#banging on the walls of my prison

[darklordcow]

very npc of me to also swagger and dance around when i hear bards start singing in skyrim

[rabble-dabble]

well in my head there's a story where wilbur didn't leave tommy behind. or maybe he apologized, grew vulnerable for just a moment and finally said 'i'm sorry i hurt you' and they could both find peace from it. there's a story where tubbo heals from his grief or maybe manages to bring ranboo back and they can be a family again. there's a story where quackity finds success with his casino so Las Nevadas isn't always so empty or maybe karl gains control over his powers and memories and sapnap can sigh in relief knowing his people are okay. there's a story where sam managed to keep tommy safe or at least keeps dream locked away and he forgives himself for doing terrible things to save people. a story where jack and fundy and niki don't feel so left out and powerless and alone and a story where phil has his son alive, cracked and splintered and raw but alive, a story where technoblade can find peace knowing tyrannical governments are things of the past, a story where hannah finds her wings again, a story where captain puffy seeks her lost memories and crew, a story where eret discovers what the mystery of her own past is, a story where george finally wakes up from an endless dream, a story where friends are reunited and homes are rebuilt and the universe learns to read its own code and it talked about love. there's a story in my head where everyone gets a happy ending, or at least one more day of happiness, forever. the story ends with a happy ending, to me. it does to me

[rindomness]

you know what idk if any tone shift is gonna get me quite like the first 30 or so minutes of promare. masterfully done

[yuyu-bubu]

S. Baja Blast Fazbearington adventure

[dobaara]

can't believe this :((

[boldlygoingtolidl]

guess which idiot loser is going to dublin (again.) tomorrow for a very important meeting about their university choices!!!!! you would never guess!!!!!! you will never know the depths of their suffering!!!!!!!! you wouldn't ever understand the hell that is dublin fucking city!!!!!! bitch!!!!!!!!

[rynbutt]

safe. | spencer reid.

You were pregnant but JJ had just left the team and they needed you. You hadn't told anyone; you hadn't even told Spencer.

my masterlist!

cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, guns, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of drugs (antidepressants and opioids), mentions of car accident, gunshot wounds, death of pregnant woman, general criminal minds themes.

wc: 6.2k

a/n: bruh this was a looooong one! dw some banging smut coming in the next one with post-prison reid >:3

now playing... Fare Well by Hozier

This was really starting to piss you off.

You fell to your knees as bile pushed up your throat, your skin paling as you vomited for the third time today. You tried to keep something, anything, down but you would just wind up curled in on yourself and sweating in the corner of the bathroom stall. You ate a couple of crackers and sipped on water to keep your empty stomach satiated– But you always ended up right back here on the bathroom floor with your head between your knees trying to will the pain away.

Emily noticed your pale complexion and how exhausted you looked, offering to get you some medicine or ask Hotch about sitting out of the next few cases. You told her you were fine, that it was just stress. That answer seemed to satisfy her enough, though she wasn’t fully convinced. To be fair, your workload had increased tenfold since JJ was forced to accept the job at the Pentagon, and you missed her terribly but you were proud of her. But you really could have used her advice right about now.

Because you swore this baby had it out for you.

You found out you were pregnant just over a week ago and you still hadn’t told Spencer. You were still wrapping your head around the whole thing because initially, you didn’t think you were pregnant, you just thought your body was dealing with the stress and workload in, frankly, a bizarre way. Hotch had wanted you to take over doing JJ’s job as communication liaison, which were rather important shoes to fill. He had total faith in your ability to do JJ’s job as well as do your own as a profiler, but you weren’t so sure anymore. 

You would tell Spencer when you were ready and right now was not a good time. Everyone was surviving on four hours of sleep a night, far too many cups of coffee and sheer willpower. The absolute last thing they needed was to lose another team member. So you soldiered on like a champion– a champion who still held her head over the bureau’s less than impressive toilet while she threw her guts up.

“Y/N?” You didn’t even hear the bathroom door open, the ringing rattling around your skull distracting you from your surroundings. Penelope’s heels clicked against the tiles as she cautiously peered around the wall of the last stall where you kneeled on the ground. “Oh my god, sweet thing! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Pen,” your voice was hoarse when you finally replied. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and tried to smooth your hair down, attempting to look at least semi-presentable before you left the bathroom to pretend everything was okay.

“No, no, my girl, you are not fine!” Penelope stood in behind you, pulling your hair out of your face as you vomited the last remnant of your soul into the toilet. “You need to talk to Hotch, you’ve got a bug or something, my dear. You shouldn’t even be at work when you’re this sick, let me talk to him for you and you just go home–”

“I’m not sick, Penelope!” You didn’t mean to shout at her, you really didn’t, you just felt awful and felt like a shell of yourself with how poorly you’d been sleeping and eating paired with all the stress of doing JJ’s job as well as your own. It was just a lot.

Penelope went quiet but stayed close to you, still holding your hair as you sat back on your heels, running your hands down your face. She let out a soft sigh, knowing you didn’t mean to shout at her. Penelope was stressed too– everyone was.

“I’m sorry, Pen,” you mumbled, your throat hurting from all the vomiting and coughing you’d managed to do today– it had to be a record honestly. 

Penelope just shook her head at you, reaching her hand out toward you, “you don’t have to apologise, sweet girl, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” You shook your head, you still felt bad and shouting at sweet Penelope was not the way to deal with all the emotions swirling around in your head.

“It’s not fair,” you replied as she helped you to your feet, gently guiding you over to the basin to help you clean yourself up. “You’re stressed too, I didn’t mean to yell.”

Penelope brushed some of your hair out of your face, her gaze narrowing as she watched you, waiting for you to tell her what was going on. It never came and she knew she would have to push you a little. Penelope thought it was necessary though because seeing you like this was awful and she couldn’t even imagine how Spencer would react if he knew how sick you were.

“What’s going on?” Penelope’s voice was soft; gentle, just trying to get you to talk so she could help. You were stubborn when it came to asking for help and by the time you did, you had hurt yourself more than necessary trying to solve it yourself. Not this time though– Penelope refused.

“I’m okay–” you looked at Penelope and she raised her brows at you, not accepting that answer in the slightest. You sighed, knowing this is a fight you wouldn’t win. “I’m pregnant.”

Penelope’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She knew something was up with you but pregnant? That was not on this year's bingo card. “What?? Y/N that’s–” she gauged your expression and she really couldn’t tell if you were upset or happy about being pregnant. She cut herself off before she finished her sentence, pulling her lips into a line. “Are we happy about this news or are we…?”

“We’re…” you were happy. Honestly, you were. You and Spencer had talked about having kids one day, ideally after you were married but that didn’t seem to be going to plan. You’d been with Spencer for three years, in the BAU for four, it’s not like your relationship was new or in the honeymoon phase, it just wasn’t the original plan and that scared the hell out of you. But you were happy to be carrying his child– the timing was just piss poor. “We’re happy… just scared.”

“Oh, baby,” Penelope cooed. “Of course you’re scared, it’s a huge adjustment. But I know you and I know Spencer, you guys will nail this parenting business.” Penelope managed to prove time and time again why she was your best friend. You often wondered if she knew you better than you knew yourself, which wouldn’t really surprise you given her job.

“I hope so.” You smiled softly, feeling somewhat human again after splashing water on your face and washing your hands. You knew Spencer would be a good dad, he was so good with kids and he was so gentle and patient with you. He was meant to be a dad. You just weren’t sure if you were meant to be a mother. You wanted to be a family with Spencer, it made you feel warm just thinking about it, but you were a person who worried about almost everything, even the things out of your control. What scared you was how in control you were. 

“I’m surprised Spencer hasn’t told everyone, that boy is obsessed with you and you’re making him a dad? God, it must be killing him sitting on this–” Penelope suddenly looked at you wide-eyed, connecting the dots all on her own. You winced as you watched her figure it out, gritting your teeth as she let out a soft gasp. “You haven’t told him?!”

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a muffled squeal of frustration into your palms. You would tell him eventually, just not right now, he was far too busy and was already stressing about his own workload, you couldn’t imagine how much more stressed he would be if he found out you were still in the field while pregnant.

“Pen, please,” you turned to her, “please keep this to yourself. I– We can’t deal with this right now. JJ’s gone and everyone is worked to the bone, I can’t do this to everyone right now, especially Spencer.” Penelope looked at you sympathetically, you knew you were asking a lot of her to keep it to herself, especially when Penelope wasn’t great at keeping secrets.

“Y/N, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell them eventually– You’re an FBI Agent. Being in the field is so dangerous and you don’t just have yourself to think about anymore.” You knew Penelope was right. You carried a gun around for Christ’s sake, you literally hunted down serial killers, active shooters, total psychopaths and everything in between. The field was no place for a pregnant woman. 

“I know, I know,” you sighed, resting both of your hands on the basin in front of you.

“...How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you said softly, resting your hand against your belly. You didn’t have much of a bump yet but you were sure it would sneak up on you before you even realised. Lucky for you, you wore a lot of baggy sweaters around the office so you had some wriggle room when it came to hiding it.

“...My money’s on a girl,” Penelope was trying to make you feel better. She really was helping because the idea of Spencer hosting tea parties, getting covered in kitten stickers and his hair being covered in tiny butterfly clips made your heart swell.

You let out a soft laugh, “I think so too.”

“Alright, my love, I think we should leave this bathroom before they send out a search party,” Penelope laughed, linking her arm with yours to guide you out of the bathroom. 

You honestly did feel better after talking to Penelope and throwing the rest of your guts up. She made sure to remind you about ten times to call her if you needed anything, you promised you would because it did make you feel better knowing that someone knew about your pregnancy and you didn’t have to bear the weight of the news alone.

You sat down at your desk with a sigh, sipping on your water bottle to soothe your raw throat. You popped a piece of gum in your mouth, willing the taste of bile away. You let out a huff of air as you stared down at all the paperwork you had to do. Doing JJ’s job proved to be intense, especially when you were doing your own work on top of her’s. You picked up your pen when you felt Spencer press a kiss to the crown of your head as he placed a mug of hot coffee on your desk in front of you.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. Spencer took the opportunity to kiss you softly, one of his hands resting on the side of your desk while the other rested on the back of your chair. You smiled against his lips, “shouldn’t you be working?” You teased.

“Are you trying to get me to go away?” Spencer looked at you curiously. You rolled your eyes playfully because of course you didn’t want him to go away. If anything, you wanted him to pick you up and take you home right this second.

“Yes, Spencer,” you replied sarcastically, “I’m trying to get you to go away.” Spencer wasn’t great with sarcasm but he had come to understand your humour over the years. He just grinned and pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Sarcasm is rooted in truth, angel,” Spencer retorted with a gentle smile. 

“I am joking, but we both have a lot of work to do, Spence. I don’t know how I’m going to manage doing JJ’s job as well as my own,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair.

“There’s a reason Hotch wanted you to do it. I don’t think he could have picked anyone more capable,” Spencer replied. Maybe it was the hormones and the fact you were carrying a baby, but the comment made you want to cry. Spencer frowned as he watched your face fall, “what’s wrong, angel?”

“No, nothing,” You replied, sniffling quietly. You gave him a genuine smile, “I’m fine, Spence. I promise–”

“New case just came in,” Morgan called to the two of you, gesturing toward the meeting room at the back of the office with a manila folder in his hand. 

You looked at Morgan with a confused expression because now it was your job to decide what cases the team took after JJ’s departure. Morgan told you the case went straight to Hotch this time; an old friend had called in a favour. 

Spencer pulled a chair out for you, taking the seat right beside you in the meeting room. You opened the case file the moment Penelope dropped it in front of you.

“The victims are 20-year-old Evan Miller and 21-year-old Daniel Clark, both engineering students at Caltech. They were shot three days apart outside their family homes in the local area of Pasadena, California.” You followed along with Penelope as she gave a run down of the victims and the circumstances of their deaths.

The killings were straightforward, the UnSub didn’t try to dispose of the bodies and the men were simply shot in the head execution style. It didn’t seem like the doings of a serial killer who would usually seek some kind of sexual release from torturing and killing their victims. If anything, it seemed like revenge killings.

“They were just shot?” Emily questioned, eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the crime scene photos. 

“Once in the head,” Hotch replied, “there were no witnesses around which suggests the UnSub knew the routine of the victims and the neighbourhood.”

“Could be a stalker?” Penelope suggested.

“Stalker victims are usually the object of a stalker’s affection, they rarely act in violence let alone such a blunt killing,” You replied, confused by the nature of such a straightforward murder.

Spencer flicked through the victim’s files, “the single shot to the head suggests the UnSub just wanted them dead. No physical evidence of sexual release or torture… This could be some kind of revenge killing.”

“Did these victims know each other?” You asked.

“According to their parents, they came from the same friend group,” Penelope replied. 

“Wheels up in thirty. Garcia, you're coming with us. Get your go bag,” Hotch said, quickly standing up from his chair. Penelope made a small noise of surprise before quickly ushering out of the meeting room. Hotch didn’t usually have Penelope come along but given you were short a very valuable member of your team, Penelope had started coming along more often. Not that you would ever complain having Penelope around. 

You pinned up the last of the crime scene photos on the board, standing back with your hands on your hips. Spencer was writing on the whiteboard next to you, jotting down all the things you knew about the victims and possible motives of the UnSub. Hotch and Morgan were engaging in formalities with the local detectives on the case while Penelope got herself settled in the makeshift office they had set up for the team. 

“The parents of the victims are here,” Emily poked her head into the office. “Y/N, Hotch wants you to talk to Ben and Sarah Miller, I’ve got the Clarks.”

“Alright, I got it,” you replied, letting out a dejected sigh. 

“You okay?” Spencer gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear, turning his full attention to you. You let out another sigh, nodding your head tiredly. “You can do this,” he said quietly, his eyes shifting between yours.

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled softly. Spencer planted a soft kiss on your cheek before leaving the office, leaving Spencer and Penelope alone. 

“...I think she needs a break,” Penelope said after a beat. 

Spencer looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, “what makes you say that?”

Penelope tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, “she’s doing JJ’s job and her own. I mean, I think she’s the right girl for the job but… you know what she’s like.”

Spencer sighed, he knew exactly what you were like. You always held yourself and your work to such a high standard and you often overworked yourself to make everyone happy. “Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to her when we get back to the hotel.”

“I think that’s a great idea, lover boy,” Penelope grinned.

You opened the office door, files in hand. Mr and Mrs Miller immediately stood up as you entered and you gave them a sympathetic smile. Mrs Miller had clearly been crying, still clutching a tissue in her hand while her husband paced around the office.

“Please, have a seat, Mr Miller,” you said gently.

“I’ll stand,” he replied firmly. You decided not to argue and sat down on the chair opposite the couch where Mrs Miller sat.

“Mrs Miller, I’m Agent L/N, I’m with the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the FBI–”

“FBI?” She questioned. “Was Evan in trouble?”

“We suspect he and his friend Daniel were killed by the same person,” you explained. Mrs Miller let out a soft gasp, her hand coming to rest over her mouth. 

“Is it alright if I ask you a few questions about Evan?” You asked. Sarah didn’t say anything but she nodded her head, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “Daniel and Evan knew each other, right?”

“They went to high school together,” Sarah replied, her voice shaking. “They were so excited when they both got into Caltech,” she smiled sadly, fresh tears streaming down her face.

“Do you have any idea who killed our son?” Ben asked, his voice sounding angry.

“That’s what we’re here for,” you said, “we’re here to find who killed your son and why–”

“‘Why”?” Ben repeated, “he was just a kid.”

You sighed softly, “I understand that, sir. We’re just trying to figure out a possible connection.”

“Evan and Daniel were good kids. They would never hurt a fly,” Sarah frowned, sniffling softly as she began crying again. 

“Did Daniel and Evan hang around the same social groups?” You asked, turning your attention to Mr Miller, who was still pacing around the office with his arms crossed. “Maybe in some kind of extracurricular activities?”

“They were both on the college basketball team,” Ben said after a beat. “Why? You think this asshole is going to kill more of these kids?”

“I am just trying to get an idea of the social groups Evan and Daniel were a part of,” you didn’t want to get into the gory details of why you were asking such questions and decided they were both far too emotional for you to keep asking them questions; you would let Hotch handle it. “I need to speak with my team but I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” You rested a hand on Mrs Miller’s shoulder and you couldn’t shake how much you missed JJ doing this part.

You let out a sigh as you left the office, rubbing the tension in the back of your neck. You slowly walked over to Hotch, “Evan was on the Caltech Basketball team, he and Daniel went to high school together and Evan’s parents were adamant he was a good kid. I think he was a good kid, just got involved with the wrong people.”

Hotch let out a breath, “I want you and Prentiss to go to the school, talk to the faculty, basketball team coach, anything you can get.”

You nodded, gesturing to Emily on the other side of the bullpen. She firmly nodded at you and the two of you left for the school.

The team worked the case for two days before another body showed up. Everyone was starting early and finishing late to find the person who was doing this and you worked closely with the detectives and other officers on the case. Hotch gave the profile as soon as the team was certain but given the demographic of the suburban areas he was targeting these boys, it was rather unremarkable. The third body belonged to 21-year-old Oliver Marsh, another Caltech student studying Physics. He was shot once in the head while walking his dog no further than a block from his house. 

You stood in the middle of Oliver’s bedroom staring at the posters and certificates that littered his walls. Spencer rifled through papers on his desk, mostly finding papers related to physics journals and essays for school. Emily and David were downstairs talking to the parents while Hotch and Morgan went to see the crime scene.

You walked over to his bedside table pulling it open. There were a lot of birthday cards and a game boy but what caught your attention was the little clear yellow bottles with white caps. You lifted the first bottle out, reading the label–

“Oliver was taking Oxycodone,” you said softly, catching Spencer’s attention. “...And Escitalopram,” you spun on your heel, showing Spencer the two bottles. Spencer took the bottles from your hands, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully read the labels. “Chronic pain?” you suggested.

“Could be,” Spencer replied. “He could have been taking non-steroidal anti-inflammatories too, they’re typically over the counter.”

You rifled through the drawer again, pulling out a blue box, “Yeah, he was taking Ibuprofen too.”

“We should talk to the parents,” Spencer said. You nodded and the two of you ushered down the stairs to where his parents sat in the living room with David and Emily. “Was Oliver suffering from chronic pain?” Spencer quickly questioned before he even fully made it into the living room.

Oliver’s mother held a tissue to her nose, glancing at Emily with a confused expression. You put your hand on Spencer’s bicep, “Has Oliver injured himself recently? Maybe a fall or injury while playing sports?”

Oliver’s father shook his head, “No, not recently. He’s been on those antidepressants for a few years and takes the codeine when he has– had flare-ups.”

“Flare-ups?” David asked pointedly.

“He was in a car accident four years ago,” Mrs Marsh said, “He was in the passenger seat and was in a coma for two weeks… he hadn’t really been the same after that, got really sad and antisocial… he was in a lot of pain too.”

“He had to stop playing Football and running track, his body just couldn’t keep up,” Mr Marsh added, his eyes glazing over. “He lost a lot of friends, I don’t think I ever saw him hang out with anyone, Physics became everything to him.”

“Do you have evidence of his medical records anywhere?” Spencer asked. “Just so I can look them over.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Mrs Marsh stood up, Spencer following her to their home office on the other side of the house.

You sat down across from Mr Marsh, “The accident he was in,” you started, “what happened?”

He looked at you with a pain in his eyes, “He was in the car with some of his friends and they were driving home from a party and it was late. I think they were all…” he hesitated for a moment, “they were all drunk.”

“Who was in the car?” Emily asked, not liking where this was going.

“...Evan Miller and Daniel Clark,” his father began to cry, holding his hand over his mouth. You felt your eyes widen, this was a revenge killing.

“Who was driving, Mr Marsh?” David asked quickly.

“Um, god–” He sniffled softly, “Peter… Peter something, he was older than them, I really don’t remember.”

“Thank you, Mr Marsh,” You stood up, quickly moving to the front door to call Penelope. You pulled out your phone, dialling her number. She picked up after the first ring.

“How may I be of service, oh queen of my country?” she sang, her fingers typing furiously against her keyboard. 

“I need you to look into an accident for me, four years ago,” you said with your hand on your hip. “Oliver Marsh, Daniel Clark and Evan Miller were all in the accident too. See if you can find newspaper articles, news segments, anything– I think we know who the last target is.”

“Right, give me a moment,” Penelope replied. You heard her typing before she stopped, “Oh no…” she mumbled softly.

“What’s wrong, Pen?” You furrowed your brows.

“Peter Harvey,” Penelope sighed, “he’s the last boy… He was driving with three other high school boys; Oliver, Daniel and Evan when they struck an oncoming car and killed a pregnant woman on impact; her husband walked away without a scratch.”

“Shit.” You cursed, “What’s his name?”

“Jonathan Hughes, his wife was Katherine… she was 8 months pregnant, Y/N.” Penelope sounded so pained and you knew she was thinking of you and the small baby you were carrying. “Y/N…”

“I know, Pen… After this case wraps up… I’ll tell everyone,” you replied with a gentle sigh.

“And you’ll take time off?” Penelope sounded like she was lecturing you.

You smiled to yourself, “Yeah, Penelope. I’ll take some time off.”

“Okay… I’ll send Hotch and Morgan Jonathan’s last known address, I’m sending you Peter Harvey’s address–”

Your phone beeped as Penelope sent the address through. “Where would I be without you, Pen?”

“Nowhere good, my love,” you could hear the smile in her voice. You quickly hung up before walking back into the Marsh’s house. 

Emily and David turned to look at you, “We’ve got him.”

“Alright, you guys go, I’ll grab Reid and we’ll be right behind you,” David waved you off and Emily quickly ushered the two of you to the car. 

Emily was speeding toward the address Penelope had given you while you called Hotch and Morgan, filling them in on all the information Penelope had given you. They agreed to go to Jonathan’s address to hopefully intersect him before he left for Peter Harvey. You were always nervous when it came to these parts of the case because you couldn’t control the outcome no matter how hard you tried. A grieving man was going around killing these young men and while it was awful what he was doing; you could sympathise with him and the pain he was feeling over losing his wife and unborn child. 

You instinctively rested a hand over your belly, your thumb stroking the small curve. You couldn’t even imagine how much pain Spencer would be in if he lost you, let alone your child too. You would tell him and you would ask Hotch about taking some time off later in your pregnancy and sitting out of cases like this. 

“Shit he’s already here,” Emily cursed when she noticed Jonathan’s SUV parked a couple of blocks from Peter’s address. “Call Hotch.”

You dialled Hotch’s number and he picked up almost instantly, “What is it, L/N?”

“He’s already here, his SUV is parked a couple blocks down from Peter’s address. He’s already out looking for him,” You quickly said.

“We’re on our way, units are already on route,” he hung up after that. 

Emily pulled the car up on the gutter, the car skidding to a stop. You immediately pushed the door open, holding your gun by your thigh as you ran across the lawn to Peter Harvey’s house. You knocked on the door and a woman answered after a beat.

“Mrs Harvey?” You asked, panting softly.

“Yes?”

“Is your son Peter here?”

“No, he went to the store down the street an hour ago, he should be back soon… What is this about?” She asked, her hand gripping the door in concern.

“We believe someone dangerous may be looking for your son,” Emily said. Mrs Harvey rested her hand over her mouth, a soft gasp leaving her lips.

���Mom?” You spun around and Peter stood with a plastic bag of groceries in his hand in the middle of the lawn.

It all happened almost in slow motion. You saw a figure wearing dark clothes stalking across the lawn and without even thinking, you darted toward Peter as the UnSub pulled the gun out of his coat, aiming it straight at Peter’s head. You could hear Emily yelling at Mrs Harvey to go back inside before she pulled out her gun and aimed it at the UnSub; but it was too late.

You shoved Peter to the ground as he fired, feeling the shot burn through your shoulder as both you and Peter fell to the ground. You instinctively pressed a hand to your burning shoulder, warm blood oozing from the wound and through your fingers. 

“Jonathan Hughes?” You said, your breathing heavy as you tried to fight through the pain. He held his gun right in front of your face.

“Move,” he grunted, his eyes glassy.

“I know what happened to your wife,” you breathed trying to stall him as more police cars with blaring sirens pulled into the street.

“They killed her,” tears streamed down his face and you honestly felt bad for him. 

“It was an accident,” you replied softly.

“They were drunk,” he almost yelled, his hand shaking as his gun was still trained on you.

“I know,” you said, “It was a stupid mistake that haunted them, Jonathan. I know it doesn’t change what happened but these boys–”

“They’re monsters!” he shouted, hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

You saw David and Spencer get out of the car. Spencer’s heart was in his throat when he saw you kneeled on the ground, shielding Peter with your body while your hand and shirt were covered in your own blood. He didn’t even pick up his gun as he began stalking toward you.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft when he called you at first, then it turned to outright concern and anger, “Y/N? No, no!”

David grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him back as Spencer fought against him, trying to get to you. It was irrational and it was dangerous. David quickly picked up his walkie, “An agent has been shot, we need an ambulance.”

“Who was shot?!” Penelope’s voice rang out in the car as she spoke to Morgan and Hotch.

“I repeat, agent L/N is shot, we need an ambulance,” David spoke before putting his walkie away to hold Spencer back, pulling him to the ground.

“Morgan! Oh my god!” Penelope felt tears form in her eyes.

“It’s okay, babygirl, she’s going to be alright,” Morgan said, trying to reassure her as Hotch stepped on the accelerator. 

“No, Morgan, you don’t understand–”

“We’re going to get an ambulance–”

“She’s pregnant!” Penelope blurted out, not knowing what else to say for them to understand the gravity of why Penelope was so upset and concerned. 

Hotch hesitated for a moment, “She’s what?”

Penelope let out a shaky breath, “she’s twelve weeks pregnant, Hotch. She wasn’t going to tell anyone until after the case– and now she’s been shot.” Penelope began to cry, holding her hand over her mouth as tears slipped from her eyes.

Hotch hadn’t sped that fast since he found out Foyet was in his house. He cared about his team a lot and he had a soft spot for you even though he wouldn’t admit it. The tires skidded along the road as Hotch pulled on the handbrake, both him and Morgan training their guns on the UnSub as they approached.

Morgan’s heart hurt at the sight of you, your skin slightly paled as blood bloomed from your shoulder, drenching your arm and your hands. You looked so scared as the UnSub trained his gun on you, unmoving. Emily had her gun aimed at the UnSub, yelling for him to put it down.

“Jonathan Hughes!” Morgan’s voice caught your attention. “Put down the gun!”

“Don’t move!” Jonathan shouted, “I’ll shoot her!”

“No you won’t, man,” Morgan shook his head.

“How do you know that!? She’s in my way!” He shouted back.

“She’s pregnant,” Morgan sighed. Your eyes widened as you looked at Morgan, who looked back at you with a sad expression. 

Spencer stopped fighting against David, his breathing evening out as the words fell on his ears. You were pregnant. You were carrying his baby and you got shot and now you had a gun held up in front of your face. Spencer didn’t even realise he was crying, his tears cold against his warm skin. All he could do was watch, there was nothing he could do.

Jonathan glanced at you as you held your hand over your belly. “W-What?”

Morgan reached a hand out as he got closer. “Just like your wife, Jonathan… You wouldn’t kill a pregnant woman like those boys did.” 

Jonathan seemed to dissociate, staring at you with such a hurt expression as Morgan leapt forward, grabbing the gun from Jonathan’s hands and tossing it across the grass. He pushed Jonathan to the ground, pinning his hands behind his back. You let out a breath as you felt yourself grow tired. Emily caught you before you fell the rest of the way to the ground, holding you close to her body as she screamed for a medic. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Emily gently rocked you, “you’re going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, tears running down your cheeks.

Your eyes were heavy as you attempted to pry them open.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally pulled your eyes open, the smell of disinfectant hit you first, followed by the sounds of beeping. You were in the hospital. You glanced down at your arm, an IV stuck in your arm while a pulse oximeter was clipped to your finger. Despite the fact the doctor had prescribed pain medication, you still felt like shit and your shoulder was killing you.

A soft noise caught your attention and you glanced at the chair next to your bed, Spencer sound asleep in a chair with a hospital blanket draped over him. You smiled softly as you saw the flowers, balloons and plushies littered around your room, most likely a courtesy of Penelope.

“She’s awake,” Morgan smiled, standing in the doorway. 

You grinned at him, “Hi, Derek.”

Morgan slowly walked over to your bed. “Feeling okay, pretty girl?” Morgan gently grabbed your hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I’m okay,” you replied. You almost didn’t want to ask but you knew you had to, “...is the baby okay?”

“Your baby is fine,” Morgan replied with a soft smile. You let out a breath of relief as you placed a hand over your tummy protectively. “...You scared the life out of everyone though.”

“I know,” you sighed.

“Especially your lover boy,” Morgan said, “he hasn’t left your side.”

“Sounds like my Spencer,” you laughed softly. 

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was laced with sleep as he opened his eyes. He quickly got up, ditching the blanket on the floor to tend to you.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Morgan quickly said before leaving the room.

Spencer’s warm hands cupped your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I thought I lost you, Y/N.” He let out a breath, pulling away to stare at your face and stroke your cheeks with his thumbs. You reached a hand up to grip his forearm.

“I’m sorry–”

“You don’t need to–”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Tears formed in your eyes as you stared up at him, searching for any kind of anger or resentment. There wasn’t any, he could never be mad at you.

“I wouldn’t have let you come on the case,” he replied after a beat. “I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you… I knew you would be protective– more protective,” you corrected with a soft smile. 

“I’m aware,” Spencer pulled his lips into a tight smile. “You know the odds of… complications are higher in the first trimester, angel. You should have told me,” he frowned.

“I know, Spence,” you sighed. “I just wanted to make sure I was in the clear before I told you… I understand being shot isn’t necessarily helping with that but–”

“I understand,” he replied. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You stared at him for a moment, “are you happy?”

“Happy?”

“That I’m pregnant? I know we’re not married and our jobs are crazy but–”

Spencer cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips, he pulled away slightly, “I’ve never been more happy,” he whispered.

You beamed with happiness, a bright smile tugging on your lips. Spencer hesitantly pressed a hand to your belly, his thumb stroking your tiny bump.

“Penelope thinks it’s a girl,” you muttered.

“...What do you think?” He asked curiously.

“I think she might be right,” you giggled softly.

“You know you can’t actually tell yet,” Spencer said and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“You asked what I thought!” you retorted.

He laughed softly, “Yes, you’re right, you’re right.”

“Mmm, did that taste like poison to admit?”

“Are gunshot victims supposed to be this mouthy?”

a/n: phew! i hope you guys liked it <3 i know i disappeared for a hot minute but here she is!!!

[boytoycowboy]

i’m gonna maim my next door neighbor.

[selineram3421]

Deer Demon Child Headcanons

Requested

Alastor & Child Reader

Warnings? ⚠

⚠ implied death, mention of blood, mention of cannibalism, weapons-gun ⚠

It was a surprise to everyone that a child wandered into the hotel.

A little deer demon.

That's you

Climbed up one of the bar stools and stared the cat man down until he finally noticed them.

"Uh..hey? Kid."

"I want juice!", you pointed at a bottle behind him that was on the shelf.

"That's not juice."

While distracting you with magic tricks and cards games, Husk called Charlie to let her know that a new guest had arrived.

The Princess ran to get to the lobby and rushed over to the bar.

"Hi! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!", Charlie sings out before noticing the little deer. "Oh."

Everyone is called into the lobby.

"Ok!", Charlie claps her hands together and introduces you to the group. "Everyone, be nice and say hi."

Later on you are asked by Vaggie and Charlie how you got to the "red place."

Mostly everyone left and it was only you three. Four.

"Before I woke up here I was with my moma.", you said while coloring your drawing. "Dad had a shiney toy in his drawer and showed it to me a lot of times. It made fun clicking noises. I wanted to play with it, so I took it out."

As you were explaining you drew out the shape of a gun.

"I wanted to show Moma but she looked scared. And when I tried to make the clicky noise it came out different. It made a bang and then Moma fell."

You drew your mother covered in red.

"I tried to wake her up but she wouldn't get up. I got sad and started crying."

You didn't notice Charlie and Vaggie looking sad.

"Then Dad came home and started screaming at me and took the toy away. And then everything went dark for a while."

Picking up your paper, you showed the girls your drawings.

"And then I woke up to the red sky!"

Charlie hugged you after and said that she'll make sure you go to Heaven.

Oof sad backstory.

Husk literally growls at Alastor everytime he mentions venison for dinner.

Alastor has joked to others that he'll eat you but stopped once he grew fond of you.

"Little fawn.", he smiles as he greets you. "Would you like gingerbread cookies?"

To be honest, everyone is worried that Alastor might kill you. But surprise, surprise! They are shocked when he takes care of you instead.

You're the favorite hotel guest.

Anyone that tries anything will be taken care of.

Charlie did a talent show day and you sang, surprising everyone with your angelic like voice.

You're a curious little deer and the hotel guests and staff find you in odd places.

Once Angel found you upsidedown behind the couch that was against the wall.

"What are ya doing back there?", he asked after pulling you out.

"Niffty said there was treasure!", you smiled.

Alastor finds it adorable that you go to him when someone you don't know/scary person is in the hotel.

Sir Pentious is told to put all of his weapons away.

Everyone dubs you as Alastor's child. Even the Radio Demon himself.

Vaggie threatens Alastor after he jokes that you'll be a cannibal like him.

Of course he'd never do that but its funny to see Vagatha's and Husker's pissed off faces.

Alastor keeps up with the human news and learns that your father went to prison. So the Radio Demon waits for the man to fall.

Art will be provided. (Later)

~Seline, the person.

Art

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @faioula16 @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[ghostbsuter]

John Constantine was in prison.

No, not a normal, mortal prison. Those wouldn't be able to hold him like this one does.

No, he's imprisoned in the Infinity Realm.

The warden of the establishment is Walker, someone whose blood sings Witch Hunter.

If that wasn't bad enough, with every second, it gets worse. Angels decided to interfere in a realm not in possession of their God.

Who's idea was it to go against the Infintiy Realm? Are they nuts?

"John Constantine," One of the messangers steps forward. There is no weapon in sight, yet.

"Under the scrutiny of Heaven, we were sent to retrieve you for a trial." Their voice clipped, blond hair shimmering a soft green and John is sweating buckets.

"Your deals with various demon folk and such shall be judged unter gods court and—"

A loud bang echoes through the hall, Walker's men are surrounding the beings of heaven and particular brave soul steps forward.

The lad is young, can't be older than Bat's Robin. He walks with an air of authority, white hair floating against gravity's rules and towering before the flock of messangers.

"How dare—"

The boy, the godling– growls.

He blocks their view of Constantine, staring them down.

Some of the angels fall back, wings arched and ready for a fight, weapons still not in sight however.

"I am Phantom, King of God's of the Infinity Realm." The child with a title too much for such small shoulders bear, introduces himself.

It sends the flock into mild panic. Constantine is just a bit satisfied at the change.

"Returns to your god and tell him this, every Constantine bearing the title Laughing Magician is under my protection."

For such a small stature, his voice is booming, the command thinly veiled as a threat and icicles forming around him.

"Tell him that if he ever dares to breach my territory once more, I will not hesitate to call war upon heaven."

The main angel of the flock, the one that had read out Constantines sentence, hesitated only for a moment before urging the others to leave.

Posture stiff and movements jerky.

They didn't expect to be told off like this, John muses.

He only slightly dreads when phantoms attention drifts to him finally, a light knock on the metal bars and the whole wall was gone.

"Follow me, John Constantine."

And John does.

He'll sweet talk himself out of this on the way to his doom. Like always.

—

("Unpopular belief, but I actually quite like you." Danny had stated once in the garden, sitting on a table and drinking tea. John hadn't touched his cup nor desert at all, cannot trust those of the infinite after all.)

(A rip into the green before them had created a portal, a gateway.

"Leave, Laughing Magician. Hold onto that necklace, it will ward off anyone with the intent to harm and deals as a warning to those working for the immortal."

And as John steps forward, his eyes meet toxic green.

"We will see one another again, sooner or later. Farewell, Jester."

The portal spat him out in his apartment in New York, if it wasn't for the protection charm, Constantine would have believed it to be a mere dream. A warning.)

[jyoongim]

Hi!

I really love the outcome of the Prisoner Human Alastor and Police Reader the one i request and i really love the story of it🥹 Thank you so much for making it🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

I have another request :3 (Please do take a rest if you needed)

I would like to request another Human HusbandYander!Alastor x Wife!Reader

Belive it or not Human Form of Alastor is Making Giggle and kicking my feet

The story is about reader finding out that her husband being the killer of the town and try to run away from home but eventually Alastor caught her and fuck her in their bedroom and saying things like Obbsesive person would say.

Like for example "Mon cher, Are you trying to get away~?" "Didnt you said you love me no matter what am i my dear?"

So like i have a breeding kink :>

So alastor is breeding or making her pregnat his belove wife to carry his next geneartion and told the reader "You will never leave my side Cher,you will be taking care of our baby and stuck in this house forever with me~" and maybe some yandere stuff like saying he would cut off Reader feet if reader tries to run again. My english is bad but you can correct my words if anything is wrong with it :<

THANK YOU SO MUCH AND I REALLLLLLLYYYYYY LOVE YOUUURRRRRR WOOOOORRRRKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

MWA MWA🫶🏻

I also have other things in my mind but i will save it for another request 🫶🏻😊

Yandere!husband human Alastor x wife!reader

themes: yandere behavior,  possessiveness, breeding kink, noncon, threats, mentions of pregnancy

Note: I like yandere but have never written it before so I’m sorry if its not your typical crazy obsessive lovesick personality!

———————————————————————————————

You whimpered as the bedroom door rattled. Loud banging made you curl into yourself, hoping the door held.

”Dearest open the door, we can talk about this” a muffled voice said behind the door. 

“N-No! Stay away! I don’t want to talk!” You shouted, frantically packing random clothes in a bag.

Several thuds sounded against the door before it went quiet.

Thud!

Thud!

CRACK!

You froze. Did he just…

”You think I’m gonna let you out this house to tell a soul? Haha my dear don’t be stupid” Alastor hissed as he hacked at the door, the wood splitting open.

You shuffled to the back of the closet, closing the door, listening as the door groaned at his assault.

You heard the lock click and the bedroom swing open.

Alastor huffed, throwing the axe down.

His eyes scanned the room, he knew you were in here.

He walked around slowly, footsteps making the floor creak.

He stopped when he heard something.

Shuffling. It was subtle but he heard it and it was coming from the closet.

You watched as his shadow flitted about the room from the crack at the bottom of the door.

A soft knock made you jolt

”Darlin we can do this the easy way or the hard way and I promise you wont like it. Your choice” his voice brawled, toying with the knob.

You whimpered and pressed yourself against the wall.

The door swung open and everything that followed happened in slow motion.

Alastor covered in scarlet blood, a sharp smile on his face as his eyes narrowed on your shivering form. He growled as he got a hand on you, grunting as your fight or flight kicked in. You tried to kick and claw at him, but your husband was stronger.

“No!No!No! I’m sorry Al! please!please!” You cried as he wrangled you onto your shared bed. He held your hands fast in his as he used his weight to pin you down.

Alastor huffed, finally pining your wrists and lowering his face to yours, his ragged breath fanning over you.

”You never chose the easy way out darlin. I thought I taught you better than that” he said, smiling down at you.

Fear radiated in your eyes as he kissed your plump cheeks, making you flinch when he went to kiss you on the lips.

”A-Al…!” You tried to turn your head away but your husband wasn’t thrown off by your action.

”You vowed to love me no matter what. Thick and thin, for better or worse. You said you’ll love me no matter what my dear. Did you lie before God?” 

You trembled as you watched with wide eyes as he nudged your legs apart, slotting his hips against yours, grinding into your clothed heat.

You tensed as he chuckled “But don’t worry baby you can’t lie to me”

Your lip wobbled “Y-You’re the liar. All those huntin trips, the late nights. You’ve been pickin people off and just coming home like nothin ever happened! You’re sick! A sick bastard with no love for no one” your eyes narrowed angrily as he smiled lovely at you.

”Oooh baby but I do love you, just like how you’ll always love me”

You didn’t grasp the meaning of his words in time as Alastor pulled your panties to the side.

”A-Al n-no don’t don’t please” you tried to close your legs, pushing a free arm against his chest.

Your husband cooed at you as he pushed your thighs apart and lined his cock up against your slit and face contorting as he pushed through the rim of tight muscle.

Your back arched involuntarily as he grinded his hips into yours.

Soft, strained moans left your throat as Alastor slammed his hips down into you. 

Tears rolled down your face as the man, you thought you knew, had his way with you.

Your cunt burned at each thrusts, trying to accommodate the brutal assault leashed upon it.

Thick, scarlet blood clung to you as Alastor covered your body with his, caging you against the bed.

”fuck you always take me so well baby” he whispered down to you, watching you try and squirm away from him. Your pretty big eyes focused on his; they were swollen from tears, fear, betrayal and mistrust swirled in them.

”Ill let you in on a little secret darlin”

His pace picked up as a wicked grin crossed his face

“You ain’t got nowhere to run. Where would you go? Who would you tell huh? You think anyone would believe that I’m the terror of this town? Nooooo baby they wont”  he licked a tear from your cheek as he angled his hips into that sweet spot that always made you melt.

Your toes curled as delicious tingles ran through your body.

”and they’re never gonna know you know why?” A sharp thrust had you biting your lip to contain your moans.

Alastor grabbed your face, mushing your cheeks as he pounded your poor pussy. He let out a soft grunt, nose scrunching “because you’re gonna be my good little housewife and be stuck taking care of house and babies.”

Your eyes widened.

Babies? You’d be damned if you give a murder a child.

You tried to hook your feet into his hips and push, but he wasn’t having it

You started to thrash but that only encouraged him too further bury himself within you, pushing deep as if he wanted to penetrate your very cervix.

”A-Al no! P-please anything but that please! I don’t-Ah! I don’t want a baby” you choked out as your pussy clenched around him

”You’ll look so sweet round with my child. What ya say darlin? Hehe its not like you have a choice anyway.” He snickered.

Harsh thrusts had you jolting as you cried, frantic as your husband forced your orgasm from you.

A loud squeal filled the room as your back arched.

You shook as you cummed around him, sobbing as he worked your sensitive walls.

”That’s a good girl, yeeeessss that right, fuck! Take my cum Take it take it baby” his hips slammed into yours and with a groan his cock twitched before you felt the warm feeling of his cum.

Alastor grinded his hips into yours, riding out both your orgasms.

You panted as you looked at him with glossy eyes.

He smiled softly as he wiped away at your tears.

You tensed as you felt his hips start to move again

He chuckled

”Ill never let you leave darlin, not when you gonna be having my baby”

[thealtoduck]

Well, fuck me… on a magic altar

Garfield Logan x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut, bottom!Reader, top!Gar, anal sex, virgininty loss, missionary position, magic sex ritual, unprotected sex, friends with benefits (… kinda)…

Part 1 & Part 2…

Summary: Rachel needs your and Gar’s help to seal away a demon but the process of doing it is rather heated…

——

You were working your regular shift in Madame Xanadu’s parlor, it was only 2 hours left until closing. There wasn’t a lot of business that day so you sat behind the reception reading a magazine. The bell over the door rang making you look up as Rachel and Gar came over towards you.

”Hey guys, what’s up?” you said casually, closing your magazine. Rachel looked awkwardly towards Gar for help but Gar looked just as lost on what to do. ”Y/n, uhm- there is no way to make this easy so i’m just gonna say it” Rachel warned.

”Y/n, i need you to have sex with Gar” Rachel blurted out.

”Get out of my parlor! What kind of establishment do you think we’re running here?” you stated shocked.

”Y/n, you don’t understand, i need you and Gar to have sex on a magic altar to seal away a demon” Rachel tried.

”I’m sorry, what did you just say…?” you asked still just as confused.

”Okay, Y/n, listen! There is this magic evil demon who was sealed away in a magic prison 5000 years ago in a magic temple. Every 100 years you need to do a ritual to keep him locked in, the ritual includes having virgin get their virginty taken on the altar inside the magic temple, that’s why we need you” Rachel explained fully.

You turned to Gar and said seriously ”Bro… you told her i’m a virgin… not cool”. ”Sorry, it was urgent” Gar apologised. ”Y/n focus! Are you in or not?” Rachel questioned in a panic, banging her fist down on the counter. ”Will you at least buy me dinner first?” you asked. Rachel looked like she was about to kill you before Gar cut in saying ”Of course we will”.

”Okay sick, let’s go” you said and picked up your jacket. You then walked in to Madame Xanadu’s fortune telling room, where she was shuffling a deck of cards with magic and said ”Hey, Madame Xanadu?”. ”Yes, dear?” she said looking up from her cards.

”I’m gonna have to leave early, Rachel and Gar are taking me to somekind of temple so Gar can can take my virginity to keep a demon imprisoned” you explained. Madame Xanadu didn’t flinch at the statement, only uttering a small ”Has it already been a hundered years, huh? Wow, time flies”. Before saying a quick ”Alright have fun”.

The three of you left stopping at a fast food place to get you and Gar some food. You three then made your way in to an alley where Rachel opened a portal that you all went through. On the other side you stepped out to a magnificent stone temple.

Intricate carvings were all along the walls and pillars. Torches were spread along the walls, tons of candles had been lit around the big stone altar table which was waiting for you and Gar. ”There’s the altar, when you’re ready just get up on it and do your thing” Rachel explained drawing a chalk circle around it.

”I guess i’ll just leave you to it then, good luck” Rachel said and re-opened the portal and went through, once it closed you and Gar were left alone. It didn’t hit you how awkward the whole thing was until now, when Rachel was there it had felt like you were doing your part in saving the world.

Now that it was just you and Gar the whole thing felt a lot more personal. Sure, you and Gar had been flirty and had cuddled a little in the past but you weren’t boyfriends or even dating. The two of you sat down on the temple floor in silence and ate your food.

”How are you feeling?” Gar asked caringly nudging your leg. You took a sip from your soda and answered ”Just trying to absorb the whole thing, i’m gonna be completely honest this is not how i imagined losing my virginity”.

Gar let out a small chuckle. ”Are you fine with you know… it being with me?” he asked. ”Yeah, i’d rather it be with someone i know and trust” you answered making Gar smile and say ”I promise i’ll try to make it special for you”. The two of you finished your fast food dinner and stood up.

”So… where do we begin…?” you asked awkwardly. ”How about…” Gar started and pressed a soft kiss against your lips, the action made your cheeks heat up. Gar then led you in to the chalk circle Rachel had drawn out and you sat down on the edge of the stone altar.

You took of your jacket and threw it aside, Gar stood himself between your spead legs and you and Gar started shyly making out, Gar letting you get a feel for it. His lips were delicate to yours making a quiet moan escape your mouth. Gar ran his hands on your thighs massaging them lightly.

You put your arms around his neck as your make out grew more heated. Once you pulled your lips apart, Gar looked at you with loving eyes. He wanted to make you feel good so you could remember it with joy despite the circumstances.

”Can you help me undress?” you asked him he nodded and got down on one knee. He started by taking off your shoes and socks, he then took of his own, he then stood up again. You unbuttoned your pants and Gar helped you pull them down your legs.

Gar then removed his hoodie and t-shirt revealing his slim athletic physique. You put your fingers against his chest trailing them lightly over his skin. You moved further up on the altar as Gar took of his own pants leaving him in his boxers.

The two of you sat on the altar making out, Gar lifted your shirt and helped you remove it. You had expected the big temple room to feel cold and drafty to your skin, but the many lit candles around the altar and spread through the room made it warm and cozy almost like being next to a fire place.

Gar helped you lay down on the altar which felt chilly at first touch to your back making you let out a small gasp, Gar noticed and picked up his shirt laying it down under you as a small blanket. ”Is that better?” he asked. ”Yeah” you said.

Gar positioned himself on top of you as you made out in your underwear, your bulges rubbing softly against each other for the first time. Both your cocks had grown hard in anticipation what was about to happen between the two of you.

You broke your lips from Gar and whispered ”I’m ready”. Gar nodded and uttered a small ”Okay”. His fingers slipped under the waistband of your boxers and Gar gently pulled them down, revealing your untouched manhood to him. Once your boxers were fully of he threw them aside.

He then tugged of his own underwear revealing his hung dick. Gar climbed off the altar and rumaged through his bag eventually picking up a bottle of lube. He then came back, he sat on his knees and spread your legs revealing your virgin ass for him, your face heated up as he did.

Gar noticed you had grown a bit nervous and he looked you in the eyes. ”You’re so beautiful” he said genuinely he then leaned down placing a kiss on your upper chest. He trailed kisses down your body until he eventually placed one on your dick making it twitch in excitement.

”I gonna stretch you out now, okay?” he let you know. You gave him an approving nodd and he poured some lube in his hand spreading it on his finger. He lifted your legs revealing your tight virgin hole to him, then his first finger made contact making you let out a light gasp as his lube slicked finger penetrated you.

The new feeling made you let out quiet moan. Gar studied your face for signs of discomfort but you were taking it so well. ”You’re doing so good, Y/n” he praised lightly as his finger was all the way inside you. He slowly moved his finger in and out of you until he felt he could add another finger.

He kept stretching you out until he had added a third finger and worked you open. He then removed his fingers from your ass making sure to pull out slowly. ”Are you ready?” Gar asked softly. ”Yeah” you confirmed taking his hand yours and placing a kiss on it.

Gar then spread lube over his cock and aligned himself with your hole and slowly started pushing in to your virgin heat. You gripped Gar’s arm, squeezing it as Gar slowly filled your ass with his cock. ”Your taking me so well Y/n” Gar whispered encouragingly.

Once he was fully sheathed inside you, he gave you time to adjust to him as he placed kisses on your cheek and whispered praises in your ear. After a while you told him ”You can start moving”. ”Okay” Gar nodded and slowly started pulling out before softly pushing back in.

Gar was completely stuffed inside but the previous pain had turned to pleasure as Gar rhythmically moved in and out of your tightness. You and Gar started hungrily making out once more, both your moans in pleasure echoing through the temple room

Your shared body heat created beads of sweat on your foreheads and gave your naked bodies a light sheen in the candle light. The carvings along the walls had started glowing white, probably a sign that the magic ritual had begun.

You wondered if the demon could see you get deflowered for the purpose of sealing him away. ”Gar, fuck your big” you moaned as his gentle thrusts filled you up. ”That’s right baby” Gar said with a cocky smile.

You hands pressed against Gar’s pecs, this action made Gar release a loud moan. He was in ecstasy as your tight virgin hole was squeezed around his large cock. ”Such a perfect ass” Gar praised, he wanted to bring you to the same kind of pleasure he felt.

He did his best to thrust deeper in to you without going to hard wanting to stay gentle for your first time. It worked as his length grazed against your prostate making you let out a sudden moan.

His sudden action made your orgasm quickly approach making you brain go foggy from . ”Gar, I’m gonna- I’m gonn-!” you moaned but couldn’t finish as you shot ropes of cum over yourself and Gar’s abs. The sight of your cum covered self made Gar wanna go wild.

He did is best to contain the beast from erupting from within him and taking you like a common bitch. You and Gar kissed and he said gently ”I’m close”. As he plowed himself in to you the feeling of your walls clenching around him drove him over the edge.

With one last pump in your now loose virgin hole, Gar groaned loudly as his cock erupted filling you with his warm load, his seed staining your innocence forever. Both of you panted heavily as your hot and sweaty bodies tangeled together letting you both catch your breath.

The glowing white walls created a large flash of white signifying the rituals completion. Your body felt shaky as you tried to move, Gar let you sit on the edge of the altar as he helped you get dressed again. ”Did it feel good?” he wondered.

”Yeah” you answered dreamily not having fully snapped back to reality yet, this made Gar smile. ”Was- Was i good?” you found yourself asking. Gar cupped your cheeks and said ”You were perfect” and he placed a loving kiss on your lips.

Once you both were fully dressed Rachel soon emerged through a portal to pick you up. She understandingly didn’t ask a lot more questions than ”Did it go well?” and a ”Feeling okay?” directed towards you. She opened a portal that led to right outside your apartment building and you all walked through.

Gar then turned to Rachel saying ”Can we have a moment?”. Rachel nodded understandingly and gave the two of you some privacy. ”Look i know this whole thing wasn’t ideal so i wanted to ask you out on real date to you know make up for it” Gar said.

You smirked and said jokingly ”Really? This was all i could have possibly wanted” making Gar chuckle. You continued ”I will however take you up on that date offer, how about sometime next week?”. Gar nodded and said ”Sure, i’ll text you later with a date”. ”Okay” you nodded and you pulled each other in to a hug. Gar gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before letting go.

You waved him and Rachel goodbye as they entered another portal taking them home. You then on shaky legs made your way in to your apartment building, dreaming about you future date with Gar.

[the-sun-is-also-a-star]

if you're one of those people who are like "oh my god im so ocd!!" and then you just like to be organized, shut the fuck up. literally shut the FUCK up. You have no fucking idea what its like. Its like being trapped in a mental prison. Its being called weird and ridiculed by my own family because i have to wash my hands between helpings of food or because i have to run out of the bathroom when i flush the toilet or because even when i smell something awful i have to breath through my nose instead of my mouth because if i breath through my mouth it feels like i can taste it. Its developing conditions that accompany it, like excoriation disorder which makes me dig into my nails so hard they're permanently fucked up and look ghastly and sometimes even bleed and which means i have scabs on my head all the fucking time because i pick at them constantly, or misophonia which makes me flinch at every trigger sound, it gets so bad to the point where i start hitting myself and had to move away from walls because i was sure i was going to bang my head against one. hard. It's having violent intrusive thoughts, sick intrusive thoughts, thoughts that make you stay up into all hours of the night and fret over whether you're a good person, thoughts that make you think about death all the time. your own death, death of loved ones, how people will die, how people will react to you dying. It's having morality ocd, which makes you hate yourself more than anything after any minor mess up. It changes your life. Its fucking hard to live with. so i never want to hear "oh I'm so ocd" from people who aren't actually ocd ever a-fucking-gain.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Fight

This is another dark one guys, it's dealing with suicide again, no one dies but if this topic triggers you, then you shouldn't read this one.

“Come on!” Hero shouted, “is that all you’ve got!? Hit me!”

Villain tilted their head, their dark energy-filled fist freezing mid-strike.

“Why are you taunting me?” they asked slowly.

“Why do you care!?” Hero demanded, “do it, you know you want to- I’ve been a pain in your side since they day we met! Or are you going soft?”

Villain’s eyes narrowed. They shot an energy beam right at them. Hero didn’t move. The beam hit them squarely in the chest, knocking them to the ground.

They didn’t even try to dodge, Villain thought.

“What was that?” Hero bit out, staggering to their feet, “I thought you were a villain, not a sissy!”

Hero and Villain stood there for far too long before Hero growled, throwing an ice beam at them. Villain easily side-stepped it.

They’re barely fighting back, Villain thought.

“Hero, stop.” Villain said.

“What, you don’t wanna fight me now?” Hero asked, “am I making it too easy for you? You don’t wanna kill me unless it’s when I’m at my prime, is that it? You’re sick. If you won’t fight me, I’ll find someone who will!”

Hero turned to leave, but Villain struck, pinning them to the ground with a blanket of dark energy.

“No.” they said, striding up to them.

Tears brimmed in Hero’s eyes.

“Do it,” they said quietly, “please.”

“You’re not well,” Villain said, lifting Hero into their arms, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve never wanted to kill you, and I’m not going to let you kill yourself either.”

Hero struggled in the cocoon of dark energy, writhing in Villain’s hold. The tears were falling freely now.

“Villain, please,” they begged, “please let me go, please don’t make me stay here any longer, I can’t do it-”

“You are stronger than this,” Villain snapped, “and you will get through this. You don’t get to quit.”

Hero opened their mouth to beg some more when they felt a pinch in their neck. A syringe coated in Villain’s power whizzed over their head and back into Villain’s pocket.

“No!” Hero shouted.

Villain began to walk back to their base, holding Hero tight. Hero continued to thrash around in their grip, until eventually their eyes fluttered shut, and their limbs fell still. Villain watched the steady rise and fall of their chest as though they might stop at any moment.

…

Hero stirred on a soft surface. Their eyes fluttered open, though their vision was too blurry to make out any surroundings. They had been wrapped in a plush blanket. Their vision started to clear, and they made out Villain’s figure, their arms folded across their chest, a concerned frown on their face.

Hero bolted upright in bed. They scrambled to untangle themselves from the bedding and stood up. The action sent a wave of dizziness through them but they somehow managed to steady themselves. They started to march right up to Villain when-

“Gah!”

Hero banged their head against a thick layer of glass. They put their palm up to it as if that would make it disappear, eyes going wide.

“What is this!?” Hero demanded.

“An intervention,” Villain replied coolly, “I went through a lot of trouble to make this cell a comfortable living space and not, well, a cell.”

Hero’s eyes darted around the cell wildly. The thick glass wall in front of them had a keypad only accessible from Villain’s side, and the other, stark white walls had been hastily decorated with things like a television, a shelf full of books, and a small intercom panel. There were cameras at all angles, and there was a doorway that led to a tiny bathroom.

“This is ridiculous,” Hero spat, “you thinking keeping me prisoner is going to give me a will to live? You’re crazy! If anything, this is just going to make it worse!”

Villain didn’t respond. They just stared at Hero, whose hands had clenched into fists at their sides.

“Let me out,” they said.

“I’ve contacted some of my colleagues,” Villain said, “one of them retired from villainy and is now pursuing what I’m told is a very fulfilling career in psychotherapy. You’ll be talking to them tomorrow.”

Hero stared slack-jawed at Villain.

“Now you’re telling all your friends about my problems!? I swear Villain, as soon as I get out of this I’ll-”

“You’re not getting out of this.” Villain said flatly.

Hero cursed loudly, tears brimming in their eyes.

“I don’t want to be here, don’t you get that!? I’m sick of all of this, I don’t want-”

“I don’t care what you want,” Villain said sharply, “I’m not going to lose you. I don’t care if you never speak to me again; as long as you’re still alive, I’ll be satisfied.”

Villain turned to leave, heading to the stairs. Hero slammed their fist into the glass.

“Villain! Get back here!”

Villain ignored them, going up the stairs and out of sight.

“This isn’t your call to make! Villain! Let me go!”

Hero screamed in frustration. They punched the wall with an icy fist that did nothing but make their knuckles throb. They looked around the cell for anything they could use to escape. There was nothing. In a final act of desperation, they formed an ice shard, intending to jam it into their chest, but just as the tip made contact with their skin, it melted.

Hero looked at their wrist, seeing a power-suppressing bracelet there. They sobbed in defeat, crumpling to the floor. They hugged themselves, letting out every guttural cry they had been holding in for the last month.

Upstairs, Villain watched the scene unfold through the security feed. As Hero wailed, Villain’s heart shattered. Looks like they were going soft after all.

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[precious-little-scoundrel]

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Requested: yes…Virgin!Gale + Maureen/Gale bonding

Universe: Friends in the Crucible (pacific au)

Summary: “Get laid, Buck.” Doc Egan prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve your jitters better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

Warnings: all the sex! 18+.|| both tender and feral || Doc Egan being a unorthodox but loving menace, a theme of ptsd and body tremors/insomnia -poor Gale is going through it after a whole war, drug mentions, erectile disfunction, Maureen is aggressive but everything’s consensual, usage of the word “Jap”. Graphic descriptions of Gale’s virginity loss, male overstimulation and an amusing amount of thought given to Bucky’s existence during the act … im sure that won’t lead to anything when Maureen returns to base and reports to Egan about it, right? Hahaha of course not, that would be craaazy

Word count: 10k

“Buck, come on now, it’s not a prison sentence, it’s just a little time off.”

“I don’t need time off.” Gale reiterated, a panicked sort of fierceness creeping into his tone as his appeal now stretched into something longer than the usual flippant favors Egan was customarily so eager to dole out.

“Those hands suggest ya do.” John gave a not unkind glance of sympathy at the twitching fingers rattling on the armrests of Cleven’s chair.

12 rescue missions in 15 days. Flying upwards of ten hours each. He’d done worse before, but then again, that had been when he was fresh, younger, less banged up from the head hitting the cockpit wall.

“Sending me to go watch flamingos and contemplate sand or some shit isn’t gonna make me steadier.” Gale very much feared his gripes were beginning to sound like begs, “Don’t send me off like this. Don’t.”

“Petrified of flamingos?” John hummed, glancing down at his chart as if contemplating making a note of this new malady, “Maybe if your dad had taken you to a zoo once or twice as a kid you’d not be scared stiff of the prospect.”

Cleven stared back at him with the most hurt eyes John had ever seen. He balled his own fist up to remember the rightness of his point, even if he’d delivered it about as clumsily as a marriage proposal at a funeral. “The hell would you say something like that?” Buck whispered, not even angry, just utterly lost.

“Buck, I’m just sayin’ -inability to slow or be alone, it’s classic symptoms of battle fatigue.”

“I don’t wanna sit on a beach when I could be helping, I’m perfectly capable of still helping! You know it!”

“But you can’t sleep.” John circled back to where this all began, with Gale asking if there was anything to knock a fella out when 82 hours of insomnia wasn’t sufficiently exhausting.

“Give me something, you’re a doctor! Goddamnit, John!” Gale finally broke, voice raising and fists clenched.

“Surgeon, technically.” John gave him a wane smile, “And I can’t dope up an active pilot.”

“Just an active surgeon.” Gale sneered, tit for tat on the insults.

John nodded grimly but murmured, “The day Gale Cleven becomes John Egan is a day this whole operation can pack up and go home.”

“So you're being the better man,” Gale scoffed, “-sending me to watch flamingos.”

“I’m not givin’ you shit.“ he confirmed, “Unless it’s an assignment.”

“Will it keep me outta the flak asylum?”

“If you comply to all the regulations, maybe.” Egan shrugged.

“Go on?”

“Get laid, Buck.” his friend prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve you better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

“That’s your ultimatum?”

“No, no, my ultimatum is that you go on a little sabbatical with one of my nurses, she’ll keep an eye on you and you can make yourself useful, helping her unload heavy shit at the aid station they’re setting up at Peleliu. My recommendation is that when she comes into your room at the end of the day and drops her knickers, you lay back and think of Wyoming.”

Major Cleven had thought of a million and one ways to bribe or ally the prospective nurse to his side of the deal once he knew which unfortunate female Egan was going to pick for this deplorable detail. Calling his friend a pimp and a bastard had done little good, threatening malpractice and a hardness of heart towards Gale’s own principles -even less. So Gale figured when the time came he’d just gently turn the well meaning comfort gal away and maybe pay her off to lie that they’d done it: for his hand’s sake.

After all, if she was willing to do this, was she even a nurse or was she someone Bucky dressed up in Red Cross arm bands like some sleazy fantasy? Gale didn’t think any of the nurses he’d encountered would be willing to go along with such a sordid “assignment.” Sure, some of them were -carefree. Indulgent. Easy, as the men sometimes called them before getting a stinging cheek that proved them wrong. But they were a proud bunch and they had earned it.

Rolling a toothpick in his cheek, Buck pondered these things while sat on the bench of a Goony Bird waiting for his nurse to hop into the cargo hold with him and off they’d go to Pelilu. The situation was made worse by the suspense of who it might be and the insulting foreignness of being on a plane but not piloting. It made Gale feel an odd sort of feeling close to self pity that he hadn’t felt in ages, not since he was a kid and the nostalgia of it wrung him out of all energy. He made himself sit on that metal bench motionless as the heat index rose on the tarmac and made up a fun little game involving trying to see if he could get his hands to stop tremoring for five seconds straight.

So far he’d lost his own wager each time. He told himself if he could make it to five seconds then the nurse Bucky had sent would be a gray haired matron and this really was just a sabbatical to lift boxes and breathe ocean air and get Gale to laugh at himself.

Then Maureen Kendeigh climbed into the hold and squeezed past their cargo of medicine crates and plopped down right next to him, leg bumping his and breathing like a race horse. ��I have jogged here the entire way from administration.” she wheezed, tugging at the collar of her shirt where her glistening throat was bobbing in thirst. “Sorry I’m so late, Major. Am I late?”

It could have been Bucky sat next to him: the choice of phrasing was so familiar, the damnable ability to force forgiveness for tardiness with a single smile so predictable. Gale found dread knotting his stomach at the realization it would be her, even as a warmth spread all over him at her sweet presence that had the odd effect of steadying his hands despite the panicked fuzz of his brain at her proximity.

Oh he didn’t want this. No, no, no. He’d like to think of Maureen very much apart, apart from anything but her heroism, not her wide spread stance on the bench beside him or the idea of her dropping her knickers and making him think of Wyoming. He preferred her very much not attainable in the deeper ways and very much not what he saw himself with when all this was over. Whatever she and Doc Egan had was between them and he’d held it up like a shield to keep himself in check, a boy's code of honor about not encroaching on his friend’s girl. Even if said friend didn’t have the decency to make said girl “his” girl.

But to have Maureen dished up to him on a platter by John when John must have suspected some of Gale’s appreciation for her professional merits -it was somehow worse than any dressed up floozy or the easy new intern. He’d not be able to pay Maureen off without insulting her. Or outing Egan’s intent. Maybe she didn’t know. What if Gale spilled the beans and she was as harmless as himself? What if—

“God, Major, did you sleep at all?” Maureen’s steady fingers were gripping his expressionless face and suddenly turned him towards her, one thumb swiping a tender crescent in his under eyes.

Gale’s eyes seemed to forget blinking was a thing, they grew wide and stayed wide at her inspection and the sandy wind blowing in from the tarmac stung at them as they dried out. “No,” he found his voice and it came out more winded than hers, “you’re not late.” he lied.

Once they get to the island, touchdown and unload, there’s then three hours of driving around the pitted old warzone to the aid station. There’s more foliage the more they go, less mortar pitted earth, but the increasing tropical paradise surroundings put Gale on edge. Maureen drives them to their unexplored destination as confident and recklessly as Bucky would, little surprise there. Gale can’t help glancing at her with unabashed amusement for the way she keeps her pistol propped on top of the steering wheel with one grip, facing out like a top turret for their hood, while keeping the map balanced on her thigh.

He cradles his own BAR with loose arms, ready to use it. Sure they secured the island months ago, but still, not infrequently some Jap comes out of his hiding hole, a cave, or whatever fucking tree he resides in and surrenders. Or, conversely, some of them have charged with guns blazing or sword drawn, deciding to go out and a bang of glory and take with them whichever hapless American happens to be nearby. That Emperor worship shit ain’t happening on on Gale’s watch, and so Maureen gets to drive -she didn’t have to beg like that, he was going to let her- and he shoulders the duty of keeping his eyes peeled for the next bush becoming animate and running at them, pulled pin grenade in hand.

“Some relaxation.” he jokes as their jeep lurches into another crater. If it’s not the bomb pits it’s the massive roots crawling over the smashed earth the Marine Corps call a road.

“It’s a reverse strategy!” she informs, grin wide as a shark’s and Gale could almost draw a little pencil mustache above that top lip and pretend it’s Bucky torturing him thus -hey, that might be a good mode of thought to keep everything strictly professional- “Like when nothing else works, you kick the broken thing.” Gale politely ignores the urge to argue about being broken, that’s not her point… he hopes, “You’re all shook up,” she goes on, voice raised to be heard over the rev of her driving, “and calm hasn’t worked, so why not shake you up worse?!”

He squints at her, fully aware he isn’t being chummy like she is trying to be, knowing he’s being a stick in the mud but he’s dying under the uncertainty, chafing under the pretense. Does she know? Or does she not? Five times today he’s resisted the urge to slap her chest like he would Demarco’s and ask her levelly, man to man, if she knows. “If this doesn’t work then what?” he asks anyway, sober as hell despite the comedic jostling and even Maureen’s joviality dims in the face of his dour mood.

“Then we’ll have to get real unorthodox.” she replies, allowing something close to annoyance at his attitude to seep into her own expression and Gale refuses to pull his eyes off her.

Do you know? He wants to ask.

“Stop scowling at me and watch for Japs.” she snaps at him so suddenly and so heated he genuinely spooks and turns his body back towards their horizon.

It’s worse than he thought. Worse than he imagined on the times he lost the bet with his hands and let his mind go somewhere besides a practical joke from Bucky and a gray haired spinster nurse as his companion. The aid station is on the edge of the new camp, far off enough to be genuinely secluded from both sights and smells of the navy station. It’s a tiki hut, thatched roof and swinging mesh door and lovely little veranda and palm trees and waves lapping up the back steps.

It looks like the sorta place people advertise for honeymoons and Gale stares at it with a 100 yard stare once Maureen grinds the gears to park.

“Jesus.” he knows his mouth is curling in disgust and beside him Maureen huffs in disgust with him.

She jumps out of her side of the jeep, not a shred of amusement left on her face. Gale sits and stares and listens to the roar of surf and the clinking of the cooling engine.

“Not bad.” she grunts under the burden of a crate which Gale should be lifting if he could just make his legs work and his mind obey. “But I bet it’s gonna be a bitch to keep the gnats out though, so much foliage around.”

Her hips sway like a tantalizing pendulum when she jogs up the bungalow stairs, her waist somehow accentuated by the way her arms are lifted to keep the crate hoisted on her strong shoulder and Gale has the perfect seat to watch it. How did he never notice the lines on her before she was doing hard labor? Then he recalls, she’s mostly been in flight suits around him, he’s never seen her paired down to collared shirts and belted pants. How’d he never notice the lines on that gi-

“Don’t make me drive this thing in the surf to wake you up.” her slap on his listless forearm rouses him to realize she’s back out at the jeep, standing beside him looking at him as he sits here catatonic like the mental case he’s showing symptoms of being. “And take your jacket off, you’re gonna get overheated being so formal.”

“Are you in on it?” he snaps suddenly as she grins at him over his first crate. He can’t tell if she’s mocking him or not but he’s damn tired of it.

“In on what?” Her face falls.

He can’t do it. He just can’t do it and he hates himself for being such a coward. “This.” he chooses vagueness and it tastes foreign and awful on his tongue.

“It’s a week out of the cockpit in paradise, Cleven,” Maureen’s own expression holds back no disdain for his pissy attitude, “man the hell up.”

What Maureen, Gale and five other technicians had loaded into the jeep and it’s buggy in the course of two hours, takes the mere two of them close to four to unload. And that’s even with Gale keeping a rapid pace to his work like a sweating maniac, feverishly wanting to stop thinking for once. His jacket and shirt are thrown over the chairs that are actually provided as furniture in the place and Maureen’s tie lays discarded on the accompanying desk. The rooms are bare but there’s two beds in the bedroom with crisp sheets that have only a bit of pollen dusting them and there’s a desk, as mentioned, three chairs in the main room and Maureen insists they can use crates for a table.

The back room is for the actual medical aid, and Maureen insists nothing gets moved into it until she can sanitize the whole place. So they stack the boxes in the main room and in the bedroom and when the sun gets lower they’re relieved to find there’s some dubious provisions for electricity in the place.

“I can get it to work.” Gale decides as Maureen tries flicking the light switch ten times as if to see if the bare bulb will grow a will of its own and turn on for her. It reminds him so much of Bucky’s brand of idiocy that Gale almost forgets himself and reaches out to swat her hand away from the futile flicking.

“Ok, then you do that while I keep unloading.” she insists, “Won’t be able to do anything if it’s pitch dark in here.”

So Gale drags a chair over and begins to fiddle with the wires tacked to the ceiling, risking electrocution so Maureen Kendeigh can see her way around as she tromps past him again and again in the same path with yet another crate.

He’s good with his hands. Excellent, in fact, judging by how one bulb flickers then stays steady, then another and another until the inside of the bungalow is aglow with cozy light: enough light for Maureen to appreciate his sweat soaked singlet and the way it rides up his belly when his arms are up and how it’s bright enough for her to scrub the exam room effectively when laying in a room with an insomniatic Gale Cleven gets to her at 3:00 am.

As it surely will. God! -the man is as impossible as he is beautiful, and while she doubted she’d manage it with him before, the sheer amount of fury she feels towards him right now leaves no doubt. She’ll shake him up. Like a Fuckin’ Martini. And he doesn’t have to like it, probably won’t, but they’ll both feel better after. “In on it” -he’s got the gall to ask but not the balls to spell it out, she can’t abide a quasi gentleman and so far Gale Cleven’s been nothing but the genuine article. Until now, now when he can’t accept certain human things about himself like fatigue or attraction, and he takes it out on her with a sullenness belonging to a much older man.

Maureen’s fine with that, she thinks as ogles the glowing golden skin of his sheened shoulders on one of her passes with a crate, she can take her mad out on him, too. And she’s got a lot of it. More than John Egan was ever able to lick away.

By 15:00, and some change to the second hand, Gale Cleven was still awake. Little surprise there, not to him, but even though it didn’t matter he found himself thoroughly annoyed and taking it out with a lethal glare at the vague gray ceiling, lit by a massive moon over the ocean. Wire and chairs but no curtains -an oversight about the furnishings. It wouldn’t have mattered, he knew that, and still the racket Maureen was making put his teeth on edge. It wasn’t Benny’s snoring or John’s drunken mumbling but it was a consistent *swoosh, swish* of industry that had Gale feeling a mixture of guilt and determination to keep lying here while she scrubbed.

It had not occurred to him she might’ve needed this break, too. Such as it was, effective as it was not proving. He knew she’d seen some combat in the beginning at Manila, maybe even worse than Iwo but long hours doing what she was doing now, where she was doing it, was no joke.

The urge to get up and help her was strong but then, so was the crippling fear of being around her in the dead of night and inviting any more of the bossy familiarity she’d tucked him into bed with. A magnesium capsule! She’d made him take three of the maternity horse pills and told him to calm the hell down as if he didn't have ample reason to be on edge with her laying a foot away on another bed, stripped down to her cotton slip. Of course Gale would cite war horrors if anyone asked why he couldn’t sleep but to be frank, he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t managing it these days and it had started awhile ago. Before Maureen Kendeigh glowed sweaty and luminous in the moonlight while gripping his cheeks and puckering his protesting mouth and plopping pills on his lolling tongue.

Thinking of it made his face flame with embarrassment for such a childish resistance. But god, her nursley familiarity sent a cross signal to his brain each time she helped herself to his flesh and no amount of berating himself while sweating in these rough sheets could dislodge the reaction. Closer to fifteen hundred than was remotely chivalrous, Gale threw off his sweat soaked bedding and tromped into the glow of light outside their bedroom, shuffling blearily into the little exam room. He faltered for a brief ten seconds at the doorway watching her undulating movements with sponge in hand and knees on the floor, white slip clinging like a second skin from the sweat.

He felt the sudden medical urge to lick her like the cattle back home lick at the salt block, a strange way of quenching thirst. Was ninety two hours without sleep considered genuine grounds for insanity? He felt like maybe he should be keeping a diary of these fevered thoughts to report back to John and see if he needed to get turned in. This wasn’t horniness, this was salt cravings. Yeah, yeah that’s what it was.

“You hypocrite.” he felt emboldened to tease and his voice came out rough and lower than even he expected, the disuse of laying there for ages taking a toll.

Maureen looked up like she’d been spooked herself, a slip and stall of her scrubbing, hair hanging about her face so unprofessionally he realized he’d never seen it in such…disarray. “Oh, the baby’s awake.” she grinned back and he felt an indulgence settle in his gut for her he didn’t know existed, “I see my magnesium capsules were a cure all.”

“Oh yeah, knock a horse out.” he agreed derisively.

“Your eyes are droopier.” she found a silver lining and as if reminded of the grit in them, his large fists came up and rubbed them meanly.

Like a little boy, she thought, watching him in the harsh light of the bare bulb, warm wood all around him the same color as all that sweaty skin and those skivvies hanging onto the lithest set of hips she may have ever seen. Looked as if one deep breath of that lean belly and the fabric would be goners, slipping down to the floor dramatically like a woman’s pantyhose in those unfortunate comics where that’s always occurring just when she wants to cross a busy street. Maybe if she could make him belly laugh-

She wished she knew how. She wondered if he knew how.

“Got another Sponge?” he asked and she was reminded why she liked him so much.

“Top crate, there, left, there that one.” She directed him with jerks of her chin until he was at the right one, “I’m using antiseptic.” she warned.

“I know,” he answered, dropping to his knees beside her and making use of her bucket to dunk his sponge, “smell’s been givin’ me a headache.”

Maureen’s mouth twitched at his tired grumpiness, more endearing now he was still putting effort into being near the caustic shit and the way his golden hair flopped on his forehead with his scrubbing movements. If his hips were that fluid, that rhythmic in cleaning a floor, how much more could she teach him to be—“Yeah, I’m sure it’s the anti-septic giving you a headache.” she snarked.

They ate sandwiches he’d gotten from the navy camp’s mess on the back porch, letting the sea water lap at their feet. A little stale but it was a much needed breakfast and Gale brought fresh water back, too, and a report that they were nice fellas and entirely too undressed for her to ever go see. That suited her fine, they’d be a pest if they knew a woman was up here and personally speaking she only needed one man for company, crate lifting, and doing the job well. And she rather had her heart set on it being Gale Cleven. Especially now she got to stare at him under the bright morning sun with a tropical breeze and more skin on display than at a swimsuit contest. He’d put on a singlet, as if to mark that a day had begun even if they hadn’t slept the night, but that was promptly sweat soaked and tiny nipples were pebbling under it from the breeze.

“Did they ask if a nurse came with you?” she pressed him between bites.

“Yeah.” he swallowed his bite thickly and licked at the mayo collecting at the corner of his mouth with typical precision, “And I lied.”

“Well, well,” she cooed, making him roll his eyes, “how’d that feel?”

“I have lied before.” he balked.

The look he gave her was both thunderous and remincent and she repented that line of questioning, used to distinguishing in her patients whether a wound was from wartime or stemmed from childhood. “Well who’d you say came with?” she asked.

“A technician.” he mumbled, blushing for some reason.

“Mm, someone nice and hairy and stinky-“

“Stop.” he begged.

“-not anyone they’d wanna meet.”

“I did it for you!”

“-if that makes you sleep at night, Cleven.” she humored him and like lightning, the back of his hand had flicked out and thumped her on the sternum, hard.

“Shit!” Maureen clutched the place, more in surprise than pain although he’d walloped her good and well.

“Shit!” He parroted in mortification, holding his hand like it was an offensive weapon.

“What was that for?” she laughed, “Do I remind you that much of Benny? Are you missing him that bad? Is that who you pretended was with you up here? Huh? Huh? Benny Demarco, now that’s a beauty to hide under a bushel-“

She was crowding him in on the steps and he was teetering towards falling off, too alarmed at his own outburst to trust his instincts now to shove her off without causing harm -and she knew it. She pressed her advantage and crawled over him with her teasing comments about Demarco until his long body had bowed so far away from her’s it was levitating and then toppled predictably into the surf.

“Fuck it’s cold!” he wheezed out as the embrace of the old pacific drenched him and rolled him about at her feet for a few delightful moments before he got his footing and rose, shaking his hair out of his eyes and grabbing for the steps.

“Sea bathing was in doctor Egan’s regimen.” she informed remorselessly before extending a merciful hand to help him up. He was slippery and shiny as an eel coming up and the grip of his hand was as strong as she expected. And still she found it intoxicating, the duality of him as he stood there pouting and bitchy over being cooled off. “Stay right there baby, I’ll get you a towel.” she patted his chest, right where he’d smacked hers, and went inside.

“I’m not your baby.” She heard him holler to her through the door-less porch. “I’m not your baby.” he reiterated vehemently but lower again when she came out with the towel.

“Yes you are.” she argued, “For this week you’re my baby, whether that’s a literal infant or not is your choice -and don’t start arguing, you’ve got to stop it, no one’s making you do a damn thing.” she insisted, hand raised and his mouth closed satisfyingly as a result, “You’ll be my baby. I know you already had a baby, no? Our baby? Shared her with ten other men, that’s generous of you-“

“-Ensign!-“

“-so I’m not gonna be your baby. You’ll be mine and you can find me something to be for the week.” she watched closely as recognition of her logic began to dawn and settle on him, “I could be anyone. I could be Benny Demarco, for instance. If that’s who you wanna lay next to.”

Gale didn’t speak for a long while, eyes off to the side watching the surf lap at the steps and she was still standing there, holding his unused towel. “Who do you want me to be?” he asked finally and his grave perception just about winded her in its raw honesty.

“You.” she replied honestly, “Whichever version of you made it here with me.”

“An infant -a baby.” he scoffed and she was suspicious those eyes were watery. And too delayed for it to be from the salt.

“My baby.” she replied, “Never had one before.”

“With respect ma’am, that’s Bullshit.” he argued in a fierce hiss, “I know you have, with John and -and-“

“I’ve been somebody’s,” she clarified, “but I think I’ve grown out of that. You’ll be my baby, huh? It’s not marriage, Cleven, it’s a week in paradise and hopefully some shut eye, too. So do you want me to be Benny?”

Those watery eyes let one single tear go trickling down his pink cheek alongside the rivulets of ocean water dripping from his hair and Maureen had never felt a single thing heat her up quite like it. “No,” his chuckle was thick and he sniffed, “not Benny. Maybe uh, God, I dunno, I’ve never had anyone.”

“Then we can make it up entirely.” she was pleased by the idea of not being a stand-in, although god knows she and John could sympathize more about the need for that than anyone. “We’ll be castaways.” she suggested, sitting back down on the porch now the confrontation was dwindling and in full confirmation of her suspicions, he sat again beside her without fuss.

“Marooned.” he disagreed, chin resting on his hands and a boyish tug pulling up the corner of his lips. “Something insane you did landed us here.”

“Mm, took liberties with the captain's daughter, perhaps?” she teased, daring to run a finger along those golden shoulders and collect a few salt drops. He shuddered under her but stayed put.

“I’m not playing fair maiden for you.” he retorted but his eyes were fond.

“Mm, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Maureen was still impossible and Gale felt his gut burn in a bizzare sort of drive to prove her wrong. He’d hardly ever felt this even with all the jokes from the boys, not even with all the temptations from the girls, it just hadn’t seemed something that needed proving. Every flea and salmon could do it, he never doubted when he got married he could manage it credibly enough.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” his voice sounded like he’d come to a decision and Maureen squinted at his profile until it clicked.

“I’ve never been married before.” she observed breezily.

“And I never planned on being married for just a week.” he replied.

“Isn’t there a film about this?” she asked, “Cary Grant gets stuck on an island and he marries his castaway but then they get rescued and there’s a first wife?”

“Yeah, I think so, actually.” he thumbed at his bottom lip in contemplation and Maureen found it endlessly distracting, along with the bird song and the ocean crash and the sunshine.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” she agreed then, settling back on her elbows to stare up at the sun and let it add a few freckles, “And when it’s over and you’re rescued, I’ll be the better woman and let Our Baby have you.”

“You’ll always be the best of women, Maureen.” he sounded like the admittance took every fiber of his resolve to say, but she’d heard it before in his voice weeks ago when she was patching him up.

If a tear slipped out the corner of her shut eyes and down a sun warmed cheek, she wasn’t going to make a deal of it, not until she felt his finger catch it tenderly before it dropped from her jaw and rolled it back up.

She felt her lip wobble traitorously and perhaps there were more tears planning to follow and betray her but the shivering shock of his full lips, pressed to her bare shoulder, stemmed the flood. Maureen held her breath and kept her eyelids sealed, an orange glow of sunshine behind them as all her senses attuned to the drag of his caresses up to the juncture of her shoulder, the press of his body next to her on the porch boards, the suspenseful absence of his hands. They were soft as marshmallows, those lips, and a stray tip of his tongue caught her clavicle as he worked his way up a path that almost seemed premeditated, as if he’d thought of doing this a million times but held back. Now he allowed himself and the assured intimacy of his mouth made her body heat soar almost beyond her endurance as he crept up her throat and onto her cheek.

A kitten lick to that tear track down her cheek and Maureen was whimpering from something else entirely, breaking ranks and turning her head to gaze at him, nearly stunned by how close he was, how alive, how beautiful, how blue. There were his hands now, one propped beneath her shoulder, the other cupping her cheek. Her lips were tingling with anticipation by the time he’d lowered his face far enough and brushed her mouth with his.

Maybe he’d done his fair share of kissing the girls back home goodbye, or maybe it was a talent given along with this impossible lips, or perhaps she’d wanted it so long that the final having of it sent Maureen spiraling with something oddly like obsession.

Kissing was enough for the longest time, the shore sounds and the squawking of ocean birds and the feel of Gale Cleven laying more and more atop her as his tongue met hers and danced. She scratched the back of that tanned neck like she dreamed of doing a dozen times, little scritches to his hairline that had him sagging against her kisses to the point of crushing.

She allowed herself the liberty of running her hands along his lean sides, taking in the graceful taper of his waist, the dip of his back, the sopping wet waistband of his briefs. She wondered if this is how men feel with a young girl, when there’s so much loveliness one wants to maul it and mark it and watch it respond. Anything to make him moan again into her mouth, wrenched and helpless and appreciative of her all at once, anything for him to hump his hips against her thigh in a manner so mindless he didn’t seem himself at all.

When he pulled away, dazed and winded from his own exertions, he seemed to have left behind all his inhibitions, stark need written on his face and only some doubt of what he was allowed yet remaining. “Are we gonna?-“ he trailed off, raspy voiced and trembling with suspense.

“Going to what?” she couldn’t abide it any longer, his demureness, “Say your mind, Cleven.”

“Do it.” he let out with a wince.

“Well I don’t know, Mr. Jones, you tell me. Are we gonna?”

Gale huffed and threw his head back, trying to regain some sense of mind, lip savagely pulled between his teeth. “Yeah. We are.” he decided.

“Then finish your sandwich.” she patted his waist and pushed him off.

“I can’t!” he begged with a groan from where he’d spilled out on the porch like a boneless dummy. “Not now.”

“You’re gonna need it, the water too, trust me on this.”

“Are we gonna -make love? Or go for a forced march?” he protested but lifted the canteen to his lips anyways when she gave him a look and proceeded to drink it dry.

“How would you know the difference?” she teased and he had the good humor to roll his eyes. If all went according to Egan’s plan, they oughta hibernate for twelve hours of sleep afterwards and she wanted him hydrated and ready for that. Maureen had a plan of her own, which certainly might lead to such a sleep, but it also involved not getting off that boy for love of God or money until he was as useless as a wet rag and the impertinent gnawing between her own legs was replaced by a good ache.

Cleven was staring at his sandwich remorsefully, “I can’t get this down, Maureen.” he declared with sudden finality and then, without preamble he threw it into the sea. “C’mon, Mrs Jones.” he held out his hand for her as he stood up, something close to an excited grin taking over his face.

He was so confident now, having come to a decision, and Maureen found herself naturally bending to his direction, placing her hand in his large palm and allowing him to haul her to her feet as gently as a dance partner. “We’ve got a bed.” she reminded blissfully into another kiss, anchored to his face by the persistent hands snarled lovingly into her salt tousled curls: this hair Maureen, this hair drove me mad.

“And we’re gonna use it.” he agreed, walking her backwards up the porch until he feet were skidding over the threshold, his tongue still sucking her own.

She stopped him there with a hand to the willowy plane of his belly, a regulated, principled woman to the last, and snapped the still soaked waistband of his drawers. “Off, you’ll make the sheets wet and sandy.”

Their sweat would accomplish dampening them enough in this muggy heat, they didn’t need sand and ocean water to boot. Maureen ducked beneath his arm and went back out to grab the discarded towel.

“I don’t want a trail of drips on our clean floor.”

Gale smiled softly at the usage of “our” -it felt right somehow, to share things with her. They’d been at it for some time, it came naturally like it had with Bucky and the few other boys who he knew would be something special and unlike anything else after this. It was a little bittersweet to know he was living the best days of his life, right here and now, enviable, irretrievable moments of raw connection slipping away with each drip, drip, drip onto the threshold. It was a heartache in the making and it was a spur for the moment. Back home they’d never understand, and any old observer would see nothing unique, but Gale could allow himself the rightness of sharing just one more thing. Why not cement it fully, irrevocably, as the closest brush he’d ever come to with another soul- he’d asked himself the same with Bucky, knew it was already an established fact.

Maureen’s lips were warm where they pressed to his back, the space between his shoulders, towel held to his waist. “You’re not shy of me, are ya, baby?” she whispered in his ear, thumbing at the still worn briefs.

He could feel himself this past hour hardening and softening, so many times in the space of so many minutes he was dizzy with it, the way his brain would have the upper hand and then, suddenly no, it all rushed south. Which now left shyness as the only real excuse for the way he burned and shrank and burned and shrank in turn at each of her touches.

“You gonna give me the towel?” he asked instead.

“Once it’s safe to do so.” she replied primly, in her familiar nursing voice, and he hated the shudder that tore through him. She stepped under his arm again, around him and into the house, and stood in the shade of the it with the towel spread invitingly, tauntingly. A whole yard and a half between then and she’d decreed no drips past the threshold. Gale’s cheeks burned as did his eyes, smarting with brimming tears from an odd frustration he’d only ever felt over a botched mission, an anger at not being able to bomb his target and make it worthwhile, a petty frustration he always felt before the cold rage of lost men fully registered.

Futile tears: Gale yanked the skivvies down and stepped out of them efficiently.

Maureen wasn’t smiling at him from the shade anymore, not even a smirk, she looked hungry. She looked like Bucky, taking in “a view.” Gale didn’t know ladies ticked that way -or maybe they didn’t, maybe only Maureen did. The blush in his cheeks ran down his chest and spilled onto his belly and his fists clenched without thought.

“When the man of the house,” Maureen was reciting some inane pamphlet she no doubt did not heed or else they’d never be here, “respects the whims of the lady in small matters, he will find the lady more submissive to issues of larger stake such a-“

Gale made a dash at her, to shut her up, and she fled from him to the bedroom, feet smacking on the hardwood and cotton slip fluttering up her thighs -his towel with her.

“I want you bare.” he told her when he had her, struggling in his arms before the bed, a lush friction where he pressed tightly behind her.

“Then sit,” she sounded genuinely breathy, trapped to him and he had never heard her like that before, it made him want to hold fast, “and I’ll make your dreams come true.”

It was just a slip, no garters and no braisere or girdle, yet still Gale sat himself on the bed and Maureen bit her cheek to keep from laughing at the modest way he deposited the towel on his lap, covering what she’d been eyeing and thanking her luck for. A cock as pretty as his face -now if she could just make it stand up fully.

“You ready?” she deferred to him as she stood there before the bed, being looked on with all the reverence and trepidation of a goddess by this seated acolyte.

“Please,” he nodded furiously, “please show me.”

It felt a little wrong to expose oneself in front of such an angelic being, curtainless windows throwing in the sun on him all golden and untouched, white scratchy sheets and white draped towel making it a bower of innocence for a brief moment. It also felt right, to throw off everything but what they’d been born with. Off went rank, obligations and expectations, as easily as dragging the slip over her head.

She tossed the article of clothing behind her for good measure -and dramatic effect- then noted with satisfaction the bleary eyed comprehension of her charms from Gale Cleven where he sat with his mouth hung so slack he was liable to drool.

“Incredible.” he muttered, husky and a little slurred, his hand raising without his own volition to beckon her closer, a plea, command.

Maureen swayed on her feet, nearer and nearer until she was standing above him, between his parted legs and she shuddered as he laid that broad palm on her hip and dragged it up her side in an admiring swath, thumbing at her belly and catching her ribs in his hold.

“Those flight suits of yours, they don’t…they don’t let show the half of it.” Gale declared, mesmerized, face hovering closer and closer until his lips were pressing against her flesh, right under her sternum, his forehead pressed to the underside of one pendulous breast, nuzzling as he became aware of that, bunting like a calf at her breast with his face, gone silly with access.

“Whadda ya think?” she giggled, the silliness of Gale Cleven gone stupid over making yams jiggle being the exact sort of thing that made life worth living, and being a woman exquisitely satisfying.

“They’re so goddamn soft.” he moaned around a bit of the underside, still hadn’t worked his way to a nipple. He seemed too preoccupied with their give and bounce to make a more calculated use of them. Maybe if men hadn’t been told what to do with them, they’d do what Gale Cleven was doing and rub their face against them and let them rest on their foreheads. There was a charm to this ignorance as he licked the salty sweat from their undersides with a surprisingly brave tongue.

The clumsy misuse was oddly effective for Maureen, what Gale lacked in skill he made up for in unstudied appreciation and nothing got her quite so ready as being appreciated to the point of foolishness. Her first conquest had been a boy at school who hadn’t minded tripping in his track shoes, day after day, to try to catch up to her on her bicycle, just to give her a flower or trinket. He was laughed at for his devotion until he broke the school track record next year, and Maureen was sure to remind him of her role in his success. They’d soon found a mutually beneficial reward system and Maureen had adopted that attitude as a maxim for the future, her dates and conquests may have been many but each of them in their own way had been appreciative -or else she was jumping out the window, damn the twelve foot drop out the dormitory.

No one, however, had looked quite so gifted by her mere existence as Gale Cleven did while he clutched at her hips and smushed her flesh between his hands like it were some fine dough and he was an artisan.

Discreetly, and it was easy to be so with his face buried in her bosoms, Maureen glanced between them at the tool she had such hopes for and found it, unsurprisingly, twitching and dribbling against his thigh, half hard but flapping about like a fish on dry land, the discarded towel no match for its movement. He’d need a hand, literally and metaphorically, and as she raked her nails through his blond curls and directed his slick mouth to a nipple, she felt him sag even further into her hold. Maureen weighed her next step carefully, trying to tamp down her own wants. She’d need to be sure but slow, careful not to spook him, or antagonize or embarrass.

She wondered if he even realized the same banged-up-head condition that sent him out here was most likely responsible for the jitters that kept him flopping. She wasn’t so conceited as to assume he’d not bedded a woman yet out of mere dysfunction, Cleven was a man of principle and strict notions regarding how the world should be, and he wasn’t one to build those notions on passing medical conditions.

“You like ‘em?” Maureen teased him, shocked at how hoarse her own voice had gone in the interim.

“Gonna make a home in here.” he mumbled in the affirmative, slack grin molded to the valley between them, blue eyes wide as the skies outside peering up at her.

“Got a job for you, baby.” she murmured, thumbing at the scar on his cheek.

“What’s that Mrs. Jones?” his voice alone made her mad with need, as did the saucy turn of his mouth so wonderfully foreign she didn’t know how she’d control herself until he was ready.

“Need you to lick a little landing strip, right here.” she ran her finger along the somewhat tacky skin between her breasts, sweat and his sloppy kisses having partway done the job already.

“What for?” Gale asked, hushed and curious.

“You’ll see soon enough.” she recalled how effective her nursing voice had been on him, and pulled it out now it seemed beneficial.

She had been right, with only a hesitant spark of aggravated defiance, Gale dipped his head and stuck out that pink tongue, lapping a swath up between her breasts as directed, flaming eyes locked on hers as she shivered from the breeze on spit slicked flesh.

“Again.” she told him, and his hands came up to hold her breasts apart as he did it again, and again and once more under his own direction until it was shiny and messy and his nose was gleaming, too.

“What’s it for?” He demanded once more, pink cheeked and swallowing hard as his mouth had dried out from his efforts.

“I told you, silly,” she replied casually, “it’s a landing strip.” and with as little fuss as possible she got to her knees before he’d registered the absence of her standing above him. “Gale, let go of the damned towel.”

She held in a laugh of delight at the tortured color he had grown to, veins running like so much ivy up and down him and a vibrant pink tip that matched his lips. Maureen wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look him in the face again without thinking of this drizzling little pink mushroom.

“You oughta count your blessings, Gale Cleven, it was a close call, my coming along at all.” she informed him soberly while his mind visibly vacated his body at the repeated sighting of his sputtering cock emerging from between the pillowy press of her breasts, “It was pretty touch and go there for a bit, I was quite sure in fact, that Bucky was gonna help himself to this assignment.”

“Maureen!” Gale thundered, except his usual imposing ire was much diluted by his quivering belly and hoarse voice.

“What?” she brushed off his scandalized displeasure with a grin, feeling cocky herself as he hadn’t flagged on her in minutes and was beginning to gush in earnest, “Bucky loves the beach.”

“Sure, Maureen.”

“In the end he decided I had what it takes.” she went on conversationally, ignoring the inhuman sounds that came out of him when she casually spit on his tip, the better to work her lips around him, “These.” she clarified, pressing her breasts to his thighs as she wrapped her mouth around him and sucked.

“Fuck, hell, Maureen! Sorry, sorry, oh fuck!” -not even Gale Cleven had expected his hips to fly up that hard and fast, knocking on the back of her throat.

She laid her hands on his squirmy hips and did her best impression of a Listerine gargle round his tip, which sent a shudder through him so strong she thought he might’ve climaxed already.

“Maureen, Maureen come on, get up here, please.” now he yanked at her hair, desperate for once and that was a pleasure to hear.

“What baby?” she pulled off him.

“Gotta kiss you.” he told her firmly, and hauled her bodily up by her armpits, rolling her under him in the bed.

Kisses -sure, Gale, kisses.

He was moaning atop her, wiry and flexing his hips against her, wriggling to get between her thighs and she let him, hungry and expectant when he slotted easily in place. He pressed his lips to hers ardently, then reared back in shock at the taste of his own precum in her mouth and on her lips.

“Salty.” he whispered as if to himself before licking his lips and going back for more. “What do I need’to do?” he whispered urgently against her mouth as she rocked against him and he rocked back until they’d frustrated each other thoroughly with mere caresses.

“Put it in, my baby.” she whispered back.

“First though, don’t I need to-to do- something? Something first?” he could barely think straight but he’d heard enough talk about this, about gentlemen and the necessity of some form of chivalrous preparation. The way discipline and intuition set apart an average pilot from an excellent one. Bucky had talked a lot about getting girls ready, making them squirm, revving them up, for all his apparent disinterest during the topic, Gale had been listening.

“You’ve done it already, Mr. Jones.” she giggled, reaching between them to drag him more firmly through the wanton swamp he’d made of her. “I’m ready, I’m so ready.”

“Oh fuck, s’wet.” he mumbled the obvious before willingly letting her guide him in, his body following her tug like his cock were a leash.

“Jesus,— Gale!” Maureen choked as he bottomed out in a sudden plunge, shocked at the stretch despite the gauging of his size. “You’re so deep, oh baby you’re a big one aren't ya.”

“You ok?” he whimpered, shuddering on top of her again and again at the incomparable feeling of being inside another’s body.

“Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine,” she gasped, “Hurts so good, you can move, baby.”

“You’re so warm.” he sounded close to worshipful he was so drunk off her, and Maureen spared a moment to smirk at the fate of man: come tearing their way out of a woman to begin their lives only to spend the rest of it trying to and needing to get back in.

He did try to move, she’d give him that. And while Maureen was more than half expecting it, still, it was mildly comical to see the confusion flash across his blissful face right as the buildup was snatched from him and he was suddenly shaking into the real event before he knew it, betrayed and euphoric all at once. The muscles in his belly and back and neck seized and his hips lunged in a series of uncoordinated pumps and she could read the panic in his eyes right before they rolled back -a begrudging admittance that this was nothing at all like the steady predictability of his hand.

“That’s it baby, that’s my baby, feel nice, huh?”

Gale didn’t answer her, too occupied whimpering with a taut throat and jaw clenched so tight he could snap a hinge like that. He was shaking worse than before when the spasms subsided and the tiniest pressure to his sweat slicked neck had him buckling to lay pressed against her, half senseless from the force of his release.

Maureen had always loved this part of sex, the pliable, bewildered, smushed man atop her like she’d sucked his soul out, when he’d rendered it up to her so willingly, so desperately, forcefully even, chasing his own eventual weakness. Long limbs aligning on top of hers, the hot pants of winded breath against her breasts, the hands listlessly holding on wherever that had last tried to grip and control her. The view from above with Gale Cleven was something additional, beautiful and glistening with bronzed swaths of sun exposed skin and the pale whites of his thighs and ass making a perfect little outline of absent shorts, his golden hair tousled beyond salvaging and that luscious mouth, drooling like a babe’s.

“So this is what Bucky’s been talkin’ about.” he mumbled into her breast, cheek smashed and enunciation shot to hell.

Maureen laughed in disbelief, “Thinking of him even now? Really, he’s going to be impossible if we tell him.”

“Just sayin’, now I know.” he defended, lazily rubbing his partly softened cock inside her with a shimmy of his hips that was quickly followed by an overly sensitive mewl.

“You don’t know anything, Angel boy.” she insisted and Gale raised his head at that, sour that she’d still contradict him after thirty seconds of vigorous pumping. “Let me see your hands.”

He had some trouble recalling where he put them but eventually he found them under her hips and withdrew them from their warm shelter to present them, warily. “Well, damn.” he muttered to himself, somewhat shocked by just how badly the shakes had worsened. “Looks like that treatment backfired.”

“More of a dose dependent case, I’d say.” Maureen corrected and circled each wrist with her hands and brought them up to her lips to kiss.

Gale’s face smoothed at her softness and a shy smile lit up his bleary eyes while she felt a twitch of his spent cock deep inside her, swishing about the mess he’d made like a dog’s tail after getting pats. “You have the most beautiful hands.” she informed him earnestly and balls deep inside her she watched as one single innocuous compliment sent him scarlet with a blush. “And they’ll be yours again soon.” she promised.

His gentle expression and bright red cheeks crumpled rather suddenly and before either of them seemed to expect it, fat teardrops had escaped the blue of his eyes and rolled down the crimson flesh of his face.

“Goddamnit.” he cursed hoarsely, in an absolute rage at himself, regaining his hands from her grip insistently to bring them up to his own face, hiding from her behind harsh fists that rubbed at his wet eyes like he could grind the grief and weariness out between his knuckles.

Unbalanced as he was without hands to support him, and legs gone jellied from his fast fading pleasure, Maureen chose to capitalize on it as a nurse would a brief state of insensibility to move a patient to a cleaner cot. Remorselessly she pressed at his shoulder and lifted their still joined hips until he tipped over, rolling onto his back beneath her. “We’ll have none of that.” she told him with loving adamance from her new perch, prying his hands away and pressing them to the sheets beside his head. “The hiding, I mean.” she clarified and he looked all of hardly past twenty laying there with wobbly lips and wet eyes unobscured, “I’m a very great proponent of crying,” she went on conversationally which confused him more but kept him too preoccupied to stifle his tears, “De-sanguination is still a highly esteemed practice, you know, it means to drain the body. One type of draining often triggers the other.”

“You gonna start bleeding me?” he asked wryly.

“Oh, maybe, you’d look so pretty all streaked up.” she teased and ran a sharp thumbnail over his pinned wrist.

Well, that got him hard again. Fascinating.

“You know what’s got your hands like this-“ she whispered softly, “-probably the same reason you flop, too.”

“Huh.”

“Pretty common.” she assured.

“Quit tellin’ me I’m common.” He growled, tickling her sides and she grabbed his hands, pinning them again playfully.

“Nothing common about you, sweet baby.” she swore, leaning down to kiss him and enjoying the way he met her strongly, surely, “Gale, can I move?” she asked, half strangled by the taut string of need coiled in her belly, tugged to madness by the bulk of him still resting limply inside.

“Move?” he was perplexed.

“I’m going to die if I don’t get some friction.” she whispered, somehow shy to admit that in the face of his innocent bewilderment, “God -please tell me someone has informed you women finish, too?”

“Bucky says they clamp up so tight you can’t help but blow.” Gale recited dutifully, “Which is what just happened, right?”

Maureen grinned wide and wicked before dragging her hips up till he was barely in, then plopping down into the cradle of his hips, making him let out a “oomph.”

“Maureen?” he questioned, half knowing already he had been mistaken but hell, to go again? “Maureen- I’ll die if we go again.”

“What a way to go.” she muttered, her pace atop him increasing as did the tortured gasps tumbling from his lips. His spunk was making terribly wet, lewdly sloppy sounds of suction each time she slammed down on his cock and the visual of her exerting herself on top of him was something so blatant and jiggly he could hardly endure the visual feast of it.

“Shit, shit I can’t-“ he growled while his trembling hands latched onto her hips in a grip that was anything but dissuading. “Maureen.” he begged her for…he knew not what.

“Come on Mr. Jones,” she clasped her hands around his face and aligned their noses, rubbing like a kiss with each movement of her lower body, “you’re not one to leave your missus needy, I know you’re not. Not when you’ve got such pretty hands-“

-a shudder from him.

“and a clever tongue-“

-a whine from him that sounded close to a wounded dog’s it was so lasting.

“-or a tool this capable.”

“Maureen.” he groaned.

“Baby, my baby.” she begged, “You’ve got what I need, come on, take me apart.”

Like he trusted himself for the first time since they began this endeavor, she felt his body bow up beneath her, his arm flexing strongly across her hips, his legs braced beneath her and a heavy hand clutching her neck, then he was driving up into her with a wild abandon she only ever hoped was simmering beneath that cool exterior. When she finished he hadn’t stopped, and Maureen found herself crying out like a feral thing into the hollow of his clavicle as the brutal pummeling went on, satisfaction drug out of her over and over in harsh ruts.

“That more like it?” he panted the harsher he grew, a hand around her jaw pushing her face away from his so he might see the damage he was doing.

“Yes, yes oh baby, yes!” she swore through clenched teeth, it had been too long and each blissful peak only aggravated her further, made her hungrier, that and the fact he was so proportioned as to be a constant delight just shy of pain, “Hell Gale, do ya hear us?” she gloated, propping herself back on his thighs to watch the shiny pink of him flash in and out of her wet sheath.

Mesmerized, Gale didn’t reply, but he dragged a hand up her belly and felt for the way it tensed at each intrusion, the span of his fingers an incredible thing across her skin. “Can’t believe you can take it, easy as that.” he marveled, his thumb straying and pulling apart her petals the better to watch.

“Thumb it right there.” she directed gently, reaching down to move his calloused finger over her bud, right above where he split her apart, “That’s it, ya feel that too, huh?”

“Fuck you’re tight.” his voice cracked and his eyes shot wide again.

“Are you -?”

“Maybe.” there was a wobble of blissed uncertainty in his voice until she stopped her movements and he let out a sob before he could catch it. “Maureen, please.”

“Please what, baby?” she was chuckling at him, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead, “I let you-“ he pleaded, still thinking things worked that way, “-now I need, please Maureen...”

“Oh you can.” she assured and his face lightened but his eyes stayed wary, “But just know, I won’t be stopping.”

“What?”

“You remember how that feels, don’t ya baby?” she reminded, gently pushing him to lie back and beginning their movements anew, “So good you can’t stand it, so messy and easy for me, so tender and much for you?”

“Jesus.” he wheezed, his lean belly caving in with his heavy pants, but she felt him throbbing inside her and his pupils were large as saucers, “You’re as mean as Bucky.” he whined, voice gone high in panicked pleasure.

“Thank you, but really I’m not.” she laughed, gently thumbing away an errant tear that rolled down his cheek. “Not quite.”

“Maureen, please, please you’re too pretty!” he begged nonsensically even as his hips began to snap into hers, invigorated and forceful.

“Hold it Gale, try to hold it.” Maureen gasped, staring down at the prettiest face she’d ever seen as his brow began to furrow, “Or don’t, all the same to me.”

“I’m gonna flip you.” he swore and a few seconds of inaction passed, marked by the slam of her hips down onto his, and she thought he didn’t mean it until she gave him a daring look and suddenly she was careening backwards, head jolting against the sheets and body laid out firmly beneath him.

“Goddamn.” she swore at the way he hadn’t dislodged an inch during the whole maneuver, suddenly pressed just as deeply as before, his hips working like a piston and his hands tight and strong on her neck. “Goddamn baby. Oh goddamn that’s good.”

“S’good?” he begged her to repeat, some dizzying natural force propelling him harder and faster and needier.

“You’re so good.” she was adamant as she hung about his neck and locked her ankles in the small of his back. “You’re so good I’m - I’m -gonna-“

“What was that about holdin’ it?” he hissed, smile cocky and smug.

“Bull ain’t out of the gate yet Cleven,” she cautioned but her hips had begun to lift of their own accord, a tremble taking hold of her, “But I’m close, I’m, i'm real cl- oh God!”

“Come on sweet Maureen, wanna make ya -wanna do it for ya. Give ya what you need, Mrs Jones.” Gale’s hoarse and sweet nothings poured hot and breathy in her ear and Maureen found herself locked and gripping him before she knew it, moaning into his neck as he moved in and out, in and out as she’d only ever dreamed of.

When she cracked her dazzled eyes open again he was panting above her, the clink of his dog tags gently bumping her chin with each sway deeper, lashes batting in a golden flutter as he too began to lose himself, slower, more drawn out and yet every bit as desperate as the first time.

“Look at me baby, look at me when ya do.” she pleaded, gently gripping his chin as his mouth fell open in a series of little noises of effort that went straight to her belly grown hot and molten with the feeling of him spurting inside.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh,” Gale was working atop her in pained delight, lips so smeared and face so sweaty he looked like he might melt at any minute, “thank you, oh fuck, thank you, sweet Maureen.” he chanted low and dreamy, again and again until he drove in once more and stayed.

Those clear blue eyes fagged in an exhausted ecstasy, his head dropping impossibly further with each ragged pant until his face was barely hovering over her breasts, neck bent and forhead slowly pressing into the swell of them. His forearms gave out and those hands of his stayed trapped beneath her shoulder blades.

“Sleep Angel baby,” Maureen coaxed, hand cradling the back of his dear head to her breasts, feeling a low lazy peace settle over her at the feel of his dead weight plugging her up and the lovely wringing out she’d just endured, “let’s just sleep, dear boy.”

Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[sunnasweet]

Sienna and The Scientist

We've gone from Androids to 🥁🥁🥁 aliens! This one's a little weirder than my last post but such is life.

Literotica summary: Sienna is experimented on by an alien anthropologist.

Critiques are always appreciated I'm trying to improve so that one day I can write an actual novel!

5.5k words, non-con-ish?, oviposition, alien x female reader

Sienna woke with a headache and the smell of ammonia.

Her eyes fluttered open, just barely cracking her lids before they widened at what she found herself looking at.

A white padded room. It wasn't just the cold tile that gave Sienna the chills. She was staring at a prison cell. Every corner had a camera pointing at her, there was a twin bed and a metal sink that had a toilet bowl protruding out of the side.

If the room wasn't enough there was also the fact that she was stark naked, stark naked and shaved. What was once her pussy covered in soft tufts was now completely bare. She rubbed her thighs together and could feel the way her cunt lips rubbed together from the movement now that there was no friction or barrier.

Sienna shook her head, she had bigger problems than her naked pussy.

"H-hello?" she rasped out, "someone?"

She stood and did a full 360, all around her were squares of padded white. No door, not even a gap to suggest one.

She stared at the cameras. Not only was she naked but she was being recorded naked, she banged on one of the padded blocks, and when that did nothing she shouldered against it.

She paced around the room before shouting, "Hello?" she waved her hands, "I know you're watching me!"

She waited for a response.

Nothing.

Sienna began to feel restless, she shouldered the wall once again and hissed when she sunk into the wall. She banged her fists against the material, which was just as useless as all her other attacks.

She walked around the whole square box of the room, looking at everything, which was to say–not much.

How did she get here?

Sienna sat on the bed.

She tried to retrace her steps but the thing was, Sienna had no recollection of the events that led to this room. She could remember her name, her birthday, and the leftover Chinese takeout she ate for breakfast that morning but not anything that happened within the past few hours.

Sienna wasn't going to last long. She was already going insane–she could feel it, that familiar craze you feel in the heat of the moment when you think a man is following you but instead just passes you by.

She started calling out for help again and there was nothing but the echo of her own words. With panic and a twisted gut, tears sprang to her eyes. She pulled at her hair.

She was already breaking, Sienna was not the final girl.

It was so typical really, to be kidnapped. If it was going to happen to someone, of course, it happened to her. She was the weakest link, she could admit that. She didn't do cardio and she didn't lift weights. Her thighs jiggled and her belly was soft.

So sick of her own breathing, Sienna decided to test a theory.

A stupid theory, her brain chimed in.

She looked at the camera, "please let me out," she begged.

She stared off for a moment, one second–two, then three.

Nothing.

She crawled back to the floor, crouched down, planting her palms on the tile. Then. Unceremoniously, craned her head back and slammed it onto the surface.

Sienna groaned, and then she did it again. The pain was agonizing and she could no longer see straight. She was pretty sure her forehead was bleeding. But the sound of the hiss of depressurizing made it all worth it.

Whatever she was here for, it wasn't to be tortured and murdered which made self-mutilation a no-go. She was merchandise.

Sienna tilted her head and nearly blacked out but she saw there was now a long door-shaped hole in the wall.

She almost grinned at her plan to get her kidnapper's attention succeeding until something inhuman stepped through the door. Her eyes bulged. She must have been hallucinating. Green, pale green skin, tall and lean. Four arms. She had just bashed her head into the floor, there was no way what she was seeing was real.

No, it was walking closer, and…and it was talking.

"What do you think you're doing?" hissed the creature.

Sienna gaped like a fish. He spoke a different language, all clicks and hisses, and yet somehow she could understand him!

What the hell was going on?

Sienna scrambled away but she was weak on her feet and stumbled, she was going to pass out. She wiped her nose and realized it was bleeding.

"Let..lemme go." she slurred.

The four armed being moved closer to her. It was prowling forward, baring its sharp shark teeth at her. Holy shit.

Sienna's eyes rolled back and her face fell forward.

-

The second time Sienna woke, she was strapped to a table and staring at her reflection. There were panels of mirrors on the ceiling. She craned her neck and her eyes widened. She hadn't been hallucinating, there was a tall green…something, staring at her.

"You're awake."

"I–"

"That wasn't a question." the creature spoke, once again not in her native language but somehow her brain translated the words for her.

"W-who are you? Where am I? What am I doing here?" she questioned rapidly.

The green being stared at her, she almost thought he wasn't going to answer but–

"You're in a laboratory," he said unhelpfully, "I am the scientist assigned to you, and you are here as my test subject."

"A… laboratory?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"You are on the planet Zorkis."

Sienna's eyes bulged further and her heart rate spiked. She knew that not only from the pain in her chest but because of the incessant beeping of a machine she was connected to. She practically choked on her spit.

"I"m on another planet?" she asked genuinely. Because. Frankly. It was very hard to believe, but then again she was staring at a green 4-armed monster. So what did Sienna really know?

She wasn't getting home, that's for sure.

"This is correct." The alien scientist responded.

Sienna started to struggle against the leather straps horizontally draped over her body. The alien calmly watched her seemingly not caring that she was attempting to escape.

"You will not get out of those." the alien spoke, "not even I would be able to escape those straps and I'm far stronger than you are, pet."

She gasped.

Pet? Is that what he had just called her?

"I'm not your pet!" she hissed, "Let me out of here! Why are you doing this? Huh? Why me?" her voice was getting shrill and she was exhausting herself.

The alien gave a very human shrug, "Why not you?" she swallowed. "Besides…" he trailed, one of his long fingers trailing up her calf, "You're the first human to ever try to self-mutilate so soon," he says like that's a good thing.

It made her interesting.

He was fascinated with her.

"What are you testing me for?" she croaked.

"I've been assigned to learn about your reproductive and mating habits," he said lowly. Reproductive habits? Oh no. No. No. No.

She shook her head, "You can't do that. You can't." she said, the panic once again building up within her.

"I can and I will." he paused, pulling his finger away from the leg he had been stroking. "You see my species has gone through a plague very recently. Nearly half of our population was decimated and we need to rebuild our numbers if there's any hope for the new generation," he explained. "So we have been searching all over the galaxy to find a successful host body. Humans fit the bill."

Sienna stiffened.

No.

No, no, no.

She was going to have a panic attack or throw up or both. Sienna had been brought here to be some sort of baby maker? No way, she couldn't–she wouldn't.

"Now," he spoke, "I am Dr. Xorad and you will address me as such. I will be responsible for you during your stay."

Her ears perked at his words, "My stay? You're going to let me go home at the end of all this?" she could deal with that. Pop-out some half-alien, half-human baby, Whatever it took to make sure she was good to go back home. Fine. Sure. Awesome.

"No." He said, crushing her hope. "You will likely never return home to your home planet but if everything goes well you will be assimilated into my species' society."

Sienna gasps, "No!" she shouts. "Please don't do this, please let me go." she was trembling now, her hands fisted and she began to wriggle around again. "Let me out!" she demanded. "Let me out right now!"

The alien–Dr. Xorad did not respond to Sienna's tantrum, instead, he merely waited until she once again exhausted herself. Sienna breathed heavily.

She was restless but all of her fight had been yelled out of her.

"What are you going to do?" she asks direly.

"I'm going to give you an ultrasound," it says, "then I am going to draw your blood." the way Dr. Xorad speaks makes it all sound so clinical though she was unsurprised that he was unsympathetic to her cause.

"That's it?" She asked nervously."

"No." Sienna's stomach twists.

She licked her lips, "You're a doctor? You've been to medical school?"

"Medical school?" the alien asks, picking up a squeeze bottle, "What is medical school?" Oh god. Was this a translation error or had he really not been given any formal education?

The doctor snaps on a glove and then squeezes a sizable glob of cool blue goo on her stomach. He spreads it around and she shivers.

"It's a place you go to learn to be a doctor," she explains.

"Oh."

"So, did you go to a place like that?"

"No." it says, "Zorkis has no such thing."

She inhales, "Zorkis?"

"The planet we are currently on. My home. Your home."

Before she could say this was not her home, he was gliding a probe over her naked belly. Dr. Zorad seemed very focused on what it was doing.

It didn't wear a lab coat which is what made a doctor in Sienna's mind. In fact, it was completely naked like her. He had a defined torso and nice biceps but where his cock and balls should be was Barbie doll smooth. His thighs were thick and his legs were digitigrade with 3 clawed toes just like the amount of fingers he had. Though she supposed it didn't matter considering he had four arms.

Those arms worked in tandem. One hand was gliding the probe over her stomach, another was scratching at his angular jaw and a third was holding some sort of electronic tablet. She had no idea how a person–or–not person, but an alien, could control four limbs simultaneously like that.

"Do not worry however, I have plenty of experience." he rattles, "I have studied under a mentor for many years. I worked by his side until his death." Oh.

Oh.

"You have a gender?" she asked curiously.

Dr. Xorad paused. "Yes." it–they, spoke stiffly, nostrils flaring. "I am a virile male.

Sienna's lips thinned. "Virile" is not something she cared to hear, nor did she like the fact that this being was a man–male, whatever. What was clear however was that she had bruised his very human-like male ego from her ignorance because he seemed downright icy instead of cold. Speaking of cold….

"Did you shave me?"

"Yes."

Oh.

She shivers.

An alien shaved her pussy.

"You didn't shave my head," she remarks.

"I was informed it was ornamentation for your kind and it would cause you distress if I did." the monitor beeped. One of Dr. Xorad's hands wrote something down on the clipboard.

"Well, if you didn't want me distressed you should have locked me in a padded cell or strapped me down to this table," she says. He looks at her, his black eyes boring into her soul. Finally, he shrugs.

"Maybe not." he merely says.

"I mean why did you have to shave my…?"

"For better access." Sienna made an outraged noise.

"It is easier to see now."

"You're a sick bast–Oh!" she gasped as he pricked her with an IV needle. "Ow." Sienna could've sword she saw an upturned curl on his lips when she was startled.

"Mm." the doctor hums and Sienna sighs.

What was she going to do? How was she going to escape this? She did not want to be poked and prodded at. She didn't want to be tested or assimilated into and she certainly did not want to play human incubator.

"Am I your first human test subject?"

"First and only," he responds as her blood goes up, up, up into the tube, and fills into a blood bag. "It's my job to research you personally."

"But there are others?"

"Yes, and you will meet one soon."

"Just one?"

"For now."

Sienna was beginning to feel nauseous. There were more humans here? How many? The look on Sienna's face must have been obvious because Dr. Xorad freely offered up. "You could be quite happy here. Our older humans have adapted very well, pet," he said in a way she could tell was trying to be reassuring.

"I'm not your pet," she says flatly.

"Then who are you?" he asks.

"Sienna." she offers.

"Sssee-en-nah." he hisses. "It is nice to meet you. You will learn soon that I plan to treat you very well." Sienna eyed him wearily. She didn't want to be treated well, she wanted to get the hell out of there.

Dr. Xorad turns around, pressing some buttons on his machines before saying, "You've come up all clear. No pregnancies, no illness, and no abnormalities." Sienna was surprised. Could he seriously test her blood that quickly? Just what kind of alien tech did they have? Dr. Xorad turned back to face her. "Now we can get started."

"W-what?" she stammered. That sounded way too ominous for Sienna's liking. "I thought that was it…"

"No. Those were merely tests to make sure you were fertile and healthy," he says straightforwardly. Fertile. She was nothing but a baby-maker to this male.

Sienna was snapped out of her depressing thought when one of her straps was unbuckled. He lifted her sleeping wrists above her head and then cuffed her there. He did the same thing with the strap on the bottom, cuffing her ankles. She was spread apart. Finally, he got rid of the middle strap altogether.

She began to hyperventilate.

"Stop," she said.

He did.

"Yes?" he looked down at her. His bottom hands were absently rubbing her ankles and it was distracting.

"I don't want this." she croaks. She wanted to kick him off was what she wanted. "I have a family." Lie. "and a boyfriend." Lie. "A future." Another lie.

Sienna Smith was a 25-year-old shut-in with no friends, a dead mom, and a no-show dad. The only time she left her small studio apartment was to go grocery shopping or to work. She didn't entertain co-workers and she certainly didn't entertain men. If it weren't for her therapist–who would be getting a hefty phone call when she figured out a way home–she'd go through life talking to someone less than twice a month.

"I will be careful," he said soothingly. It didn't help. "I have seen many demonstrations in the following weeks. I know what I am doing."

"Demonstrations…of what?"

He moved his bottom hands from her ankles to her calves, rubbing his palms over her up and down.

He spoke gently, "Human mating." What. "I understand this topic is very taboo to your species but there will be no judgment here in my clinic." her stomach dropped. He was going to fuck her?

She grimaced. She was in for a terrible ride.

"What is the problem?" he murmured seeing her face, he spoke…different than mere moments ago. Instead of the clinical stoic anthropologist he now sounded..kind. Caring. His eyes were looking–which you had to pay attention to or you'd miss it–straight between her legs. Her face heated.

"I–oh!" he was leaning forward now, stroking the tops of her thighs. Sienna squirmed.

"Good." he purred. "This is good." Oh god.

She tried to close her thighs but had no such luck due to her restraints. She could just barely bend her knees inward and that was her only range of motion.

Sienna looked back up to the doctor and gulped. He looked transfixed. She glanced at the ceiling and that's when she remembered the mirror panels. All forcing her to watch this happen to herself.

Somehow watching it from the reflection made it feel more intimate than impersonal so she closed her eyes.

His hands were inching closer and closer to her bare newly shaved–sensitive pussy. She bit her lip and breathed out. Oh god. Oh–

"God!" she gasped out when his knuckles stroked up the seam of her cunt. "Ahgn." her hips wriggled and she strained against her bindings.

"Good," he murmured once more. "This is a good reaction." it seemed like he was talking more to himself than to her at the moment. He dipped her fingers inside of her labia and was met with slick. She whimpered.

His hands were working in tandem. The bottom pair were in her pussy and rubbing her hip and the top pair were travelling up her belly to the valley between her breasts before squeezing them.

"These will grow when you are heavy with my young…" he murmured and her heart stopped.

"Y-your young?" she gasps, "I thought you were my doctor…?"

"I am pet, but I will also be the male who inseminates you."

Sienna couldn't focus on that piece of information at the moment, not when he traced over her clit and her hips bucked.

"Found it."

Sienna laughs then moans. Maybe he wasn't so different from a man after all. He circled her nipples the same way he circled her clit and her eyes rolled back while her hips tilted.

"Mmm…yeah." she moaned.

He glanced at her face, "Positive response…" he murmurs, "Next step.." he slowly edged the tip of his finger into her cunt. She groaned and he slipped the entire digit inside–knuckle deep.

"MMfh!"

"Good…" he said to her, "you are doing very well." he praised and she shivered, maybe this was unlocking a new kink for her. His praise seemed to get her into the moment. When had she started to get into this?

Her eyes were still closed but it wasn't easy to forget that this was not a human doing this to her. Not with his four hands stimulating her everywhere. Her thighs splayed out. She was pulsing around his single finger and it felt amazing when he curled it upward.

Another squeeze to her breast, "Do you want more?" he asked.

"Yes…" she moaned without hesitation, "Please yes."

When she was rescued she wouldn't include this part.

At her acceptance, he prodded her with another finger, but he prodded her excellently. His two fingers curled and his other hand started circling her clit fast at the same time. A noise that couldn't be described as attractive burst from Sienna's throat.

She pulled against her restraint and he chuckled.

"Easy pet," he murmured.

"Aghnn, please untie me!" she begged. He eyed her, his eyes flickering between her contorting face and what was going on between her legs. "I should…"

She whimpered, "please? I want…I need to touch you."

Dr. Xorad's eyes widened. It had not occurred to him that was even an option or possibility. He kept her legs strapped to the table but unbuckled both her wrists.

Immediately, Sienna's hands began to reach for the doctor's.

She held them against her breasts and showed him exactly how she liked to be caressed here as she panted, squirmed, and whined.

"Doctor…" she moaned, "I need more.." she whispered, "More please."

"More?"

"More…" she whined.

He looked down at her. There had been another thing he wanted to try…but every lesson he had learned on human reproduction advised against it until a deeper bond was formed with his assigned charge.

Still. Dr. Xorad could not help himself. He unstrapped her left leg, draped it over his shoulder, and gave her pussy a lick.

"Ye-ES!" she hissed. She bucked into his face, nearly sobbing. It had been so, so long since she had someone else touching her. Years of masturbation just wasn't the same and at the age she had finally gotten around to doing her firsts, it wasn't exactly great.

Dr. Xorad removed his fingers and replaced them with his wiggling tongue.

"Doctor!" she gasped. He let out a rumble in response, his head buried between her legs. She was spread and ent open, the last restraint was on her right ankle and she didn't even care that she was nearly free.

All she cared about was enjoying this for as long as possible.

Her eyes opened and she watched as Dr. Xorad ate her pussy from above. His back muscles flexed and his ass looked tight. He was groaning from between her thighs.

He pulled back, "I should be recording this session," he said quietly, giving her clit an opened-mouthed kiss. "You're being an exemplary charge. This would have been a very informative document to have." Sienna agreed.

Dr. Xorad was doing a wonderful job at licking Sienna's weeping pussy. She could feel her own slick running down her slit to her ass. The fact that she was hairless made it even better. She'd never been bare before but she felt so much more sensitive shaved like this. Everything was hypersensitive.

Sienna was overwhelmed by all 4 of Dr. Xorad's hands, her breasts were being groped, her pussy licked and clit rubbed. She was going to explode soon. Her hips were thrusting to meet his tongue inside her cunt. God help her but she was going to cum because of an alien anthropologist.

"Doctor!" she called again, her voice high and shrill. She could repeat nothing else but a combination of expletives, his name, and god's.

"Because you're being such a good girl–" he pulled back and she nearly cried, her hips were still humping the air, her pussy pulsing on nothing. He looked down at her, captured for a moment. She could feel tears welling in her eyes.

"Please." she croaked. "I need you!"

That seemed to do the trick. He wordlessly nodded and was now holding a squeeze bottle of some sort of gel that reminded her of the ultrasound goo. He goated his gloved fingers in it, then, he was fucking her again with his fingers. Something was happening inside. She felt warm, tingly, and filled.

She screamed, her inner walls contracted against her own volition, she was twitching and she held onto Dr. Zorrad's shoulders for dear life as she jolted up to a sitting position. Her eyes closed, squeezed tight and her toes began to curl.

She was clenched so tightly, panting and wailing until it all relaxed and warmth filled her abdomen, then, she was gushing.

Dr. Xorad had just made her squirt with his magic fingers and magic gel.

She was crying. Full ugly tears as her hips met his fingers thrusts.

He was right beside her, soothing her with praises, telling her how good she was doing but she wasn't crying because she was in pain or distress, she was crying because this was the best orgasm of her life.

He was guiding her through her orgasm, inserting and curling his fingers inside of her and hitting her g-spot over and over, his thumb rubbed over her clit at the same time and he had gone from groping her breasts to stroking her face. It felt..intimate.

Especially with all his crooning into her ear.

She was gasping, her body still pulsing as she sucked his fingers deeper into her

channel. He let out another rumble.

"Very good," he hummed.

Sienna was spent. She looked at her body from the mirrors above her and she was splayed out loosely, her limbs limp. The doctor ran a hand through her hair and muttered something she could not discern.

He unstrapped the other buckle on her right foot, then, dragged her forward so her bottom half was hanging off the edge of the table.

"What're you doin..?" she asked, lifting her head and her eyes widened.

Dr. Xorad did not appear to be as sexless as he appeared. In fact, currently, there was a slit opening–pulsing as she watched him dip his fingers inside, teasing something out while he lowly hissed. She watched as his fingers stroked the inner walls of his slit. It reminded her of her own pussy, wet and pink on the inside.

Instead what emerged was his cock. Long and already hard, completely hairless like the rest of his strange body. One of his hands stroked himself root to tip while the others were positioning her once again.

"Ohh..wait I don't think I can…"

He stood between her legs, rubbing his lubricated cock against her sloppy slit. She whimpered, her eyes rolling back.

"Fuck it…just stick it in," she said plainly. Her body was trembling with anticipation and the aftershocks of her first orgasm.

He grunted in response and nodded. But before he inserted himself inside her, he fingered more of that magic gel inside her pussy and she was whining again. Her pussy pulsed on nothing and she already felt close to orgasm.

He slid inside her in one ruthless motion.

They both groaned out.

"So tight." he hissed, "You already milk my cock."

"Mmmm…" she had no words for him, she was too busy enjoying the ridges of his cock inside her that she hadn't noticed. She bucked when one of those ridges rubbed her g-spot.

He bent over her and began to thrust, out slowly then in hard. Their skin slapped together and she could feel not only the gel mixing with her fluids, but his as well. This moment cemented Sienna as the weakest link.

But if being the weakest link meant getting fucked like this she didn't care. She was ruined. She was addicted to Dr. Zorad's fingers and cock, with–preferably–or without the gel.

She was making an awful keening noise in the back of her throat, a whine that reminded her of a dog begging for a bone. Tears were still trailing down her eyes and she was sure her face was scrunched in the ugliest ways.

Sienna did not think about being sexy for Dr. Xorad, she simply enjoyed what he was giving her and he seemed to have no complaints. In fact, he seemed to be having a wonderful time if the groans above her were any sign.

He lifted her legs, pushing the backs of her thighs so the tops pressed against her belly, her calves rested on his shoulders and Sienna screamed at the deep reach he now had.

"Oh, yes, yes!" she gasped, "Please keep fucking me, doctor!"

He gave her what seemed to be a pained smile, "I don't think that is the problem, pet." she moaned. "It's stopping I fear for." he thrusted, once, twice, three times–and then there was a warm watery liquid being sprayed inside her. She yelped in surprise.

He had cum and given her absolutely no warning.

When she expected him to stop however he didn't. He was still hard and still pounding at her pussy like a madman.

"Mmm, what's happening?" she moaned.

"I..hngf, I am quite built up," he spoke, his brows were furrowed and he was giving her fast shallow strokes now. "I predict I will need to ejaculate 4 times before we can complete this session."

"4 times?" she questioned bewildered, then her back arched and she could feel the familiar ache in her abdomen, "why so many?"

"I cannot fertilize you until I am completely spent," he explained clinically. The air whooshed out of Sienna. She remembered her purpose here. Baby-maker.

"Wait–" she spoke panicked, still breathless any whiny, "You can't do that! I don't want to be pregnant!"

He stroked her cheeks with his top hands, "Calm now, pet." he crooned, "I assure you I will take very good care of you during your gestation."

"But doctor!" she wailed, her legs were locking again and her thighs began to tremble, "I-I don't want–Ah!" she screamed, releasing once again. Pushing his long cock out momentarily before he forced himself back in. He groaned and once again she was filled more with that cool watery substance that leaked out of her along with what she produced.

Sienna's eyes rolled back and all the fight in her had vanished. She was far away from this room now. Far away from Dr. Xorad and only concerned about her aching pussy that still craved another release.

She laid there limply while Xorad kept pushing. Her body jerked, being shifted up and down as he worked above her. She could do nothing but take it.

There was a gentle squeaking sound mixed in with everything as the metal examination table she was on was completely covered in their fluids and her skin was rubbing against the material.

"Nearly there, pet," he murmured. "This will all be over soon."

She wasn't sure if she wanted it to be over.

"Then you can take a nice rest."

Oh.

Well, that did sound nice considering her eyes were beginning to fall heavy. Of course, she couldn't sleep. But she could do little more than whine and slowly roll her hips to meet Xorad's.

His top hands were squeezing her breasts and teasing at her nipples while his bottom hands gripped her thighs. He did all the moving for her, pulling her back and forth on his cock. She was like his personal fuck toy.

From everything she had heard about the experiment, baby, and assimilation, that statement seemed to be far more accurate than she originally thought.

Another blast of watery liquid flooded through her and she groaned. Dr. Xorad momentarily collapsed atop her. His head resting on her chin. She absently stroked his bald head.

He purred.

"Turn for me," he murmured, seemingly tired in his own right as his voice was turning lazy.

Sienna had no idea what that meant until he was pulling out of her. A gush of fluid came out when was unplugged.

He gently moved her onto her hands and knees and Sienna wasn't so sure she could maintain this position for very long but she had always liked doggy more than missionary so she would try.

"I've seen humans do it this way as well." he says, running a hand over her ass, squeezing it, "Is this suitable for you, pet?"

"Yes…" she sighed, "It's very suitable."

"Good."

She nearly fell face forward when the examination table began to lower. She looked around and realized Dr. Xorad had pulled a level so his cock could be at an equal level with her hole.

Neat.

He aligned himself with her, then, slid home. She moaned roughly, backing up against him, impaling herself. She rocked back and forth on his cock and he began to breath heavily.

"This is not how I saw it done," he murmurs.

Sienna moaned, "This is how I like it." she arched and unarched her back, controlling the pace this time. She was steady and a little weaker than usual but she felt more awake now that he was so deeply buried inside her.

"This will be good for insemination," he seemed to be thinking the same thing, "my eggs will be buried deep inside you."

"Shuddap." she slurred. He was ruining the moment for her.

"Hm." he hummed, not seeming to be offended but not amused either.

They moved together.

"Pull on my hair." she murmured, "I like that, and…grip my hips."

Dr. Xorad did exactly as she asked and Sienna moved faster, the alien behind her groaned. Praising her in his hissed language. It made Sienna feel like she was more than mediocre at sex, it made her feel like a pornstar.

She didn't mind fucking an alien so much.

At least not until he started bucking against her and dug his sharp nails into her hips.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

He growled with a thrust. Moving so fast against her she could barely even feel him inside because of how slick she was. The only thing that told her he was still inside were the ridges that scraped against her inner walls

Finally, something seemed to snap in the doctor, he let out a long drawn-out hiss and he slumped forward. He was pressing against her back as he let out a high whine. He was cumming again, but this time it was not the watery liquid she had grown familiar with.

This time, she filled her up in a completely unnatural way.

She was being inseminated.

It was overwhelming, the eggs he was talking about putting inside her were pulsing in their own right and she could feel them travelling inside of her. They rubbed and scrubbed around her walls and her eyes rolled back as she too slumped forward.

She fell belly first against the table, twitching as she was being impregnated.

"That's it, pet." he slurred, "you're going to be a wonderful host."

Host. Dear god, what had she done?