing you, and you giving him a physical connection.

you pull right up to your door, not bothering to care about your shitty parking job as one of your tires sits off your driveway and in the grass. you just want to get back in bed.

“ill leave first thing in the morning, i just needed a place to sleep.” rafe says as you head inside, making you turn to look at him.

“rafe, don't be ridiculous.” you sigh, feeling sad that he ever thought you would kick him out. “you can stay as long as you need.”

“thank you, baby.” rafe says, following you up the stairs. he pauses at the top, looking at the multiple bedroom doors.

“i can sleep in one of the guest bedrooms if you want.” he offers, and you scoff.

“we've shared a bed before.”

“after we've had sex, yeah.” rafe shrugs. “i just don't want you to be uncomfortable.”

“i think you owe me some cuddles after waking me up in the middle of the night.” you say, and rafe nods with a small grin, glad that you agreed, not wanting to be alone tonight.

you head towards your bedroom, shutting the door behind you after rafe enters. you climb into bed, your legs giving out the second you're back on your mattress.

“i don't have… any pajamas.” rafe sighs, looking down at his jeans and polo shirt.

“just wear your underwear. i don't care, just get over here.” you pat the open spot on your bed, managing to keep your eyes open and on rafe as he strips down to his boxers before getting into bed with you.

you cement yourself to his side, sighing softly when he wraps an arm around you, letting you rest on his chest.

“thank you.” he whispers.

“of course, rafe.” you press your lips against his bare skin, the best kiss that he's going to get out of you as you struggle to keep your eyes open. you fall back into a deep slumber as rafe gently strokes over your back, feeling comfortable and safe with your legs tangled together with his.

[mydearesthrry]

casual - h.s.

a/n: self indulgent because i will never get over the fact that half of this happened to me literally verbatim because im a loser ok bye. this is my way of coping enjoy please i got so carried away ugh the impact of a british man hahaha. i suggest casual by chappell roan or …what are we? by lizzy mcalpine

wc: im guessing 1k>

warnings: angst thats really it harry’s lowkey a cunt but its not him ok. THIS IS FRAT BOY HARRY FOR THIS ONE!!!

y/n was startled to see her front door swing open, harry stepping into the threshold to get away from the cold air outside. “hi baby.”

“hey, h,” she replied, stepping up from her place on the couch to meet him where he was toeing off his shoes. “how was your day?”

y/n’s hands ran up his chest to his shoulders, pushing his coat off his figure and hooking it on the coatrack. “it was okay, how was yours?”

“fine, thank you,” she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “tired, i guess.”

“that’s not good, princess, you need to get your sleep. can’t have my pretty girl all sleepy, hm?” he grinned, wrapping his arms around the girl and pressing a kiss into her temple.

“yeah, just had a lot on my mind recently, i guess.” she says through a sigh, unwrapping harry’s arms from her body, walking away from him toward the kitchen.

“like what?” harry questioned, following behind her like a puppy.

“i… nothing, it’s not important,” she considered it. she really did. but it just… she couldn’t find it in herself to ruin what they had so easily. to ruin them so easily. “don’t worry about me, really.”

harry physically recoiled as if he’d been burnt, “i want to worry about you, y/n. i want you to be okay, always.” he’d used her real name— a true indication that she’d offended him.

“i- i know, i’m sorry. i jus’ don’t wanna bother you with my stupid stuff.” she glanced up at him through her lashes, refusing to make eye contact.

“it it has to do with you, it’s not stupid. now, tell me, princess, what’s wrong?” he tried once more. he could tell that she was getting closer to telling him the truth, he just needed to coax it out of her.

“can we sit?” she asked, harry immediately nodding and grabbing her hand to lead her over.

“so, what’s on your mind?”

“i’m scared to tell you.”

harry looked confused then. “why?”

“because… if you don’t know, and i don’t know, then it doesn’t make sense for this to keep happening,” she paused. “and i don’t want to lose you.”

“wait, what are we even talking about? lose me? why would you lose m-“

“you confuse me.” that’s definitely one way to put it.

“what?” harry tilted his head, his hand still covering hers.

“i- it’s just, sometimes i really can’t tell if you want me, or if you’re just keeping me around just to keep me around. like, sometimes you treat me so platonically it confuses me, and then other times you’re rattling off how i’m the only one for you. i know we said no strings, i know, but i know you don’t really see me as a friend. there’s no way that this is just casual, harry.”

harry didn’t know what to say. staring down at their intertwined hands, he cleared his throat and bit at his lip.

“what is it, please just tell me what’s on your mind,” y/n pleaded, squeezing his hands.

“i… honestly don’t know, my love, im sorry,” he finally said, but he chose to twist the knife. “i don’t know what we are.”

oh.

oh.

“oh, um,” she whispered, sliding her legs off of harry’s knees, withdrawing her hands from his grasp to slide under her thighs. “yeah, i… i didn’t think you would.”

“i’m sorry, princess. you won’t lose me though, y’do know that, right?” he could sense her sadness like it was his own. his phone ringing distracted her from her thoughts, the name reading ‘Claire’, making a scoff leave her lips.

“go handle business, i’ll be upstairs.” y/n said coolly, standing from the couch once more. as she began her trek to the stairs, harry grabbed her wrist.

“don’t be like that.” he grumbled, pressing the pressure point between her thumb and pointer finger.

“be like what? i’m gonna go take a nap, didn’t you just tell me to get some rest?” she smiled, but he could see the hurt in her eyes.

not exclusive, more than friends, less than lovers. how could she be so naive?

“are you sure?”

“your phone’s still ringing.”

“that’s unimportant. are you okay?”

“peachy.”

he knew she was lying. he just didn’t know what she wanted to hear.

“okay, pretty girl, dream of me, yeah?”

“mhm. see you later, lock the door if you leave.”

“i will, i’m sorry.”

as she walked away, she could hear his voice fill the living room.

“hey angel, i’ll be there in 20.”

more than friends, less than lovers.

—

part 2

[akutasoda]

hii :3 for ur 1k event, can I request a fic or hcs of sunday w a shy s/o which likes physical affection a LOT? fine w fluff or hurt/comfort!! love ur writing <3

feather light touches

synopsis - what happens when someone who loves physical affection meets someone who doesn't?

includes - sunday

warnings - gn!reader, slightly angsty, comfort, fluff, wc - 897

a/n: hii :3 thank you!!!

sunday was a public figure. head of the oak family and at the will of the watchmaker, anybody who had even heard of penacony probably had heard of him. while he did manage most of the affairs of penaconians in his office, he was a well known face - mainly due to him making sure he could accompany his sister to her performances and personally greeting very important guests.

to maintain such a high profile position, sunday had no room to be shy nor anxious when it came to anything. he needed the ability to communicate with and sway anyone to his whims and so he needed to show no signs of weakness. perhaps it was maybe helped by the fact that he did have quite the desperation for control and so to achieve that, he needed everybody to see him as the confident and formidable person he was.

as a result, alot of his relationships were strictly business - in a way every business relation he built up was built up to his benefit, to keep him in control and eventually elevate his status. he needed to be in control to succeed and so he never took up opportunities that made him feel like his control would diminish and leave him scrambling for his power. by extention, sunday wasn't exactly the kind to enjoy physical affection, if anything he despised it. of course there were exceptions to a degree, namely his sister and you.

you were like a complete polar opposite to sunday. he was confident and an influential figure that liked keeping people at arms length, even those he was close too. you were a shy and reserved person who craved nothing more than to be close to those you held dearly. physical affection was very dear to you but unfortunately the shyness was an obstacle that prevented most forms of physical affection - unlike sunday who would take any opportunity to stay away from any kind of physical contact.

sunday didn't mind how shy you were, it didn't really matter to him as he enjoyed your company nonetheless. he didn't mind doing things for you and so if your shyness did prevent you from talking to people he'd gladly step in. your shyness was actually a great comfort to him at the end of a day filled with business dealings, just to spend his evening with you indulging in smalltalk and relaxing without the pressure of being the head of the oak family.

it wouldn't take sunday long to notice how hesitant you could get in private, you always looked like you wanted something but you never said anything and so he didn't know what to do. if something was bothering you, you probably would have told him know no? truth be told, your issue wasn't so much your shyness when it came to physical affection but more with how unsure you were with sunday's willingness to just that.

you knew for a matter of fact that physical touch and affection wasn't exactly sunday's deal, so you're shyness was overcome with worries that he wouldn't understand your love for physical affection. you started fearing that this would be the reason you couldn't stay with sunday, that this would be the breaking point of your relationship. what made it worse was that you never brought it up. you were way to shy about it to bring it up and so you say on the issue.

that was until sunday started picking up more ideas to what was causing your hesitation around him. he noticed how a simple act of hand holding made your face light up even if you didn't mention anything, so unconsciously he started doing that more. sunday realised you were very fond of physical affection and maybe you were just hesitant that he wouldn't appreciate it.

it was true that he was uncomfortable with most kinds of physical affection but maybe he could try and make an exception for you - he really couldn't bare seeing you so pained because you couldn't ask him. simple acts like hand holding, that still made you light up, were bearable with him to start as long as he still wore his gloves but you didn't seem to mind. maybe just maybe he could atart building up his tolerance just for you.

or maybe he couldn't deny you when he realised you built up all your courage just to ask him for a hug. sunday fully understood now, he knew for sure that you lived physical affection but you were simply too shy to ask for such. albeit he probably didn't help you by seeming so off put by physical affection but he just had to prove to you that you were indeed an exception - so long as you still let him get used to more physical contact.

it all seemed worth it in the end to him. seeing your face light up when he offered a hug, a small kiss, or even hand holding made his day, what really made it worth it for him was seeing you becime more comfortable with asking for the physical affection you lived oh so much. it may be foreign and slightly uncomfortable to him but he'd be willing to build up that aspect if it meant helping you in the process.

akutasoda's 1k event

[reiding-writing]

familiarity [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer’s nightmare leaves him reeling with a panic attack, not helped by the unfamiliar environment of his hotel room. in his desperation he does the only think he can think of, call you.

WARNINGS: details of spencer’s kidnapping, needle mentions, mentions of bodily harm, detail of panic attacks

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: ANGST, hurt/comfort

wc: 3.7k

masterlist!!

a/n: back on my angst grind after three straight fluff fics, enjoy :)

“No- Please- Please, I don’t-“ Spencer’s desperate pleas were halted as Tobias pulled up his sleeve to expose skin that hadn’t yet been pierced.

“Tell me it doesn’t help,” Spencer gave him a pleading look, although didn’t say anything as the needle was prepared, and he whimpered softly at the stinging pain in his arm, followed by a wave of calm.

Even though Spencer could no longer physically feel the pain he was experiencing, it didn’t stop tears from falling down his face, running hot against his skin as they left diluted red stains in their wake from mixing with the half-dried blood of his head injury.

His head fell backwards against the chair, eyelids fluttering as his body was overcome by the liquid running through his bloodstream, not at all aided by the sudden resurgence of Raphael, who only proved to make the situation worse as he berated Spencer for the one way contact he had with his team.

His mental beating ended with a physical one, a sharp smack against Spencer’s already bleeding head causing his chair to topple backwards and all of the air to be knocked out of his lungs.

He desperately gasped for oxygen to no avail, choking on his own saliva as his body began to uncontrollably shake.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer shot upwards, his eyes craned open so far that he could already feel them drying up despite the tears still occupying their corners.

He blindly fumbled to turn on the lamp at his side through trembling hands and shaking breaths, and whilst he thought the light might help him come back to his bearings, the unfamiliar room that greeted him only served to make his panic worse.

He was on a case. He was in a hotel room. He was fine. Nothing was wrong. He was okay.

He was okay.

He was not okay.

His chest tightened with every breath, the amount of oxygen making its way into his bloodstream depleting with every desperate breath he tried to take and making him increasingly lightheaded.

If he had enough muscle control in his fingers he was sure that he’d be clawing at his throat in an attempt to get more air into his lungs.

He knew what was going to happen next, and with his eyes turning blurry from his tears he did the only thing he could think of to stop it from getting any worse.

“Spence..?” Your voice is hoarse from your sharp awakening at the hand of your ringtone, and you yawn into the receiver as you roll onto your back with your phone pressed to your ear. “What’s the matter..? It’s late…”

Spencer’s hand trembled as he held up the phone, his breathing shaky and uneven to the point where you could hear it on the other end of the line. “I-i’m sorry to wake you up I just… I need you.. please-”

“Spencer?” The tearful desperation in his tone knocks any sense of tiredness from your body, and you sit straight up in your hotel bed. “Are you okay?”

Spencer didn’t have the energy nor the composure to go into detail, so he just blurted out the main fear he had as the tears welled up in his eyes. “I’m scared-”

You’re scrambling out of your bed before he even answers the question, haphazardly pulling a t-shirt over your head and pressing your phone to your ear against your shoulder as you pull on a pair of sweats over your shorts. “What room are you in Spencer?”

Spencer’s eyes were almost shut tight in anticipation of a panic attack as his mouth opened slightly. “411…”

“I will literally be there in two seconds,” You fumble around your room to grab your room key and leave the room hastily, shutting the door harder than you probably should as you rush to lock it behind you. “Can you unlock your door for me?”

“Yeah… I can do that” Spencer got up carefully and shakily made his way to the door, not at all helped by the geometric pattern of the carpet that made his head spin, planting the palm of his hand flat on the floor to ceiling mirror to keep himself upright.

He eventually found the lock to his room door and managed to unlock it after a small struggle, his fingers not co-operating with what his brain told them to do.

You give the door a soft knock as you reach it, and Spencer hears the end dial of his phone as you hang up the call in favour of speaking through the door instead. “Hey, it’s me, i’m coming in okay?”

“Okay…” Spencer said quietly, pushing his hair out of his face as it started to fall in front of his eyes again and taking a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

“Hey…” You crack the door open as little as possible and slip into his room, shutting the door behind you with your foot as you reach up to pull his head into your shoulder. “You’re alright, I’ve got you…”

Spencer’s eyes immediately closed as he surrendered to your touch, letting out a shaky breath that tickled the skin of your neck.

“Sorry you had to wake up for all of this..” Spencer muttered softly, almost inaudible as it muffled against your t-shirt. “I didn’t know what else to do..”

“Shh…” You gently bring your hand up to run it gently through his hair, slowly detangling it with your fingers. “It’s okay, you made the right decision,”

You remain standing there for a few moments as you take in the state of the room in front of you.

The room was shrouded in cool white light from a lamp on one of the bedside tables, water dripping from its edge and falling into a puddle on the carpet to join a glass that Spencer had presumably knocked over during his scramble for his phone.

The window curtains were open, exposing the main street outside, although a little blurred through the glare from the lamp on the glass that left a reflection of the mess that was the hotel bed in its place, the duvet in a pile to one side and the decorative blanket lining its end in a heap on the floor.

Even if Spencer hadn’t have been trembling in your arms, the panic he’d experienced was entirely evident, leaving physical evidence of his anxiety across his hotel room.

You slowly trace your hands down his arms, stopping as you reach his hands to take them in your own and gently pull him towards his bed to sit down and alleviate the weight from his trembling legs. “You’re safe Spencer, I promise,”

You give Spencer’s hands a gentle squeeze as you take a seat next to him, sat half on the bed so that you can face him properly, and Spencer’s eyes open for a few seconds before he again leans his head against your shoulder, his nose buried against the curve of your neck.

“Sorry,” Spencer said quietly. “I-i don’t know why it’s so bad tonight. I just can’t stop it-”

“It’s okay Spencer, don’t apologise,” You wrap your arms around Spencer, one tracing lines up and down his back and the other scratching gently at his scalp. “We’re gonna work through this step by step okay?”

Spencer let out a small shaky sigh as he kept silent for a moment, trying to quell the shaking of his body. “O-okay” He nodded softly against your shoulder.

“Do you remember the grounding techniques I told you about?” It was a bit of a loaded question considering Spencer’s eidetic memory, but encouraging him to engage in answering simple yes or no questions would be a good start to slowly getting him to calm back down

“..Yeah,” Spencer took a slow deep breath as he moved his head away from your shoulder, blinking them open slowly as he tried not to get overwhelmed by the harsh lighting from the lamp. “It’s the 5,4,3,2,1 method...”

“That’s right, let’s go one at a time okay?” You give him a soft nod at his correct assessment.

“Can you tell me five things you can see right now?”

“The- ceiling…” Spencer said quietly, taking a deep breath before continuing. “…and the lamp.. and the dresser… and the window… and you..”

“Good,” You tuck a stray strand of hair behind Spencer’s ear, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “What about four things you can feel?”

“…the bed under me… the carpet… your hand running through my hair.” Spencer took a couple of deep breaths as his shaking slowly started to decrease, his head falling back into the crook of your neck. “And my own shirt on my skin.”

You give him a soft nod, joined by a small hum of affirmation to confirm that he was doing well. “Let’s do three things you can hear,”

Spencer just nodded before continuing, closing his eyes once more to focus on matching his breathing to yours. “The clock on the wall… my own breathing… and your heartbeat.”

“Good, that’s good,” You gently move your fingers through Spencer’s hair at his temple, brushing through it softly and gently massaging at the skin behind his ear. “Two things you can smell?”

“…the lavender scent you have on you..” He stays silent for a bit as he struggles to think of something else. “And.. the smell of the room itself… i guess.”

You cant help the small chuckle that leaves your mouth as he vaguely describes the smell of the hotel room, and whilst it’s not exactly perfect you let it pass. “Last one,”

“One thing you can taste?”

Spencer thought for a moment. “The taste of the saliva in my mouth.”

“Good job, that’s great,” By the time the grounding was complete, you were almost entirely supporting Spencer’s weight, his head pressed against your shoulder and his arms loosely wrapped around your waist as you held him close to your chest. Some parts of his mind were still a bit hazy but he knew he had calmed down a lot. “Can we stay like this for a bit..?”

“We can stay like this for as long as you want to Spence,” Spencer lets out a small sigh and keeps his head on your shoulder silently, listening to your heartbeat and mirroring your breathing in attempt to stabilise himself.

You remain holding Spencer for the next few minutes, the room completely silent aside from the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall.

“Can i ask you something..?” Spencer’s voice is quiet against your shoulder, and he shifts himself slightly to have your face in his line of sight.

“Of course you can,”

Spencer takes a deep breath in before speaking again. “…can you stay in here with me tonight?”

His question elicits a small sigh to leave your mouth, and you arbitrarily push the stubborn strands of hair that fall over his forehead back behind his ear again. “You’re sure you want me here?”

Spencer just nods. “Please? At least for a little bit..?” Spencer’s voice was back to being quiet and shaky, like he was still on the cusp of another panic attack if he wasn’t careful.

You didn’t want to unintentionally take advantage of Spencer’s vulnerability, but the look of pure unbridled desperation on his face as he asked you to stay made you want to let him curl up in your arms and hold him until you physically couldn’t any longer.

“I’ll stay for as long as you want me to stay…” You rub small circles into his back to stabilise him again, not wanting him to accidentally fall back into another panic attack after he’d just managed to push his way out of one.

“…can you hold me..?” Spencer asked quietly, still burying his head into your shoulder as he spoke. “Please?”

“Yeah… i can do that,” You shift further onto the bed as you encourage Spencer to lie down, pulling the bedsheets straight to drape them over the both of you as you lie down behind him, turning to your side and holding your arms open in his direction. “C’mere,”

Spencer moved closer so he was now fully laying down in your arms, his head buried into your neck and his arms squeezing your torso tightly.

You could still feel the anxiety in the tenseness of his shoulders and the way his eyes clamped shut, almost as if he was waiting for another panic attack to hit him suddenly.

“i got you… you’re alright…” You pull him flush against you, slipping your hand underneath his t-shirt to run your fingers against the bare skin of his back, ignoring the slight moisture collected on his skin from his body sweating as a result of his nightmare.

“I hate this… I hate that this keeps happening..” Spencer moved his hands up to grip your shirt lightly as he tried to calm himself further.

“I know Spence I know…” The pads of your fingers tracing small circles into the skin of his back served as a good calming technique as Spencer tried to solely focus on how the gentle sensations felt.

“Your brain is just trying to process all of the emotions in your mind, and the best way to do that is when you’re sleeping,”

Spencer looked up slightly from your shoulder and you could practically feel his anxiousness by how tightly his hands were clutching your shirt.

“…..i’m scared when i’m awake too….” he admitted quietly, his eyes wavering from yours as he spoke no matter how hard he tried to maintain eye contact with you.

“He can’t hurt you anymore Spence…” You sigh softly as his expression matches his words, traces of fear lingering in his features even as he calms down.

“…i’m not scared of him.. not completely..” Spencer tone continued to carry an undertone of fear even as he admitted that Tobias didn’t scare him anymore.

“What is it you’re scared of then Spence?” You tilt your head downwards to speak against the crown of his head, muttering the words softly.

“I’m still scared of… what if I….” Spencer’s words get stuck in his throat as he tries to speak, his breathing becoming uneven once more and threatening to send him spiralling again.

“..what if I fall back into my addiction.. I can’t let that happen again…”

Spencer’s voice was still shaky as he looked up at you, and you could feel him trembling in your arms. He was on the edge of another panic attack, but doing his best to hold it back and remain as calm as he could.

“Hey- slowly,” You take the side of his face in your hand, rubbing your thumb over his cheek and tilting it up towards you. “You have come so far Spencer, you’re going to be alright,”

Spencer’s eyes were threatening to spill tears once more, but he seemed to calm down a bit more at the comfort of the cool temperature of your hand against his face.

“You can’t promise that.. you can’t know..” Spencer resorted back to mirroring your breathing, watching as your chest rose and fell with each breath you took and trying to steadily replicate it himself. “I just don’t want to lose myself again…”

“You won’t.” You shake your head softly at him, leaning your forehead against his.

Spencer took a few seconds to just breathe, focused on retaining a state of at least mild calmness before he tried to say anything else. “..can I ask you something..?”

“Yeah of course you can,” You give a soft nod against his forehead, cupping both of his cheeks in your hands.

Spencer took a couple more deep breaths before asking the question. “..if I relapse.. if I slip back down that hole.. can I come to you for help again..?”

“Of course you can…” You gently pull your forehead away from his to look at him properly, stroking your thumbs over Spencer’s cheeks in soothing lines. “But I will do my absolute best to ensure that that never happens,”

Spencer nodded as he looked up at you, still holding your hand tightly. You could tell that his anxiety wasn’t fully gone but he seemed to slowly be regaining his bearings again.

After a few more quiet minutes, Spencer let out a small yawn, looking up at you. “I… i’m tired…”

“You should try and get some sleep Spencer…” Spencer nodded softly, leaning his head further into the palm of your hand.

“…can you stay here with me while i sleep?” He muttered quietly, his eyes starting to get teary again as he feared the inevitability of you leaving. “I’m still scared…”

“Hey…” You redirect the movement of your hands from your thumbs tracing lines into his cheeks to your fingers scratching gently at the hair behind Spencer’s ears, leaning in to place a chaste kiss to the small wrinkles forming between his eyebrows from how hard he was furrowing them. “I’m not going anywhere okay?”

Spencer couldn’t help but blush a little bit as you kissed him softly on the forehead.

“…okay.” Spencer moved his head forward to bury it into your chest, taking slow and deep breaths as he slowly started to calm down. “Can you hold me… more tightly..?”

You slide your arms around Spencer and give him a soft squeeze at his question, holding him against you with a small amount of added pressure to act almost as a weighted blanket.

“…did you know that sharks cuddle with each other?” His voice is slightly muffled against the fabric of your t-shirt, and you can’t help the small chuckle that escapes you at the random piece of information he gives you.

“Oh do they now?”

Spencer nods softly, his grip on you loosening ever so slightly as he begins to become more drowsy. “They huddle in piles when they sleep, and take it in turns making sure no one gets lost from the group..”

A small yawn escapes Spencer’s mouth at the end of his sentence. “They’re very social animals..”

Spencer mutters out his explanation, his eyelids feeling heavy and his limbs relaxing against your body. “..thank you for being my shark..”

“No problem,” You give a soft chuckle against the crown of Spencer’s head, massaging the nape of his neck with your fingers.

Spencer smiled slightly at the gentle pressure of your fingers, letting out a small inaudible sigh at the feeling. “..can I ask another question..?” He his voice was laced with very apparent drowsiness, and he just barely lifted his face enough from your shoulder to be able to look at you.

“Just full of questions tonight aren’t you?” You let out another small laugh, tucking Spencer’s hair behind his ear as he looks up to get a better look at his sleep-filled features.

Spencer nodded a little bit as his eyes falling closed as your fingers ghost over his temple. “Yeah.. I guess.”

“Can I still come to you when I get scared about something..? Even if we’re not alone..?” He asked slightly quietly, still keeping his eyes shut. “Because you always make me feel calm.. just.. hearing your voice and being near you...”

“Of course you can Spencer…” You take the opportunity of your hand gently slotted against the side of his face to rub small circles against his temple with your thumb, smiling softly at the way his expression relaxes as he focuses on the feeling. “I’m glad i can be a form of support for you…”

“..You’re more than that….” If you listened hard enough, you could still hear the slight hoarseness in his throat from where he had been crying. “You’re everything.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment as he took a couple of deep breaths, still squeezing your hand tightly. “Please.. i don’t want to lose that.. not again...” He whispered softly, keeping his eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You lean your nose against the top of his head, whispering into his hair and placing a chaste kiss to his crown as you give him another soft squeeze as if to remind him that you were still physically here.

Spencer smiled softly as he felt your lips against his head, his eyelashes fluttering slightly.

“I love you..” Spencer whispered softly, his voice even more sleepy this time and his breathing now getting slower and more regular.

Your heartrate picks up a little at Spencer’s drowsy declaration of his love, and your sure he can feel it from where his head lies half against your chest. “We’re going to talk about this in the morning okay? For now, just get some rest Spence…”

Spencer slowly nodded as he started to close his eyes again, his words still a bit hoarse as he spoke in a barely audible whisper. “..okay…”

Spencer held his arms around your torso tightly, and you could feel him start to nod off. “..night.. my shark..”

[13thdoctorplease]

Hiii, I was wondering if you could do headcannons for the doctors and having an affectionate/cuddly s/o? My fav doctors are 9 & 10 but any doctors are fine <3

your favs are 9&10 and mine are 11&13... so why just dont go with all of them? here you go, anon!

9th: At first, he gives you some weird looks. You grab his hands while walking, and he shoots you a side-eye, but he lets you. Whenever you need him, he's there. When you let him go, he steps back. He doesn't like it when you tap his head or cup his cheeks; he'll pout until you're laughing and wrapping your arms around his neck. Eventually, he gets used to holding you with an arm around your shoulders, letting you rest your head on his chest. Strangers often mistake you for a long-term couple, but in reality, you're just clingy, and he... well, he just can't say no to you.

10th: He's not really expecting it when you run into his arms just because you're excited about the planet you're both visiting, but he immediately accepts and hugs you tight. Later, he realizes he really enjoys physical contact when your hand is always on his arm while you talk. You hug him from behind when he's turned to the console, and he doesn't let you see his smile, but his hands are over yours anyway. You're affectionate, but he's needy. He likes holding hands, and eventually, he starts initiating contact too. It's nice, and you blush when people say you two would make a beautiful couple, especially when he agrees.

11th: He's the one who starts it. He has a hand on your back while you two explore an alien museum, and you take the chance to melt onto his body. He looks at you but says nothing, and now this is simply your thing. You like to be in his arms and to kiss his cheek, and he reciprocates by letting his chin rest on your shoulder/head (depending on how tall you are) and kissing your forehead before you go home. He's soft and goofy, and sometimes he doesn't let you get out of his embrace.

12th: He's not a hugger, and you respect it, but there are plenty of other ways to show your affection. You run your fingers on the back of his neck when sitting next to each other and always play with the collar of his shirt. He tries to pull your hands away, but you come back every time until he gives up and kisses your wrist, letting you do whatever you want. Sometimes he doesn't respond to your touch, but the look in his eyes already says everything you need to know.

13th: She loves everything you do and doesn't seem to notice when you tangle your fingers together. She holds your hand in hers as if it were usual, and that's pretty much it. She's obsessed with hugs, and it's kind of hard to find a moment where she isn't all over you. You couldn't imagine a happier life.

[cheesit-notes]

pervy tf141 x reader (pt2 kinda)

you're hot as fuck; the team knows it, and so do you. and god, you're such a tease about it.

➥ requested by anon!

tags: lowkey nsfw under cut!, fem!reader, sub gaz, sub soap, every tf141 member kinda subby, voyeurism w/ ghost, teasing, reader kinda dom implied, ass and lots of it, reader being a tease, bold reader

a/n: i started at 9pm and ended at 1am and sometime between then and now, i got really tired so sorry for any mispellings, none of my work are ever edited.. my brain isnt quite functioning rn and i want to sleep but thanks for requesting anon, whoever u are ;3

Gaz who’s gets so flustered over how… just how bold you are. god, you’re teasing him with those clothes that just fit your body so, so well. his morals are already questioned when you come in, he couldnt stop imagining you in different positions. but now he doesnt have to imagine! because now, you’re bending over, purposely showing him your plush ass, to pick something up, showing him what you’d look like in certain positions. and my, gaz is a little pervert isnt he? getting hard in the middle of the common area just because you dropped your drink and picked it up. his face is flushed embarrassed and his growing erection sure doesn’t help. quick, someone might enter the room and see his throbbing cock strained against his pants so sit on his lap, tell him to be quiet, and help him out, yeah?

Soap who love the confidence you have, he’s like putty around you.. if you initiate more physical contact with him, specifically touches that can be easily misunderstood if anyone were to see, and he’s practically drooling. has been pushed against the wall by you, his hand pushing up your thigh because he just couldnt help himself, and your lips just mere inches from his. he’s rock hard, you can feel it as you press yourself onto him, and he’s leaking so much precum, its like he pissed himself. yet all this to be interrupted by your dear old Lieutenant Ghost who happened to discover the scene. poor Soap who’s most intimate moment with you just disappeared and left with a throbbing cock, but you seem fine. in fact, you’re smiling cheekily. you whisper to Soap, telling him to wait for you in his barracks before happily walking away like nothing just happened. ah, but Soap can’t wait. he jacks himself off twice, unable to stop. and he’s panting like a dog! it only took you 30 minutes to come to his barracks, but he’s already a sopping mess; sweat dripping down his face, bits of cum splattered on his stomach, and a small pool in between his legs. then you start stroking his soft cock, and he shouldn’t like this. he’s can barely get hard, the overstimulation is so painful to him, but he’s a like a bitch in heat in your hands.

Ghost who gets so fucking hard during team briefings. god, his erection is painfully obvious to anyone who just so much as glanced by that area. he doesnt mean to get hard, its just.. you.. you’re there. right next to him. your ass is within reach, god, and your wearing those tight leggings again. he needs you to blow his poor needy cock off and he needs it bad. he usually wants to at least look decent in front of captain Price. oh, but god, he wouldn’t mind the entire crew watching him get a sloppy blowjob from pretty little you. he wouldnt even mind the entire crew watching him stroke his hard meaty cock if it meant you were watching. leans back and as casually as he can, he droops one arm over you. he’s afraid you might say something, anything, about his off behavior but you don’t; you lean into his touch. one hand so close to touching your tits and the other laid near his crotch. at first, its just little touches while he imagines how your pretty tits would feel, especially in his mouth. but within minutes, hes practically openly palming himself while imagining hes sucking on your tits. his mask is a savior for covering his flushed face. god, and he sees you looking over at him, staring him up and down, and he knows you see his big fat cock pushed against his pants. all you do is give a barely noticeable smile, and look away but he’s already cumming in his pants.

Price who finds your bold personality quite amusing. still calls you a rookie despite you being far from it. it’s a constant game of who can push the other off the edge with the two of you. you’ll visit his office in the later hours of the evening and plop yourself on the edge of his seat. the two of you are having the most mundane conversation, sharing a single chair while the sexual tension is screaming. he’ll move you onto his lap, you’re looking down at him and smiling, he’s looking up at you with a hand gripping your ass. he’s a bold bastard, leaning into your chest, pulling you closer to him until your basically straddling him. god, you’re really pushing his nerves. you should be flustered, an embarrassed mess at his perverted actions. but nooo you’re enjoying yourself, smiling. and lord, he’d be lying if he didn’t enjoy your teasing. now, the question is: how many late evening visits will it take for an overnight stay in the office?

[3amfanfiction]

And We Go again

Simon broke your heart when he left. Is he surprised that you moved on? Why is he showing back up? cw: none, 4k

[Thinking about a Simon Riley who breaks your heart. You’d been together for years when it became too much for him. The constant worry for your safety, the fear that someone would track you through him, it twisted his mind and the only way forward in his thoughts was to cut ties. Cauterize the wounds so the nerves were deadened, no chance of someone finding a sensitive spot.]

He cut ties completely, right from the beginning. No phone calls, no text messages, no contact. He turned into his call sign and was a ghost. Nothing physical remained, only the memories in your mind.

He had the decency to tell you in person. If nothing else he wasn't a coward who hid behind text messages. The argument lasted all night—you trying to convince him you were fine, that nothing was going to happen and him being adamant that his presence was putting you in danger.

He wouldn't listen.

Every point you made had a rebuttal, he had clearly come prepared. But you couldn't help the attempt. Showing your soft underbelly as he cracked you open while extracting himself from your lives. Leaving fissures in your panoply as you tried again and again and please listen to me.

"We were supposed to be forever," your voice broke halfway through, choked by emotion. Sitting in the kitchen, you watched Simon where he stood against the counter, even now trying to put space between the two of you.

"Sometimes—" he swallowed, gaze steady and far too emotionless for someone causing such harm, "sometimes things don't work out like we've planned and we have to adapt and re-strategize. This is one of those times."

"Adapt and re—? I don't want to adapt and re-strategize, Simon!" You turned pleading eyes on him, fighting your tears with a herculean effort, "I want you here with me." You slammed a finger down on the table in emphasis.

Your chest ached. Your heart felt like it was slowly being eaten away with every word from his mouth. Corrosive acid flowing through the veins and corroding the tissue. Slowly eating away until there was nothing left.

"I'm sorry."

he'ssorryhe'ssorryhe'ssorry.

"If you were sorry, you wouldn't be leaving." You could feel yourself losing the fight, against the tears and the breakup both. It wasn't fair. Why did he get to come in and decide you're better off apart? Didn't you get a say?

Not fair not fair not fair. You two had made plans together. You were going to buy a house, maybe get a dog years down the road. None of that was going to happen if he left.

And if he wasn't here anymore, if you didn't have him to lean on, what was going to happen to you?

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do by myself," you broke into a sob, no longer able to hold back. Thick tears ran down your face, "I don't know what to do, I need you, Simon."

Simon walked over and pulled you up out of your seat and into a hug, holding tightly, pressing your face into his chest. You fought it at first before crumpling into him, letting him be strong for the both of you.

One last time.

"You'll be all right. You're tough, you're going to get through this."

It almost made it hurt worse that he was still comforting you, even as he was ripping your heart out. If he was an asshole then at least you would've been able to hate him.

You felt the fabric under your face become sodden with tears as you struggled to bring yourself back under control. It was the work of minutes before you're able to look up at him again, eyes red and swollen but tearless once again.

Seeing his apologetic face above you filled you with annoyance which turned to anger the longer you looked at him.

[At first you were so angry at him. Why? Why did he do this? You were both fine, nothing had happened and nothing was going to, he was just being dramatic. He was hurting the both of you for no reason.]

"No! This is stupid!" you shouted, losing your temper with a frown and a shove, separating yourself from his embrace, ignoring his reaching hands as you take a step back. "You're running because you're scared. The big bad Ghost is scared of something that might happen."

"Sweetheart," he tried, palms faced upward, reaching, tone calm in an attempt at appeasement.

"Don't touch me!" you cried, cutting him off, slapping his hands to the side, "You don't get to act all high and mighty. You're choosing this. You're still stuck in the past, thinking that what happened to your family is going to happen again and it's not!" your voice cracked on the last word, doing nothing but angering you further. You grit your teeth and stuck your chin out, looking to cause hurt equal to what you were feeling, willing to try anything to ease the agony, "You're choosing to end what we have, forever, because you're being a baby. When this whole thing is because you're a little kid who's afraid of the dark, afraid of the past."

"And what if I am?" He finally broke, voice raising to match yours, "I'm allowed to be scared sometimes too! Do you know what it would do to me if you died? If you died because of me?" his face curled into a look of pain so deep it came across as disgust. Needing nothing but the echoes of you being hurt to cause shock waves of agony to ripple across his soul.

"You're not listening to me Simon, I'm not going to die," you tried again, frustrated, knowing it was a futile effort but unable to stop reaching for him, hoping that this time he would reach back.

"Everything around me dies!" he thundered before pulling himself back together, taking a breath to recenter himself. "Everything and everyone. I've watched it in real time, I won't do it again with you." He took a moment to breathe, face evening out, "We're over."

[But he wouldn’t listen, convinced that he had the right of things. He packed up his things and left--leaving you crying at the kitchen table, not looking back.]

He left you in the kitchen, heading towards the back of the house only to quickly return, bags clutched in his hands.

He planned this. He must have if he was already packed and ready to walk out the door. You never had a chance of changing his mind.

"I'm rotten, through and through," he hesitated by the door still looking at you, not wavering for a moment, even when it was painful, "and I'm doing what's best for you. You don't see it right now but you will one day." Looking at you one last time as if to memorialize you in his mind, he turned and walked out the door.

"You're a coward, Simon Riley!" You shouted, waiting until the door was shut before breaking down into gut wrenching sobs, crumpling forward to bury your face in your arms and wail.

[You move on. If he thinks you’re going to pine for him forever he’s mistaken. The best thing you can do for yourself is to try and be happy. Whatever that looks like.]

You made it to the grocery store and the corner bookstore this week. You were angry at the fact that being able to go two places was a milestone. You expected to lose a lot of things when a relationship ended but this was a bitter truth.

Everything reminded you of him and what you'd lost at first. The street corner where he snuck a kiss, the grocery aisle where you squeezed his ass and made him jump three feet in the air, the park that had the pop-up hot chocolate stand you stopped at the day you were caught in the snow.

You hated it.

If it would have been reasonable, you'd have moved. Packed up what you wanted and left the rest. But moving took money and you were down to one income now. You would be staying right where you were and would work through your triggers as they came.

And they weren't shy about making their presence known. You had broken down more times than you cared to count over the weeks since he left, some days not even able to leave the bed. It was horrid and felt like you were trapped in a nightmare.

It wasn't sustainable. You couldn't live the rest of your life having a break down every time you thought you saw Simon in a crowd, every time you caught a whiff of his scent, every time you thought you heard him saying your name. You were miserable and you didn't want to be.

So you set about to change it in any way you could.

[You put in the work. You find out who you are single, who you are when you don’t have Simon’s shadow standing behind you, and what brings a smile to your face.]

You knew what you were working towards, you just didn't know how to get there. How do you heal from a wound that ripped you in two? Your anchor, your person, was gone and you needed to be okay standing, however unsteadily, on your own feet.

It seemed easiest to start with the small things.

You signed up for a painting class. Once a month you sat in a room with a handful of other people and you all painted the same picture. Some months turned out better than others but it did what it needed to, it got you out of the house.

You even made new friends which you weren't expecting.

They encouraged you to continue branching out. Figure out what made you happy. You liked the painting classes, although you're unsure if it's the painting or the people who made it enjoyable.

You tried a book club and a needle-point class but neither were quite what you wanted so you kept searching. Indoor rock climbing, weekend dog walking, ceramics, working on a theater backdrop for the local school—if it was something you could jump into, you tried it. Each class was a page in your book, perhaps not a lot by itself but it slowly told the story of who you were.

It took a while but you started to figure out who you were, the things you enjoyed, what made life a little more.

[You weren’t expecting to fall in love again. She’s wonderful, so it happens quickly.]

You made a friend at the painting classes you still went to, every other week now. She was one of the instructors and you saw her every class.

It was surprising how easily she made you smile.

It didn't take long before she was sitting you up front, closest to her when setting up for the evenings. You began to have inside jokes, knew each others preferences, good-naturedly teased one another.

It frightened you when you realized what this feeling growing inside of you was. You were trying to get over heartbreak, not set yourself up for another round of hurt.

You tried to pull away, telling yourself it was for your own good, it was for protection. But she wouldn't let you. She reached out when you went silent, asked after you if you skipped a painting class. She made sure you knew you were wanted and that your presence was never a burden.

That you were never a burden.

When she asked you out there was only one answer.

[Sweet and kind, she has a steady head on her shoulders and she loves to make you smile. She’ll pepper kisses across your nose and cheeks, tuck her hand into your back pocket to squeeze your butt when you least expect it, and always has your favorite drink at her house.]

You took it slow, which was a struggle with how easy everything was.

Lunches turned to date nights turned to day trips turned to sleepovers.

Things weren’t perfect but they were good.

If you disagreed, you discussed it. No arguments, no hurt feelings, just conversations. And she was so demonstratively affectionate you never had to wonder about her feelings. She showed them in innumerable kisses dusting your face and any skin she could get a hold of. If you were walking she had your fingers threaded together, occasionally bringing your hands up to her mouth for a kiss or a tiny nibble.

You were standing in line at the grocery and she came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and placing her chin on your shoulder to wait, whispering in your ear about these shorts make your ass look perfect, baby before giving it a squeeze. Laughing at your resultant yip and looking innocent when the cashier turned to look at you, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

[How could you not fall in love with her? When you think the word home her face is what pops into mind. Her laugh is what you hear when you get caught out in the rain, soaked and irritable-it always calms you down, her smell when the annoyances of the day gets to be too great.]

It didn’t surprise you this time when you realized your feelings. It had been a long time coming, slowly growing with each kind word and cheerful moment shared. Now that you could see it was there, you were surprised you hadn’t recognized this wellspring of love before.

Because you did. You loved her. And you weren’t scared of it. It was hard to be scared when you knew she was right there with you.

You realized it after an exhausting day at work. Everything that could go wrong, did. You were short staffed and a delivery which was supposed to be there the night before never showed up so you had to handle it.

It was exhausting and you were tired and wanted to cry.

Your phone lit up with ‘Babe’ on your way home. It was her warm, hi baby, that had your shoulders lowering from your ears. She kept you company the whole way, listening to you about your day and the mishaps you’d had to deal with.

By the time you walked through the door she was putting the finishing touches on one of your favorite comfort meals, the couch was set up with everything you could need and the TV was queued. When she smiled at you, you really did break down with a sob, too overwhelmed at the gesture to hold back.

She let you cry on her shoulder while she rubbed your back.

[So you twine together, tighter and tighter as the months go on, milestones and anniversaries coming and going. Until one day you hear a knock on the door.]

How long had you been together? It felt like forever and not at the same time. You knew it has been long enough that you’d started setting money aside each month. Something that would go towards a ring in the future.

You were cleaning the kitchen while Babe was in the back, having given your pup Cooper a bath and now trying to get him semi-dry before he hopped up on the bed or couch.

You could hear her singing to him as she dried him, a little ditty she made up just for him—Cooper, Cooper, you’re such a trooper, look at that handsome smile, look at that shiny coat, you’ve got so much style, please sir can I get a quote?

Cooper knew his cue and gave the tiniest little boof at the end. You smiled as you pictured the scene, knowing she had given him a kiss between the ears at his participation.

You’d finished wiping the counters when you heard the knock.

[It’s a booming knock, one you haven’t heard for quite a time. You know who it’s going to be before you ever get to the door, your partner returning from the back of the house, making her way towards you.]

It was a knock from fists too large to rap gently and too used to battering down doors, besides. It had been years since you heard that sound and your breath started to pick up as your feet automatically took you to the door, helpless to stop the catastrophe before it began.

You had been doing good! Things were better now than they had been for a long time, why was he showing up at your doorstep? You didn't want him here!

It was like a Pavlovian response. The last time you saw him you had experienced pain your mind shied away from even now. You can’t help but to feel his return was going to bring that pain back too.

You reached the door and pulled it open after only allowing yourself a steadying breath, looking up, up, up at him.

Simon.

[He hadn’t changed much in the time he’d been gone. Although it’s hard to see any new scars when he was covered up like that.]

You had forgotten how big he was. How if you only looked at his mass instead of his eyes it was easy to be intimidated by his size.

But you knew this man. You had seen him cry when his nightmares became too vivid, had rubbed his back as he vomited into the toilet, listened to the most heinous cough first thing in the morning when he was trying to clear his throat. He was undoubtedly just a man, no matter how forbidding.

He looked good at least. He had a healthy weight on him and you couldn’t see any wounds. New scars were still to be determined though.

You wondered if you were allowed to see under his mask any more.

[“Simon,” a sigh, already tired knowing him showing up on your doorstep could be nothing but trouble.]

“It’s been a while,” you said, forcibly calm, staying in the doorway, keeping him outside. You couldn't be hurt if he stayed outside, right?

You wondered what brought him here, now, after all this time. You didn’t separate on good terms—he made sure of that. You weren’t the type of exes to drop by each other’s house or send Christmas cards. Hell, you didn’t even bump into each other in the store.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he rumbled

You wondered what he would do if you said, yes, you are interrupting, you’re no longer wanted here. Would he argue? Or would he turn around and leave?

Which did you want?

“What do you need?” you asked instead, avoiding his statement.

[Arms wrap around your waist before he can respond, who's this? and you don't hesitate to share. You have no interest in keeping secrets.]

You startled when she touched you, too focused on Simon to recognize her footsteps coming up the hallway, headed your way. Cooper was probably shut into the bedroom so he wouldn’t dart out the door. As her chin tucked onto your shoulder, she asked, “Who’s this?”

How did you explain Simon? How did you tell the woman you hoped to one day marry about the man you had expected to marry? That guide wasn’t in the latest how-to quiz on the internet surprisingly.

Still, she made it simple for you. She was incredibly easy to talk to, both when you were learning who the other person was and over the course of your relationship. You had had these conversations with her before. On nights when you had woken up crying or weekends when the drinks flowed freely. You had talked about who Simon was to you, what your relationship with him was like, the expectations, and then the eventual end.

So really, all you had to do was introduce them.

“Babe, this is Simon.”

[She offers him a warm cuppa because that's the kind of person she is. You'd like nothing more than to close the door in his face, uninterested in opening yourself back up to the hurt. Your tether to him was a scarred over nub, nothing there to support leftover feelings. He made sure of that.]

You weren’t sure how you all got to the kitchen. It was as if it was instantaneous between one blink and the next. It was utterly your partners doing, though, of that you were positive. And as you cradled the steaming cup of tea in your hands you realized again how thankful you were for her.

But you still didn’t want Simon here. In this sanctuary you’d made, free of his influence. He hadn’t pulled any punches when he ended things and you found yourself unwilling to be back in a situation where he could hurt you again.

You didn’t know what to say to him, how to start a conversation anymore. You used to be able to ask him anything, now you couldn’t even ask if everything was okay.

Seeing him sitting across from you at the table was surreal. You had come to terms with never seeing this again so it was shocking. You felt like you were concussed, your thoughts jumped from one topic to another, never staying on one thought all the way through. You didn’t know how you were going to handle tonight.

Babe must have taken pity on you because she stepped in and took up the conversation, starting with introducing herself. It let you zone out. You were aware of the cadence of tone between the two of them but the individual words felt muffled as though spoken through a thick door.

What was he doing here. You didn’t want to see him.

You didn’t.

Right?

Obviously you were happy he appeared unhurt. Even right after the breakup you hadn’t wished him ill. Did that mean you still cared for him in some capacity? You thought that it might.

You tuned back in as chairs scraped across the floor, the other occupants both standing before heading to the living room, Babe making a detour to grab bedding from the hallway closet before meeting Simon by the couch.

[Why is she offering to let him spend the night? Babe you don't need to do that . . . babe?]

What did you miss? You weren’t paying attention but surely you would’ve heard her offering him a place to stay for the night. She knows she doesn’t have to do this right?

You kept quiet while she made up the couch, still not ready to have a real conversation with Simon and it seemed he felt the same way with how he made sure to keep your partner between the two of you as often as possible.

You decided you didn’t want to be here anymore. You’d reached the end of your rope, unable to play at indifferent any longer. Spinning on a heel you strode for the bedroom, anything to put distance between you and the feelings you felt bubbling up like acid, corroding your throat and causing your nose and eyes to burn. Just like when he left. You knew him showing up was going to cause you pain.

It was eons before she made her way back to the bedroom with you. Watching as she crawled under the covers you asked, “Why is he here? Why did you let him stay?”

“Because he needed it.”

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Made A Beautiful Mess, I Guess

Steven Grant x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 4: Collars

Summary: Steven has a surprise.

A/N: Thank you @thexsanctuaryx for fixing my typos and rambles and the mess I made.

Warnings: swearing, collars, sub!Steven (but cheeky), oral (both receiving), dry humping, lube, butt plugs, 69, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 3006

Steven shifts a little, sinking his teeth into his thumbnail. He moves again, adjusting his position on the bed as he fiddles with the open box in front of him. 

He shouldn’t have bought this. 

Shame burns low in his chest, igniting his anxiety further. Faintly, in the very back of his head he can feel Marc stirring. It’s not often now that they aren’t in constant communication with each other, but he doesn’t want his input at the moment. 

“Vegan bacon.” He mutters quietly to Marc, his signal that he’s fine but needs a little alone time.

He can feel Marc’s thumbs up, hazy and distant as he fades further back and away.

“Thanks, mate.” He whispers out loud and sighs.

He really shouldn’t have bought this. 

“Hi!” You call out cheerily as you open the door and put your bag down, pulling off your shoes quickly. “I…”

You pause as you see Steven jump, almost cat-like in his sudden panic. He spins around on the bed, eyes wide and panicked like you’d just caught him with his hands in the cookie jar.

You look at him, “You okay?” 

“Yes, hi– hi Love!” He jumps up from the bed, hands behind his back, then looks to the bed, to the box on top of the covers. Then back to you. He swallows. “How, how are you? How were the shops? Good, yeah? Always good those corner shops, always tip top. That’s a funny saying, isn’t it? Tip top, tip top. Wonder where that came from, I mean it makes sense, doesn’t it? The highest, you know? The top? So the best and-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you take a step forward, your voice soothing and kind.

He freezes, rabbit in the headlights as you get closer and then dramatically looks to the box on the bed. 

“What’s in the box, Steven?” You somehow manage to resist turning the question into a Seven reference. 

“I… erm…” He swallows, his shoulders slumping. “Nothing?”

“Are you asking me?” 

He sighs, “No, love, I’m sorry.” He sits down on the edge of the mattress, looking very sorry for himself. 

You walk over, sitting down next to him softly and purposefully ignoring every screaming urge to look at the box’s contents. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask, leaning your shoulder against his to invite physical contact. 

“I…” He shakes his head, screwing up his eyes. “This is so stupid, I’m sorry, I’m making a big deal out of this, aren’t I? Yes.” 

“It’s okay, it’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.” You pat his thigh soothingly. 

He nods glumly for a moment before he turns and grabs the box behind him and hands it to you. 

He stares at his fingers, nervously fiddling with the skin around his thumbnail. 

What’s in the box, is not what you were expecting. To be honest, you weren’t actually sure what you were expecting, but still. 

Inside, wrapped in pretty tissue paper, was a collar with a large metal loop stitched onto the front. There were also matching wrist and ankle cuffs, the latter of which were connected by a spreader bar. 

“These are nice.” You say gently as you admire them. 

Steven groans, squirming a little and putting his head in his hands. 

“What?” You can’t keep the little smile out of your voice at the sound of his whine. “Steven?” You put your hand on his shoulder. 

“You’re taking the piss.” He grumbles through his fingers.

“I’m not.”

“You are.” 

“Steven,” you put the box down on the floor so you can kneel on the bed and lean closer to him. You kiss his cheek. “I am not taking the piss, mick, or anything out of you.” 

It takes a moment but he looks at you through a gap in his fingers. “It’s stupid.” 

You shake your head. 

“I should have talked to you first.” 

Your expression softens, “Why? You don’t need my permission to buy things?” 

“No, but,” He sits up a little, moving his body fully to face you. “I… I don’t know if you want to use them with me… I should have asked if you were interested in…”

“In tying you up?” You ask with a smile. 

He blushes a little, a faint hint of pink highlighting his cheeks and the very tip of his ears. “Yeah.” 

You kiss his cheek, a giddy feeling settling in your stomach. “I’ll tie you up.” 

Steven swallows, the audible gulp echoing around the room. 

For a long moment, you watch him, raking your eyes over his face and form as he squirms softly under the weight of your gaze. 

“Strip.” You finally say, your voice low but commanding. 

He jumps to his feet instantly, hurriedly undoing his belt buckle and pushing his jeans and boxers down his legs. His cock springs free, semi hard already as he kicks his trousers off his feet and pulls off his shirt and top. 

You have to put a steadying hand on his hip to help him to keep his balance, and stop him from cracking his head open on the side table. His skin is warm, practically vibrating under your touch as anticipation shivers and flutters in his stomach. 

When, in record time, he’s bare, you give him a second to breathe, to look at you with darkening eyes before you nod your head nonchalantly to the bed. 

He practically jumps onto it, wiggling into the middle on his back and giving you an eager grin. His anxiety having completely jumped out of the window the second you said you were on board. 

You snort, grabbing the ankle straps and spreader out of the box and kneeling on the bed. He parts his legs immediately, giving his hips an extra jiggle as he moves to make his cock bounce. 

“You’re so naughty, Steven.” You giggle and he nods rapidly. 

“So naughty, love. I deserve to be put in my place, have some kind of punishment.”

“Oh really?” You take hold of his left leg and secure the cuff.

“Definitely.” He gives you a cheeky wink. 

“Is that okay?” You check as you buckle the fastening, “Not too tight?” 

He shivers as you pull the fastening, swallows, and then wiggles his foot. “Nah, all good, feels right.” 

You nod, “Okay,” and take hold of his other ankle. “Let me know though, straight away, if it becomes uncomfortable in a non sexy way.” 

He mirrors your nod, his cock twitching. “I promise. Straight away.”

“Good.” You smile, enjoying how he lets you manhandle him a little as you adjust the spreader once both feet are secured and move him into the position you want.

He bites his lip as he smiles, watching you gleefully as you get up and move to his wrists. He holds them out to you instantly, holding them steady as you put on the bracelet cuffs and shivering again as you tighten them. 

You notice how his dick twitches again, how hard it has grown. But you don’t comment on it. 

Slowly you move his hands over the top of his head and attach the chain to his right wrist, threading it through the headboard a few times before clipping the end onto his left.

“That okay?”

He gives a soft experimental tug, there’s a fraction of movement in the position he’s in, and he nods and smiles, “Perfect.” 

“Alright, do you want a pillow under your head?” 

He shakes his head.

“I’m gonna put one under your hips though, is that okay?” 

He nods. 

“Okay,” you grab one from the top of the bed, the memory foam one that you know he likes, and slide it underneath him, making sure his lower back is supported. Steven helps as much as he can in his position, arching up and wriggling into place. 

You straddle his thighs, purposefully trying your best to avoid touching his leaking cock, so you can lean down and put on the collar. 

Steven’s breathing hitches, his eyelids heavy as he raises his head to assist. You pull it closed, about to fasten the metal buckle when he whispers. 

“Tighter, please.” 

His heartbeat echoes along the rich length of his dick, his plump bottom lip pouted out ever so slightly as he breathes hard. 

“Of course.” You kiss his nose and he groans, the sound increasing in volume as you tighten the collar. “How’s that?” 

“Good.” He moans, the sound is strained, but not from the difficulty of talking. 

“Good.” You mirror, looking over him for a moment all spread out and tied up for you. The only thing that’s missing is a sleek, bright ribbon in a bow around his chest. Then it would be perfect.

You give the metal loop on the collar a soft, experimental tug that has his back arching and pliant moans eagerly leaving his lips.

Steven whines a little as you get up, watching you intently as you open the side drawer and pull out a few things. You hold up the vibrating butt plug to him with an eyebrow raised and he nods rapidly again. 

“Yes, please.” 

You smile and kiss his forehead, nuzzling into his hair for a moment before you sit back on the bed by his feet and get comfortable. 

It takes you a good thirty seconds longer than necessary for you to settle. Just amping up Steven’s waiting time until see a tiny tremor run through his stomach muscles, then you flick open the bottle of lube and coat the butt plug liberally. 

Steven shivers at the sound of the lube, a practically Pavlovian response at this point.

The plug is a light sky blue, the kind that wouldn’t look out of place on a crisp winter’s day and it’s not particularly wide. You know from experience that Steven can handle much, much bigger without any problem, and that this toy, in particular, he likes to take without any prep. How he enjoys the sensation of being slowly stretched open with it, how his thighs shake and voice catches when you turn it on and let the vibrations drive him to the highest of pleasures. 

Steven shivers as you press the bulbous tip against his entrance, raising his knees to make the access easier. 

He gasps as you push, twisting it slightly back and forth as you ease it past his tight ring of muscle. 

“Oh fuck, love, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he squirms as much as he can, his hips bucking shallowly as you fit the plug inside and it settles against his prostate. 

You grin wickedly, a dampness growing between your legs as you watch him writhe. “Right spot?” You tease.

“Yep, yes, yep, definitely, perfect, oh!” He groans, his eyes rolling back as you turn it on. The vibrations hum around the room, a low hum that has Steven gasping and shuddering instantly. No matter how many times you used the toy he never fully got used to the feeling of it, the deep buzz that fans out in his stomach and spreads rapidly along his veins. 

You enjoy the sight before you for a moment before you stand, rolling your neck and stretching your arms. For a moment you consider going to the bathroom, or at least somewhere out of Steven’s line of sight, to listen to his sweet sounds in private. 

“Please,” he says so gently, his eyebrows pitched together, seemingly having read your mind. “Please, stay here and,” he groans, closing his eyes for a second, “please, your turn to strip?” He blinks heavily, knowing you can’t resist it when he pulls that expression, that you would do practically anything he asked. 

You let out a small laugh and click your tongue, “You’re not playing fair Grant.”

He flutters his eyelashes at you. “What do you mean? I always play fair.” 

“Liar.” You chastise and he grins widely as you begin to pull off your shirt.

You strip slowly, making more of a show of it than is completely necessary, but savouring the little pants and moans that escape from Steven’s lips. How they slowly grow louder and louder as more of your skin is exposed to the air. 

When your bra joins the rest of your clothes on the floor his groan is guttural and deep, his arm muscles tense as you slowly rub your breasts, teasing your nipples until they harden under your fingers. 

“Ugghhh, love…” He licks his lips as he watches you greedily. “Want them in my mouth, please.” 

You giggle and shake your head. “You don’t get to boss me around.”

He lets out a frustrated moan. “I’m not ordering, I’m asking nicely.” 

But you chuckle again, “I know your plans Steven, I know how you cheat to get your way.” You tap your fingers along his ribs as you speak, punctuating each word. 

He groans again, pretending to pout but unable to fully hide his smile. “Meanie.”

“Oh,” you take off your panties, now completely naked, “I’ll show you mean.” 

He gulps, his eyes shining with excitement. 

You climb on top of him, your knees on either side of his hips as you settle down to rest your soaking folds along his warm length. You can feel the vibrations running along his skin. 

He hisses, his eyes rolling back for a second as your pussy makes contact. “Mmmm, yes, that’s it.” 

You know what he expects, for you to rise up and take him in hand, to line him up and slowly sink down. But you don’t. 

His eyes open quickly at the sound of you opening the lube bottle again.

“Love?” 

“Hmm?” You pretend to ignore him as you pour some on the tips of your fingers and slowly reach down and circle your clit. 

You gasp at the slight coolness, leaning back and putting your free hand on the bed between his legs to keep your balance. 

He groans, gasping. “Oh fuck, yes, yes, yes,” he bucks his hips a little, his chest heaving as you rub between your legs, slowly grinding back and forth against his cock and coating him in your slick. 

“Fuck, all nice and hot and wet,” he bites his lip between his teeth, holding his head up as far as he can to watch you fuck yourself. “Mmmmmm, love, god yes, feel so good rubbing against me.” He gasps, his voice rising at the end as he feels your pussy and thighs twitch. 

He looks up at you with desperation, breathing rapidly as heat begins to build at your core. 

“Love, love, fuck, please look at me?” 

You do exactly as he asks straight away.

“Oh god yes, thank you, thank you, does it feel nice? Do you feel good?” 

You nod, a soft whine bubbling in your chest. 

He swallows, his voice thick, “Rise up for a second, yeah? Put more lube along my dick and then rub against it more, really fuck yourself against it.” 

You nod again, your body moving to do exactly what he asks before your brain has even registered the words. You sit up, grab the lube and practically empty half the bottle along his thick cock and heavy balls.

Steven shivers, the coolness quickly easing as you use your hand to spread it liberally. “Oh fuck, yeah, that’s it. All nice and slippery for you. Come back on.” 

He bites his lip as you settle back into position, “Lean forward this time love, yeah?” He whispers, his voice thick.

You shift, putting your hands either side of his head and he groans approvingly as your pussy rests against his cock. 

“Can you keep your balance on one hand?” He asks. 

You nod again, your mind thick with a hazy lust. “I think so.” 

“Okay, good, so that and pull on my collar with your other hand, yeah?” 

You take hold of the loop softly, tugging just enough for him to whine. 

“Oh fuck, god, yeah, just like that.” He moans long and hard as you start to rub your slit against him, up and down, your slick leaking out and mixing with the lube. 

“Pussy feels so good,” he chokes out, “always so sweet and dripping and just ready for me.” He whines, rocking his body against you and gasping when you moan loudly. 

You pick up your pace, your muscles tensing under the strain of your rapid movements.

“Gonna come love? Gonna come from fucking yourself on my cock?” He wriggles underneath you, his voice thick as you give the collar another harsh tug that goes straight to his dick and makes his balls draw up. “Oh love,” he whines, “gonna make me come, gonna make such a mess and, and,” he hiccups, trying to keep a hold of himself but the glide of your against him is too much. And when your spine bends, letting out a deep moan of pleasure he sobs and shoots his load all over both of your stomachs, his mind whiting out.

You gasp, muscles twitching as you come hard, the euphoria exploding along your skin and momentarily paralysing you in place. 

It takes you a moment to come back to yourself, breathing hard and bucking shallowly, spreading more lube and both of your releases all over your chests and stomachs. 

Steven gives you a sugary sweet smile, blissed out as you sit up, lean back and turn off the vibrations. 

“Mmm, thank you love,” he wriggles a little, biting his lip. “I think, maybe, I could come again.”

“You want to keep playing?” You smile.

He nods eagerly, “Do I want to keep playing? Of course, I do.” 

You giggle and get up, changing your position so that you’re on all fours facing his cock, your pussy by his lips. 

“Make me come again too.” You whisper as you lean forward, take his semi hard cock in your hand and flick your tongue over the tip, swallowing down some of his release. 

Steven whines, gasping before he buries his face into your heat.

Thank you for reading!

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