#That is...obviously pushing it and obviously not true

[m-robinavitch]

in passing.

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot/Wife!Reader Summary: While working opposite shifts for two weeks, Jack Abbot finally gets a day off to spend with his wife. But in true Jack Abbot fashion- he needs to make sure you knew what you had missed out on. Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, age gap relationship (older man/younger woman), soft!Dom Jack, overstimulation, teasing, spanking, and Dr. Yapper with his gremlin smile comes with his own warning. Crossposted to AO3

“Hmm, there better be a damn good reason you’re waking me up, Jack.” You smile, sighing into the way your husband’s lips dragged across the back of your neck- his heavy hands pushing your hair to the side as he makes little bites and nips with no particular direction set yet. He needs to shave- you think to yourself, biting your lip a bit from the scratch of his stubble along your neck because it feels good.

“Mhm,” he nods, smiling into your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist to drag you closer into his chest. “Missed you.” Mumbling, his fingers tease along the bottom hem of the shirt you were wearing to bed- his shirt, the one he was given in basic. Ratty, seams coming apart slightly with every wash but it was so soft and smelled like him and didn’t even fucking fit him anymore yet he still complains that you steal his clothes. You weren’t asleep- not really. You knew that he would be home soon and you expected him around now, 6 am- crawling into bed behind you and grumbling about how you’re on his side, in his spot. His pillow smelled like him, his side was firmer and it felt like sleeping in his arms when it was like this. 

What was this? This- was two weeks of opposite shifts. Two weeks of him working evenings and you on rotating shifts- working wherever you were needed and currently one of the ED residents was on leave, so the morning shift was where you were needed for the time being. It was fine. You liked everyone you worked with but it was hard because you missed Jack. Not just working with him- which honestly was fun but he annoyed you to no end with his incessant need to be the dominating player on the team. But you worked well together- he could count on his wife favorite resident to flank him when he needs, hands working in unison, knowing which clamp he wanted or what to push in the patient's IV before he even asked. Missing him at work aside- you obviously missed him at home too. You missed sleeping next to him, wrapping your arms around him, eating dinner together and laying on the couch with him to watch whatever stupid war documentary that was on because he just had to see. 

You had both been trying to work with seeing each other only in passing for the last few weeks. Where you were waking up to make breakfast for you both- spending only 30 minutes together while you sip your coffee before work and Jack fights sleep to spend those few precious minutes with you. Where you were coming home from work while he showers before he leaves for the night- then jumping in with him, kissing the freckles along his shoulders until he has to physically tear himself away from you to not be late again. Where you were making him something to eat for when he wakes up and he was making you dinner so you can just go home and rest, not worrying about anything else other than sleep. A quick kiss while you’re leaving the Pitt, passing him in the stairwell on his way in. Where you were sitting for a few minutes on the roof together after he’s brought you coffee so you can wake up for your shift, just giving each other details of what to expect or what patients were waiting on what before he leaves to go home and sleep. You didn’t even have any days off together. On his days off, Jack had been at the VA hospital with Mel- volunteering some of his limited free time. On your days off you had been helping the resident who had been on leave, maternity leave to be exact- cooking, cleaning, or just holding the baby so she can have a shower or nap. It was fine. Everything was fine. You just missed Jack. And he missed you. And you both finally had a fucking day off together.

“Prove it,” you smirked, still laying on his side of the bed with his chest at your back- kissing your shoulder while letting his hands skim up under your shirt now. You knew he missed you but right now it’s been so long since you’ve had him in bed with you- you just had to tease him. “You don’t miss me. Such a very neglectful husband.” Joking, hearing him scoff at your words but continued dragging his hand up your shirt to cup your breasts. 

“I am- so fucking neglectful,” he nods, shoving his hand to come out the neck of your shirt, just so he can grab your jaw and turn your face to him- catching your lips in a desperate kiss. “You should just divorce me. You can keep the house, the kids, the cars” kids meaning the ones you’ve adopted at the hospital- Whitaker, Mel, Santos, Mohan, and Victoria, “just let me fuck you one more time- one more time and I’ll sign wherever the fuck you want me to.” His hand returns to its spot on your breast, palming at it now and you try to giggle at his ramblings but he’s pushing his hips into your ass now- letting you feel how fucking hard he was, moaning in your ear and dammit you missed him so fucking much. His other hand trails down to snake into your underwear- well, it would if you had any on and he groans when he realizes it. 

“Think you can slip the kids in there like I wouldn’t notice?” Mumbling into his lips, moaning at the feeling of his fingers running along your slit, collecting the wetness that accumulated after only moments of finally being with him after two weeks. “We split custody, 50/50.” He’s manhandled you a bit- hovering over you now and dragging your shirt up just enough so he can circle his tongue around your nipple, hooking your legs over his hips for him to be able to grind into your uncovered center. 

“70/30 and I keep a car.” Jack negotiates, biting your nipple and tugging a bit before coming back to kiss up your neck and lips again. Thrusting your hips up, you use a leg as leverage to roll him back against the bed- clambering up to straddle his hips now and grinding your own down to elicit a whine from him. 

“60/40 and you can borrow a car.” Giggling, you pull at his clothes, tugging his boxers and undershirt off- the remaining few clothes he hadn’t rid himself from in anticipation and excitement of getting into bed with you as soon as he was home. You were able to drag your bare pussy over the underside of him now, he was impossibly hard- his cock pointed up, laying flat against his lower stomach and the veins were giving you the perfect texture to grind on. Jack’s large hands settle on your hips, digging into them to guide your movements a bit and if you tilt your hips back just so- the tip of him could easily slide into you and-

“Deal,” he nods, sitting up so he could nip along your jaw- pushing your hair back from your face as his teeth map out a path to your lips again. You sigh into the feeling- letting your arms hang off his shoulders while you lazily kiss him, enjoying the way his slightly chapped lips you know you gave him lip balm and you’re sure it’s shoved into his backpack and lost way at the bottom gave texture to the pleasure, it was something that felt very- Jack. You don’t stop the way your hips move, canting into his slowly while he traces his tongue along your bottom lip- opening your mouth for him so his tongue can swirl around yours. “Now let me fuck you baby, it’s been two weeks.” He thrusts his hips up now, trying to roll you both over so he can be on top but you shove him back down to lay flat. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You ask, reaching under you to grab his cock as you rise up on your knees- teasing the tip along your lower wet lips. Jack rises up on his elbows now, groaning at the feeling of your wetness and anticipation of finally being inside you but- 

“Trying to fuck my wife? What are you doing?” He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head like it was obvious- oh. Oh no he’s acting like he doesn’t remember. You knew he remembered, he tries to sit up fully so he can hover over you but you shove him back down again.

“No? I’m fucking you- it’s Monday, I’m on top.” Yes- you did have to make a schedule due to some nights there would be fights over who would be on top and sometimes no sex would happen because neither of you would relent. And of course in true Jack Abbot fashion- he would always try to switch days or say he’s had a hard shift and deserves to be on top or ‘Are you sure it’s not my day?’ And before he could argue more or poorly gaslight you into believing it’s his day- you sink down onto him quickly, gasping and sighing in relief. Two weeks has maybe been the longest you’ve gone without fucking him, not counting the time you banned him from the bedroom while you were studying for your Step 3 exam- that was purely a necessity because there was no way you’d be able to focus with the man literally breathing down your neck. 

“That’s not- f-fuck that’s not fair.” It was never fair. That’s the point. And you giggle at his frustration- rolling your hips into a steady and slow rhythm. Jack didn’t try to argue the point anymore, his hands found their way onto your thighs- caressing gently while you got to work on fucking your husband the way you wanted. You liked it slow, loved rocking your hips just right to where you could feel every inch of his thick cock rub against your g-spot, where the curls that collect at the top of his pubic bone kiss at your clit with every roll of your hips. You have one hand on his chest- hand flat to keep him from leaning up and trying to roll you over really pulling the dog tags around his neck slightly, then brushing against the dusting of hair along his pecs before dragging your nails down to his taut stomach- still maintaining his fucking abs at his age was a gift you didn’t know you wanted. Your other hand dragged up your own body, feeling his eyes on you because if anything, your husband had a staring problem and especially loved to stare at you. You kept his eye contact- biting your lip in a smile when you lean back now, hand on his thigh to brace yourself and continue to roll your hips, sighing at the feeling of his cock just grinding into your wet pussy. 

“Keep going baby, just like that,” he’ll let you have your fun, for now- but Jack couldn’t deny that you looked fucking ethereal in this moment, riding his cock like you were made for it, sunlight just peeking through the blinds now and kissing your skin in a golden glow. He’s obviously been on edge the last few weeks- but he’s not too proud to admit that burying himself into your cunt keeps him sane, that fucking you into your shared mattress keeps Jack’s patience leveled. Because he can already feel the stress melting away from his body with every slow move you make. He’s watching you drag your hand down your body, fingers circling around your clit and you shudder- clenching around him at the feeling and Jack groans out something almost painful. He can’t cum yet- fuck he needs this to last. “Good girl- play with your clit a little more.” If you cum first then he’ll feel better about blowing his load so fucking fast. But you need to cum first. 

“Play with it for me,” You smirked, grabbing his hand from where it was squeezing your thigh- dragging it along to right above where you both were connected. He blacks out for a moment- he thinks. Jack circles his calloused thumb around your swollen clit, slow tight movements that work in tandem with the way you rolled your body on top of his. Your other hand grabs his free one and drags it up your torso, settling on your breast, palming at it with warm heavy hands- leaving you moaning from the added sensation. You started to roll your hips faster, leaning forward a bit to place both your hands on his chest to secure your movements. You were so fucking wet- you could hear it with each pass of your pussy across his cock and you would almost be embarrassed from the sound but you were so fucking worked up that you gave no shits. He could feel you leak from around his cock- using the collection of wetness to rub your clit faster. “Like that baby- fuck keep doing that.” You praise him. Even with such a minimal effort, the swirl of this thumb along your clit had your body on fire- the sparks of your orgasm starting to tease along in your gut. Jack rolled your nipple between his thumb and index finger- groaning when you whined, clenching around him again. You were close- he could tell. He could feel it in how your body was reacting- he just needed to push you a bit farther. 

“Let me help you baby,” Jack sat up now, ignoring your protests as he removed his hand from your breast- using his arm now to wrap around your waist and pull your chest closer to his face so he can get your nipple into his mouth. Oh. Fuck- it’s was good. His mouth sucked and bit your nipple while he continued rubbing perfect circles around your clit- stubble scratching your chest but gave that extra bit of pleasure that had your thighs tightening around his hips. Fucking asshole, he knew exactly what to do- exactly how to make you cum fast. You tug on his curls at the back of his head- making him moan and bite down on your nipple now before giving a soft kiss so he can give the other equal attention. Fuck you were so close and this was so good- but you needed him deeper. Using his shoulder as leverage, you rose up on your knees until he was just notched at your entrance- looking down at him from where he was sucking marks along your chest and smiling when he nodded, almost begging you to slam down on his cock and you’re definitely not one to deny your husband. You are and you’ll deny him on purpose to be a bitch- just not this time. 

Slowly, so teasingly slow, you sank back down on him as you stared into those fucking eyes you love so much- seemingly dark and brown but you spent so much time staring into them when you first met that you realized they’re hazel. Golden flecks on the inside and rings of green on the outside- you could get lost in them if he’d let you. He would. He would do anything that you asked- minimal complaints. He groaned now, eyebrows scrunched up and mouth slightly open as you sank back down onto him so devastatingly slow- just to feel every ridge and vein of his cock until you were seated onto him once more. Tugging on his hair again- you force his mouth against yours- moaning into a hot kiss, tongue and teeth mostly but shared breaths from the panting of your efforts. The hand around your waist dipped down a bit to grab a handful of your ass, helping to guide you onto his cock- up and down and he’s trying to get you to move faster because he needs to feel the slickness of your wet pussy around him. “Faster.” He barks out- tugging your bottom lip between his teeth, slapping your ass hard for emphasis. 

“Stop topping from the bottom Jack.” You scoff- trying to comply, but honestly your thighs were starting to burn and were sore now from just the width of his hips keeping you open. He needs more and it’s so hard to keep composure when you're gently bouncing up and down onto him and he can’t fucking take it anymore. You’ve had your fun- his turn now. He reluctantly removes his fingers from your clit- kissing your cheek when you whine but grabs your hips with both his hands to keep you still, hovering just above him. You knew what he was going to do- you braced yourself on his strong freckled shoulders for it. He keeps you immobile- heavy hands settled on your hips and you couldn’t move even if you fucking tried as he thrusts up into you. Dammit- he was going to ruin you. You couldn’t take the hammering, the devastation and ruin of the pace he started to pound into you from below. You couldn’t make a sound- mouth hung open from the pleasure that started to build up in your veins. You’re so fucking glad that you were still impossibly wet- aiding the slide of his thick cock spearing up into you because the were still some resistance just from the fucking girth of him. 

“Someone sounds pretty fucking ungrateful for how good they’re being fucked right now-” he growls out- removing his hand to slap your ass again. He was only slightly right. You weren't being completely ungrateful because he was fucking you so good- just how you like it. He tilts your hips just slightly back, angling them so he can fuck up into your g-spot and you’re sure you scream from the pleasure and you just pray the neighbors don’t call the cops again. Heat courses along your veins- the familiar height of a peaking orgasm strangles its way down your spine to settle into your gut, pulling each wave higher with every thrust of his cock up into you. His pace doesn’t falter- one thing about your husband is that his stamina is still that of a fucking soldier. More than 10 years your senior and you’re the one panting and exhausted after being fucked into the mattress while he can go at least another two rounds with just a sip of water- as a treat. You bite his shoulder- not carrying if it hurts him because this feels so fucking good and you need to not scream in his ear but he’s threading his fingers through your hair and forcing you to look at him and- “don’t hide now baby- you wanted this remember?” He doesn’t stop wrecking into you, doesn’t stop slamming his hips up into your wet pussy- smirking when you close your eyes and his hand slams back down onto your ass because ‘you know better honey. 

“Wait Jack nooo-” You whine, feeling him shift so he can shove you back to lay at the foot of the bed while he settles on top of you, cool metal of his dog tags now against your chest to soothe the marks he made- never fully leaving the delicious tightness of your cunt. Asshole. At least you lasted longer on top this time. “You’re such a dick.” You moan out- wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively before he can do it for you. He didn’t care- well he did but in his mind he’s fucking you so you can relax and let him do the work, ‘it’s a love language honey’ he’d tell you. And it was so hard to deny that logic as he drives himself into you deeper, burying himself so fucking deep that it pushes you farther down the bed and your head is hanging off the edge now but it gives him access to kiss along your neck and suck marks on your collarbone to match the ones adorning your chest. 

“I know- a neglectful dick of a husband who fucks you so well,” he replies in a mocking tone- taunting you while kissing along your neck and jaw now, so gentle and sweet in contrast to the way his hips were slamming into your own. The sound was bouncing around in the room you shared- sweaty hips against each other, panting and moans that were muffled by sloppy kisses, Jack fucking talking so much that you know he’s about to cum when he finally does shut up, which he hasn’t- not yet. “Now you can’t divorce me- who will treat your pussy this good baby?” He’s baiting you now- getting you riled up from the way his mouth spews filth and nonsense into your ear while he tugs the lobe between his teeth. You just accept the pleasure, sinking into the bed with one hand braced on the wall next to you and the other clawing at his back while he drills right into your tight heat, unwavering speed that has you gasping for air, holding your breath with the impending orgasm in sight. “I said who?” He slows, pulling out and letting his cock rest between your folds now- slapping the side of your thigh now and grabbing your jaw so you can look into his eyes. “Lemme see those pretty eyes while you tell me who fucks you this good.”

“J-Jack- don’t stop,” you whine, your voice pitching at the end- frustrated and wiggling your hips a bit to get him to wreck into you like he had been. He chuckles, squeezing your jaw tighter and it opens from the pressure- his thumb sliding in for you to suck. 

“Don’t be greedy,” he clicks his tongue while slowly dragging his cock back and forth between your wet lips and letting the tip catch your clit but pulling back before it can really do much else other than stress you out and beg, “I’m being very fucking nice to you right now- don’t be a greedy little girl.” He notches at your entrance again, just teasing the tip slowly in and out to annoy you now. He doesn’t count on you still being so fucking pent up from two weeks of deprivation that you roll your hips into his, shoving yourself forward so he can ram back inside your wet cunt. It catches him off guard, the way you angle your hips so you can fuck yourself on his cock in desperation- sucking on his thumb and moaning helplessly while trying to catch back up to the fleeting orgasm from only moments ago. You’re fucking sight to behold in his eyes- chasing your own orgasm, taking it from him and he smiles now because- “that’s my fucking girl.” Pulling his hand away from your jaw and burying his face into your neck, he grab both your thighs to spread you open for him now so he can absolutely fucking ruin you. 

“Fuck- Jack,” the way you say his name is stuttered a bit with every thrust he pounds into your tight pussy. Your thighs start to shake, being forced open by his hands- you’re sure there will be bruises tomorrow in the shape of his fingers wouldn’t be the first time- won’t be the last. “I missed you so much baby, fuck I love you, I love you so fucking much.” He moans into your neck, nodding with every single whisper or whine that you spit out as you drag your fingers through his curls to pull. When you’re close to a mind altering orgasm, you start talking- babbling almost incoherently about anything, how good his cock feels, how good he fucks you, how much you love him. When Jack is close- it’s the only time he ever fucking shuts up, concentrating on making you cum first before he can even think about getting there, listening to the way your voice gets higher like it does when your about to cum, feeling your thighs shake and your pussy clenched around him. 

“I’m- I need you to cum okay?” Pressing his forehead against yours, gritting out the words because it takes so much of his fucking energy to think and speak as he’s sliding viciously between your legs- the feeling has him drunk off your pussy and he needs to concentrate. You just nod, whimpering and inching your hand between you both to rub your clit but he catches it- pulling it up to kiss your knuckles before- “let me do it baby- let me.” He mumbles, dragging his rough hand down your body now and you swear you see stars when his fingers finally trace around your clit lightly. Even when he’s teetering on the edge of cumming so deep inside you with so much of his load- he needs to make sure you’re taken care of first. You tried. Fuck- you had tried so hard after that first week to get yourself off. Laying in bed with your fingers as deep as they could reach- but they weren’t like Jack’s. Didn’t reach like his could- didn’t fill you up like his and you just ended up annoyed and frustrated and digging in that box of toys for that vibrator he uses on you when you’re tied up to the bedpost and begging him to fuck you. It still didn’t work and after hours of trying you were in tears. 

“A-almost, fuck- almost there Jack,” the thick drag of his cock was laying waste to your pussy- demolishing every single thought you had about anything. The only thing you cared about in this moment was your husband on top of you, burying his face in your neck and biting his dog tags to keep from cumming until you’re ready. A few more rough thrusts, a few more rolls of his fingers around your clit and then it finally happens- the drop. The sick fucking drop of your gut and the pleasure takes over to seize your body in a blinding orgasm that has your mouth open in a silent scream- which would’ve been his name if you had any neurons available to do so. You thought your orgasm would inspire one in him- thought the spasms and clenching would push him to cum but he preserves. His pace falters slightly but Jack doesn’t stop, lets the dog tags fall from his mouth to lick up your neck and into your mouth now- tasting the way you whine and sigh, lazily letting his tongue trace along your own. His pace is slow now, removing his hand from your sore clit and inches his way slowly through your walls because he doesn’t want this to end. He’s been deprived of your body for two weeks- he tried to use his hand, fucking his fist in the shower while leaning against the tiles but it did nothing. He couldn’t cum no matter how much he thought of you, no matter how he stroked himself, fast, slow, hard, gentle- he wanted you. 

You know he wants to cum, you know Jack is using whatever sense he has left to force himself to make this last. You’re whispering to him- telling him it’s okay to cum, that you want him to cum inside you so bad. That makes his hips stutter, his resolve starts to crack because you’re begging him to cum now- begging him to fill you up with his cum and he’s fighting within himself. Between the feeling of wanting to cum so fucking back inside you and wanting this to last- he’s struggling. He forces himself to slow down more, resting his entire body on yours for a small bit of relief while just- grinding into you now as he figures out if he wants to cum or feel your hot, tight, throbbing pussy for longer. You’re bordering on the edge of too much- but you’ve missed Jack so much that you just lay there and take it. Take the impending overstimulation from how he lazily fucks into you. One of your hands comes to thread through his sweaty curls now, almost trying to soothe the tension that he’s creating within himself. You feel the tightness in your gut again- the first orgasm opening the door to countless more because your husband is fucking relentless and can’t make a decision on which way he wants to kill you. Jack mindlessly kisses and licks at your neck- moaning when he feels the trembling of your thighs from another devastating orgasm and you can only whimper through it. He pauses- momentarily because if he kept fucking your through your orgasm he’s sure he’d cum from the way your pussy flares and gets so much wetter. And once he knows you’ve came, his pace continues. Slow. Nowhere to be but in bed with you. Inside you

“J-Jack-” helplessly whining, ignoring the few tears that fall from your cheeks from a combination of pleasure and inching on pain. Not hurting but raw and sensitive no matter how fucking wet you still were. He doesn’t care- he makes a little shake of his head and a- ‘nuh uh’ sound that was muffled from being buried in your hair and shoulder. He can’t. Not yet. A few more minutes but not yet. He promises, mumbles that he will cum soon but he just needs to be inside you for a bit longer. The grinding of him inside you, not even thrusting just grinding to conserve his energy- has him rubbing against your sore clit and you can fucking feel another orgasm clawing its way up your chest and you have no time to mentally prepare because it’s slamming its way into you again. You shake and cry and whimper against Jack but he’s steady, sighing into the feeling of you trembling underneath him as if it was a comfort to him. He’s found his voice again- softly whispering praise into your ear and telling you how much he loves you, that he’s going to fill you full of his cum soon- ‘you’re being such a good girl for me baby, always my girl.’ You’re so tired and sore and the sun has finally risen fully to bathe your bedroom in light but you can only stare up at the ceiling, sighing with how softly Jack fucks into you because it’s so good- so fucking good but almost getting to be too much again. You can feel him throbbing inside you, his slow grinds have gotten sloppy- no real pace or rhythm to them as he’s losing the grip he had on his determination. 

“Cum inside me Jack-” you whimper, turning your face to nudge against his, making him look into your eyes. “I want you to cum inside me baby- I need it so bad. Please Jack?” God his heart and strength shatter when you beg. He’s never really been able to tell you no- not when it mattered really. You were his biggest weakness, Jack Abbot was a man fucking whipped for his wife- you who just have to bat your pretty lashes at him and he’ll fall to his knees for you. And asking him to cum inside you? He only gets a second- maybe two before he’s stalling and tensing while he cums inside you, making sure to get it as deep as he can. He doesn’t move- not just yet. Mumbling incoherent praise and kissing along your jaw and neck that was red and rare from his stubble making a mental note to yourself to make sure he shaves later. Leaning up on his elbows he pants, groaning just a bit when he finally pulls his cock out of you but doesn’t leave your arms just yet. Shared breathing and giggles, soft pecks of your lips against his- pushing the sweaty curls that have fallen onto his forehead back. 

“I love you,” he repeats, a final kiss as you happily moan into his lips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and stretching the aching muscles a bit. Jack rolls off of you, coming to lay shoulder to shoulder now and his hand drops to catch yours, bringing it up to his lips to kiss where your ring was nestled comfortably on your finger. 

“You need to shave,” turning to face him and running your hands over his jaw to emphasize the point. “Lucky you didn’t eat me out- would’ve had rug burn on both my fucking lips.” He barks out a laugh- intertwining your fingers together and letting your hands rest between you both. 

“Guess I know how I’m waking you up then,” he smirks, turning his head to meet your eyes and-

“If you give me beard burn on my pussy you’re taking full custody of the kids,” you throw back, sitting up to stretch and for a yourself to stand because you absolutely need a shower now and-

“So is that a no to licking you awake or?”

[reidmotif]

Off the Record

Summary: Reader is hellbent on not confessing while the BAU is interrogating her. Spencer Reid finds an.. unconventional tactic that'll break her.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: f!receiving oral, f!masturbation, mentions of typical CM violence, o-denial, slight dbcon, pinv sex, rough sex/make-out, semi-public sex.

Word Count: 3.4k

Masterlist

There's reward in going unnoticed. 

Some would obviously say otherwise. There’s an argument to be made that it’s better to make your presence known, to announce who you are to the world with no apology or shame. 

After all, if no one sees you, truly sees you, what separates your existence from those who live and those who were never here to begin with? 

And of course, this may be true for some, but what do you say to those who live an existence fated to stay under the cover of darkness? To seal the horrors in Pandora’s Box out of mercy for a world that was never ready for you in the first place? 

Despite your reasons for staying quiet, Spencer Reid seemed determined to break you. 

“You’re not making this any easier on yourself, you know?” Spencer muttered, sitting across from you in the dim light of the interrogation room. His exhaustion was evident, the prolonged questioning taking a toll on his psyche.

 “You’d save yourself a lot of trouble if you just confessed.” 

His voice was low and tired, the hours wearing him thin. 

“Where’s the fun in that, Agent Reid?” You respond, cocking an eyebrow, your hands crossed over your chest. You pause, before adding: “Besides. Nothing to confess.” 

“Dr Reid.” He firmly corrects.

You’re defiant, consistently repeating the same lines you’d flung at every agent that had approached you for the past sixteen hours, since the moment you’d been torn away from the safety of your apartment. 

It was too bad. Even on what seemed to be a hard day, Spencer Reid was dreadfully handsome. 

Spencer let a deep exhale exit his nose, a testament to his growing frustration, and a half-hearted attempt to ground himself. “Liam Brown, Noah Williams, Theodore Smith.” He says, pushing various crime scene pictures towards you over the table. “All victims of a prolific black widow we’ve been chasing for months.” 

The images are gruesome, meant to provoke you. You give a response, but perhaps not the one they intended. Disgust slips into your expression before you can stop yourself, but you look away in the end, unwilling to yield and give yourself away. Nobody needed to know that you felt no pity for the men on the table. 

“A connection isn’t the same as probable cause, and I know my rights.” You snap, your body language making it clear that you were nowhere near giving them the answers you wanted.  “You can’t hold me any longer than forty-eight hours.” 

Spencer rubs a hand over his face, clearly exasperated. With no further words exchanged between the two of you, he rises from his chair, allowing the metal furniture to scrape softly against the floor, before disappearing to the other side of the one-way mirror that stood in front of you.

 You didn’t need to see him to know that his gaze was trained on you, even then. 

 Waiting for the moment you’d snap. 

Too bad he’d never get what he wanted. 

Several minutes pass by whilst you’re alone in the room. The air wraps around you, tension making a home through every inch of you as your thoughts run wild in the silence. 

What was your endgame here? Could you really outsmart the FBI? They still had about thirty-one hours with you. What would they do? 

Before you can answer any of your own questions, Spencer re-enters, but something’s shifted this time. The previous fatigue that plagued him just minutes ago was no longer there, but rather replaced with a defiance and intensity that mirrored your own. You’re already getting ready to fight, to match the shift in his demeanor, but he doesn’t give you the  chance.  

“Get up,” He barks out, his voice sharp and full of command that wasn’t previously there.

You narrow your eyes, still trying to maintain your resistance in the face of the new persona he seemed to be sporting. “Am I free to go?” 

He laughs, but it’s a sound completely devoid of humor.

 “Did I say that? No.” He answers his own question, sharply. “Get up. I won’t repeat myself.” 

Despite your desire to resist on principle, his tone carries a threat you can’t quite name yet. An involuntary shiver that passes through your body, and suddenly it seems like you’re better off complying, rather than sticking to your old patterns. 

Your body reacts. You’re unsure if you’re being led by fear, instinct, or something darker, but regardless of what it is, you’re compelled to listen to him, slowly rising to your feet. 

He wastes absolutely no time, gripping your arm with a bruising force as he leads you out of the stale room, his movements swift and purposeful. 

The cold metal of the cuffs bite into your wrists, a physical and unignorable manifestation of his regulation over your current predicament.  No matter what kind of show you put on, you weren’t the one in control. 

The halls around you stretch endlessly. Sterile, blank walls stare back at you, as if mocking you for ever entering in the first place. Each corner looks like the last, every turn erasing the one before it. You’re led deeper and deeper within the bones of the building, further and further away from prying eyes and pesky cameras. 

He doesn’t want you found. These hallways would never allow you to leave. He had you trapped.

And then, after what feels like an eternity of movement with no end in sight, you’re met with an elevator. It’s unmarked, and immediately you can tell you’re not supposed to be here. It’s a service elevator, the type meant to carry cargo, not people. 

And yet here you are.

There’s a foreboding silence as Spencer presses the button with a decisive jab to call the machinery. The doors creak open ominously, and he shoves you into the claustrophobic space without ceremony.

He’s so close you can feel his hot breath against the bare skin of your neck, the firm press of his body anchoring you in place, serving as an oppressive weight that reminds you there’s no escape. 

The thick silence between the two of you stretches as the elevator shudders to life. It’s the type of quiet that makes your body buzz with uneasy anticipation for what’s to come.

This isn’t protocol. You knew that, at this point. Whatever he was leading to you, you knew it couldn’t fare well for you. As the doors open to your destination, the ultimate question lingers in your chest. 

What was he going to do to you? 

The elevator doors hiss open, and instead of another line of sterile corridors, you’re met with the warm night air, the type of heat that only summer could provide. You blink, momentarily disoriented by the sudden change in scenery and the darkness, until your eyes adjust and you process where you are. 

The roof? 

You barely have anytime to register what’s occurred before Spencer is pulling you forward. You hear the elevator doors close with a soft, final clink behind you, and know you’re well and truly stuck here now. 

“What are we doing here?” You ask, voice barely audible. 

Spencer doesn’t stop moving, dragging you towards the parapet. “Thought we could use some fresh air. You’ve been inside for a while now.” 

The words are sweet, falling from his mouth easily, but the tone is all wrong. While you might be persuaded to believe in his consideration for your well-being, the sincerity of the statement is voided by the controlled cadence he delivers with it. It almost sounds rehearsed, a calculated and careful manipulation in an attempt to gain your trust. 

You’re absolutely sure he’s not as truthful about his intentions as he’d like you to believe. 

The space he’s leading you on is wide and industrial, filled with empty crates and encircled by dark, thick forestry on all sides. The pale moonlight spills across the rooftop, giving you a clearer view of your surroundings. 

You wouldn’t say it, of course, but it also got you a better look at Spencer’s expression. It doesn’t help, though. His lips are set in a straight line, eyes fixed ahead, face unreadable within the low light. Damn it. 

“I come up here to think.” Spencer says quietly, almost to himself. “The quiet makes everything easier.” He murmurs. 

His grip loosens around you as you reach the guardrail, but you’re much too on guard to make any sudden movements. You don’t slip away, opting to stick right beside him, close enough that you can still feel the body heat emanating from his person. 

“Why am I here?” You ask, voice a bit quiet to match the serenity of your location. 

“I figured you might need to think too.” He says, voice deep, taking in the view.  “You’ve got a tough decision to make, you know.” He says, head turning so his eyes can lock onto yours.

You ignore the implications of his statement, opting to narrow your eyes instead.  “Are we even allowed to be up here?” 

That earns you a quiet laugh under his breath. “Now you care about the rules? You do realize why you’re here in the first place, right?” 

The irony isn’t lost on you, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of playing into his hand. “Not everyone plays by the same rules.” You retort, meeting his gaze with a steady look of your own.  

He pauses, licking his lips, whilst nodding in a noncommittal manner. “I agree to some extent.” 

He gives another long pause, before adding, “And yes, you’re right. We aren’t supposed to be here. But there aren’t any cameras up here, and I doubt anyone’s missing you.” 

His eyes focus on you, then. “I think you and I can agree that not everything worth doing isn’t always.. allowed.” 

That catches your attention. “What do you mean?”

He stalks closer to you, chuckling at your sudden piqued interest. “See.” He begins. “You want something. And I think I can give it to you.” 

The words strike something in you, and suddenly you feel too exposed. You don’t respond for a moment, before finding your voice again, in a mumbled, hoarse noise. 

“I want something?” 

He steps even closer, eyes fixed on you with a focus that borders on intimate. “Don’t play dumb. I saw it the second I walked in. Pupils blown out, your thighs pressing together under the table.” He gives an uncharacteristic smirk, as if he can’t help his pride at this moment.  

“You don’t do a very good job of hiding when you’re attracted to someone.” 

You blink, immediately flustered, feeling much more exposed than you did a moment ago. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. You’re attracted to me.” He repeats a hint of cockiness in his speech. 

“If you think I’m fucking you in exchange for a confession, you’re wrong.” You snark back, trying to build up some defense against the (very true) accusations he laid at your feet. 

“So you’re not attracted to me?” He replies, same, smug smile still gracing his features. 

“No.” You scoff, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, I’m sure you won’t mind me checking then.” He says, his hubris overwhelmingly obvious. 

Again, as is custom with him, you’re given no time to figure out what he even means before he’s on his knees in record time, nimble fingers hovering over the metal button of your jeans. He looks up at you, and you lick your lips, giving him a small, imperceptible nod on impulse. 

He wastes no time quickly pulling the denim past your hips, before grinning wildly at the sight that faced him. 

“You’re wet.” He murmurs, knuckles trailing over the wet patch that had settled in between your thighs. 

His fingers find your clit through the fabric, and he rubs them against it, the lace of your panties creating the most delicious friction between your folds. You shudder, your cuffed hands darting out to grab the metal railing to steady yourself. 

“Mm. And you say you’re not attracted to me.” He says, arrogance radiating off him in waves, practically singing the words to you.

“Shut up.” You garble out, not wanting to admit just how good this felt, despite the overwhelming evidence against you at that moment. 

“What? Are you always this wet?” He chuckles, pulling his fingers away, depriving you of your growing orgasm. Your eyes snap open at the loss of pleasure. 

“Why…” You whine, looking down at him from where he was currently situated between your thighs. 

“Say you want this.” He says, voice firm.

“I..” You start, voice quiet. 

You don’t want to. You couldn’t fall for him. Couldn’t give up what you’d worked so hard to build. But then your eyes meet his, and you see it. The undeniable hunger. The promise of a pleasure deeper than anything you could ever give yourself. You sigh heavily, before surrendering to it, not wanting to deny yourself of what this man so clearly has to offer. 

“I want this.” 

“Good fucking girl.” He murmurs, voice full of praise. He moves to slide your underwear down your thighs, motioning for you to step out of your jeans and to spread your legs, your thighs and sex completely bared to him. 

And then his tongue is everywhere, lapping over your core, slowly, from your entrance to your clit. He starts gently, allowing the tip of the wet muscle to circle  around the throbbing bud, before sucking it into his mouth, the suction driving you delirious. 

“Ahh.” You moan, your head lolling backwards, your eyes rolling to the back into your head. This man’s mouth was heaven sent. 

He pulls back from you, a lopsided grin on his face. “That’s right. Let me hear you. Let everyone hear you.” 

Exhibitionist.

He guides your thigh to be hiked over his shoulder, and with no further words exchanged between the two of you, starts to eat you out with renewed vigor. He enthusiastically devours you from below, his face buried in your pussy as he drinks your arousal in like a man starved. 

You’re an absolute mess above him. As much as it infuriates you to admit it, he’s undeniably good at this, and your orgasm is fast approaching. Maybe it’s the sight of him, his wavy brown hair between your thighs, and how every so often you catch a glimpse of his expression, eyes closed as if he was experiencing the highest form of heaven simply by eating you out.

The warm, wet muscle thrusts into your entrance, wrapping around you and exploring every inch of you with a heartfelt desire to leave no part of your sex untouched. 

“Oh god. Oh god! Dr Reid. I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come.” You moan out, unashamed. Why would you be? Your words were lost to the night that surrounded you two, swallowed by the darkness that concealed all of his ministries. 

He doesn’t let up, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer. You’re right there, and just before you find yourself falling into that endless pit of pleasure, he pulls back, leaving you on the precipice of a little death. 

Motherfucker. 

You pant, in shock and still relentlessly needy for your release. “You- you stopped.” You say, voice shaky. 

“I did. Ready to talk?” He asks, a grin on his face. His mouth is glistening with your arousal, and he licks it off his lips. The sight is erotic enough to make your legs shake again, the flame of desire in you rising higher and higher.

But you see through his game, and you feel that familiar pride rise hot within your chest. 

“Go fuck yourself.” Your voice sharp and hiss-like. 

“I’d rather just fuck you.” He says cheekily, and you believe he’s going to go behind you but instead, he hauls you up, and crashes your lips on his. 

You immediately melt into the kiss with no hesitation, the fight draining out of you in favor of your need for this man. You desperately wish your hands were unbound so you could pull him closer, but the cuffs remind you that it’s his mercy you’re at. 

 In the end, it doesn’t matter though, because Spencer is doing all the work for you, pressing his body towards yours, as his tongue manages to invade your mouth. You taste your heady release on him, and moan, your back arching in a desperate attempt for more.

“Sorry.” He mumbles lips brushing against yours as he pulls back, almost sheepishly. “Had to do that at least once.”

 It’s almost endearing, the way he’s acting. Eating you out was no trouble for him at all, but kissing you is what made him shy. The contrast has you giggling despite everything, and he flashes you a crooked smile in return. 

Then, you feel it. The press of his bulge, hard and insistent, straining the fabric of his slacks. His hands slide up your back, gentle and firm all in the same, while he bends you over against the parapet. He steps in close behind you, and the quiet sounds of his belt being undone reach your ears. 

You know exactly where this is leading. 

Your eyes are fixed ahead as you tense in anticipation for him, and then feel his cock, sliding and teasing you, collecting the wetness that had remained between your folds.

He’s big, and just the feeling of it makes you go weak in the knees. 

He slides into you with a smooth, singulair thrust, and immediately sets a steady rhythm, his hips snapping against yours. You can hear the sound of flesh on flesh, the sound creating the perfect background to the debauchery you two were indulging in. You can hear his grunts behind you, the way his breath goes heavy with every hump he deals into you. 

“God, so wet, so-” He moans, unable to form a coherent sentence. A rush of pride runs through you, knowing you’re the one able to make him feel this good, that it was you that was unraveling him and dragging those desperate, pretty sounds from his parted lips. 

You arch your back in an attempt to take him deeper, moans and whimpers escaping you with every drag of his thick cock inside of you. How was someone so hellbent on your downfall so fucking good at making you feel this way? You involuntarily clench around him when the head of his dick nudges against that spot deep inside of you, the action causing a throaty yelp to escape from you. 

“God, you like that? Can feel you getting close.” He says, his voice with a slight edge to it. 

“Yes. Fuck- love this.” You moan, unable to deny the truth of how wonderful he made you feel. 

He hears it. Smirks. “You wanna come?” 

You nod, moaning obscenely. “Yes, please. Let me come.” 

You push your hips back against his, encouraging him to go harder, faster, and to finally take you over that edge, and he obliges, reveling in your greed. 

“Tell me what I want to know.” He breathes, low and deep. “Come on. I know you can.” 

Your mind reels. You’ve managed to hold back for so long, to maintain the facade, and it was never your intention to give it up like this. But with every thrust, your resistance crumbles more and more. He was fucking you dumb.

“I- I arrange the kills.” You moan. “I don’t murder anyone- I just, oh god. I help!” 

You can practically feel his smirk, and his movements faltering as he nears his own release. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

You want to throw back an insult, something clever, but instead, all that comes out of your mouth is a long, wrecked moan, your cunt clenching rhythmically around him as you tremble around him. In a daze, you can feel him reaching his breaking point as well, a loud groan slipping from him as his hips hold you in place, his warmth filling your deepest point. 

His chest presses against your back, his breath ragged. 

“You should get a lawyer.” He mumbles, still trying to catch his breath. 

“Appreciate it.” You say, dazed, and oddly.. content? You should regret this, but the feeling of his cum dripping down your thighs makes you forget that instantly. 

“You should thank me.” He murmurs, lips brushing against your shoulder.

“Why?” You murmur, confused.

He chuckles slowly. "You're in our custody now. Which means I get to keep you close."

You can’t say you’re mad about that. 

would you believe me if i said this is the most unsure ive EVER been on a fic. even more than my first attempt at writing a whump. anyway. i hope you guys liked this fic... please interact if you did? ive said this before but reblogs are the lifeblood of Tumblr and if you want my work to reach more people.. that is the way <3 and omg if you didn't like it. please give me feedback. anyway. thank you so so much for reading!!!! i so appreciate it regardless!! okay also this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins "stuck together" challenge so. go check that out as well!! okay bye!!!

[tojimatcha]

protector

suguru x reader

rating: m+, sweet d0m! suguru, 0ral, f¡ngering, short little fic about suguru pleasing reader <3 will proofread l8er...

a sultry growl reverberates throughout the woodsy scented room- though with suguru so close to you, you couldn’t help but be engulfed by his aroma.

it’s like patchouli and mint; you’re trapped inside his embrace. you’re lying a top his fluffy futon in the corner of the dimly lit room.

after your night out after suguru’s game- he seemed rather bothered yet insisted he was ‘tired’ and ‘wanted to spend quiet time with you’ after the situation.

which is why now you’re practically pressed to the wall on the comfy futon. suguru supports his mass on his forearm, caging you underneath his weight as he relentlessly kisses your plump pout.

Firm and smooth hands reach to give your hip a firm squeeze, he smirks as you jolt, further kneading the sensitive skin causing you to softly mewl into the heated exchange.

“god-“ he groans as your sounds fuel the carnal desire to make your pleasure ethereal. “Is it okay if i touch your intimate areas angel?” he drawls sincerely but it sounds so enthralling coming from his swollen lips. you nod pulling on the fabric of his black tee.

he pulls away and chuckles at your attempt to chase after his lips.

“words, beautiful.” he commands with the hand previously on your hip gently adjusting you to gaze into his hungry stare.

“only…” you breathe, ears heating at the butterflies that swarm within, “only if it’s you.”

you don’t want to ruin the moment but he’s been on you since you both left the bar meeting with a few of his acquaintances.

“um sugu- ooh!” you moan as he brings his warm, rough palms under your camisole to massage your hips, your sides.

he straddles you, bringing his hands from under the silk to squeeze your ample breast a top the fabric.

“damn the things you do to me.” he bites his bottom lip and adjusts his pants- the hard-on he’s sported since edging you in the parking garage. the anger from that fucker at the bar set his nerves ablaze and needed to let off steam.

the opposing teams captain- oikawa- had cornered you in a secluded area near the restrooms. the bar had a lovely terrace for sports games, ping pong- but on your little trip to the ‘ladies room’ turned into a dicey situation .

-

the smell of powdery perfume wafts through the restroom as you reapply your gloss. you’re not much of a people person, so the bathroom was a bit of a relief from the socialization that suguru talked you into.

not that you minded all too much, his friends were nice and funny and on his hockey team or friends of the players- pleasant all around. but this other man, oikawa you think his name was- was pestering the life out of you.

this was supposed to be a "team bonding" outing but the alcohol didn't seem to help the whole event...

nonetheless you pushed your annoyance to the side and exited your mini sanctuary.

Low and behold you see a tall captain waiting for you by the hallway.

"hey there,"

you groan inwardly, "hi, im just headed back..." you try to squash the conversation before he can start but a long arm blocks your way.

"you've been avoiding me all night sweetheart, what's a man gotta do to earn your attention hm?" this was partially true- you could tell from his gaze he was pinning for you, so you've been going out of your way to engage with suguru's teammates- even gojo satoru to your disdain.

"i have a boyfriend. get out of my way." you bluntly state.

"sure you do i don't see him right now or all night matter of fact, so what's his name?" he leans in, perfect brown hair swaying with the movement.

"what's your deal? i have nothing to prove to you." you retort obviously over the whole ordeal.

"you got that right babe."

you peer behind okikawa's large frame and see your angel. oikawa turns around and points between the two of you.

"so you're-"

"damn straight. now fuck off asshole before that match isnt the only thing you lose-"

"wow, you're so serious, and for what?" oikawa interrupts and begins to walk away, shooting you a wink.

the blatant ogling of- his girl in front of him made him want to bash his sorry head into the glass of the bar top- but he didn’t want to upset his precious girl with his barbaric protective nature.

it wasn't long after that, when suguru and you leave. the night was already almost over anyway and you told suguru that you were uncomfortable staying.

-

with hooded eyes he listens to your whine as he squeezes your nipples and watches you lean into his touch. indents indicate the perk of arousal and he wants to kiss your luscious pout again.

his hands are everywhere, flickering flames in their journey to wherever he pleases.

you whine as he eases your legs apart. tenderly slow, he slides your panties off- feeling his cock twitch at the sight of your leaking arousal connecting from your pussy to the thin cotton. as he descends between your thighs, shivering as you feel the black tresses of his messy bun tickle your skin. the a/c chill makes your warmth pulse.

“getou…~” you sigh with every smooch he leaves upon your inner thighs. you feel his shoulders rise as he rumbles, talking while leaving love bites, as if you could understand the man’s rumblings.

he pauses and smiles at your confused expression, eyes fluttering with pleasure.

“w-whaddya stop for?” the man absentmindedly grinds his stiff against the bed at the pure desire in your voice. he loves the way you sound in moments like this, utterly vulnerable and at his sheer will.

“you didn’t answer me doll.” he delivers a firm smack to your soaked folds.

you moan loudly as more slick leaks from your warmth, “mhm-mm…i didn’t hear y-you-!” and he smacks his pussy over, and over, and over…until your legs tremble violently. groaning, he delves to slowly massage your clit with his tongue.

“i asked,” his deep voice makes your eyes roll back, thighs tightening around his head. “how many fingers do you think you can take?”

gasping, your mind wanders as you feel yourself heat up even more- leaking your nectar profusely as you imagine getou’s long, calloused thick fingers inside of you.

a husky chuckle reverberates from him at the lack of response yet again. knowing how cute you are and the fact that he has yet to really touch you and decides to squeeze your warm breast, making you gently moan and stutter,

“i- can take all of it." you proclaim and suguru raises a brow at your confidence.

"oh is that so doll?" he tilts his head down to hide his smirk.

"let's see if you can huh?" he lifs your camisole gown up higher and whistles at the puddle you're making beneath you making your cheeks heat and tummy flip.

"q-quit staring..." you grumble and turn your face into one of his soft pillows.

"awe is my baby shy?" he murmurs and rubs your puffy clit with his middle and ring fingers.

he does for only a few moments and you're already shaking. he tsk's as this, "ooh so sensitive already."

he stops because he decides you hiding your cute face away isnt going to do.

"eyes on me princess." he says so smoothly, sternly, and lovingly.

you comply, eyes meeting his suffocating gaze. moaning under his sultry eyes and hand resuming the gentle, pressured touch.

"that's better..." he chuckles when your thighs tremble and eyes flutter- "you're so fucking cute."

he wants you a little wetter, knowing in order to give you a slight chance in proving him wrong.

the man descends between your legs, entering what he considers his gates of heaven. wasting no time he kisses your clit, tongue darting out to lick long stripes and sucks upon your nub.

he has you gushing, squealing his name when he sucks particularly rough. "aah, sugu, s-sugu-" you moan and tangled your fingers in between his soft locks.

pulling away from you, he wants to watch you take his fingers. your eyes hazily match his, and he smacks your pussy one last time earning a loud gasp that turns into a soft moan as he starts with one finger.

he loves the way your mouth parts in that little 'o' and eyes rolling into a close. he moves his hand to cup the back of your neck and leans down to kiss that pretty pout.

he kisses you gingerly and deepens it as you moan into his mouth when he curls that one finger as he drags out. suguru insists on inserting another long, thick finger. instinctively, you want to clasp your legs shut, but his big muscular frame prevents you, leaving you all at his will.

he knows you enough that the slow powerful thrusting of his fingers has you dripping. "this enough for you doll?"

he smiles as you barely can form a sentence, mewling as he curls his fingers just right, rubbing that spot that has you tightening, a little too much.

"mhm is this all you can take? just two?" he mocks with a low tone.

"suguru i...i am so close...p-please don't stop." you whisper and grip onto his broad shoulders to ground you.

"never beautiful, you're doing so well for me. pretty pussy so fucking wet for me..." he leans in closer to your ear, "i love the faces you make when i touch you like this, so cute."

"y-you always make me feel so good, and safe...protected." you manage to say, holding him tighter.

his heart swells at this, falling even deeper in love with you if that's even possible. being engulfed by you is all he wants.

"i'll always protect you baby." you reach for him to kiss him so intently. he leans in and let's it get sloppy, and tugs on your lip with his teeth as he teases again, feeling you flutter consistently around his soaked fingers.

"so, so good...i can feel how close you are. are you going to cum for me my angel? cum around my fingers?" at this he pries another digit in.

"suguru!" you yelp, loving the stretch you feel. the warm pressure you feel is slowly making it's waves throughout your body, down your spine.

"yeah im right here, m' not leaving you."

he feels so secure, and your heart flips at the loving look in his eyes, his embrace and god- his fingers.

all it takes is one kiss and bite onto the juncture of your neck and shoulder to completely fall apart underneath suguru...

you claw at his back, hips stuttering as he slightly quickens his fingers, wrist soaked in your essence. warmth blooms from your flower and makes your whole body shudder.

you breathe heavily coming down and before you can gather your bearings, still twitching, you feel the futon shift and suguru is underneath your camisole again, devouring your cunt again.

his fingers slow down, and he removes them, feeling empty, but his tongue soothes that ache. his sole focus on your ultra sensitive nub. he's humming into you, grinding into the bed, and incessantly licking you like his personal lollipop.

"w-wait that's t-too much honey-" you're sobbing and shaking in his grasp, his hands holding down your hips.

he ignores you because he knows in a few moments you're going to cum again for him. suguru delves down into your puckering hole with his tongue and his nose swipes your clit each time.

as soon as he sucks your clit and keeps going, you're convulsing underneath his strong embrace. cumming into his mouth with a sweet moan- "ooh please p-please that's so g-good, oh god suguru, s-suguru."

he doesn't stop until you're pleading for him to stop, that you're too sensitive. and this time, he comes up with your sheen covering his lips, nose, and chin. he looks so hungry still...

you're gasping, catching your breath and clammy- beyond the point of feeling ethereal.

"you still with me baby?"

you nod, "y-yes" you whisper as he pecks your lips.

"good because im not done yet."

[catgirl-for-hire]

Girlfriend Ianthe Headcanons

There seemed to be a need for this and it was in my head so here ya go. Toxic girlfriend Ianthe, just beware

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

 I’m not going to pretend any of this will be nice, so just be prepared

(but we don’t love Ianthe bc she’s nice, we love her bc she’s awful. So have fun you fucking freaks <3 )

Obviously I can’t imagine Ianthe ever having any sort of remotely healthy romantic relationship, for a myriad of reasons, but primarily because you will always be second to Coronabeth

No seriously, every tiny mistake you make would be compared to Corona. You trip, Ianthe snaps that Corona had better balance than that when she was a toddler. You cook something mediocre, Ianthe insists Corona’s spit tastes better than this. Even if you try and get dressed up nice for her, Ianthe only muses on and on about how Corona’s hair is shinier, figure fuller, style more tasteful. 

She’d never get over this habit even if you begged

But she doesn’t drag on and on about Corona all the time. No, Ianthe always has plenty of breath left to remind you how lucky you are to have her. 

Lover of strange pet names, as we know. Like “Harry” is such a downgrade from “Harrowhark” it's obvious that Ianthe just spits out whatever she thinks of as a nickname. Gonad, anyone?

There's standard ones like “babygirl” and “pet” which are diminutive but not outright bizarre. But if there’s any way to abbreviate your name she will, no matter how odd it sounds. Or like with Gideon, she will replace your name with any other word that starts with the same letter. Bonus points if it can double as a degradation for when she’s pissed. 

Loves sharing a bed. It’s one of the softer things about her, and you really have to squint to see it, but she takes great pleasure in having someone sleep next to her. It’s probably a subconscious need and loneliness being filled, but she’ll insist it’s because it keeps her from sinking into the center of the mattress and making a permanent dent. 

Not much of a cuddler. She’d absolutely have a quiet obsession with you clinging to her, though. 

This kinda goes for the whole relationship, actually. Like she’s not one to offer up much in the way of affection but if, for any reason, you stopped prompting it, she’d get all weird. Probably would very aggressively pester you asking what’s wrong, and if you do tell her, she just wouldn’t say anything and walk off again. 

Assuming she actually does care, though, she would fix problems for you without saying a word about it. And if you notice and bring it up, she’d tell you that the stress was giving you wrinkles and she can’t walk around with a wrinkly partner so she just cut it off at its source. This is in fact true to her, even if she also did it because she cares. Two things can be true at once. 

She’s just an attention whore at her core <3

Ianthe is actually very insistent about maintaining your appearance. She’s very materialistic, so if she feels like your wardrobe has gotten boring or your skin is dull, she’ll go out and buy you new things or ship you off for a spa day. She’s never nice about it, it’s always as if it's some moral failing on your par. But it’s almost worth it to have her fawn over you and dress you up. 

When she’s pleased with you, though, she can be a real delight. Attentive, touchy, she knows exactly how to push your buttons and get you comfortable quickly. It’s a skill she reserves for when she feels it’s truly merited. Every affection in her life always had to be earned despite her being born into apparent privilege and absurd wealth. So why would she be any different with you?

[dilfstarr]

Toji x black fem reader

a/n: toji slander but he deserves it. yes i got inspired by that one scene in goodfellas but added a twist. :p

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

The car didn’t even get the chance to fully stop before you’re scrambling out the car. Your heels clicked loudly against the broken concrete of the sidewalk as you walked with a purpose. Wolf whistles could be heard by the random surrounding men sitting at tables gambling their life away, crowding the now closed pizza shop.

Toji looked up confused, turning his head towards the shrieking voice that was clearly approaching him. Noticing it was you, he dropped his hand of red and white diamond patterned cards faced down on the trunk of his car. With a smirk creeping up on his face he stood up tall, parting his arms silently asking for a hug.

“Hi bab-”

His sentence was interrupted by your manicured hand pushing his shoulder, resulting in you being hilariously shifted backwards from his hard body. He looked down at the shoulder you attempted to push before his eyes focused on your angry ones.

“Wha- baby don’t be like that, what’s wrong with you? You don’t want to hug me?”

“Don’t baby me boy! It was date night, remember? The one you agreed to?” You cocked your head left as you questioned him, furrowing your brows. It was your second time ever meeting this man and you’re already cussing him out! He promised you a second date after the first one ended rather ugly. He slapped his forehead in annoyance, “Ughh that was tonight? I thought it was next week..”

Next week? He knew it was this week because you texted him nonstop about how excited you were to go on another date since it was such a disaster last time. And to be honest, you didn’t even want to go the first time! Your friend started talking to this dude, Gojo or whatever the fuck, thought he was going to kidnap her because in her words he was “too good to be true”, and forced you to come. Obviously not wanting to be a third wheel, you asked your friend, to ask her man, for one of his fine friends for a double date— which lead you to Toji.

He obviously had better things on his mind as he rushed you out of the house before dragging you inside of the restaurant. He ordered nothing but black coffee and chain-smoked the whole night. The conversations you had was short as he gave one word answers or brief sentences. It was like talking to a wall.

While your friend and her white haired date were ordering dessert, Toji was already asking for the check! It wasn’t long before you were being dragged out the restaurant and dropped off back at home. Not to bring up the fact that he didn’t even bother to step out the car to walk you to the door! As soon as both of your heeled feet hit the ground, the screeching of his tires filled the neighborhood leaving nothing but black clouds behind.

“You’re such a liar Toji I swea— who the fuck are you looking at?!”

You fully turned your attention to the innocent bystander that was previously playing cards with Toji. He put his palms up in defense as he slowly walked away but not before giving Toji crumbled up hundred dollar bills from the previous lost games.

“You could’ve left me home the first night if this is how you were going to act! These good ass outfits— could’ve used it for somebody who actually gave a fuck!”

You were now close enough to where you could smell him. His earthly scent flooded your nostrils. Oh and the shirt, how it pressed so nice and tight against his toned arms. Or the silver chain that hung delicately on his tattooed filled neck. If you weren’t so mad you’ll—

He said nothing as you chewed him out but the smirk on his face was very telling. It’s almost like he enjoyed it. Getting irritated, you decided cut the discussion short.

“Never mind, forget it!” You turned on your heels, heading to walk wherever the wind took you before feeling a gentle grasp wrapped around your arm— delaying your walk into the unknown.

“No, no never mind. Let’s talk about like two grown adults. You grown ain’t you?”

You rolled your eyes at his at his dumb ass question. “Duh!”

“Then talk to me baby.” Baby… Is he trying to sweet talk you? Stand your ground don’t get weak in the knees for a pet name!— you had to remind yourself. You straighten yourself up completely turning your body to fully face his. Gray eyes hypnotized you as you stared deeply into them.

“You seemed distracted all night the first night— fidgeting with your fingers and bouncing your legs. You barely talked to me and tonight you completely stood me up! Not to mention, I’ve gotten all dolled twice up and not once did you compliment me or anything. You could’ve just said no and not string me along like some bird bitch!

“You look very beautiful by the way.”

“I know.” Your attempt to walk again was halted by his hand once again.

“Hey, hey look at me don’t do that.”

“I apologize. I was an asshole, I’ll admit. I didn’t know it’ll make you feel this way. I don’t usually let people in and I guess I got in my head about and completely neglected you and your feelings.”

Your eyes roll in the deeps of your skull at the sound of his apology. “Whatthefuckever Toji.”

“Look, how about we go tonight hm? You’re already dressed, looking fine as hell, and look.”

He pulls out the balled up hundreds from his pocket, “I jus won money from the guy you went apeshit on so you can get whatever you want.” His sentence became hush whispering as he shuffled closer to you.

The money was swiftly snatched out of his fingers and right into your Coach.

“For wasting my gas money. Bum ass nigga.”

“Wha-”

You finally make way to your fucked up parked car twisting your hips with every step. He watched, mutely regretting his actions.

“I hate to see you go! But I love to watch you leave baby!”

He shouted across the lot, causing everyone and their mother to turn and watch you get in your car.

[threegoldfish]

That's it, baby -- c'mon, do that again for me, yeah? Wanna feel you.

...That might be the single hottest thing that Marc has ever said to him - so far - and Steven gasps at that, lets out another little whimper, something deeply embarrassed about how much it turns him on, how hard he is inside his pants...

And oh god, Marc is going to feel it, because he's --- he's sinking down onto Steven, straddles his leg in earnest, and... and, oh, oh--- oh, Steven can feel it too, the fact that the other seems to be just as excited about it all, the eagerness hard and persistent against the spot where hip meets thigh.

That makes him moan again, oh it does - all needy and a little throaty, especially since the slight change of position prompts Marc's own leg to push a bit more firmly into the space between Steven's. Added stimulation it is, on top of the knowledge that Marc, his Marc, is liking what's happening here - obviously excited and happy, not put-off by anything Steven does here, not at all!

A dream coming true, prompts Steven to buck his hips once more, rolling up against Marc's thigh, a bit more enthusiastically this time - less like an accident, much more on purpose, definitely.

"Oh---Oh god, Marc--- oh Marc, y-you're---"

Swallowing, Steven whimpers again as he turns his head, pressing his nose and lips to the side of his lover's throat (lover! That... sounds absolutely fantastic! Are they lovers? They should be, right?) as if trying to hide, the hand on Marc's side sliding to the small of his back to curl into the fabric there to hold onto something. Perhaps he's also... trying to push the other down a bit more? Possibly, who knows? Might be a mix of both.

"---You're... g-gods, you're so hot---"

Marc truly is. Has always been. And now Steven finally says it out loud, as ashamed as he feels about it - because it's the truth. ...And because thinking is a bit hard right now. Makes Steven act slightly more... bold, perhaps. A little less proper than usual.

Steven's reactions are like stumbling onto a goldmine. They're so soft, so sweet in sound. Higher pitched, a little nasally almost. Each stutter in breath sounding like music to Marc's ears. They make him. . . greedy. They make him crave more, make him want more. Want to be the reason those little noises keep leaving Steven. The reason the other shuddered beneath him, moaned like that. A genuine moan, airy and soft between them, so close to Marc's own ear thanks to their positioning now. Steven even grinded his hips up. A jerking movement, just one little roll of his hips like it was more so involuntary. Like he simply couldn't help himself, his body just craved it that badly. It was going to drive Marc fucking crazy. "That's it, baby -- c'mon, do that again for me, yeah? Wanna feel you." And his body sunk in closer as Steven pulled, silently begged for him to lower himself. So Marc did, until they were almost chest-to-chest there on the couch. Until his own hips pressed snug just near Steven's own. Not necessarily crotch-to-crotch -- his own interest ended up pressed right around where Steven's thigh met his own hips. The sign of his own arousal, his own reaction to Steven. Because of course he had one. There was no way he could listen to the other moan like that. Wiggle under him and cling to him and call his name like that without reacting to it in turn.

[wonder-worker]

"Among their complaints [in 1460, the Yorkists] specifically blamed the earls of Wiltshire and Shrewsbury and Viscount Beaumont for ‘stirring’ the king [Henry VI] to hold a parliament at Coventry that would attaint them and for keeping them from the king’s presence and likely mercy, asserting that this was done against [the king's] will. To this they added the charge that these evil counselors were also tyrannizing other true men* without the king’s knowledge. Such claims of malfeasance obliquely raised the question of Henry’s fitness as a king, for how could he be deemed competent if such things happened without his knowledge and against his wishes? They also tied in rumors circulating somewhat earlier in the southern counties and likely to have originated in Calais that Henry was really ‘good and gracious Lord to the [Yorkists] since, it was alleged, he had not known of or assented to their attainders. On 11 June the king was compelled to issue a proclamation stating that they were indeed traitors and that assertions to the contrary were to be ignored." — Helen Maurer, Margaret of Anjou: "Queenship and Power in Late Medieval England

Three things that we can surmise from this:

We know where the "Henry was an innocent helpless king being controlled and manipulated by his Evil™ advisors" rhetoric came from**.

The Yorkists were deliberately trying to downplay Henry VI's actual role and involvement in politics and the Wars of the Roses. They cast him as a "statue of a king", blamed all royal policies and decisions on others*** (claiming that Henry wasn't even aware of them), and framed themselves as righteous and misunderstood counselors who remained loyal to the crown. We should keep this in mind when we look at chronicles' comments of Henry's alleged passivity and the so-called "role reversal" between him and Margaret.

Henry VI's actual agency and involvement is nevertheless proven by his own actions. We know what he thought of the Yorkists, and we know he took the effort to publicly counter their claims through a proclamation of his own. That speaks louder than the politically motivated narrative of his enemies, don't you think?

*There was some truth to these criticisms. For example, Wiltshire (ie: one of the men named in the pamphlet) was reportedly involved in a horrible situation in June which included hangings and imprisonments for tax resistance in Newbury. The best propagandists always contain a degree of truth, etc. **I've seen some theories on why Margaret of Anjou wasn't mentioned in these pamphlets alongside the others even though she was clearly being vilified during that time as well, and honestly, I think those speculations are mostly unnecessary. Margaret was absent because it was regarded as very unseemly to target queens in such an officially public manner. We see a similar situation a decade later: Elizabeth Woodville was vilified and her whole family - popularly and administratively known as "the queen's kin" - was disparaged in Warwick and Clarence's pamphlets. This would have inevitably associated her with their official complaints far more than Margaret had been, but she was also not directly mentioned. It was simply not considered appropriate. ***This narrative was begun by the Duke of York & Warwick and was - demonstrably - already widespread by the end of 1460. When Edward IV came to power, there seems to have been a slight shift in how he spoke of Henry (he referred to Henry as their "great enemy and adversary"; his envoys were clearly willing to acknowledge Henry's role in Lancastrian resistance to Yorkist rule; etc), but he nevertheless continued the former narrative for the most part. I think this was because 1) it was already well-established and widespread by his father, and 2) downplaying Henry's authority would have served to emphasize Edward's own kingship, which was probably advantageous for a usurper whose deposed rival was still alive and out of reach. In some sense, the Lancastrians did the same thing with their own propaganda across the 1460s, which was clearly not as effective in terms of garnering support and is too long to get into right now, but was still very relevant when it came to emphasizing their own right to the throne while disparaging the Yorkists' claim.

[excarow]

Damian being raised to see himself only as a weapon and later being taught that he's more than that VS Tim being raised to see himself only as a tool and being reinforced of that belief by the same people that taught Damian to love himself is such a good parallel holy shit.

Like, both of them were told that they had to have Purpose™ by their parents, but only one was later told that he could be loved for the sake of being loved while the other was only proved that his parents were right.

[stilesinwonderland]

The closer we get, the more I am hopeful that mark will bite tf out of tong next episode and tong will in fact encourage it can I get a hell yeah brother

[kidspawn]

alright i gotcha lemme just *cracks knuckles like a hacker* let me offer you my comfort fics (the ones i read at 2am when i need a distraction from all my responsibilities). Warning, this is like... almost all pynch with two or three exceptions. I do not sleep much I listen to music and read/write

One-Shots

Set With Stars by EmiAliceinWonderland

"There's nothing but Adam’s hand hanging out of the open window of the passenger side, wind rushing through his fingers and catching in his hair as he leans out to watch the world flash by. Nothing but Ronan’s fierce confidence behind the wheel of the car, and the buzz of electricity that surrounds him whenever he gets to just drive.  There’s nothing but Ronan, Ronan, Ronan running through Adam’s brain at seventy miles per hour." --- Set a month or so after Pynch get together, just new boyfriends exploring their feelings, their thoughts on sexuality, and a little bit of stargazing.

(this author has a lot of really good stuff, btw

from across the room by djhedy

Ronan gets dragged to a Harvard party, where he meets Gansey's friend Adam and realises he doesn't know how to flirt to save his life.

(this shit is so cute btw i need you to know loser Ronan is such a fun little adoration of mine)

impossible, inevitable by orphan_account

Adam sighs exaggeratedly. “It’ll just be a peck on the lips, Lynch. Perfunctory and boring, just to show Henry that he’s an idiot. It’s not like it’ll mean anything.” Somewhere in the back of his head, Adam knows he’s making a terrible and dangerous decision, but all he can currently think about is the righteousness and pride flowing through him. He refuses to let anyone else tell him how he feels, least of all a rich, entitled Aglionby boy. (Or, my response to the prompt then there's tongue, where Henry thinks Adam and Ronan are boyfriends, so obviously they have to kiss to prove him wrong)

Sizzling Like Your Stare by coffeehanjan

AU prompt from tumblr: You're the cutest waiter at my favorite restaurant. It's not like Ronan has the wait staff rotation of Nino's memorized or anything. ...Except that he totally does.

(gchvkyufhvyughvgvhvh)

These Hands Are Ties by liwellen

“At first, I thought Gansey and I were doing something wrong. Then I realized that it wasn’t our problem at all! It’s you two. You can be jerks but you’re always touching, and kissing, and doing that annoying telepathic thing.” She scrunched her nose. “It’s kind of disgusting.” Adam felt his face burn and immediately said, “That’s not true. We don’t- get off me, Lynch.” He pushed at Ronan who had been resting his head on his thigh this whole time. Noah decided to pipe in. “Like she said. Disgusting.” That was what made Adam and Ronan determined to prove that they could keep their damn hands to themselves.

come, and be my baby by thesehands

“Do you think we would’ve been friends if we’d known each other when we were younger?” Ronan asked. Adam looked at him for a long moment. He said, “Maybe.” “I wish I’d known you then,” Ronan said. A silence stretched between them. “I was alone, before I met you,” Ronan’s voice was the softest Adam had ever heard it. “Yeah,” Adam replied, just as soft. “Me too.” or: it’s 1990(ish). adam is a grad student and ronan is not. they go to the same book club. they meet.

in rolling waves of incidents by littlelionvanz

In more ways that he could ever admit to out loud, he wished he was more like Gansey in this moment. If he were Gansey, he could tell Adam how beautiful he was. How he wanted to keep that smile with him always. He could be free with his words without worrying about sounding like a fucking idiot. If he were Gansey, he would say the right things to make Adam love him. He would be good at this. Or, Ronan and Adam meet via Instagram and they're both losers about everything.

rascals and scoundrels, villains and knaves by shinealightonmen

He's so obviously telling them to fuck off and leave that the second Ronan gets outside he turns right around and heads back to the entrance.

all we do is drive (all we do is think about the feelings that we hide) by orphan_account

Adam had grown used to, had even started to look forward to, these drives with Ronan. He’d come barging into Adam’s apartment at St. Agnes at night, not so late that it interrupted Adam’s sleep but late enough that the sky was dark as could be and the stars were bright. Sometimes he’d come up with an excuse, something they needed to do, other times he’d just say, “Come on, Parrish. We’re going for a drive.” Adam would pretend to be annoyed, but he’d go along without much of a fight. The truth was, these drives were starting to become the highlight of Adam’s otherwise generally shitty week. * (Or, four times Adam and Ronan didn't make out in the backseat of a car, and the one time they did.)

you'll never get to heaven on a night like this by tamquams

Ronan doesn’t know why he pulls into the parking lot of the diner that first night. It isn’t a particularly striking establishment; it looks like basically every other diner he’s ever been to, with large plate-glass windows he can see right through this time of night. It’s completely empty aside from the guy behind the counter, and Ronan figures it’s as good a place as any to spend a few sleepless hours.

an exhale of smoke in the sky by soft ambrollins

Falling in love isn't the hard part. Any masochistic asshole with a death wish and half a soul can do that. The hard part is deciding to do something about it, even when every fucking bone in your body feels like the brake line's been cut and you're hurtling straight off a precipice, irrevocably, all the way down. Or: Ronan's attempts at courting Adam aren't as disastrous as you might expect.

PDA by lizpaige

Five times Ronan was caught off guard + 1 time he was ready for ‘em (aka Ronan comes to terms with PDA after being interrupted smooching his bf a bunch of times when they thought they were alone)

by and by it's a waste of time by shinealightonme

"Gansey wants to set you up with someone so badly, why should we ruin that for him?"

haute cuisine by hoyyanneg

Adam wants to dazzle his hot date by cooking for him. It does not go as planned. For the prompt: "Imagine your OTP trying to cook an elaborate dinner for their friends/families but it’s possible that they exaggerated a little bit while talking about their cooking skills and now they have to face the chaos together."

sings the tune without the words by shinealightonme

Writer's block sucks enough on its own. Ronan doesn't need to also get mocked by some smartass who works at Barnes & Noble.

If you're offering I'm saying yes by EtoileGarden

“Fuck,” Ronan says, pulling himself up on his elbows and shuffling around on the mattress, legs shoving at Adam as he tries to propel himself into a better position on the bed. Adam crouches just off the mattress, attempting to breathe, attempting not to think too much. “You’re like a fucking - shit - fucking wild animal. No wonder Sargant broke it off with you, you’d probably crush her, she’s too small -”

mommy issues by PennyFromTheBlock

“And you don’t like me and that’s cool, but I’d like to get to know you and hang out.” Henry pointed with his thumb behind at Monmouth. “I know for a fact we have more in common than you’d think.” “We both go to the same school and hang around Gansey?” Adam guessed, despite himself.   “We both have mommy issues.”   OR; The one where Adam and Henry talk.

(hey so btw this fic emotionally destroyed me it's genuinely gorgeous and really taps into an aspect of the henry and adam dynamic i think is truly powerful. also, mommy issues.)

Special Delivery by zephfair

Ronan can't stop saying ridiculous things to the hot new mailman when all he really wants to do is flirt and never read his mail. “Got some things for you. Hope you don’t mind I’m taking a little break here.” “Nah, help yourself. You’re hot.” Ronan realized he said it as soon as the words left his mouth. Adam realized it and his water bottle stopped partway to his lips. “Uh. Thanks.” Ronan squeezed his eyes shut. “I mean, you look hot. Like you’re hot. It’s hot out and you need a drink.” Adam cleared his throat. “Yeah, exactly. The old truck doesn’t have AC so it’s cooler sitting out here than in there.” “Yeah,” Ronan didn’t know why he was agreeing but he didn’t know what else to say.

Let's go steal a hacker by zephfair

When the Gansey crew gets a lead on a perfect hacker, they go undercover to recruit him to the team. Too bad Ronan has to keep dealing with a pretty boy college student who just wants to buy his food. Ronan grabs what he needs and after a few minutes, presents him with two perfectly golden grilled cheese sandwiches. “This isn’t remotely what I ordered or wanted,” Pretty Boy reaches out for them anyway. “But it’s what you’re gonna get,” Ronan says and pushes the largest container of sweet tea he could find that Pretty Boy accepts as well. “Well, fuck you,” Pretty Boy says. “Fuck you too,” Ronan automatically shoots back, and he grins at Ronan and if Ronan wasn’t such a hardass, he’d clutch his chest because he swears he can feel Cupid’s arrow go right through his heart.

(leverageauleverageauleve-)

see you, be seen by deathlessaphrodite

Sometimes, when people ask Adam what he does, instead of telling them he’s many years off of being a surgeon, many thousands of dollars in debt labelling him succinctly and what often feels like permanently as student, he tells them that he’s a model.

what the hell is the catch? by shinealightonme

Adam never expected to date Declan Lynch. He certainly never expected that it would go well, but somehow it is -- or it would be if Ronan would stop interfering.

Bruised apples by tartadfresa

The bike rumbles to a halt just before the steps of the main house, and for a moment Ronan thinks maybe he’s hallucinating. Heatstroke. Delusion. One of those weird Barns dreams that still creep in the mornings. But then Adam pulls off the helmet, and he’s real. His hair is dark with sweat, plastered to his forehead. His shirt is damp at the collar. Faded green cotton stretched across his chest. His arms are golden from the sun, freckled like someone painted them by hand. The last time they saw each other was six months ago. Adam kicks down the stand and swings a leg off the bike, helmet tucked under his arm. He carries nothing but a backpack and a look in his eye that says don’t ask. And Ronan doesn’t. He can’t. His tongue feels thick and stupid in his mouth, and his body is suddenly too aware of itself, his sweat, his stink, the way his jeans stick to his thighs. “Parrish,” Ronan says, because it’s the only word that comes out. or: Adam comes back for the summer and stays at The Barns. They’re not dating. They don’t talk about it. Ronan prays and bites into an apple.

Multichapter (i'll mark if incomplete)

Finding That Love Song by LydiaStJames

Ronan Lynch dealt with his father’s sudden death by plunging into music. With high school coming to a close, and without any ambition to go to college, Ronan convinces his best friends to start a band. The only problem? They’re in need of a vocalist, and the young mechanic with the perfect voice is playing hard to get. (In other words, the gang makes a band AU.)

Lynch Lyrics by stubborn_jerk

Inside were instruments as far as his eyes could see. Guitars stood on foam stands, price tags spinning with the air inside, the plastic glare flitting back at Adam like flashes. Violins were on racks, displayed on the walls. There was a magazine stand full of tutorials and chord lessons by the empty counter. There was a drum kit, a grand piano, stacks of keyboards, a harp, chimes. The store struck Adam as out of place, and he looked around the strip of dusty, buttery environment to make sure of this. Sham stores selling cheese and souvenir stands selling cheap and breakable things littered the strip, and the looming building of Lynch Lyric seemed too rich, a diamond in the rough. ----- An AU where Adam's still trying to get out of his situation and the Lynches own a music store.

sunlight feels good now don't it by djhedy

Adam walked into the small lecture hall and headed straight for the middle row. It was early, there was no one to edge past as he made it to the other side of the row and pulled his bag over his shoulder. He had thought about it the whole walk there: he wanted to stand out, he didn’t want to stand out; he wanted his hearing ear to face the front of the classroom; he didn’t want to seem like a slacker, or too keen. He pulled out a notepad and pens and finally his schedule, tapping the end of his pen restlessly against the desk as his eyes ran over and over the names of classes and lecture rooms and. He had thought about this. --- in which adam is an awkward freshman with social anxiety, gansey is a guy who gives touches easily, and his friend ronan calls adam a nerd, which he kinda likes.

The Devil You Know by Sohotthateveryonedied2

“Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t” — [idiom] meaning it is better to endure a difficult person or situation one is familiar with, even if it is painful, than to take a risk with an unknown person or thing. Ethan is still speaking—yelling—and Adam is—he’s a little nauseous. Part of him doesn’t want to be a part of this conversation at all, and a more traitorous part of him wants to call her back, but Ethan still has his cell phone. Adam thinks, isn’t this how everything went long last time? Adam hid paycheck stubs from his parents and got caught in his own web of lies. Now he’s lied to Ethan and he has been caught for that as well. He never learns. He always makes the same mistakes. Adam dampens his lips and chooses his next words carefully. “I don’t understand why you’re angry.”

(caveat/disclaimer this fic is very heavy and deals in explicit abuse, but I also recommend it heavily because the characterization and writing itself is beautiful. read this during a very tumultuous point in my life and it really gave me some perspective and uhhh yeah i have a lot of love for this fic)

Just A Tad by MissLiterary (Incomplete)

Tad Carruthers always knew there was something special about Adam Parrish, but he didn’t quite expect what that was. Set during Blue Lily, Lily Blue, where Tad Carruthers was featured for a total of four paragraphs. Chase your dreams, Tad.

(not pynch, but pynch is kind of... there. in the background. Tad Carruthers-centric. This is a masterclass in building a character out of nothing I became a Tad stan for this fic and this fic alone)

The Look in Your Eyes by SilverOpals394

When Gansey finally manages to convince Ronan to come to dinner with his family at the local country club, Ronan is sure he will hate every minute of it. Until he sees their waiter.

who burns like fire on the rushing sea by asael

When Adam Parrish attends the Royal Academy, he doesn't expect to get tangled up with the nobility - and he especially does not anticipate Ronan Lynch. As he finds his place in the world, they grow closer, but nothing is ever easy. (Fantasy/Medieval AU)

Death in a Tarot Card by emotionalsupportgoth (Ongoing)

Adam Parrish gets recruited for the PSU Exy team, and learns what it means to be a fox. Featuring Adam Parrish's dramatic inner monologue, Neil Josten's dramatic outer monologue, and David Wymack being exhausted with these goddamn strikers.

(IF YOU READ ANY OF THESE FICS MAKE IT THIS ONE THIS IS SO GOOD? Listen, crossovers can always veer into corny or cringe territory, but this manages to balance the themes of aftg and trc in such an intriguing way, the integration of Adam into the Foxes is so well orchestrated. There's a specific scene I'm thinking of revolving Adam "letting go of control" and it's a scene with him and Neil and Andrew that really speaks to the author's understandings of the characters. I was fully onboard for this choice and it was the only way I could see them interacting. This is genuinely so so so good.)

ok that's all i have more but let this be my uh... well. Just a few. You know. A starter kit.

(be proud of me for no self promo. just kidding. these are some of my favourite trc fics. hope you enjoy <3)

gays, i really need you to tell me your favorite trc fics. stat.

[marquezism]

idk if he's said this but delusional marc theory i just thought of is that he isnt doing maximum in quali. like he lays down some really good laps, decides he's satisfied, doesnt push too hard. bc like if fabios the only threat for pole.... he can get past fabio. like fabio is basically no barrier in the race and he knows thatt

oh yeah i know, i get the same feeling sometimes! i don’t think he cares about getting pole that much, front row is more important to him? or rather, he does not care to risk crashing just to get pole when he is safe in front row? or rather…

like, both in jerez and here in le mans, his MO was go out in the first run, put down an insanely fast lap that seems unmatchable and remains unmatched by the other ducati riders bc i think marc can… how to say, based on their data, i think marc can approximate what the best lap time alex and pecco will show will be, and based on that he goes out and puts down a banker a couple tenths faster than what he thinks they’ll manage. bc no one else really matters, and he knows he will get past anyone else. then he goes out on a second run with the rest of the grid but… idk. both in jerez and in le mans, his final quick laps were hindered by yellow flags or he rolled out of them and it’s like. hm! you know what i mean. like im not saying he doesn’t WANT pole, i think he does. but i also think he wont over-push for it if he’s safely on front row as is, and risk an unnecessary crash. if he can get in a clean last lap, cool! if not, well! fabio had two amazing last laps in jerez and le mans but i don’t really see that continuing forever. for fabio, it’s obviously very hard work, a true wrestle with the bike, that last lap. for marc, it almost seems like he’s still got half a second in his damn back pocket? that first (insane) banker is always sooo smooth, so clean, but somehow going half a second faster than anyone else. and then everyone improves in their second run, but marc. but then you look at the times and fabio beat marc’s first banker lap by 0.033 in jerez and by 0.118 in le mans, and fabio calls that one of theee best laps of his life, and alex and pecco both remain juuuuust behind that first banker with their best effort in the second stint and im here like okay. marc has a tenth. he has like, three tenths minimum. easy, too, if you give him clean track. and then marc’s in parc ferme like ohhh i pushed!!! and you look at the footage and see him wobble it a bit and im like 👁️👃👁️ uhu. yeah. like [pol espargaro voice] EYE don’t KNOOOOOOW…

[dol--blathanna]

I've already spoke in length about Orym's self-sacrificial tendencies in my 'Orym is a rabbit' post, but don't think I've forgotten about Miss Horse Girl giving Iphigenia vibes over here I just have some concerns about Imogen, whether willingly or forced, becoming a vessel for Predathos (you know, the same entity that Orym tried to comprehend for a single heartbeat and began screaming uncontrollably, had to be cradled like an infant by the Wildmother while he sobbed, and now something inside of him is irreversibly broken). Like I just think that letting an eldritch monster of hunger and oblivion possess you is maybe not a great idea?

One is a rabbit pushing his head willingly into the snare, the other is an ancient Greek princess about to be sacrificed on the altar so the war may continue, and I am asking them both very nicely to Please Stop That and Not Die 🙏💕

[peteytheparrot]

Lil messy comic I made for the shits n giggles

[mintharaestermont]

the true reason behind the carnival was a simple one, something to mark the changing of the seasons from dry to wet, a last celebration before the stormland rains battered the island for months on end. it seemed like something too ordinary to offer him, though, as though the simple act of mentioning the weather would dampen the moment. she was barely listening to the music, moving without thought whilst her attention remained entirely upon amir, gaze catching on the curve of his cheekbones and the glint in his eye each time he said something with a spark of mischief in it.

"obviously there's a reason," she said, solemnly - all together too solemnly, which made it plain that nothing she was about to say was true. she paused, both for dramatic effect, and to give herself a moment to think of something worth saying. "ancient tradition, goes back to the first estermonts. see, there was this pirate from the stepstones. horrid man, terrifying. used to raid up and down the island, stealing everything that wasn't nailed down - fish, wine, women, you name it." she paused for a moment to draw her breath, unable to keep the smirk from her face. "anyway, he tried to sack greenstone during one of my ancestors' wedding feast. waited until they were all deep in their cups to attack, thought it would give him the upper hand. only us estermonts get rowdy when we're pissed. ended up chasing him back into the sea in all our wedding finery, feathers, face paint, the works. so we declared ourselves protected by the sacred power of pleasure, and every year we commemorate it by drinking, dancing, and getting loud. never had a pirate make it past the reef since. can't be a coincidence, can it?"

minty didn't know how she got through it without laughing, though she somehow managed it. her skirts were still swaying about her ankles from when he had spun her, and she scoffed after he had spoke. "ain't no kindness in that, amir," she pointed out. "this is the westerlands. they can barely two-step in time with the music. throw a proper beat at them and i'm not sure they'd survive it without a maester on standby."

she adjusted her hand in his grip, ensuring their fingers were laced together more comfortably. "can't i be both? the island and the storm?" she asked, lighter than she felt. it was a question that she'd been asking herself more often lately, and one she never quite had the answer to. the estermonts by their very existence occupied space in two different worlds, and yet she was always too much of one thing and not enough of the other. "you're a sailor, aren't you? you know that the tide knows how to rage when it feels like it." she shrugged her shoulders. "no reason i can't have the sun on my skin and thunder in my chest, is there?"

she wasn't sure, in that moment, that she was all too bothered with what was polite and proper, but any thought of demanding he take her for his sailor's swill was pushed from her mind by the simplicity of his statement - i like talking to you. there was something about the way he said it that had her grin softening at the edges, as though he'd offered her a small, private gift. it was becoming abundantly clear that there was something about amir manderly, something other than his charm and his grin and the bravado of it all. "all right, then," she agreed. "something else."

minty fell silent for a minute,because she was thinking, reaching for something that was worth offering him. she wasn't the type to find herself lost for words, but something about being told to say something else had made her mind go stupidly blank. "more used to people telling me to shut up than keep talking," she laughed, more at her own expense than anything else. for the first time since they had started talking, she felt self-conscious. "feels weird the other way round. maybe give it a try, i might think of something worth saying then."

❅

the music drifted into a different tempo, a plucked string here, a ripple of harp there, something dainty and very western in its bones, but lord amir manderly had never much cared for dancing by someone else’s rhythm. the beat was fine—light, floaty, inoffensive—but it wasn’t his. still, he adjusted his step, only just, enough to let the thread of their shared movement remain taut and unbroken as he led minthara estermont across the floor. she moved like she had a secret tucked beneath her ribs and it might escape at any moment if she laughed too hard. that, of course, only made him want to keep her laughing.

"carnival, is it?" he said, a grin already rising on his lips. “is there a reason it happens when it does back home, or d’you lot just pick a day and decide it’s time for feathers and half the island drunk before noon?” his tone was curious but light, teasing—like he was inviting her to lie to him if it made the story better. “because if there’s method to the madness, i’d love to hear it. if not—well. no shame in pleasure for pleasure’s sake.” he spun her lightly, just enough for her skirts to catch the air before he pulled her back in, close again, the press of her hand still firm in his.

“speaking of,” he chuckled, shaking his head as if already amused by his own imagining, lowering his voice so only she could hear; it was in that moment, seeing the way the candlelight reflected from her skin, he confirmed in his own mind he did find her attractive. “i’d kill to take over this music right now. give me five minutes and i’d switch it up enough to get the crackers on the edge of the floor bobbing their heads—then just when they start feelin’ themselves, switch. throw off the beat. leave ‘em lookin’ confused.” he was laughing now, not softly either, a warm sound that rumbled low in his chest as though the thought delighted him entirely too much. “it’s a kindness, really. man's just keepin’ them humble.”

minthara had said something about storms earlier, about dancing through them like it was a part of her, and that—he liked. that was the sort of talk that made him take a second look at a woman. but still, the smile playing across his face bent into something more mischievous as he leaned in slightly, voice lowered with fond amusement. “stormlander, is it? funny. ‘cause from where i’m standin’, you’re all island, minty. white sands, hot sun. the kind of girl who don’t flinch from heat, who probably learned to dance with the tide rolling in behind her.” his dark eyes glinted, like he could see it—the image of her barefoot and laughing on greenstone’s shores—and liked it enough to linger there a moment longer than was strictly polite.

his free hand, the one resting at her waist, flexed just slightly as they turned again with the music. “i’ll confess, i’ve got no rum aboard my ships these days, been cutting back,” he said, voice full of mock regret. “there’s nasty liquor for the sailors—burns goin’ down and makes ‘em forget the taste of salt—but i wouldn’t put that in your hands. tastes awful.” the look he gave her then was entirely deliberate: flirty, but not crude, warm with a kind of chivalry he’d been raised to wear like a second skin. “not that i’d expect you to get drunk with a man you just met. wouldn’t be proper.” and yet the grin that followed didn’t seem too fussed with proper at all. he swayed with her a beat longer, the rhythm easing between them like it had always been there. it was strange, how natural this all felt—how easily she kept pace with him.

his eyes dropped to her face again, studying the line of her jaw, the curve of her smirk, the spark in her eyes that said she was enjoying this just as much as he was. “so,” he said, voice softening with genuine curiosity now. “tell me something else, minthara estermont. not about carnival. not about storms. just something—anything. i like talkin’ with you.”

[dracoroma]

One thing that needs to be adressed in the analysis of the theme of the Bell's Hells campaign is: what has the Worldbuilding set up.

Stories that feature god as the antagonist usually have it set up from the concept, to the Worldbuilding, to the execution that this is the theme they want to tackle. This is Persona 5, Tales of Symphonia, and Xenoblade Chonicles. These stories start from a theme, build their stories around that theme, and build and antagonist and world to fit that story.

The counterpoint for Exandria is that we have not seen any hint of anti colonial themes in the world until unrepentant terrorist Ludanis D'aleth started preaching it.

Now, to address the schism. The truth of the mstter is, this is a motif in official d&d lore. Rolling with difficulty, another actual play that's set in the planescape of the Forgotten Realms, features a war between the gods and the primordials. This theme comes from existing myths, but they’re all more complex than judt colonialism.

The irish book of invasions is clearly a mythologization of the migration to the island. While the norse Vulspa starts with the death of Ymir, it is unclear how much he represents some sort of outsider or native population. The greek theogony is solely a deal of sucession, from father to son. And Aztec ajd mesopotamian mythology both feature a reptilian primordial antagonist, not a humanoid one.

So, we've established why Matt has the schism in the Worldbuilding, but we also need to talk about the schism itself. Because the Titans worked with the gods to seal predathos, and the gods were refugees. In fact, as far as we know, the titans only started becoming antagonistic once mortals were given magic, which doesn't line up with a story about colonization. And the schism fully started when Corellon, in their infinite (sarcastic) wisdom decided to give mortals MORE magic.

In this regard, the wchism has much more in common with the Godzilla side in Godzilla vs Kong. Where the mortals have this fancy new thing that's bothering the titans (which, are also what the monsters in the monsterverse are called), the titans want them to cut it out, and then the tech gets worse prompting even more aggressive action. In GVK, it was mechagodzilla, in Exandria, it was arcane magic.

[eggsistential-basket]

thinking about the person i could have been if i tried a little harder to find my own way