#do not ask me what kind of bug. she's a bug

[rainrot4me]

your girl dad jeff post has got me in a chokehold!!! /pos

i was wondering if you would be willing to maybe do girl dad brian or tim too? :]

Hehehehehheeh I love what I’ve started.

── .✦

Masky’s girl. The daughter of a man who speaks in grunts and violence but melts at the sound of “Daddy.”

“You okay, baby?�� It’s the phrase he says the most. Doesn’t matter if she fell off the swings or got overwhelmed in the grocery store—Masky’s immediately crouched beside her, gently gripping her little face in his scarred hands, eyes searching hers with that quiet intensity only she can handle.

“Use your words. What do you need from me?” He listens. Every time. Always.

He reads to her in a low, gravelly voice, one arm wrapped around her like a steel cable while she curls up under his jacket.

Doesn’t matter what the book is—fairy tale, adventure, bedtime story—he treats it like sacred ritual. If she interrupts to ask a question, he stops and explains it like it’s the most important thing he’s ever been asked.

“The bear’s not mean, sweetheart. He’s just scared, like people get sometimes.”

She gets night terrors, and you don’t even have to call him. Masky’s already in her room before she fully wakes up, sitting at her side and running a thumb over her brow until she calms.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Breathe for me, baby.”

You catch him on the couch watching her sleep sometimes, completely still. Mask half-on, eyes hollow—but there’s that crack in his armor when he brushes her hair back and whispers, “You make all of this worth it.”

First time she cries because of someone at school? He doesn’t say a word. Just kisses her temple and walks out of the house for a few hours. (You know he didn’t hurt anyone… but he definitely scared their shit straight.)

His biggest fear is losing her. So he teaches her self-defense like it’s another form of love. “You aim for the throat. You run. You don’t freeze, you hear me?”

The day she asks him why he wears a mask around strangers, he just sighs and lifts her into his lap. “Because I’m scared people will look at me wrong. But you never do.”

She hugs him tighter. Tells him he doesn’t need it. He doesn’t take it off yet—but he lets her see him. You two are the only people he doesn’t mind not putting up a shield for.

Every drawing she makes of “Daddy” gets pinned to the kitchen fridge. Even the ones where he has three teeth and giant bug eyes. “She nailed the hair though,” he mutters.

He would rip this world apart piece by piece if it ever got too close to her, no matter what.

── .✦

Hoodie’s sweetheart. The only thing in this godforsaken world that keeps him human.

Hoodie is the kind of dad who doesn’t talk a lot, but who watches everything. He knows exactly when she’s about to cry—before she even realizes it. He notices when she’s off, when she lies about being okay, when she drops a crayon because she’s tired.

“…C’mere, bug.” He’ll just pull her into his lap without a word and hold her there. Calm heartbeat. Gloved hand stroking her back.

She always calls him “Daddy,” even when she’s older. He pretends to be annoyed about it, but it makes his throat tight every time.

“Still my little girl, huh?” He says it like a joke. She knows it’s not.

He teaches her how to use a camera before she can even spell the word. She wanders the backyard with an old Polaroid in hand, taking shaky, blurry photos—and Brian keeps every single one.

There’s a box in his room labeled “Her Eyes.” It’s sacred. No one touches it.

Hoodie is terrifying when someone hurts her. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just suddenly gone for a few hours. The school bully never bothers her again. His teacher gets real quiet when Hoodie shows up for parent meetings.

One time, a neighbor made her cry—Brian just stood on their porch the next morning, silent, unmoving, hoodie up, until the man closed his blinds and never spoke again.

She always puts stickers on his gear. His gloves, his boots, even his spare mask. You catch him brushing one off his sleeve once—and then peeling it off carefully and sticking it to the corner of his laptop instead. “She said that one looked like me. I’ll keep it.”

When she falls asleep on him? Hoodie freezes. Like he’s afraid any movement will wake her. He leans his head against hers, tucks her close, and finally… lets himself breathe. You swear he sleeps better those nights.

She grows up soft, but sharp. Independent. And Hoodie is ferociously proud of that.

“That’s my girl,” he says when she stands up for someone.

“That’s my girl,” when she bandages his hand after a job.

“That’s my girl,” when she hugs him for no reason.

His girl forever and always.

꩜ .ᐟ

[sturniololuvz]

Could you do something of either dad!matt or dad!chris helping their teen daughter through her first breakup?

(i’m obsessed with your teendad!chris btw it’s so good!!)

💄teendad!chris

It was already dark when Chris heard the front door click shut a little too hard.

He glanced up from the kitchen sink where he was rinsing out Daisy’s favorite water bottle — the one with the cartoon stickers she never let anyone touch. She’d been out with her friends, supposedly just going to get smoothies and walk around the outlet mall.

But the second she stepped into the kitchen, he knew something was off.

Her face was pale, blotchy. Eyes red. And she wasn’t talking — not even a “hi, Dad.” No humming. No teasing. No asking what was for dinner.

“Bug?” he asked gently, setting the bottle down. “Everything alright?”

She shook her head once, sharply. Her bottom lip wobbled and her voice cracked when she muttered, “No,” and turned away fast, wiping her face with her sleeve.

Chris’s whole body froze for a second.

It was like the air in the room changed. Like something sank in his chest.

He followed her slowly down the hall, watching her retreat into her room and sit on her bed. She didn’t slam the door, but she didn’t close it either — a silent invitation.

So he came in.

She didn’t look at him, just picked at the hem of her hoodie with shaking hands. Chris sat beside her, carefully, giving her space.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, voice soft and steady.

She shrugged. Then, like a dam broke: “He dumped me.”

Chris blinked. “What?”

Her face crumpled. “He fucking dumped me, Dad. Like I’m nothing.”

The word hit him like a slap. Not the cursing — though it still felt weird to hear her say it — but the pain behind it. That kind of hopeless ache in her voice that he hadn’t heard since she was a little girl with a skinned knee and a broken toy.

Only this was way worse.

He swallowed hard. “Daisy…”

“I didn’t even see it coming,” she whispered. “He just said it wasn’t working. That he needed space. That I was too much. Like—like he didn’t even care.”

She curled her legs up and buried her face in her knees, and that was it.

Chris reached for her.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in, holding her like he used to when she was five and afraid of thunderstorms. Her hair smelled like coconut shampoo, and her body shook in his arms.

She cried into his chest. Big, messy, heartbroken sobs.

And Chris—Chris just held her. Quietly. Tightly. His jaw clenched, eyes blinking fast.

Because yeah, part of him wanted to go find that boy and make him regret ever laying eyes on his daughter. But most of him just ached for her.

“I hate him,” she whispered at one point.

“I know, baby.”

“I gave him everything. I was so good to him.”

Chris rested his chin on top of her head. “You were. You are.”

She sniffled. “What’s wrong with me?”

His arms tightened.

“Nothing,” he said, voice low and full of emotion. “Absolutely nothing. You hear me?”

She didn’t answer, so he pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt her face up so she had to look at him.

“You are smart and kind and beautiful and way too good for some high school boy who can’t handle that. He let go of you, Daisy. Not the other way around.”

Her eyes filled again.

Chris’s own were red now. He cleared his throat. “I wish I could take this pain for you. God, I wish I could. But I promise you — this won’t be what defines you. You’re gonna heal, and one day someone’s gonna show up who sees all the things that dumbass missed. And they’re gonna be lucky to have you. But for now? You’ve got me.”

She folded into him again. “Thank you, Dad.”

Chris kissed the top of her head. “Always.”

They stayed like that for a long time. Just father and daughter. No advice, no fixing. Just love, and safety, and space to hurt.

And even though she couldn’t see it — Chris knew that this, right here, was the beginning of her putting herself back together.

⸻

taglist : @sturniolo-szn2 @fadedstvrn @tezzzzzzzz @stayingstromboli @ivysturnss @sturniolofreakk @ihateemetoo @sturniolo-tease @sturniololuv3r @sturnsclam @nxvasturns @csturniolo43 @mattspillowprincess @sturniolo-fann @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosymphony @bernardmatthews @bugs-tags @emely9274 @arianna1342 @stevielovesmatt @riggysworld @ph3ebssturniolo @whore4chris @amelia4chris @pizzapocketpocketpizza @strxn-2 @xxxxxxlovesstuff @whump-loverz @sarahsturnn @urloveanaa @k-pevensie28 @chrissturniolobendmeovernow @chriss-slutt @lenus1aa @kitty-meow-meow44 @sturnslux3 @blahbel668 @kingofeverythingmb @kenah-sturniolo @sturniolobananas1

[directdogman]

I recall you mentioning which Pokemons corresponded to Dsaf characters, and since I've recently been playing pokemon X, I'm now wondering the same with dialtown characters like Mingus, Roger or EVERYONE ELSE

I wrote an idea for a DT gym leaders + elite four roster for DT ages ago. Sure, I'll bite.

DT GYM LEADERS (in the order of when you face them with some pokemon from their own personal fully evolved teams):

Jerry (Normal): "Strategy? You ask me about fucking STRATEGY?! I have VERMIN Pokémon, you understand?! I should be glad the kids who challenge my gym aren't after my JOB. This is DEGRADING. They GAVE me these dirty birds and rats, ya understand? I didn't ASK for this damned type! So many SICK DOG POKÉMON." (Favourite move: Rest. Has a 2 teams of Stoutlands. I'm sure he has others too.)

Randy (Flying): "Well, my Pokémon are kinda like me. Fr-Fragile. So, my go-to strategy is to hit hard and as FAST as possible before my opponent can shatter my delicate bird team to smithereens! Mathematically, it's gotta be better to hit FIRST!

...Y-Y'know?" (Favourite move: Brave Bird, probably has a Pidgeot, Swanna, Cramorant, Crobat)

Oliver (Steel): "Yo! My pokémon are BUILT for ROBOT FIGHTS and they're made of METAL, so they're sturdy as SHIT. I usually just go nuts and go on an all-out offensive using the gnarly and expertly assembled movesets of yours truly! I'll get to throw everything I have at you while you can barely chip away at my pokémon's metallic armor! Watch OUT." (Favourite move: Heavy Slam, has a Steelix, Skarmory, Magnezone, Aggron)

Karen (Ground): "My pokémon are tanky and have diverse movesets. I utilize field moves. The rest of the world simply does NOT have what it takes to harness the true power of dirt-horse." (Favourite move: Fissure, has a Mudsdale, Dugtrio, Krookodile)

Bigfoot (Grass): [serene ape noises] (Favourite move, Cotton Guard. Has a Simisage, Rillaboom, Shiftry, Abomasnow)

Gingi (Poison): "these ones are the only pokémon out of the awful birds and rats and such that i dragged home that decided to stick around. they seem to enjoy me tent" (Favourite move: Gunk Shot. Has a Muk, Koffing, Garbodor)

God (Psychic): "Personally, I like creepy pokeymen. You know the kind I mean. Mr Mime, Hypno, those freaks. They're my PEOPLE. Why do I keep these strange beings around me? It's to psych you out, you see. All types have weaknesses, making the question of which type is best almost meaningless. So, why not pick Pokémon that deal psychic damage to your opponents? Aha! See? It's psychic-damage. Get it? Like the gym name. Frankly, I just have these guys on-hand because it means that I have a LOT less people showin' up at my gym. I really just see this job as an obligation. Hell, I'd rather be in bed right now. Cancellation is better than Obliteration, that's my motto! Anyway, got any Prize Money?" (Favourite Move: Dream Eater)

Mingus (Dark): "You FOOL. Do I have to SPELL IT OUT for you?! The key to success is simple: Pick a supreme type. Assemble a team of heavy-hitters. It's better if they blend into shadows easily. (I am a sinister person, to be clear!!!) Each of my Pokémon have diverse, punishing movesets which were carefully constructed to inflict status conditions and erode an opponent's stats in battle. Horrible Pokémon that will PUNISH you for daring to face me. If you wake me up in order to fight you at the stupid gym the Pokémon League Confederation FORCED ME to set up here at Town Hall, I WILL fucking END YOU." (Signature Move: She's being dead serious right now. I say cut your losses and see give the Orange league a try instead. She has a Liepard though. Of course.)

ELITE FOUR:

Stabby + Shooty (Bug): "Yeah, look, okay. Steel and dark slots were already taken when we applied to be a part of the league. We were GONNA ask for Ghost, or maybe Poison, but Mingus said we'd be a waste of an Elite Four slot and people would throw things at us if we had the expectations that a cooler type would carry. We didn't wanna get hassled, I mean, we're only here so Mingus can keep an eye on what's happening at the League..."

"So, we let her choose the bug type for us. Was she right to set us down this mediocre insect path? We'll be fucked if we know." "Hey, even if this insect stuff was all for nothin', it still wasn't a total waste. I had a rockin' good time out in the forest, collectin' bugs with my bro, and no cat can take that away from me!" "Bro…" (Favourite move: Megahorn. They have a Pinsir, Ariados, Scizor)

Billy (Fire): "I wanted dark, but the cat got to it first. So, I said to myself: "Okay, Puss Puss. You take the dark type and you see what happens. I'm going to make you WISH you'd let me have a large crow instead of a host of animals who were bred specifically for arson." (Signature move: Fire Blast, he has a Houndoom, Charizard, Darmanitan)

Norm (Rock): "All o' my critters are equipped to deal with anythin' that's thrown at us. We've got diverse movepools, emphasis on attack AND speed. Quick on the draw, ready fer anythin'. Solid like a rock." (Favourite move: Stone Edge (which always hits), has a Rhyperior, Aerodactyl, Archeops, Crustle, Tyranitar) CHAMPION:

Callum (Pre-erasure) (Dragon): "You're wondering which type to expect from the Pokémon League Champion? Why, I won't put my name to ANYTHING that isn't to the quality this here country DESERVES, no-siree! My administration's gonna give you nothin' but the BEST, folks! Why, that's right! There's REALLY no topping the Dragon type! Pokémon associated with stories of leadership and Revolution! All of my Pokemon specialize in hard-hitting and devastating attacks like Hyper Beam and Solar Beam, designed to obliterate would-be threats and act as a complete deterrent to any would-be challengers! Trust me: If I getcha, you're gonna FEEL it!" (Has a Haxorus, Hydreigon, Tyrantrum, Frapple)

Crown (Post-Erasure) (Ghost): "I-Is the war over yet? I can't get a signal-" (Favourite move: Destiny Bond) (Gengar, Chandelure, Cofagrius, Dusknoir)

[ladyhoneydarlinglove]

one piece fic | zosan | pride kisses 2025 challenge

{JEALOUS KISS}

“Hey, Zoro!” Sanji hears Chopper exclaim when he’s out on the deck, passing out afternoon snacks to Nami and Robin during their slow descent down from Skypiea. “Where’d you get that mark on your neck?”

“What mark?” Zoro replies.

“This big red one right here!”

When Sanji turns to look, he sees Chopper poking one small hoof at the spot where Zoro’s neck meets his shoulder with a concerned frown. Sanji expects Zoro to wave the little doctor off like he usually does, so it’s a bit of a surprise to instead see the swordsman go bright red from his cheeks all the way down to his collarbones.

“Oh, that?” he says, voice sounding weirdly strangled. “I think that’s just, uh… A bug bite.”

“What? This is a huge bug bite, Zoro! Why didn’t you tell me about it right away? Bug bites can carry all kinds of diseases!” Chopper scolds him. “And with how inflamed this one is already—Although, now that I’m looking at it, it’s not actually very swollen…”

It hits Sanji what this supposed ‘bug bite’ is at exactly the same moment that Robin murmurs, “Oh,” in a delighted tone, while Nami’s face lights up with a beautifully wicked grin as she giggles, “Oh, this I have to see.”

“What the fuck?” Sanji hisses, hand going tight around the drink tray he’s holding. “We only left Skypiea this morning, when did he even have time?”

“He was drinking with someone at the party, wasn’t he?” Robin asks. “Braham, I think his name was?”

“Yeah; they left together once they ran out of booze,” Nami confirms. 

“What?” Sanji whips his head around to stare at her. “Why?”

Nami raises an eyebrow. “Why do you think, Sanji-kun?”

“But���” Sanji starts to say, and then stops. 

Because the rest of that sentence was going to be that’s what he has me for, which is… Insane. That is an insane thought for Sanji to have. For multiple reasons, not least of which is the fact that he and Zoro fool around solely for the purposes of boredom and stress relief, and have never once brought up the idea of being exclusive with each other. Sanji wouldn’t want them to be exclusive, because that would mean he couldn’t pursue any beautiful ladies when the opportunity arises. Hell, just last night he was trying to catch the attention of the lovely Raki during the party, but he struck out.

That must be what the white hot clench of jealousy Sanji currently feels in his stomach is about. The fact that an unwashed, moss-headed brute managed to score while Sanji didn’t, even though he’s clearly the better catch.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath.

“I know, right?” Nami says gleefully, her eyes fully trained on Zoro and Chopper as the swordsman attempts to bluff his way out of a physical examination, which, to judge by the steadily rising pitch of Chopper’s voice, is failing miserably. “He’s so bad at lying.”

“I don’t need to see this,” Sanji scoffs, turning away with a sharp twist. “Enjoy your snacks, ladies.”

He stalks back to the kitchen, lighting a cigarette on the way and trying to remember who the hell Braham was as he puffs on it with unusual vehemence. One of the Shandians, probably; he’d seen Zoro talking to a group of them earlier in the evening. Was Braham the one with the red goggles? Or maybe the one with the stupid hat? Sanji can’t remember. He’s also not sure why he cares.

Zoro can do whatever the hell he likes, Sanji tells himself as he starts in on the dinner prep, slicing and dicing his vegetables like they’ve personally offended him. So what if he slept with one of the Shandians? He doesn’t care. Sanji’s just annoyed that Zoro got some action and he didn’t. He doesn’t care. Sanji didn’t think any of them were all that impressive except for the guy that nearly blew himself up, but whatever. He doesn’t care. Where’d they even get off to, the ruins? Gross. Disgusting. Unhygienic. But also, he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he doesn’t—

“The hell did those bell peppers ever do to you, cook?”

Only years of conditioning not to make any sudden movements with a knife in his hand keep Sanji from jumping out of his skin at the sound of Zoro’s voice.

“What the hell do you want?” he snaps, lifting his head to glare at the moss-headed idiot standing by the table, who scowls right back.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” he retorts. “I just want a snack, jeez.”

“Too bad. Wait until dinner.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I fucking said so, that’s why!” Sanji bites out, knowing that he’s being unreasonable and not caring. He’s irritated because Zoro is out here flaunting his stupid fucking hickey so much that even Chopper noticed it. Not that Sanji cares. “Now get out of my kitchen.”

Zoro’s eyes narrow nearly to slits. Sanji watches a muscle in his jaw tick, and then he crosses his arms, leaning one hip heavily against the table as a wide, sharp-toothed smile spreads slowly across his face.

“Make me,” he challenges.

Sanji’s nostrils flare.

This is stupid, he thinks to himself as he launches himself at Zoro. He’s getting into a fight over nothing. This is stupid, Sanji tells himself as the fight devolves into angry, heated kissing in record time. He doesn’t care about some stupid mark Zoro got from some random guy that they’re never going to see again anyway. This is stupid, he thinks desperately as he shoves Zoro up against the pantry wall, kicking the door shut behind them before latching onto one of his collarbones, making the swordsman groan and twist his fingers tightly in Sanji’s hair. This is stupid, this is stupid, I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care—

The line of bites and bruises Sanji leaves scattered across Zoro’s chest can’t be seen when he puts his shirt back on, because Sanji doesn’t need the ladies scandalized and also he really, really doesn’t want anyone to have to explain to Chopper what a hickey is. But Sanji knows they’re there, and when he catches Zoro running his thumb absentmindedly along the line of them later at the dinner table, it makes his stomach flood with something hot and satisfied.

Not that he cares, of course.

(notes: which one braham is, if you guys even care)

[kirain]

@toonybrin I couldn't resist writing a little fic exploring Millicent and Emmrich's early days. I hope you enjoy it! 💜

The Necropolis gardens were peaceful as always, even for a place teeming with bones, memory, and ghostlight. Millicent walked beside Emmrich in steady silence, her boots brushing over the gravel as they swept the edges of the gardens for any wayward spirits recently departed. A whisper here, a flicker there—most moved on without issue, but every so often, one clung to the world like a burr to cloth.

She paused mid-step.

Just beneath the arch of her boot, something tiny stirred—brown-black, legs scrambling against a dry leaf.

Millicent drew back instantly, her heel hovering a breath above a harmless skin beetle. Sighing through her nose, she crouched and gently slipped a finger under the panicked insect. It wriggled uncertainly, but she cradled it with care, walking a few feet to place it on a patch of cushy dirt at the base of an old tombstone.

When she stood and turned, she realised Emmrich was watching her. His smile was wide and bright, pure in its warmth—and she stiffened, squirming as a noticeable flush crept up her neck.

"...What?" she asked, trying and failing to sound indifferent.

Emmrich's eyes crinkled with affection. "It's delightful to know another Watcher values every life, no matter how small."

Millicent cleared her throat hard enough to sound like a warning. "We're not here to admire bugs. We should get back to our rounds."

"Of course," Emmrich said mildly, falling into step beside her.

But as they walked beneath the shadowed trees and stunning mausoleum stonework, she could feel his eyes on her. Every time she glanced his way, that soft, pleasant smile still lingered on his face. It was neither mocking nor smug.

Just—happy.

And damn it, it was doing something strange to her chest.

She glanced at him again, this time catching the curve of his laugh lines, the tender pull of his crow's feet. The man was aged, yes, but not weathered—he wore time comfortably, like a favourite coat; confidently, despite his crushing fear of death.

His face was kind—too kind—as were his actions, and Millicent wasn't used to being treated that way.

After a while, she frowned and asked, "Why are you smiling so much?"

"Shouldn't I?" Emmrich tilted his head, puzzled. "Forgive me, is it making you uncomfortable?"

"No, it's fine. I'm just... wondering what you're so giddy about. We barely stepped through the Eluvian, and Myrna slapped us with echo duty. I'm not even technically reinstated. We only came here to borrow a tome."

"I love the gardens," he said without missing a beat. "And aiding our fellow Watchers, visiting Nevarra, guiding spirits." He shrugged, a bit sheepish. "And I... rather enjoy your company."

Millicent stared at him.

Then—unexpectedly—she laughed. Just once. A sharp little chuckle. She loved their homeland just as deeply, but he'd barely been away from Nevarra for three weeks, and surely the claim that he enjoyed her company was a jest.

"You're sweet," she muttered, shaking her head. "I think that's what I'll call you from now on. Sweetness. Because you're so sweet, you make me sick."

Emmrich blinked, then gave a chivalrous bow. "Then I shall call you Dearest, for no other reason than you are very dear to me."

Suddenly, her face burned—red as a sunrise.

"I—!" she choked, before turning like a startled cat. "I think—I think I sense a spirit that needs help crossing the Veil."

And with that, she speed-walked ahead—quick, flustered, her heart pounding harder than it ever had on any battlefield.

Making this man laugh with the ulterior motive of deepening those beautiful laugh lines and crows feet 🫶😈

[abarbaricyalp]

From that list “I got you a present” Sambucky. Please?

Not me having so many ideas about this I kind of threw them all together and still didn't cover everything

Like The Birds Do

It started off with fast food. Sam was working late on some strategy planning, which was mostly poring over old debriefs and trying to find a connection. Joaquin had long since gone, out for the kind of weekend Sam was getting too old to enjoy. So he wasn't expecting anyone to come through the door just after ten and turn on one of the tall lamps.

"Hey, I brought you a present," Bucky called, appearing around the small half wall that led into his office. He was carrying two large bags of fast food and Sam's stomach growled before the smell even reached him.

"It's late. Where're you coming from?" he asked. He stood, pulled over a chair to the small table and couch on the far side of the wall and took a bag from Bucky.

"Threatening people is scarier in the dark," Bucky said with a shrug. "No, actually, I was working too. My assistant texted me and told me to stop uploading stuff to the cloud folders. She gets an email when I do, I guess."

Sam snorted and sorted out fries and chicken and burgers. "Look at you, holding down an office job."

"Yeah and what's this place?" Bucky teased back, swapping one of the burgers in front of Sam for one with a 'spicy' customization sticker on the front of it.

"Hey, I still get to jump out of planes, if I want to," Sam defended with a laugh. "If you're still in the working mood, I could use your help with something."

"Eat first, Wilson," Bucky ordered around a mouthful of fries. "Then we can talk about getting in the mood."

Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed the spicy burger.

. . .

The next time, Sam was monitoring bugs from a temporary safe house when he was interrupted.

"Got you a present!" Bucky greeted again. Then, "Stop kicking me."

Sam pulled the headphones off and turned around in time to see Bucky dragging one of the Serpents into the room. The man had his hands tied behind him, but his feet were loose and he was, in fact, kicking Bucky's ankle with every step.

"Are you following me?" Sam asked skeptically.

The Serpent scowled, but shook his head. "Not you," Sam corrected. "Him."

"Me?" Bucky asked, far overshooting innocent. "I've got better things to do with my time. I just happened to be in the area. I knew you were looking for some of these assholes. Sorry, I don't remember your name."

"Copperhead," the man hissed, like he'd already said it a few times.

Bucky grimaced. "I don't like snakes."

"You've mentioned." Copperhead turned his attention back to Sam. "I'm not working with Sidewinder no more."

"That's not what your comings and goings suggest."

"I ain't," the man insisted venomously. "I'm working with a new crew. We're..." He looked around conspiratorially. "We're going after Sidewinder too."

"Do they usually just give you their plans?" Bucky asked Sam.

"I'm telling you, Buck, if you talked things out, you'd avoid a lot of black eyes," Sam said. "But I still don't believe you. You've been slithering back to the den while you're trying to depose him?"

"Cute," Bucky complimented. "How long have you been waiting to use that one."

Honestly, long enough. It was starting to annoy Joaquin. Sam had to get it out of his system now. "Tell me more. What did Sidewinder do?"

. . .

"I bought a present," Bucky told him, coming into Sam's bedroom without knocking.

"What? Why?" Sam asked, shifting how he was kneeling on the other side of the bath tub.

"Because you've been all grouchy and upset about getting hurt," Bucky answered.

Sam looked away from the ice bath he was holding his arms in, over his shoulder towards the door. "Is it a topical anti-venom?" he asked drily.

"Better. It's homeopathic."

"Bucky, you know I don't--"

"If he's sick, am I gonna get sick?" another voice asked.

Oh. That kind of homeopathic remedy. Sam stood up from beside the tub and patted his swollen arms dry gently.

"Nah, he's not sick like contagious sick. He got a little bit poisoned."

"That's why you should be careful running around barefoot outside," Sam added as he came into the bedroom.

Cass and AJ both beamed at him and ran over for hugs. For the first time in four days, he didn't mind the additional pressure on his arms. This was much better than bandages and shots and trying to go about daily life.

"What happened?" Cass asked. "Did you get bitten by something? Here?"

"Was it a poison frog? Did it jump on you?" AJ continued.

"How come you didn't have your Cap suit on?"

"Yeah, or the shield? Was it a snake?"

"Did you know it was poisonous?"

"Someone had poison tipped darts," Sam hushed quickly. He sat down on the edge of his bed. AJ climbed up next to him and Cass remained standing, but leaned against the baseboard of it, leaning closer. "But, yeah, it was snake poison."

AJ gasped and leaned on Sam's shoulder as he jumped in excitement. "Like in the movie!"

"Do you feel weird? Did you feel weird? What was it like?" Cass asked. He was peering at Sam's face, which was probably better than staring at his bruised arms.

"Are you writing a book about it?" Sam shot back, amused.

"Maybe! I could!"

"Was Bucky there?" AJ asked. This was mostly directed towards Bucky. "Did you get bitten?"

"I wasn't bitten," Sam repeated.

"I wasn't there," Bucky answered. He was leaning against the dresser, watching everything unfold with amusement. "Do you think I could've stopped it?"

The boys thoughts about it, then Cass said, "Probably not. Uncle Sam's smart all by himself."

Bucky clutched at his chest. "Ouch, kid."

"Well, maybe!" AJ added. "If they'd shot you with the dart instead."

"Ouch-er," he added.

"Are you gonna get snake powers now?" AJ asked, turning back to Sam.

"No," Sam said firmly. "And that's why you two should be careful outside. You don't get powers from snakes, alright? Just look out for them and leave them alone."

"Okay, but what if--" Cass bargained.

. . .

"Okay, so, I got you a present," Bucky said, sounding like he was defending himself.

Sam looked up from the side fastens of his suit. "What?" he asked. "Now?"

Bucky was already dressed, but, to be fair, this was how he dressed at least thirty percent of the time anyway. He looked fidgety and nervous, which was pretty out of character for him right before a fight. He zoned in faster than anyone Sam knew.

"Well, since you keep insisted on wearing the new suit and haven't asked for full sleeves yet, I got these made." He held out dark red wrist gauntlets. They weren't vibranium, Sam could tell, so he hadn't gone to the Wakandans for this. Which, fair, Sam had seen first hand the stink eye Shuri could give for a stupid suggestion during the design process. Still, they were a good material. Body armor grade, and the good stuff, not the market stuff.

"I don't need you getting bitten again," he added. "Your arms are the only things uncovered, and that's right where they aimed last time. I can't..." A muscle jumped in his jaw and he looked away.

"Hey," Sam said softly. He stepped over to Bucky and put a hand against his cheek. "Thanks. I'll wear them, okay? They look good with the blue, huh? You could be a costume designer if the whole superhero thing starts to bore you."

"Or you could just wear the suit I designed," Bucky added.

"It's a stealth mission. I'm wearing a stealth suit," Sam sighed.

"There's no such thing as a stealth Captain America suit. You've got a giant star on your chest."

Sam sighed again, long suffering, but slid the gauntlets on, then held his hands out. "Come on, charming. Help me clasp the necklace."

Bucky didn't say anything, but he was preening in a quiet, self satisfied way. He did up the fastens quickly, like he'd been practicing, then pulled the edge of Sam's sleeve down over the top. It was a perfect fit. Sam shouldn't have expected anything less.

He turned to look at himself in the reflection of a glass wall, curling his arms in front of himself, then stretching his fingers, swinging his arms, and throwing slow moving punches. "These look really good," he conceded, throwing a grin over at Bucky. "Thanks, man."

"Yeah, sure, of course," Bucky agreed, a blush dusting across his cheeks. "Try not to get poisoned this time."

. . .

Sam still wasn't used to the adrenaline crash. In his head, he was still twenty-two and invincible. Back then, a win meant days of partying. Unconsciousness was a far flung thing.

But his body continually reminded him he wasn't twenty-two. Hell, it had been reminding him of that since he was twenty-seven, if they got down to it.

He hadn't been able to eat more than half a sandwich one of the medical teams had handed him after putting neat little bandages around his eye. He'd barely been able to shower and every temperature was too much. Too hot on his sweat soaked skin. Too cool in the frosty AC of the hotel room. Too weak in between. Crashing into the bed had been the only thing he'd done well since the media debrief.

So he wasn't really surprised when there was a knock on his door approximately ten seconds later. Timid and too well timed, like the person on the other side knew he'd just finished falling apart.

He shoved himself up again, didn't bother with finding a shirt or appropriate pants because he knew who would be on the other side of the door, and opened the door.

Bucky had already taken off the bandages that had been put on his face and arms. He argued about it every time they wrangled him near a medic, but the medics were pretty used to him and they sealed up and covered his wounds while he told them he didn't need them to. He also looked like he'd already showered. His wet hair was held back by a small clip that Sam knew he pretended to hate but kind of loved.

As usual, it took him a few moments to react to seeing Sam. He always had to stare for a few seconds. Let his eyes track down Sam's body until he was sure Sam was still in the same amount of pieces he'd left him in.

"What's up?" Sam asked, to draw Bucky's gaze away from the bruise on his chest from someone's mechanical tail.

Bucky dragged his gaze away like it actually weighed something. "Can I stay in here?" he asked sheepishly. "The AC creaks in my--"

"Yeah, yeah," Sam accepted before Bucky could get far into his meandering rabbit hole of excuses. He stepped back and let Bucky take the door. No use telling him which locks to use. He'd use them all. "I almost expected you to have brought something," he added, teasing. "Seems to be the only reason you show up anymore."

"That's not true. I also kidnap your nephews."

"Willing victims that they are," Sam agreed. "You okay?"

"'Course I am," Bucky assured. He sat on the second bed, stiff, kicking his heel against the bottom frame of it. "They gave you a double? They told me if my sheets weren't clean, I could pull out the couch."

Sam laughed in surprise. "Well, I guess being Captain America has its perks sometimes."

"Sometimes," Bucky agreed without any real conviction in his voice. He kept picking at the scrapes on his knuckles that had already scabbed over. Then he stood again and reached for Sam's wrist.

Sam blinked and stood as well. It felt strangely formal for them. Like an old romance movie. Compared to the nights they'd lay on the floor beside each other, or keep up a conversation on the phone while both doing something else, or be poring over intel at separate desks, always talking until they fell asleep finally, standing to talk was weird.

"I did," Bucky said. It sounded like a scratched record. An abrupt stop to something that should've continued. "I mean, I did bring something for you. I just...don't know if I should give it to you."

"If it's snake fangs, I don't want it," Sam defended quickly. "I don't need any trophies."

Bucky rolled his eyes and his shoulders relaxed by about twenty percent. "It's not snake fangs. I've never even heard of people doing that until your friend Darriel asked if I kept any teeth from that gator I wrestled out of the pool."

Sam hummed fondly at the memory. "Then what is it? If it's not important, we can just wait until tomorrow."

"No it's...it's kind of important. To me. I've been meaning to give it to you for a while."

Sam's head ticked to the side a little, stealing a mannerism from the man in front of him because Bucky's eyes had suddenly darted away and Sam wanted to be in his eyeline. "It doesn't have to do with tonight?"

"Well, no. Not really," Bucky admitted. "It's not that." Sam realized Bucky was still holding onto his wrist because now he was holding Sam's hand and he was shaking. Just a little bit. Barely perceptible. But Sam knew Bucky well enough to notice something like that.

"Buck," he started to say, putting his hand over Bucky's to stop the shivering a little.

Then Bucky kissed him, fast and unsure, more of a collision than he assumed it was supposed to be. Then he pulled away, just as fast, looking for all the world like a little kid.

"Oh," Sam breathed.

"Oh?" Bucky repeated, strangled.

"That's what you were waiting on? Why?"

"Why?" he repeated again.

And they'd get nowhere if all he did was keep copying Sam. So Sam copied him instead, holding Bucky's face this time so they didn't break each other's noses, and kissed him softly, but firmly. "Why would you wait?" Sam clarified when Bucky started to make little needy sounds against his mouth.

"Uh...I don't know? I had other things to give you first."

Sam smiled and shook his head. "You're kind of an idiot," he said. "Come give it to me again," he suggested.

Bucky smiled, like raincloud parting around the sun, and gave Sam another kiss. A few more actually. It was a good present.

. . .

Hello, did you know that Kingfishers, great grey shrikes, and jays will bring food to prospective partners during courtship rituals? That penguins and albatrosses give pebbles as gifts? That several birds partake in allopreening? That crows bring interesting objects to people who take care of them, and cedar waxwings will do so with each other? That building nest structures, or exchanging nest materials, will sometimes come before mating? I just think it's interesting.

[ac-schryver]

I’m officially calling this the Mrs. Skywalker AU

A Little Treat

Obi-Wan felt his eye twitch as The Force, who they now called Mrs. Skywalker, outside of Anakin and Ahsoka, prance around the clones and the battlefield. Padmé had excitedly dressed the woman as they explained what was happening to her.

“Oh, I guess, if this wouldn’t hurt too much,” Padmé had asked that day. “Is Shmi okay now?”

Obi-Wan had watched Anakin and Mrs. Skywalker get the same pinched face, before the later turned back Padmé and patted her head.

“You’re kind to my Anakin, but you both need to have a talk about your relationship,” Mrs. Skywalker had sighed. “Please.”

Anakin had returned that night and crawled into his bed. Obi-Wan had wanted to yell that it was unbecoming, but he felt all response died on his tongue at Anakin’s jagged edges.

Anakin had seemed better after they left Coruscant, the distance between the pair seemed to easy the hurt. When the Force had told Obi-Wan to be more selfish with Anakin, he had thought it was about protecting that marriage, but Mrs. Skywalker had just set it to the tide and the waves ripped through as if cheap flimsi.

“Anakin, lovely,” Mrs. Skywalker called. “I think as a little treat, you should learn Force Lightening. It would really help with these droids.”

“ANAKIN IS NOT LEARNING FORCE LIGHTENING!” Obi-Wan yelled appalled. “That’s a Sith technique!”

“Bah,” Mrs. Skywalker waived her hand at him. “Techniques are only evil if used for evil.”

“Don’t yell at her,” Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing his temples. “Don’t yell at her.”

“I’m mean, the Force Song,” Mrs. Skywalker started walking over to him. “Can be used good and bad. You can enthrall people to be inspired good deeds or worse. You need to stop trying to fit into a tiny little box that won’t fit you, Dear.”

Mrs. Skywalker patted his cheek before walking over to Ahsoka.

“Maybe she’s right?” Anakin frowned rubbing the back of his neck. “What if she’s right about me needing to learn it? I can’t say I don’t see the practical use for it. We could cut the droids down faster with frying their motherboards.”

“And what of the very much normal generals?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Sith spit!” Anakin yelled. “Why would I use it on living beings? The droids I get but the people? I thought you’d want to know it to keep bugs from you.”

“I have no interest in learning the ways of the Sith, and neither should you!”

“You always told me to trust in The Force,” Anakin rolled his eyes. “Why not now?”

“Because I fear the path she wants you to take will lead you to a place I cannot follow,” Obi-Wan frowned. “If it is her will one day for her to tell you to leave my side, I don’t think I could survive that. When she asked you and Padmé to really truly look at your marriage, it broke my heart that night listen to you sob into my night shirt.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin warbled. “I’m not going anywhere. There’s nothing Mother can do to make me leave your side forever. We’ll always find each other, this side of the next.”

“Thank you, Dear One,” Obi-Wan sighed.

“You’re welcome,” Anakin smiled, before turning to see Ahsoka has climbed onto Mrs. Skywalker’s shoulders. “Ahsoka! Get down!”

[yuh13lo]

Too much? | matt sturniolo

The soft hum of the humidifier was the only sound in the dim bedroom. Outside the windows, Boston was blanketed in gray rain, steady and cold. Inside, you were curled up under a heap of blankets, your hair a little messy and your cheeks flushed with a fever. A used tissue clung to your hand, and another threatened to fall from your lap.

Matt stood in the doorway like he was trying to figure out how to knock on a door that was already open.

He had a bowl of soup in his hands—chicken noodle, the kind you always said reminded you of being a kid, back when your mom would bring it on a tray and rub your back. He made it himself. Okay, it was from a can, but he added pepper, some lemon, and fresh parsley like his mom said well, she helped him. He even garnished it.

“Hey…” he said gently, like his voice might somehow make things worse. “You awake?”

You shifted and squinted at him. “Kinda. My head feels like it’s full of wet cotton.”

He smiled a little, stepping into the room. “That’s a new one.”

Matt set the soup down on your nightstand, hesitating like he wanted to fluff your pillows or pick up the tissues, but didn’t. You caught the way he fidgeted, the way he rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at your blanket pile.

“You okay?” you asked, voice hoarse.

“Me? Yeah. I’m fine. I just… wanted to bring you this.” He motioned toward the bowl. “Soup. It’s probably too hot. Or not hot enough. I don’t know, I tried.”

You smiled softly. “That’s really sweet, baby.”

He sat on the edge of the bed but didn’t reach for your hand like he normally would. Didn’t lean in. Just sat, stiff and quiet for a second.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked carefully.

You blinked. “Of course.”

Matt let out a breath and nodded, but didn’t move closer. Instead, he looked at you, his brow knitting.

“I don’t want to do that thing where I… y’know. Hover,” he said. “Or treat you like you’re helpless. I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself. You always are. I just—”

You looked at him, waiting.

“I just don’t want you to think I don’t want to help. ‘Cause I do. Like a lot. I just don’t know how to do both.” His voice trailed off. “Does that make sense?”

Your heart ached in the best and worst way. You reached for his hand, warm and familiar, and gave it a squeeze. “Matt. I love that you even think about that. Most people don’t.”

He looked down, sheepish. “I just don’t want you to feel like I don’t think you’re strong. You are. You’re—god, you’re one of the strongest people I know. But I still wanna be here. I just don’t wanna… I don’t know, make you feel babied.”

You tilted your head. “There’s a difference between babying someone and showing up for them.”

Matt looked at you again, this time more steady.

“You don’t have to pretend I’m not sick,” you said, voice gentle. “You can fluff my pillows. You can rub my back. You can hold my hand even when it’s clammy and gross. That’s not saying I can’t do things. That’s just saying you love me.”

He smiled, the kind that melted slow and real across his face.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. You’re already doing it right. You brought soup, remember? That’s, like, peak care.”

He laughed under his breath and finally leaned in, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Okay. But if I do something annoying or too much, you’ll tell me?”

“I’ll cough twice if it’s too much,” you teased.

“Perfect,” he said, and kissed your forehead. “Consider me your personal nurse-slash-boyfriend for the next twenty-four hours. I take payment in forehead kisses and sleepy snuggles.”

“You’re hired,” you whispered.

Matt settled in beside you, one arm wrapping around your shoulders, and when you dozed off on his chest twenty minutes later, he didn’t move—not even when his arm fell asleep. He just held you.

Quiet. Present. Exactly what you needed.

Taglist @xsturnkay @ellsxxoxo @nessaisabelartemas333 @edu4rd0ss @sturnsobsessed21 @bugs-tags @mattspillowprincess @oopsiedaisydeer

[sivavakkiyar]

I have this theory that I’ve actually lived through like a failed time loop correction. Me and my sister used to read the Harry Potter books together; we’d get a single copy, then she’d read it through in a day, then I’d read it through in a day (sorry, we’re that generation). I remember when the last book came out I had just caught the Literature bug like a year before, so when my sister finished it she gave it to me and I had—I don’t know what other word to use—outgrown it (my sister was much better read than me for much longer, she just didn’t have that experience, she had been a big fan, like fandom fan—again kids). I remember her excitedly coming up to me and asking if I’d finished it yet and having this horribly disappointed look on her face when I said I hadn’t and that I was kind of bored halfway through (ah! The cruelty of little brothers!)

Anyway I’ve long had this desire to go back in time, slap kid me (I’d never harm a child, but it’s me, it’s okay) and tell him ‘Hey listen you’re a kid so you don’t get this but this is like important to your sister. Doing this with you. Just fucking read it, in the future you’re gonna be right about Rowling and she’ll agree, you can go back to not understanding Kafka tomorrow dumbass.’

But I have this terror that I’ve already done this, gone back in time to change it, and young me was like ‘oh. Okay. By the way do girls ever like us?’ And then time traveler older me would say ‘Girls? What? Don’t you have a crush on that kid Jake now?’ and kid me would go ‘hahaha what are you talking about I’m not gay what no that’s stupid what’ and then I’d realize ‘oh right you haven’t read Burroughs yet. You should read Queer, it’ll uh…help you out.’ Then he’d say ‘hahaha why would I read a book called Queer i’m normal’ and I’d say ‘Ugh…Zappa liked him.’ And then young me would say ‘oops! To the library I go!’ and then he doesn’t wind up reading Harry Potter because he’s reading Burroughs and makes his sister sad again. I am convinced this occurred because I also can’t really remember why I picked up Queer in the first place.

[fionacle]

becky/wordgirl as undertale/deltarune npcs :)

[bendover-productions]

Sorry if you've already been informed of this, but in case you haven't, I just want you to know that Sam still has the teal pom pom hat! He said on the podcast that he misplaced it almost immediately and thought he had lost it, but that he found it in his bag once he got back!

NO!!! no one told me!!! 😭😭 thank you so much, that teal hat is incredibly important to me and i am delighted he still has it

^^^sam in that hat. to me tbh <3

[izzy-b-hands]

My doctor messaging me at 12:30 in the morning to tell me she wants to do a telehealth visit abt the side effects I'm having with my new Lamotrigine dose (including worse insomnia than my usual insomnia, as u may have guessed lmao) is. something.

[reiderwriter]

☎️ Don't Call Me ☎️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, bug mentions (cockroaches), cheating, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight spanking, mentions of masturbation. Dom! Spencer.

A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!

Masterlist

If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman. 

You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either. 

Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart. 

Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie. 

“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-” 

“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!” 

It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels. 

“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-” 

“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?” 

“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-” 

“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.” 

“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls. 

“Like what?”

“Like a bitch!” 

The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him. 

No such apology came. 

“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.” 

“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-” 

“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.” 

You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered. 

The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell. 

From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi. 

Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing. 

Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.

Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there  but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up. 

“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-” 

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away. 

Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book. 

“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused. 

“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment. 

“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?” 

“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door. 

“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible  despite now feeling incredibly plussed.

“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?” 

You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche. 

“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.

A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat. 

“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip. 

“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.” 

“Right… right…” 

The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch. 

Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours. 

“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth. 

“So?”  he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away. 

“Why are you really here, YN?” 

You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second. 

“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.” 

You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh… Y/N, I-” 

A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name. 

“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out. 

“He's just going to try it again.”

“Let him.” 

You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions. 

“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.

“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.” 

“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-” 

“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick. 

“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all. 

Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before. 

“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-” 

Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you. 

“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now. 

“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close. 

“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position. 

“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal. 

“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?” 

You shrugged and looked away  almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night. 

“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.” 

Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in. 

“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.

“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.” 

“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”

Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.” 

“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?” 

You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well. 

But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips. 

You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again. 

“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret. 

“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.” 

“So you did yourself?” 

The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off. 

“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?” 

It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head. 

“He didn't want me to.” 

You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged “organic” coupling instead. 

You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world. 

Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken. 

You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter. 

“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down. 

“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear. 

You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that. 

A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend. 

“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch. 

You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically. 

He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.

“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly. 

But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket. 

“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access. 

“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.” 

You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass. 

“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive. 

“Probably not.”

“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”

“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.” 

You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you. 

Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra. 

“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh. 

It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh,  still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants. 

It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you. 

Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for. 

He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time. 

“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”

“N-no, S-s-” 

“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap. 

“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure. 

“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-” 

With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.

Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss. 

“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you. 

Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk. 

“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax. 

Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face. 

The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure. 

Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure. 

Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him. 

He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high. 

“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close. 

You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue. 

“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear. 

“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.” 

His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist. 

“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss  a sweet, soft one. 

“Yes.” He kissed you again  and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again. 

“H-He-” 

“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.” 

You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot. 

You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.

He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock. 

You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could. 

“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again. 

When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release. 

“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time. 

“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last. 

“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”

His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access. 

You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated. 

“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.” 

“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time. 

“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.” 

“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.” 

“One more time?” He asked.

“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.” 

You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position. 

You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more. 

“Where should I cum  Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again. 

“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too. 

“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?” 

“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already. 

“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away. 

“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him. 

“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further. 

“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore. 

“On your face?”

“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed. 

“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.” 

“Of course. Good job.”

He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you. 

“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.” 

“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.” 

His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh. 

You didn't say anything  but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum. 

“You're on birth control, right?” 

“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.

Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well. 

“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him. 

“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently. 

“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.” 

He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again. 

“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again. 

“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away. 

You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply  and you lost your breath again. 

“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.” 

The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other. 

[writingadjacent]

Robin knows Steve well. She basically knows what and when Steve is going to do and say. Not to say that he doesn't have free will but... well... Robin knows.

He sat on her bed, his eyes staring at the ceiling and Robin very much knew that whatever he said next was either going to be really insane or very important. Robin paid attention, not that she wouldn't have anyway.

"Do you think men are hot?"

Robin looked over at him. Apparently, Steve had chosen insanity. "No. that's what being a lesbian means, Steven."

"No, I mean, like, even though you're not like... gonna kiss them, they're just, objectively hot," Steve said, his eyes glued to the ceiling.

"No?" Robin said, lying down next to Steve. He tilted his head to lean on her shoulder a bit. "Men just... look like men. I wouldn't find them hot or cute or whatever."

"Am I not cute?" Steve looked up at her with his big eyes, bugging them out like he does when he wants something from her. "Come on Rob-bob, am I not cute?"

She shrugged slightly, laughing and dodgeing when he tried to smack her pillow into her face. "God, yeah okay, you're cute, Steve. Tell me about the guy you found hot, though."

Steve laid back down, almost entirely ignoring her attempts at eye contact. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You wouldn't ask if you didn't find someone hot."

"Ugh," Steve said, hiding his head in his hands. "I didn't really... I mean, I guess I've always found guys hot-"

"Wait for real?" Robin asked, not judging, just interested.

"Yeah. And you know, I just thought all guys thought Tom Cruise was kind of hot and that Han Solo had really pretty hair. But then, I don't know, as I got older I realized they didn't and you know, I just didn't really want to deal with that..." Steve paused, his eyes on the ceiling as Robin rolled to curl into his side, her head on his shoulder. He brought his arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him.

"But then you met me?"

Steve nodded, "Yeah, basically. I guess I made my own way in the world and I stopped paying attention to what people thought of me and honestly, I just stopped paying attention to that part of myself for so long that I didn't notice it had come back until recently."

Robin nodded. That made sense. It was dumb but that made sense. "So which guy did you find hot enough recently for it to knock you back to yourself?"

Throwing his hand over his face, Steve muttered something that, despite her closeness to him, Robin had no idea what he'd said.

"What?"

"mmmmm Munson."

Robin blinked. She sat up and stared down at Steve. Blinked again.

"You know, you could absolutely have picked a worse guy but at the same time... Eddie?"

"He's kind of a loser."

"Yeah, very much so."

"It's really hot."

"You know what, Steve?"

"What?"

"You're allowed to think that..."

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

Oh baby | Criminal Minds

.・゜✭・. Spencer Reid x F!Reader .・゜✭・.

Summary: you and Spencer unexpectedly become parents despite not being together officially

A/N: This is probs my fav fic I’ve written, so far. Hope you guys love it<3 lmk your thots:D also not proof-read I just wanted to get something posted.

BYR(b4 u Reid): Kind of a situationship?, nervous and scared Reid | kissing lol <- [warnings]

You woke up feeling absolutely miserable, maybe even worse than a hangover. A wave of nausea hit you hard, sending you rushing to your bathroom.

Dropping to your knees in front of your toilet, you barely had a second to catch your breath before you started throwing up, your stomach twisting with each heave “gross” you muttered

Flushing the toilet, and brushing your teeth you run to your alarm reading the time 7:30 am

Thirty minutes before you had to be at your desk

You throw on something work-appropriate but comfortable, not having energy to put much effort into your appearance after the rough start to your morning

As you walk towards the door, your eyes flicker to your calendar. Something makes you pause, and you decide to check it

A sinking feeling settles into your stomach when you see it’s around the time you’re supposed to start your cycle, but you quickly brush it off not wanting to stress yourself out even more

Cycles change all the time you convinced yourself it was just happening to you

As soon as the elevator doors opened, you hurried out, making a beeline for your desk.

“Just in time.” Spencer noted as you arrived

“I was worried I was going to be late.”

“You had exactly one minute to spare.” He held up a cup of coffee “I picked it up on the way.”

You took the cup but eyed him skeptically before grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards a quieter corner, his brows furrowed in confusion

“It’s a nice gesture, really,” you said as you lifted up the cup “But this looks a little suspicious.”

“Getting you coffee is suspicious?” He questioned

You sighed “I just don’t want the team in our business. They’re already catching on, and I’d rather keep this between us.”

He considered that for a moment before nodding “If it helps, I’ll buy Derek coffee tomorrow to throw them off.” He suggested

You couldn’t help but smile “you’re annoying.”

Spencer chuckled, then, to your surprise, laced his fingers with yours “you know.” He said matter of factly “If anything looks suspicious, it’s you pulling me somewhere private for a conversation.”

You nodded agreeing with him “You’re right.” and with that you let go of his hand “I’ll talk to you later.” you say as you walk away from the tall gorgeous man

You’d be lying if you said you didn't miss the way your fingers felt together or the sounds that leave his mouth when he laughs

It was like music to your ears

You know you shouldn't feel that way since what you guys have isn’t official, and you didn’t want to get hurt.

A few days have passed and it was like each day was worser than the last, now it was headaches, fatigue, nausea all creeping in at the worst moments

But you're convinced its just a bug, between the stress of the last case you and your team did and the lack of sleep it makes sense that your body is shutting down

Except, your girl friends at the BAU don't believe that one bit

“Geez, you look pale.” JJ says as she leans against your desk, arms crossed “And she’s been running to the bathroom a lot.” Emily joins in

You wave them off “I'm just coming down with something”

“Yeah that's what you said yesterday, and the day before.” Penelope recalls “What is this an intervention?” you question

“Nope, just your friends worried about you.” JJ says as she shared a knowing look with Emily and Pen

“It’s nothing.” you assured them

“Hey, I brought you some tea.” Spencer says as he joins the group, setting a cup down in front of you. His eyes scan your face with concern “you look sick.”

Your stomach twists at his comment “Do I really look that bad?” you ask feeling a bit insecure

Spencer's eyes widen slightly, he stumbles on his words “No-no, not bad. I just meant… you seem unwell. That's all.”

Emily smirks, shaking her head “Way to go, Dr. Reid.” she grabs her files and walks off

JJ gives you a sympathetic look as she stands “And that's our cue to leave. Come on, Penelope.” Garcia leans in as she follows JJ “Feel better sunshine.” she says before disappearing down the hall

Spencer shifts on his feet “I’m sorry. I shouldn't of had said it like that.”

You sigh, feeling guilty for your reaction “It’s okay. I’m just feeling extra sensitive today. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

He studies you for a moment, then lowers his voice “Have you thought about seeing a doctor? You've been sick for awhile now.”

You shake your head quickly “It’s not that serious.” but Spencer doesn't look convinced “Well…If you need anything, I'm right here.

You offer him a smile “Thanks, Spence.”

As he walks away, you stare at the tea he left behind. The more you think about it, the more unease settles in your chest. What if this isn’t just a stomach bug? What if it’s something worse.

And worse than that, what if you’re right?

As soon as lunch rolled around, you grabbed JJ, Emily, and Penelope by the arms “Come with me. Now.”

“Where are we going?” Garcia asked, eyeing you curiously “A store.” You hesitated, lowering your voice “I need a test.”

All three of them stopped in their tracks, wide eyed “Like a test test?” JJ asked, eyebrows raised, you nodded the fear in your eyes answering for you

“Okay.” Emily said already walking “Let’s go.”

“Wouldn’t you want to do this with…you know, whoever might’ve done this?”

“Uh, no. He’s busy.” You said quickly, leading them toward the exit, but just as you reached the door, Morgan and Spencer appeared

“Hey, where are you guys headed?” Morgan asked “Yeah, I thought we were all getting lunch at Caesars.” Spencer added, Rossi standing beside him

JJ reacted fast “We’re getting medicine for y/n” Spencer frowned “Oh I can come. I know which one will work best.”

“No, no, no, we got it.” Garcia said quickly waving him off Spencer narrowed his eyes, clearly sensing something was off, but eventually nodded “Alright. See you later.”

The four of you bolted out the door.

Inside the store, you stood frozen in front of all the pregnancy test selections, overwhelmed.

“Why are there so many?” You groaned, scanning the shelves “These are easy to read.” JJ said, grabbing a Clear Blue and handing it to you

You grimaced “Do I have to put it on the register?”

Emily snorted “You literally profile murderers for a living, but you’re scared to purchase a pregnancy test?”

“No wonder you might be pregnant” Garcia teased “Were you too scared to buy condoms too?”

You shot them a glare “Hilarious.”

JJ rolled her eyes and grabbed the test from your hand “I’ll put it down.” you sighed in relief “Thank you.”

At the register, you all smiled stiffly at the cashier as he rang it up. He barely acknowledged you guys, but that didn't stop you from feeling widely judged.

Back at the BAU, the four of you rushed to the restroom.

“Pee on the stick, wait five minutes, and we’ll either celebrate or cry.” JJ instructed “Your call.”

You exhaled, feeling like you were preparing for battle “Alright.” Stepping into the stall, you did what you had to do, then set the rest down on the counter, turning it away from you

“Timer is set.” Garcia announced, your heart pounded, you knew what the results was going to be, and that terrified you more than anything

The four of you sat in silence on the restroom floor, gross, but none of you cared right now. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air

“Time’s up.” Garcia finally said glancing at you with concern, you swallowed hard “I can't look.”

“Want us to?” Emily offered you nodded “Please”

JJ picked it up first. The three of them leaned in, their expressions unreadable. Then, without a word JJ handed it to you

Your hands trembled as you looked down

Pregnant

Your heart dropped, and a lump formed in your throat, but you refused to break. Not here, not now. Instead, you slowly nodded, forcing out a breath “okay”

“So…is this good or bad?” Garcia asked, studying your face, you opened your mouth, then closed it “I don't know.” you admit

“Are you going to tell him?” JJ asked gently, you nodded “eventually.”

Emily places a reassuring hand on your shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze “We’ll give you time to process, when you're ready, we’re here.”

Each of them gives you a small, comforting smile before slipping out of the restroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling

“Why? Why? Why?” you whispered to yourself

This wasn't just about you.

This was about Spencer.

Your coworker.

A man you weren't even in a relationship with.

How the hell were you going to tell him?

You stepped out the restroom, exhausted and ready to be anywhere but here. Your body felt heavy, your mind even more so. All you wanted was to crawl into bed and shut the world out.

“Hey! We’re still on for tonight?”

The familiar voice made you stop in your tracks. Of course it was Spencer.

“Tonight?” You frowned, genuinely confused

He gave you a puzzled look “Movie night? At my place? Like it has been every Friday for the past six months?”

“Oh…right.” You let out an awkward laugh, and rubbed the back of your neck “Sorry, I’m just- are you sure you want me there? I don’t want to get you sick.” You say even though you knew what you had wasn’t contagious

“I’ll be fine.” He said with a small smile “I can disinfect everything.”

You hesitated before nodding “then, I’ll be there.” “Great.”

Silence settled between you two, he looked at you like he knew something was off, and part of you wanted to just say it right then and there.

“Well, I should get back to my files.” You said quickly making an excuse to leave.

Before you could slip away, he gently grabbed your hand “Are you sure you’re alright?” His voice was quieter now, more concerned.

“Yes, Spencer, I’m fine.” You forced a reassuring smile, but his eyes searched yours unconvinced

“Did I…do something?”

“What? No!” Your stomach knotted at the thought of him blaming himself “why would you think that?”

He hesitated “Just how you’ve been acting recently, I want to know if it’s because of me.”

You sighed, squeezing his hand before pulling away “It’s not you, I promise.”

He nodded but the uncertainty was still there “Okay.”

With that, you turned and walked back to your desk, diving into your files, forcing yourself to focus. For a couple hours, it worked. You got lost in the work, grateful for the temporary escape— until a voice whispered right into your ear

“So… who’s the father?”

You jumped, nearly knocking over your coffee “Jesus Garcia.” She grinned unapologetically “Sorry, did I scare the baby?”

You glared at her “No, you scared me.” She leaned in closer “Can I take a guess?”

You gave her a warning look “You don’t know him.”

Garcia scoffed “Sweetie, I know this guy. Anyone with a pair of eyes can tell just by the way you two interact. You guys are getting it on.”

Your face burned “Penelope.”

She wiggled her eyebrows “So, it is who I think it is.” You sighed, lowering your voice “You have to keep this a secret. Please.”

She immediately sobered, nodding “Of course, but you are telling him, right?”

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Spencer who was talking to Hotch across the room “Yeah.”

“I’m happy for you guys, no matter what you choose to do.” Garcia said warmly you gave her a small grateful smile

“Thank you. I just- I don’t know what to do. I know my options, obviously, but I don’t think I can go through with that. But at the same time, I don’t want to do this if Spencer isn’t ready. I don’t want to hold him back.”

Garcia shook her head “Look, he loves you. It’s so obvious the little things he does for you, the way he talks about you when you aren’t around. He is going to be ready.”

You let out a deep sigh, looking down at your hands “we’re not even together.” The admission felt embarrassing, like it somehow made everything worse

“Honey, you know Spencer. It takes him awhile, but he’ll come around to making it official. He’s just scared.” You exhaled leaning back into your chair

“Yeah…maybe.”

“not maybe— definitely” she corrected “Just give him time.”

The work day ended, and you had finally returned home, you threw yourself on your bed still in your work clothes but too lazy to change

You laid there deep in your thoughts until you drifted off to sleep

You weren’t sure how long you had been out but there was knocking at your door that woke you

You looked through the hole and seen it was Spencer, he looked worried “Spencer?” You question as you open the door allowing him to enter

“I was calling, you never answered. I got worried.” He tells you as he looks at you scanning to make sure you were alright “I fell asleep, I’m so sorry.” You apologize “no it’s okay. I’m just happy you’re safe.”

“Today was exhausting.” You admitted. He gave you a look of understanding “Can I do anything to help?”

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in his voice. He was always quick to offer whatever he could “No, it’s alright.”

“Are you sure? I give great massages.” He teased, a small smirk playing on his lips, you let out a small laugh “I’m sure, Spencer. How about we just watch a movie?”

He nodded, clearly liking the idea “what are you in the mood for?”

You thought for a moment. After everything today, you just wanted something comforting, something that reminded you of simpler times

“The Fox and the Hound.”

Spencer’s face lit up with a soft smile “That’s a good one.”

“Can you set it up while I change?” You asked “of course.” Spencer replied without hesitation

You stepped into your room, closing the door behind you. As you emptied your pockets your fingers brushed against the pregnancy test. You sighed, staring at it for a moment before tucking it away in your nightstand drawer

Once you had changed into something more comfortable, you walked back out, expecting to see Spencer in the living room but he wasn’t there. You glanced around and spotted him in the kitchen.

“I decided we needed popcorn.” He casually said as he poured some into a bowl “That’s a good idea.” You smiled

Settling on the couch, you grabbed the remote as Spencer joined you, sitting down beside you with the bowl in hand.

You pressed play and it didn’t take long for you to immersive yourself in the familiar comfort of the movie

The movie held your full attention, so much so that you barely noticed every time your hand brushed against Spencer's in the popcorn bowl.

It had always been your favorite movie as a kid, but now watching it while being pregnant, it felt different.

Then came the scene, the scene that always broke your heart as a child and even now as an adult

The little old lady drives off in her car, away from the Fox leaving him in the woods to be free. It felt like it hit you harder then ever before, and suddenly you couldn’t hold back the tears

Spencer turned his head, noticing the way your shoulders shook “Are you crying?” He asked softly “no.” You lied even as you wiped at your cheeks

You let out a small, embarrassed laugh, trying to play it off. Spencer shook his head, shifting to face you. Without a word, he reached out, gently brushing away a stray tear “Hey, it’s alright. It’s a sad scene.” he agreed

Your eyes met his “I think I could use that massage now.” a small smile played on his lips “I think you could too.”

You turned around, away from his gaze, and pulled your hair to the side giving him full access to your back. His hands found your shoulders, pressing in firmly. The tension in your muscles melted under his touch.

“You’re tense.” He murmured. You sighed, eyes fluttering shut “that feels good.”

“So, what’s been on your mind?” He asked your eyes snapped open “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been really stressed lately, today especially. You told me it’s not me, so… what is it?”

You hesitated, knowing this was the moment. You couldn’t keep avoiding it.

“Spencer.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper, his hands stilled “yeah?”

You turned to face him, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. His stomach dropped, he didn’t know what you were about to say.

“Hold on.” You murmured, quickly getting up. You rushed to your room, grabbing the test from your nightstand. When you returned, Spencer was watching you carefully, his brows furrowed in concern

You sat down, heart pounding “I have something to show you.” You say as you hold out the test to him, Spencer took it hesitantly, his eyes scanning the results

His lips parted slightly “oh.”

That single word terrified you

You weren’t sure what he was thinking.

Spencer on the other hand, his mind was racing so fast he couldn’t form a single coherent thought. His fingers tightened around the plastic stick.

“Say something.” You say as you watch him intently, his head snapped up, eyes wide, searching yours as if trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces “You’re…pregnant.” He said

You nodded “yeah.”

Spencer swallowed hard, looking back down at the test, then back to you “it’s mines..right?” He questioned hopeful that you wouldn’t have been with anyone else “of course it’s yours.” You said quickly, feeling a strange mix of emotions, offense, anxiety, fear.

“Right. No, I-i didn’t mean it like that, I just-” he exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he tried to process “This is…a lot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Spencer went quiet again, his mind clearly catching up to reality.

And then, finally, he looked at you “How are you feeling?” He softly asked “I don’t know. Scared, overwhelmed.” You admitted

Spencer nodded and reached for your hand, taking it in his, it felt warm and grounding.

Spencer hesitated for a moment before taking his hand away and reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small, folded piece of paper. He held it up between you.

“I’ve been carrying this around for a while.” He admitted “It’s a list… of all the reasons I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Your breath caught “Spence-”

“I’m not finished.” He said quickly, his eyes pleading with you to let him get it all out “I’ve been planning to tell you for so long. Too long. I should’ve said something the moment I realized it was you.”

You just stared at him, heart pounding, and he cleared his throat “I even calculated the probability of a successful relationship based on compatibility factors and shared interests.” He let out a small, nervous laugh

That made you smile. Without thinking, you reached for his hand, giving it a soft squeeze

“I want to be with you.” He said, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable “But don’t say yes because of the baby. Say yes because you want me the way I want you.”

His eyes searched yours “say something?” He whispered, you swallowed hard, then nodded towards the paper “Can I read it?”

Relief washed over his face as he handed it to you without hesitation “You just carry it around?”

He nodded, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips “It reminds me of you. So even when you’re not with me, it still feels like you are.”

Your chest ached, and you smiled at him with tears in your eyes “I want to be with you.” You say

Spencer had never felt anything like this before, it was overwhelming in the best way, pure happiness, the kind he never thought he’d get to have.

Despite the fear of the unknown, he knew one thing for certain, he was happy it was you he was going to experience this with.

He pulled you into him, the embrace feeling both familiar and new. This time, there was no more unspoken words, no more uncertainty. Just the two of you, together, exactly as you were meant to be

“So…do the girls know?” He asked, remembering how strangely they all had been acting at lunch, you nodded “They were with me when I found out.”

Spencer exhaled, his eyes softening “I wish I had been there.”

“I know.” You murmured guilt tugging at your chest “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head “I just, I don’t want to miss anything. Not with you, not with this baby. Every doctors visit, every sick day, every moment, I want to be there.”

His sincerity made your heart ache in the best way “I want you to be there too.”

His fingers gently tilted your chin before he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. It was soft, and lingering.

When his tongue traced along your bottom lip, asking for more, you gave in without hesitation.

After he pulled away, he smiled, his eyes full of wonder “I can’t wait to see you grow.” You brushed a hand over his cheek, returning his smile “I can’t wait to see you become the best dad.”

Should I make this into a mini series ? Where the next part can be them telling the team? 🤭 next chapter -> Family | Criminal Minds

check out my other works<3 here

[all-with-angel]

High Voltage

❥ Electric Fly Swatter Sukuna x reader

❥ With the heat being unbearable and flies swarming you practically every minute, you have nothing except a faulty fly swatter on your side. even then, the thing does nothing except zap you randomly! Sick of its shit, you throw it out the window, only for it to come stomping back to fuck some manners into you! Don't you know its rude to throw things out of windows?

Content. CRACKFIC, smut, dubcon, afab!reader, sukuna is mean(duh), grinding, oral(f!receiving), his fingers vibrate, he zaps you sometimes, p in v, doggystyle, dacryphilia, begging, creampie :P

A.N. I blame @yenayaps and @madamechrissy for enabling me so i take no accountability whatsoever. @yamadramallamaqueen here you go unc ily

It was hot.

Like, skin-sticking-to-furniture, every-fan-sounds-like-it’s-pleading-for-death, consider-lying-on-the-tile-floor-like-a-cat kind of hot. It was hellish during this time of the year. The heat outside would've been fine, if not for your AC breaking at the start of the week and your landlord doing absolutely jack shit about it. Thus, your humble little home had turned into a sauna and your overhead fans could only do so much. And if that wasn’t bad enough?

Flies. So many damn flies.

It was just the season for them, and you were getting tired of swatting them to death manually. Lucky for you, you stumbled upon a quaint little yard sale on your way home. It was small, stacks upon stacks of books and old cds, and a few barely-working pieces of electronics. A worn out looking fly swatter caught your eye, and when you asked the old grandma about it, she gladly gave it to you in exchange for a few dollars. It was black with pink highlights, residue of stickers clinging on to the plastic.

Lucky you, It was way cheaper than any of the newer models you’d seen, and it worked fine. Sure, it vibrated and shaked whenever you turned it on, and it took way too long to charge, but it worked.

For a while.

A week later, the thing turned on you. You were waving it around in your living room, a surge of slight satisfaction at every loud bzzt! that signaled the death of another one of those flying bloodsuckers. You were about to walk to the kitchen, satisfied with the lack of any more flies buzzing in the room when you felt a sharp sting of electricity course through your hand. You yelped and dropped it, hitting the edge of the sofa and clattering loudly onto the floor.

“What the hell?!” 

You hissed, massaging your hand for a moment before grabbing the fly swatter with a cloth. “Stupid old thing.” Murmuring curses and complaints under your breath about how its faultiness was showing after just a week of owning it, you set it on the counter and plugged it into its charging port. You eyed it as it lightly hummed and a red light blinked on and off, you could've sworn it started blinking out of sync— its patterns more similar to a human blinking than an electronic with a set program.

Whatever. It was too hot for this. You brushed it off and turned away.

Over the next few days, it kept zapping you. Randomly. It started when you were just holding it, using it actively when it would zap you when you even dared to put it down. Then, it started to zap you when it wasn't even on. You had turned it off, the phantom pain of getting electrocuted in your hand earlier fading as you tucked it under your arm. Before you could even reach halfway to your room, it had zapped your entire side. 

Nothing too painful, not exactly enough to be an immediate health hazard– but the surprise made you scream and drop it (again), clutching your side in betrayal.

 It was less a bug killer now and more of an abusive relationship that you couldn’t let go of. At least not with your current fly problem.

On another day of trying to survive through a damn heatwave, you were sweating even as two fans were working overtime fanning you. They were your real friends in this situation, even if they just blew hot air around the room, doing little to help you. 

Still, help is help.

But that morning, sweaty, stressed, and so over it, you swore that anything would set you off. As if sensing that you were on your last straw, the fly swatter had zapped you mid-swing. You flinched, face contorting from pain to anger. “Motherfucker!”

You shriek as it hits the floor, except this time you didn’t use a cloth to pick it up, you didn’t fear it anymore. Who the hell cares if it zaps you again. You grabbed it and threw it out your window, hearing it hit the soft grass of your yard as you huff. 

“You wanna fucking electrocute me?? Well I’m not having it anymore!” you yelled, flopping onto your couch with all the grace of a damp spaghetti noodle. You swung an arm over your eyes, cringing at the feel of your own sweat-slicked skin but too tired to care. With a sigh, you slump further back and practically melt into the couch.

The crawling feeling of exhaustion caught up to you, crawling from your head down to your chest. A nap at this time would probably fuck up your sleep schedule, but you couldnt seem to care in between the heat and the occasional buzz of a mosquito in your ear. The lull of sleep almost drowning out the sudden bang of your back door.

Wait, what?

The sudden bang of your backdoor startles you awake, loud stomping accompanying your racing heartbeat as you shoot upright and turn to see a very naked and very angry looking man. He was broad, large with black inky tattoos adorning his chest and arms. His head almost reached the ceiling and  you were sure that his dick— DICKS, were the size of your forearm.

You could feel both heat and fear crawling up your spine, settling uncomfortably in your throat as you try to find your words. Before you do, he beats you to it.

“You–!” he snarled, pointing a finger at you. “Did no one teach you to not throw your shit out windows!?”

“What the hell are you talking about!?” You stammer for a moment, eyes flicking around you to his glaring red eyes. You grab the nearest thing to you, a throw pillow and point it in his direction. “Who even are you?! And why did you just break into my house!?”

The pink-haired hunk of a man rolls his eyes, muscles flexing as he crossed his arms. As if this was just another nuisance to him. “I’m your goddamn fly swatter, or whatever the fuck you call it.” He hissed. “Congratulations, you broke the seal and set me fucking free. By throwing me out the window.” His voice was laced with sarcasm and brimming anger, finger tapping idly on his forearm.

“You’re my what??” You asked again, stunned. Unconsciously lowering your protective throw pillow as the hot demon man snarled at your stupidity and confusion.

“Your fly swatter.” He repeated through gritted teeth. The fact he was such a menial object irked him, clearly so.

Your eyes raked over him again, from his broad chest to his.. Sizable cocks. Your eyes seemed glued to the pair, your gaze sending a pulse or arousal through Sukuna. One that went straight to his dicks, making them twitch.

God, how long has it been since he’s had a good fuck? Too many years, that's for sure.

You made a noise in your throat that may or may not have been an inappropriate giggle. That seemed to piss him off. He clicked his tongue stomping over to you, who took a few steps back his looming figure. “Something funny, brat?” He snarled, glaring down at you like he hates your guts. But his half-hard cock(s) told a different story.

You swallowed, breath hitching as you craned your neck to look up at him. God, he was so much bigger upclose, not to mention that his chest was right up in your face distracting you from making any proper thoughts. “N-no. Just— this is so weird.” Your voice drops into a mumble as you continue, every three steps you took back, Sukuna would take one– And it was enough to bridge the gap. “Who knew my shitty fly swatter was hot..”

“HUH? The fuck you just call me?” He roared. “I’m Sukuna, the King of curses you heathen. Not some ‘shitty fly swatter’– Who said you could talk to me so casually!?” Sukuna, now you knew his name, had cornered you against the wall. “Throw me out of the window, no less.” He added, seething.

Alarmed by the dangerous— almost predatory look in his eyes, you hit his chest with the pillow in your arms a few times. “THE HELL? How was I supposed to know that?” Unknown to you, with every shriek and pathetic excuse for an attack, Sukuna could feel his cocks harden– throbbing painfully as his body screamed to show you your place. 

He was grinning, the hungry look in his eyes snapping as he grabbed your wrist and halting your (fairly worthless) struggle against him. You gasp as you feel your wrist get engulfed by a much bigger hand, shame filling your head as you feel the warmth pooling in your stomach.

“You really think that’ll do anything, brat?” He inches closer, scarily handsome face inches away from yours. “Or did you just want to piss me off even more?”

As if caught like a deer in headlights, you stammer, feeling his intense gaze on you making your heart clench and stomach flutter. “I– No, I mean I didn’t–”

“Shut it, slut.” He grabs at your throat, not quite squeezing— But just enough pressure to shut you up. “I don’t need your excuses.” Sukuna grins. “I know what you want, anyway.” He slides his thick leg in between your thighs, putting pressure on your core as you let out a mix of a yelp and a moan.

He grabs your hips as you slowly start to grind on his leg like a bitch in heat. “Ha, pathetic. Is that all it takes for you to give up?”

Your hips stutter, but Sukuna continues to guide your movements against his thigh. “N-No,”

“Liar.”

Sukuna pulls his leg back and in a blur, you end up manhandled onto your couch with your shorts pulled off of you. “Tsk. No panties? What a perfect whore.” He snickers, and as soon as he sees your already dripping cunt, he knew he was in for a sweet treat. He dared to look at your face, waiting in anticipation and beautifully aroused. He took it all in, the curve of your body and every inch of skin bared all for him. He was one lucky fly swatter. And you were one very, very lucky owner.

“W-wait–” You tried to plead, but Sukuna wasn’t a patient man. He didn’t wait. He took what he wanted when he wanted it. And he wanted you. He took his sinfully long tongue to drag across your folds, groaning loudly at your taste. “Fuck..” He muttered, immediately grabbing your hips to pull you into him as he let his tongue explore your perfectly sweet cunt.

Sukuna was like a wild animal– Or an insatiable toy, brimming with electricity ready to be expended on poor you.

He let his tongue curl inside of you, nose brushing and rubbing against your clit as your hands found purchase in his pink hair. The same shade that matched the fly swatter form this so-called King of curses had unwillingly taken.

Suddenly, you feel a zap of electricity on your thigh, making you flinch further into Sukuna’s mouth. “So fucking loud.” You could feel him smiling against your pussy, just before he continued devouring you like a man starved.

You held into his hair for dear life, tugging whenever he’d hit just the right spot, making him groan and send vibrations straight to your core. It felt more intense, more electrifying than anything you could have ever felt from any other man. 

“That needy, brat?” Sukuna pulled away, licking his slick-coated lips before tucking one, then two fingers right into your needy hole. Just as he did, he put his mouth back to work. He could feel you clench against his fingers, the tightness of your hole having Sukuna’s cocks leak pre down his thick cock.

“Y- Y-es!” You moaned out, voice breaking as Sukuna curled his fingers up into that sweet spot of yours. You couldn’t control the desperate gasp escaping your lips when you felt his fingers vibrate inside of you, right against your G-spot. “Oh- Oh god, fuck–” The stimulation felt intense, so much pleasure all at once as Sukuna licked and sucked at your clit.

He was merciless as he finished you off, lapping up at the juices squirting out of your fluttering pussy. You could practically feel electricity shooting up your spine as your back arched further into him, as if fucking his face.

You were definitely testing this demon(?), incubus(?), whatever the fuck he was’ oxygen, but he wasnt complaining. Not even when he pulled away from your cunt, slipping his thick fingers out of you and licking them clean.

“On your stomach. I’m not done with you.”

That's how you found yourself face-down ass-up and drooling onto the couch as Sukuna pounded his fat cock into your pussy, the other slapping against your abdomen with every thrust. You just felt so full, every push of his dick into you hitting every single spot you thought couldn’t be reached.

“Fucking— Fucking slut, shit–” Sukuna growled from above you, barely holding back his own moans from how fucking good you felt around him. So warm, practically made for him— Even if you were such a disrespectful brat. “Throwing me out the goddamn window–” Ah. He still hadn't let that go.

His eyes were glued to the back of your head, occasionally tracing his warm hand on the arch of your back, all to zap you randomly. Relishing in the way you’d flinch and tighten around his length, a condescending grin spreading on his face as he felt himself getting closer to filling you up. To put you in your place.

“Puh-lease–” You gasped as your legs shook, if not for his bruising grip on your waist, you’d have collapsed into a pathetic cum-puddle by now. Tears streamed down your cheeks, staining the couch along with various other fluids.

“Please what, huh?” Sukuna taunted, continuing to thrust his hips into you at an unrelenting pace. His lips parted, breathing heavily as he could feel his cock throb and twitch at the idea of cumming inside of you for the nth time.

Your hips moved back to meet his thrusts, you let out a pleasured sob at the feeling of attempting to rearrange your own guts on Sukuna's dick. “Please cum– I’m sorry, so so sorry for throwing you out the wind-AH!” You shiver as you felt Sukuna slap your ass, his eyes following how a red mark slowly started to imprint itself onto your skin. “What was that?” He mocked, voice condescending as he leaned forward, his chest flush almost flush against your back. “Say that again.”

“I'm sorry for throwing you out the window!” You repeat, moaning and gripping at the sheets as you feel Sukuna angle his hips to fuck you deeper, harder.

“Yeah, you better— fuck, you better be.” Sukuna continued to pound into you, twitching as he felt your pussy spasm around him. His breath was hot and heavy above you and you could feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as his other cock was slapping up against your clit again and again. “Take my fucking cum, take it since you’ve learned your lesson you brat–”

In a second, you could feel warmth start to flood your insides, making your pussy flutter and cum around his girth with a strangled cry. The pleasure was overwhelming, white-hot and so fucking good. Sukuna growled and grunted as his hips continued to fuck his cum deeper into you, cock throbbing with every shot of his seed pooling into you. There was just so much, enough to start leaking out your pussy along with your slick.

You were distantly aware of the cum sticking to your stomach and the couch, but your muddy, post-orgasm brain had barely adjusted when Sukuna's voice had cut through the haze. Unforgiving.

“You think we’re done? I haven’t even gotten my second dick wet yet.”

A.N. I was projecting my breeding kink a bit. Woops