#especially since at that point she had no way of knowing if she could go back to seoul

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part seven max verstappen x fem! driver! reader (fluff) “. . . this is what they call: puppy love.”

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2024 Australian Grand Prix -> Thursday: press conference

"Yeah?" Max whispered, leaning down when you waved him closer so you could whisper in his ear. You cupped his ear so the audience of reporters on the other side of the conference room couldn't lip read. 

"Can you get me a Red Bull, please?" Maybe Max is the one who needed to lip read because he is sure what he heard was not correct since there's no way you just asked for a Red Bull.

He gave you a confused look, before leaning down again. The other drivers talking on the microphone must have made him mishear. "I don't like coffee and we're out of tea. Can you get me a Red Bull? Please?" Max pulled away looking at you even more confused and lost. You stuck your bottom lip out in plead. Max pretended to think for a second, scratching his neck and raising his eyebrow in question and thought.

"What flavour?" He asked quietly.

"Blueberry." You whispered back, a smile lighting up your face. Max felt himself smile upon seeing your smile, going back to looking at the reporters with a proud smile despite them not knowing what he was proud about.

Logan Sergeant who was sitting on your other side noticed. "Blueberries?" he asked, confused from the missing context. You nodded, leaning closer so you could whisper in his ear. From across the couch, Charles felt jealous at the sight of Logan blushing and smiling shyly at the touch of your hand cupping his ear.

"Do you want one too?" you asked before pulling away. The blond tried to suppress his smile, thinking for a moment before shrugging and nodding, not seeing any harm. "Which flavour?"

"Blueberry." he nodded and you nodded back before turning back to Max who automatically leaned down for you to whisper.

Charles huffed lightly at the sight of you and the dutch laughing between yourselves. The Monegasque was clearly displeased that he was left out. He'd arrived at the conference room two seconds late, losing the only other vacant seat beside you to the American blondie and his Dutch Childhood Rival.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"At the beginning of last year, you guys posted 'my first day' photos. Do you think anything from your list has changed since last year?"

You found yourself blinking confused, bringing your mic to your mouth, but no words leaving from utter confusion.

"She wasn't here last year." Max chuckled, pointing his thumb to the girl sitting beside him. 

You chuckled shyly, "I don't think my brain is here with us today, I'm sorry. I understood nothing."

The conductor of the conference didn't hesitate to start explaining and describing the photos the drivers posted. Max on the other hand wiped out his phone and showed you. "Ohhh, yeah that makes sense now." you chuckled, gently taking Max's phone to see. "He's lying though. Max is lying. He does have a hype song." you pointed to the blond cheekily.

Max gave you an unimpressed look, and you shrugged in innocence as the other drivers started commenting on their changes. "What about you Yn? What do you think you would've written?"

You pursed your lips for a second, racking through your brain for possible answers. Max had unlocked his phone again for you to see what the questions were. "Well, it's obviously my first year in F1, if it counts as a year per se? I'm still from Spain. My favourite food . . . well I'd say burgers. I love burgers. Especially if the patty has cheese- is like cheese stuffed." you shrugged making the American smile and chuckle as he looked at you. "I just don't like the bread."

"As for my hype song I'll go with . . . I have no idea." You laughed sheepishly. 

"See!" Max protested loudly, nudging you playfully. "Then you get angry at me for not picking something." The blond couldn't hold his smile as you pushed him back and he did again. 

"Fein by Travis Scott." You stuck your tongue out at him.

"Thank you, drivers."

"Wait, she's missing one-" Max cut off, holding his finger up in wait. "Yn, what are you going to do this year?" Max asked with a smile, holding up his mic for you. You smile at him glancing at the sea of reporters, 

"Maybe steal a win?" You joke making a few people around the room laugh. "I know that would be very difficult, but I'd like to at least share another podium with Max and Charles, Lando and Nando too." You laughed lightly. "I've also made new friends who I know I'd enjoy a podium with."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

2024 Australian Grand Prix -> Friday

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Standing around the media pen after a long driving session wasn't one of your favourite things. Your body was tired and so were you, feeling like you could nod off and get away with sleeping if the press officer wasn't talking your ear out about what to say about the incident in FP2.

"Señor y salvador." [lord and saviour] You mumbled as the dutch driver approached you with his bottle you could only hope was filled with his endless Red Bull supply. "Bendiga tu alma." [bless your soul] You praise him as you take (more like steal) his bottle for a long sip. Max finds himself chuckling, feeling a small blush creep on cheeks with how comfortable you were drinking from his bottle. He gently placed his hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the way of the preparing reporters.

"I saw what happened in FP2, you're not hurt or anything right?" Max asked, not surprised when Lando inserted himself in the conversation. 

"Yn? Hurt? More like she's the one doing the damage" You glance between the two as you continue to drink from the hollow straw, taking big gulps.

"What is that? Vodka?" Lando scrunched his eyes at the bottle you were hungrily swallowing from. "Gimme that" He reached to take a sip but you pulled away. A few of the other drivers watched as you tried to escape Lando. He did eventually steal the bottle. You watched with a pout as Lando wiped the straw with his sleeve and took a sip.

"That's just Red Bull." Lando stated, disappointed. 

"Yeah, we'll it's her Red Bull now." Max chuckled, taking the bottle back from Lando and handing it to you. Your face lightened up as you continued to drink happily from the straw.

Max tried to hold in a smile, acting normal when Carlos joined the group. "I thought you were going to stay in the garage." You tell him, nudging his abdomen making the Spaniard double over.

"I'll get you back for that." He huffed, nudging your hip back. "This is not yours. Stop stealing people's stuff." Carlos continued to scold, pulling the Red Bull branded bottle from your hands. 

"It's fine, she can keep it." Max tried to defend you but was given a 'no' signal by Lando.

You sighed as Max took back the bottle, taking a sip. You did try to take a sip from Lando's orange one but you were cut short by your press officer. The three men watched as you were the first to enter the pen for an interview. "I saw Leviana." Carlos whispered to his former teammate once you were out of earshot. 

"Leviana- what? What's she doing here?" Lando scrunched his face in confusion.

"Who's-?" Max wanted to ask but found himself left out of the conversation. Max could tell though that whoever that woman was, clearly left a bad taste on the two driver's tongues. It also made him realise how little he knows about you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Max pursed his lips as he scrolled through the results page on google, reluctantly pressing on the Wikipedia link. He pursed his lips as he looked at the pronunciation guide. “I mean, I know how to pronounce her name.” He mumbled to himself, trying to ignore the fact that her name is probably pronounced differently in Berber (a branch of Afro-asiatic languages spoken by berber communities who are indigenous to north Africa. If I made a mistake please correct me).

Scrolling down, Max couldn’t help but take a glance at your racing record. He’s seen you around FiA prize giving galas but never really concentrated on the events to know what any of the attendees were awarded with. Now seeing the WEC table littered with golden boxes labelled [1]s was not a surprise to him. You were a three time world champion too, in the same years as him as well.

Max wonders in how many more ways you two are similar. Having fathers who raced in Formula One and took care of their karting career. Scrolling up, Max sunk back into his bed, reading the article uneasily. Like the nerd he is, Max knew wikipedia was not a reliable source so he did the next thing he could think of: opening twitter.

twitter

direct messages: MAX + YN

proofread by the best best ever @classiclitfreak , the one and only <3

[yunjinkisses]

Hello!I was wondering if you could write g!p Danielle smut?

-🩰

G!P DANIELLE X VOLLEYBALL PLAYER F READER

of course! i LOVE danielle sm , hardly see any smut for her,so i am happy to write some! enjoy MWAH! -ps sorry this took ages

what’s ahead: long fanfic ,college au,y/ns friends are,minji & haerin , danielle’s friend is , hanni,soft dom danielle , praising & some soft degrading,begging,body praise,sort of nerdy reader,riding,voice kink,biting/marking,and creampie

i sat down in my desk as the bell rung for our lecture to start , the teacher came in and began talking about whatever the topic was again

after a bit i started to regain focus and take some notes , one of my best friends , minji had nudged my shoulder indicating she wanted something , so i whispered to her

“what’s up minji?”

“wanna get something after the lecture before your volleyball tournament begins , figured you’d need a bit of extra energy!”

i nodded my head smiling the professor quickly told us to quiet down

time had quickly passed and the lecture was over , me and minji were headed to a coffee shop near our college,so we wouldn’t be late for my volleyball game incase of anything. Once me and minji had ordered and finished our drinks we were on our way to my game , haerin was also there to cheer me on in the crowd supporting me

my teammates were kazuha,minnie,ryujin,yeji,and yujin,that made six players including me

it was the final round and it was already a close game , my team just needed one more point to win,i had hit the ball over the net and then..

my team had won the tournament,my teammates had huddled into a circle and were cheering for our victory.

i turned to the crowd to greet my friends and smile at them,but i noticed someone in the crowd who could have been cheering me on aswell,Danielle marsh,one of the most popular girls in our school,known to be one of the nicest girls too.

i couldn’t take my eyes off her once i spotted her,i felt a blush creep onto my cheeks,i noticed her eyes meet mine ,she smiled at me and waved a little at me

i look around to see if there was anyone else around me or behind me , just to make sure that i wasn’t going crazy,i turned back to face her in the crowd and she seemed to have giggled a bit , and nodded her head and signaled me to come over,i was a bit confused but started to walk towards danielle.

The thing is i’ve had a HUGE girl crush on danielle ever since i laid eyes on her,well maybe not “girl” crush,just crush crush.

“you were really good in the game you know?, congratulations to you and your team on the win! , very much deserved if i’d say so myself , personally i think you’re the best player out there though” danielle spoke as she gave me a wink

my cheeks had to be beyond red by now,i was stuttering between words at first,but ended up getting my sentence out.

“t-thank y-you,means a lot to me!..i didn’t even know you watched our games..” i spoke a little embarrassed scratching my head

“of course i do! , i love watching you guys play, especially you, you know watching you focus and play is really cute, and you seem really strong too..”

i avoided eye contact as she spoke

“t-thank you danielle..you’re always pretty aswell…you really are as kind as everyone s-says..”

“oh please you can call me dani-unnie,as i am a bit older than you,only if you would like of course!”

i smiled and nodded my head agreeing to her proposal

“o-of course i’ll happily call you that!”

“hey y/n-ah,would you like to come over to my place later tonight?,maybe watch a movie or just hangout, have a sleepover?”

i light up at the thought , nodding my head like an excited puppy

“o-of course- i mean y-yeah that sounds fun- , do you want my number o-or something?”

danielle giggled and nodded her head

“of course i’d love that!,here’s my number , it’s xxx-xxx-xxxx!”

we both exchanged numbers and talked for a bit more and parterd ways

i got back to my friends and minji slapped my arm lightly

“ow! what was that for?!?”

“y/n! what the fuck was that with you and danielle?!?”

“yeah y/n since when were you two talking,tell us everything!”

i rolled my eyes

“can you two keep it down! , we barely talked , and i don’t even know when we started talking!! u-uhm not really talking talking? but u-uhm we started to g-get to know each other today…”

i scratched the back of my neck

“get to know eachother as in danielle just full on flirt with you and eye fuck you , meanwhile you stand there and act like the socially awkward nerd you are?”

minji said and haerin giggled

“n-no that’s not true! , plus she wasn’t even flirting,we just became friends…”

both of them just looked at eachother and then back at me , i just rolled my eyes

time skip - ish

me and danielle were texting back and forth for a while now , i noticed it was starting to get darker outside, suddenly a new notification pops up on my phone

from dani-unnie❤️

getting dark outside! wanna head over to my place now for the sleepover?💕

i smiled as i felt my heart beat,i responded quickly with a yes,and packed everything and left my house.

it was currently really dark outside , right now i have an overnight bag filled with my essentials for a sleepover.

there is stood at danielle’s door nervous to ring the doorbell,my hand shaking,my glasses falling off my face ,so i readjusted them

i finally rang the bell and nervously started rethinking my choices , quickly the door opened to dani-unnie in front of me

“o-oh hi dani-unnie!-“

“hi y/n-ah! come in please, im super excited for our sleepover,been excited ever since i asked you,but i was even more excited when you were on your way!!”

she sounded genuinely excited,it was super cute,as she leads me into the house and i take off my shoes she’s telling me where everything will be.

“oh and you obviously you can stay in my room,but i hope you don’t mind sleeping in my bed aswell as my room..”

she said turning to me in a more flirtatious manner , i avoided eye contact immediately and got jittery

“o-oh of course i don’t mind,a-as long as you’re comfortable with it a-as well!”

“of course i’m comfortable with it silly,otherwise i wouldn’t have offered..”

she said in a singy-song tone,she then led me to her room , telling me to put my bag down and letting me unpack my things

“holy shit..your room is super pretty,i mean it fits you,but it’s really nice , i feel comfortable in here too. It has a homey aroma to it..”

she giggles as i look around the room

“thank you cutie,i’d like to think it has a cozy vibe to it as-well,also i haven’t seen you with your glasses on,you look super cute,they fit you..”

i turned my head to her and it took a minute to process everything she said..cutie? i look cute?

i shook my head and sat down on the bed next to her

“thank you d-dani-unnie,you always look more than c-cute yourself..”

“what’s that mean? , you saying i look hot?”

my eyes immediately widened

“N-NONO,,,w-well not no o-of course..y-you do look hot ..alot of the time..all the time actually..right n-now even..”

i whispered the last bit about her looking hot right now but she just seemed to giggle

i was flustered and i looked away

until i felt her hand turn my head towards her..

“y/n-ah , you don’t have to be embarrassed,i think you’re hot too..”

she slowly took my glasses off my face

“matter of fact…why don’t i show you something?”

i was confused but of course i nodded my head slowly

“o-of course ,show me w-what?”

she crawled closer to me on the bed and whispered into my ear

“…why don’t i show you,how hot i can be..”

i was flustered beyond imaginable ,i just stuttered not even coherent words

“what do you say..hm?”

i nodded my head rapidly like a excited puppy

“good..”

she slowly undressed,leaving herself in only her boxers , and bra ,she was teasing me with how slow she was doing this all..

she sat me to the headboard of the bed ,sitting upright , then she crawled to me cradling me on my lap facing towards me. she came into a kiss , a slow one at first , then it became more passionate,more intense,lustful.

we parted from the kiss,a string of saliva could be seen between us. i was panting a little already..

“oh , so out of breath already doll..make sure to prepare yourself because i’ve got much more in store for you..”

i nodded my head slowly , i didn’t even notice that i was drooling.

danielle looked down and wiped the drool from my mouth , and just giggled

“what a naughty girl..can’t wait to make you mine..”

i gulped at her words,i could feel myself getting wet

she then started to undress me , leaving me in my lacy bra and panties that were see through to some extent.

dani-unnie giggles

“cutie did you wear this for me..?”

i shyly nodded

“good girl..you know how to tease unnie without trying , now get on your hands and knees for unnie why don’t you ?”

i was shocked when i heard those words come out of her mouth it didn’t fully process

“w-what was that?”

“i said .. get on your hands and knees for unnie and be a good slut..got it?”

she said smiling so brightly like it was said everyday , but i nodded and did what she asked

“good girl..oh wow,y/n-ah already so wet you’re soaking through your panties!

i got embarrassed by this..

“o-oh u-uhm-“

“it’s okay princess ,it’s perfect for me..i think it’s adorable..”

i shyly nod not knowing what to say , then i hear ruffling behind me , movement from danielle , it soon stops and then i feel danielle’s finger push my panty to the side , gasping at the cold air on my now fully exposed cunt..

she swiftly puts two fingers into me , making me moan abruptly really loud , i cover my mouth out of instinct..

“jesus..you really are soaked princess,did i do this to you y/n-ah? does unnie get you this wet,come on baby,uncover your mouth , wanna hear your pretty voice..”

she whispers into my ear bending over from behind,soon slowly moving her fingers inside me

“a-ah..y-yes! unnie makes m-me feel r-really good, d-dani-unnie gets me really excited..”

she then pulled her fingers out of me , making me feel empty , already missing the feeling of her inside me ..

“hey d-dani unnie what was that-“

soon i feel a much bigger and rounder thing go inside me ,assuming it’s danielle’s cock , which felt fucking huge..

“f-fuck!~..dani u-unnie please ..be careful..”

all danielle does is bend down and giggle into my ear and then whisper

“awh im sorry princess..would you prefer to ride unnie instead? , i think that’s such a good idea , seeing my pretty slut bounce ontop of me..”

all i could do was whimper , i nodded my head and danielle pulled my hair slighted to come up towards her , whilst she pulled out of me

she laid against the headboard of the bed , now signaling that she wants me ontop of her

she grabbed my hips and pushed me down onto her cock with no time to waste,wrapping her hands around my neck , licking,kissing,and biting my jaw going down towards my neck ,getting lower to my chest , danielle slowly removing my bra from me discarding the clothing item as she kisses and bites my chest getting closer to my boobs..leaving marks everywhere

“you’re so perfect..my slutty princess,just gonna mark you up nicely to let everyone know that you belong to me..god you really are so cute!”

she giggles into my chest as i’m whining slowly riding her cock,but she soon grips my hips down firmly stopping any movement from me,her nails digging into my hips

“mmhm i don’t think so..i wanna hear my baby beg to ride unnie..come on now cutie!”

i looked away and gulped nervously..

her grip got tighter around my hips and she bit down onto my neck and whispered

“be a good girl and do what unnie asked..”

i let out a breathy moan which was followed by nothing but mindless begging..

“fuck…dani-unnie i c-cant take it anymore please g-god please,your voice m-makes me so wet,everytime you speak o-or even laugh it gets me so t-turned on..fuck please unnie i-i need you to breed me so f-fucking bad..”

danielle was smirking slyly and pushed me back down onto the bed on my back,intertwining one hand with mine , and the other gripped onto my hip , pushing her cock into me swiftly , she then just kept at a fast pace

my eyes rolled back and all i could do was moan and whimper

“you feel so g-good princess..can’t believe you’re a v-virgin..unnie is s-so happy to be the one to change t-that..god you’re so tight..just wanna breed my princess..”

i mixture of our moans kept going on,soon tears started to flow out my eyes from being so close , and from all the pleasure

“f-fuck!~ u-unnie breed me..d-dani unnie,gonna cum..please b-breed me!~”

she giggled and just responded by whisper-moaning into my ear

“cum with me princess..let unnie breed you..”

at her words i felt a rush come over me , aswell as feeling danielles cum shoot into me ..

we both sighed and laid next to eachother , next thing you know i was passed out next to danielle..

next day in classes

“hey y/n what’s with the scarf..?”

minji spoke up to me and i was about to speak when haerin pulled it off revealing all the marks danielle left on me , they both just stood there shocked , danielle then appeared

“hi guys!,hi princess~”

she gave me a kiss on my cheek and wrapped her arms around my waist

“so-“

before i finished my sentence minji and haerin interrupted

“PRINCESS??!?!”

danielle just giggled

“you are most DEFINITELY filling us in later..” minji spoke up

[ahqkas]

Mattheo with a s/o who can get easily sick. Like she would have a small cough that soon turns into a blown out flu and it always makes him worried. She tells Mattheo that’s it’s normal for her to get sick and he is just like “..I’m shoving vitamin gummies down your throat”. Just pure overprotective Mattheo trying to help her immune system! 💕

-🧚🏾‍♀️💗

TAKING CARE OF YOU ; mattheo riddle

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE CASTLE WAS CHILLED WITH THE WINTER FROST, the stone walls holding onto the cold and the window were painted with various of pretty ornaments. It was cold, the snow reddening the students’ cheeks wherever they went. Especially your cheeks.

You had started with a small cough, just a tickle in the back of your throat. Within a day, it had escalated into a full blown flu. You were used to it — your immune system had always been weaker than most — but that didn’t mean it was any less miserable.

Huddling in your dormitory, wrapped in layers of warm and cozy blankets, your nose throbbed and your nose ran wildly. The world outside was covered by its own blanket, this one white and gray, making you suffer in the dorm. You could be in the snow if it wasn’t for your stuffy nose. A small, pitiful sneeze escaped you. and you signed, ready to suffer like this for the next week or so.

Mattheo Riddle, your beloved boyfriend, had been keeping a close eye on you since the moment he found out you got ill. His worry was evident on his face with the way his dark eyes lingered more than usually and his brows furrowed, creating frown lines between them. Now, he was sitting on the edge of your bed as he watched you try to drink a cup of hot tea he made the house elves bring you.

“You should have told me it was getting worse,”he muttered, the tone of his voice a mix of irritation and concern.

Offering him a weak smile, you took a sip of the herbal tea, trying not to let out a wince at its taste. It wasn’t really enjoyable but it had the healing effects you desperately needed. “I didn’t want to bother you. Besides, I’m used to it. I always get sick like this.”

The Slytherin’s frown deepened, his expression darkening. “Just because it’s normal for you doesn’t mean it’s okay. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

“I’m not alone,” you pointed out to him, reaching for his hand that rested next to your thigh and gave him a squeeze. “I have you.”

The look of worry on his face softened a little bit as he looked down at your intertwined fingers. “That’s right. And I’m going to make sure you get better. No more of this ‘normal’ nonsense. I’m showing those vitamin gummies you own down your throat if I have to.”

You laughed, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. Mattheo’s frown returned before he stood up from the bed, hand reaching towards your nightstand where he knew you kept all the supplies you needed during times like these. He picked up a bottle of vitamin gummies and shook it pointedly in front of your face.

“Open up,” he commanded, already holding out a gummy for you to take.

You rolled your eyes lightly but complied to his demand request, knowing better than to argue with him when he was in worrying mode. He handed you a gummy, making sure you chewed and swallowed it.

“Are you happy now?” you asked, voice muffled by the blanket you had pulled up to your chin as you brought your knees against your chest.

“Not until you’re feeling better. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I hate being like this,” you admitted, sniffing into the warm fabric. “But you’re making it a lot more bearable. Thank you, love.”

He sat back against the edge of the bed, this time closer to you as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Just focus on getting better, okay? I’ll take care of the rest.

For the next few days, Mattheo was relentless in his care. He brought you meals and snacks from the Great Hall, made sure you took your vitamins, and brought you school work you had missed (he started taking notes for you). He checked on you between classes, and when he wasn’t physically with you, he sent you messages through enchanted notes and owls to make sure you were drinking enough fluids and resting.

One evening, after a particularly nasty fit of coughing, you found yourself in tears, frustration and exhaustion taking their toll on you. The Slytherin was there in an instant, pulling you into his arms despite your protests about getting him sick. He couldn’t care less.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he rubbed you back in comforting movements. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, grateful for his warmth and comfort. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I hate being like this.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, holding you tighter. “I’m here for you, no matter what.”

A kiss to your forehead and his gentle humming were enough to lull you into sleep in your boyfriend’s warm embrace.

[brucewaynehater101]

Recently my mind has been plagued with ideas about things Tim could be other than human and what would both fit him and make an interesting story. I believe I might have found something that suits him rather well.

Tim has always been a strange child, always silent and always watching. Learning everything he can about everyone he has to interact with so that he can best make sure every interaction goes in his favor. He learned his manipulation from his Mother after all. She was the very best at it so he will be the very best too. She nor his "father" have watched over him since he was very small, after all they are creatures that do not raise their own young. Her returning to see him every few months, teaching him how to hide what he is and how to defend himself, *and* making sure he has food and shelter is far, far more than most of his species could ever even dream of. Janet is their version of Best Mom In The Universe, even if she's horrifyingly neglectful by Human Standards.

As for how Jack treats Tim, he doesn't. After all, once they were married and she had everything, she didn't need him anymore. Jack died before Tim was even conceived and the current Jack is nothing more than a husk, a living puppet that his mother walks around with as a shield to keep herself safe from prying eyes and questions. Perfect for keeping her cover as Just A Human. She has taught Tim how to do this same thing using small animals from the garden (and making sure he eats them after. He's still a growing boy who needs to eat after all) si that one day he can have a few living puppets of his own.

Tim does not tell anyone he isn't human, as per his mother's instructions. After all, he shares quite a few traits with a type of creature that humans *hate* and actively go out of their way to kill. Well, most do.

As he grows and ages as Robin, he never let's anything slip, he can't afford to let them know. He knows that Bruce doesn't trust magic in Gothem (or at least, Tim thinks that's the truth) and even if he did, the others have shown a distaste for the creature that he shares so much with. Especially Alfred and Dick, the later of which he has verbally claimed to *hate*. Given, one of them was in his hair when he yelled this but it still stung quite deeply and Alfred works hard to make sure that not a single trace of them can be found anywhere in the manor, even scolding Tim once for letting so much proof of their existence pile up in the corners of his room. But Tim doesn't blame him either, Alfred's job is to keep the house clean after all.

Eventually he must come clean though and what a way it is. Bruce has been working a case with Constantine about people going missing in Gothem. Turns out, everyone who has was some kind of magical creature and the people doing it are likely poachers. The others have been informed of the case so that they can report anything they know or anyone they know who could be a target. Tim doesn't say anything, instead keeping a closer eye on those he does know. He would never, ever sell out another creature. He would rather die.

A week later, an attempted raid on the poachers goes wrong and ends up with Jason, Tim, Bruce, and Damian all captured by the poachers. Tim is the last to wake up and when he does, the poachers are discussing what kind of undead Jason is, scanning the tied up vigilante with a device that simply says again, "subject, magical. Type, undead. Futher information, unknown."

At this point Tim realizes he's the only one not tied up. He's also the only one in a cage. He tries to pretend to be asleep but the one watching him says, "look who's awake. You know, we had bets on how many of you Bats were part of the magical community. Seems like I won the bet since only you and Red Hood over there are. Don't bother trying to lie your way out, our scanner can see through your Glamor spell, no matter how powerful it is. And this?" They hold up a small remote control with about a dozen buttons on it, "this does a wonderful little thing where it makes a specific pitch at a specific volume that causes Magical Creatures to drop their Glamor Spells or Shifts. Luckily it's nothing more than mildly annoying to humans."

A button is pressed before anyone can ask questions and the remove makes a loud, buzzing sound. It's not painful for the trio who are tied up, but Tim? Tim is shaking and writhing and *screaming* with both hands pressed over his ears. He is rolling back and forth across the ground as he screams for the person to stop, just *stop*. Bruce is almost free when he freezes upon realizing something. There aren't two tear tracks on his sons face. There's a lot. A pair of eyes have opened on his cheek bones and above his eyebrows and a smaller pair between them. Tim has gotten much paler and his canines have turned long and sharp like his nails. Tim rolls onto his stomach and curls up as best he can, screaming as there is a cracking sound. A long spindly, spider like leg shoots out of his side and slams into the floor, curling up in pain like the rest of Tim's limbs.

When the device is finally turned off, Tim is laying on his side, wheezing in pain and his legs are gone. In their place is the body of a giant spider which has sharp points at the tips of its legs instead of the regular spider feet. Tim has 8 eyes and is totally limp as he tries to recover. The Poacher simply laughs, "A Jorōgumo, a real master of puppets you are. But weak without them. God, your kind is so rare, you'll fetch us the price of at least 4 normal monsters. Add in you're a famous vigilante and we could break a few million dollars off *just* you."

Tim glares weakly at them and hisses softly. He knows the numbers are true. It's the secondary reason he never told anyone. He knew he would either get squished or sold off. How he just needs to figure out how to escape from Gothem before Bruce can confront him on this. He doesn't want to explain.

Aww... was he collecting little spiders and getting upset when his family kept expressing their hatred/distaste for them? Did he have to hear them talk about how creepy their eyes are, their weird abundance of legs, and how disgusting their overall being is before he excused himself to stare in a mirror and compare the similarities?

Does he dare to meet their eyes after the reveal, or does he fear finding the look of revulsion?

Also, would he find comfort in knitting, crochet, and weaving? Is his house full of hand-made blankets?

Anyways, enjoyed what you have and would definitely read more

[bullet-prooflove]

ATF!Series Part Five: That Kind of Love - David Hale x Reader, Jax Teller x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989@hatersaremymotivators@bennykk@kelpies-shed

ATF Series:

Part One: A Rabbit You Don't Want To Chase - Stahl makes an unwelcome return to David's life.

Part Two: Fucked - Stahl fucks up you entire life in pursuit of Jax Teller.

Part Three: Hell or High Water - David visits you in jail.

Part Four: Damage Control - David tries to contain the damage and makes a decision about the future.

Everyone thinks the relationship between you and Jax was just sex but the truth is it wasn’t. There are things that Jax told you throughout your time together that he has never told another person. His suspicions over his father’s death, his dismay at the direction the club is taking under Clay’s leadership, how trapped he feels by the legacy that’s been foisted upon him.

Those three months you’d spent together he had found himself falling in love. You were so different than the other people in his orbit, open, free spirited and you didn’t say a single thing you didn’t mean. That’s the reason he’d had to end it with you, because you were so unapologetically yourself it was detrimental.

When he hears you’re leaving for Santo Padre, he knows you won’t be coming back. The art scene over there is bustling, it’s the perfect place for a budding artist especially one of your calibre. He is surprised that Hale’s going with you. That man hasn’t taken so much as a vacation day since he graduated the academy and how he’s taking an eight week sabbatical so that he can that he can be with you over the summer.

It's just another way that Jax would have failed you because if he were in Hale’s shoes, he wouldn’t have been able to leave Charming, Clay would never have let him.

All of this shit you’ve been through recently, the arrest by Stahl, the vandalism charges, losing your placement in San Franisco, all of that’s on him. You’d had it in your power to put him back in prison, to take down the club and instead you’d set your life on fire. He’d like to think it was because of him but the truth is, he knows you were protecting Hale. If Clay thought you were a threat he would have come after you and Hale, he would have got caught up in the crossfire.

That man would do anything for you, he’d proved it when he used all of his political leverage to keep you out of jail. The promotion Hale had been seeking, it’s gone, he doesn’t have the juice for it anymore but he doesn’t seem to care. His priority is you, it has been since the very beginning.

When Stahl shows up at the club that night to wipe that in Jax’s face, he sees the writing on the wall. This bitch, she’s not going to stop just because the two of you have hightailed it to Santo Padre. She tells him as much as she sits in her car in the Teller Morrow forecourt, the engine still running. She’s going to follow you, try and use the Mayans connection to come at SAMCRO. Those guys may be running legit now but there’s still skeletons in their closet, ones that could lead back to Charming.

That’s the reason he gives Clay when he shoots her at point blank range in the head, he was protecting their business from a possible RICO case but the truth is, he was protecting you because Stahl. That cunt was never going to stop, not until she destroyed you, Hale and the club.

They make it look like it was the IRA. It makes sense to the AFT, she was tracking Galen, and now they’ve found her on the outskirts of town, carved up with the Butcher of Belfast’s signature. When Galen turns back up in Ireland, the investigation is torn from their hands and the ATF withdraw from Charming once again.

The night before you leave for Santo Padre Jax turns up outside your house. He wants to say goodbye, to tell you that you’re safe, that you don’t have to worry about repercussions from Stahl or the club. He barely has time to get off his bike before he sees Hale’s Jeep already pulling into the driveway. The other man doesn’t see him, he’s too busy collecting his bags out the back of his car.

You’re wearing one of Hale’s t-shirts and a pair of his boxers shorts when you open the door. It rankles Jax to see you in another man’s clothes, he remembers the mornings you’d slip from his sheets wearing a shirt of his that barely covered your ass. Hale smiles when he sees you, his fingers threading through your hair as the deputy kisses you with a tenderness he had never exhibited before he met you.

This is what love looks like, Jax understands, the kind of love that he can never give you.

He waits until you’ve gone inside before he starts his bike. He doesn’t want to infringe on your life any more than he already has. You deserve a man who puts you first and Jax has always known it could never be him.

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I asked my mom not to invite my sister on vacation with us?

(submitted 5/26/24)

I (22X) have a lot of anxiety about politics (namely the upcoming presidential election and its potential consequences regarding my access to healthcare, among many other things). It started in 2016 and then just kept getting worse and worse as the years went on. I know that if I try to go about my day as normal on election night, I’ll most likely end up obsessively refreshing polling results and worrying myself into a panic attack (or several). So, I did a lot of research and planned a week-long vacation on and a bit after election day. It’s at a nice cabin a short drive away that’s all about disconnecting from phones and technology and reconnecting with nature. I figured because everyone in my family votes absentee already, me and my mom (56F) could go up together while my dad and my oldest sister (63M and 25F) would stay home because of work obligations and take care of our pets. My mom was really enthusiastic about the idea (especially because I went on a vacation with my dad last year, and it’s been a long time since her and I have had a parent child bonding trip), and she helped me finalize the dates and pay for the cabin. I’m in college and haven’t been able to find a summer job, but I’m still trying to save money to help cover the cost of food/entertainment/gas for the trip.

When we were booking, she talked about potentially inviting my sister (24F) on vacation too, as a family bonding thing. She moved out a year and a bit ago and is living with a friend, so my mom doesn’t get to see her all that often. But I really don’t want my sister to come along. Me and her haven’t gotten along since elementary school, and now whenever she visits I’m on edge the whole time. Plus, she has a very old special needs dog that she would have to bring with her that needs constant supervision, and his energy wildly varies between “sleeps in a ball all day” and “blindly runs around screaming and peeing everywhere and getting stuck like a roomba all day”. Which again, that’s very stressful to me. In addition, whenever my sister is over at our house, she always finds a way to bring up politics and wants to talk about current events (never the good ones, only the bad ones). Thankfully we agree on the important things (even if she leans a tad more towards the center than I do), but still. The whole point of this trip is to avoid having to worry about politics, and she always finds a way to bring it up. Plus, I just genuinely think she’d go stir crazy being cooped up in a cabin with me and my mom and poor cell service. There’s not a lot to do in the surrounding area besides hiking (she’s got a heart condition), a small Main Street with some shops that’s a 15 minute drive away, and a diner. It’ll probably just be reading, board games, and cards for a week straight.

Why I think I’d be TA: my mom and her don’t spend a lot of time together, and my mom is the one paying for the vacation. Even though I think she wouldn’t like glamping with us, my sister could still want to be invited and want to come along.

Why I think I wouldn’t be TA: I don’t think my sister would like being in a cabin with me and my mom for a week straight with no TV and poor cell service. My oldest sister is also not going on vacation with us due to work obligations, so they could have some sisterly bonding time while we’re away. Plus, the entire point of the vacation is to have a few days where I don’t have to dread election results, and I know my sister is going to want to talk about election results as soon as they start coming in.

So, would I be the asshole if I asked my mom not to invite my sister on vacation with us?

[exo-raskreia]

Thoughts on 261 & More Utahime Potential Ideas

WARNING: MAX COPIUM + MANGA SPOILERS

Ok, I know everyone's been losing it lately. I tried to keep calm when the 261 leaks dropped. I'm very disappointed & shocked as well (Gojo... ｡ﾟ( ﾟஇ‸இﾟ+)ﾟ｡ ).

However... The latest developments have also caused me to ascend to a higher state in Delulu Land & this is my hardest cope yet.

First off, it seems to be implied that Gojo chose to become a monster by killing the higher-ups, thinking that he was finally going as far as (stooping as low as) Geto did for his ideals, but didn't want his students to see. And yet, they wanted to be there with him, not wanting him to carry the burden of becoming a monster alone—they would too by going through with the Horrible Plan™. So, miss me with that "Gojo wanted to die & reunite with his best friend" nonsense. There is too much at stake here & Gojo gave his all for his students and allies. Yuuta is currently risking his life too, for his friends & to carry Gojo's burden (let's go a little easier on him, guys, & Maki too, since she was against this plan; mainly for Yuuta, but still. Hakari looked disturbed too...).

This whole thing's a mess, though. What is Gege doing? Why hype up Gojo only to reveal such a horrible plan? Is he playing with us 'cause he's a sadistic freak or could it be there's something more to it? That he's setting up for something else? I've mentioned this before, but could it be that Gojo is truly meant to return at a crucial moment? When all hope seems lost? As it did feel a bit random to reappear during Todo & Yuuji's fight...

WARNING: Harry Potter spoilers!

Nitta must've stopped any further bleeding from Gojo's brain & Yuuta's body, so he, Shoko, & Amai must be keeping them healed & safe. I wonder if they're keeping an eye on the possibility Gojo could regain consciousness. I once mentioned this in a Tweet, but could Gojo be in a similar state as Harry Potter after getting hit by the Killing Curse, seemingly "dead" but actually in a state of limbo where he had met Dumbledore's soul in a place resembling King's Cross Station?

In Gojo's case, he's at an airport where he met his dead comrades (whether it's actually them or just Gojo dreaming, is uncertain; if he is dreaming, then wouldn't that mean he's still alive?). He's given a choice to metaphorically "board a plane" north or south, to return as someone new or to stay as he is. In the Buddhist-inspired JJK verse, north could mean enlightenment, so will Gojo choose that path, as many have theorized? It's uncertain if going north means choosing to live and/or ascending to a higher state (godhood), & if going south means straight up dying/reincarnating or simply returning to his misunderstood self, but I hope Gojo chooses whichever is best for his return. One that will possibly make him stronger but finally gaining a new perspective that will break the barrier between himself & others? Or maybe weaker but finally able to fight alongside the others (especially if he makes a Binding Vow)?

As such, Gojo's body was healed by both Shoko & Yuuta, & since his head had remained intact & on his body throughout the whole ordeal—which is required for RCT to work—could it be he could regain consciousness at some point with his own RCT? Yuuta only has 5 minutes to fight in Gojo's body but it's unknown what would happen once they are up. There are the risks he could die or stay stuck in Gojo's body, both of which are atrocious. However, in order to survive, could Ui Ui do a soul swap before the 5min mark, if/when Gojo revives? Or could it be both souls would automatically switch back? Either way, if the danger is out of the way, would Shoko then be able to perform the operation again to switch their brains back?

However, do the sorcerers really think they can defeat Sukuna in less than 5mins before Yuuta's back to the operating table? This is so convoluted, so I'm not sure how this would go. 😥

Anyway, I've been delulu theorizing Utahime could really have an important role in the Shinjuku Showdown arc here and here for a while now, whether it's to help in Gojo's revival or something else. Even with this latest shocking development, my ideas still stand.

Once again, neither Utahime, Ijichi, & Gakuganji were present at the strategy meetings in the flashbacks, especially the one with the Horrible Plan™. While Gojo wasn't present either for said plan, he was informed of it later & he commented he didn't intend to lose, so he didn't really care what would happen to his corpse anyway. This could mean that Utahime & the others were later informed too but at that point, it may have been too late to stop it. Maybe that's why Utahime had that somber expression in chapter 222. She knew what could happen and DID NOT agree with it, so while everyone was cheering Gojo on with happy expressions, she wasn't. I wonder if she had expressed her disagreement to Gojo right before meeting up with the others or something, as this other panel still makes me curious.

Gege didn't have to include her here but he did. She looks nervous... I once made a silly post on both GojoHime panels in chapter 222 here.

Anyway, Ijichi wasn't even present which is kind of strange while Gakuganji is typically so serious anyway.

At this point, one's inclined to believe that maybe they really were up to something else. It's too suspicious and obvious that these 4 were not a part of any of the important strategy meetings with the other sorcerers. It seems deliberate on Gege's part. Which is why these new delulu ideas come into play.

MAX COPIUM FROM THIS POINT ON.

Shoko has shocked us all with her very blasé attitude about the Horrible Plan™, that even Gojo said he was hurt annoyed by it. Either she was bottling it all up (she really did seem worried during the battle...), fully trusted Gojo in not losing (but she should've assured him?), or maybe, just maybe, there's a tiny possibility that she's hiding something. Could she have another plan?

Whether she does or not, Shoko is not part of my delulu ideas this time. I'm done. I had mostly brought her up before because of the possibilities & how much others hyped her up for it, but my delusions have always mainly revolved around Utahime. Shoko thankfully did her part already by helping heal Gojo's body & now it's Utahime's turn to take care of the rest.

Sure, Gojo could return on his own through a Binding Vow and/or his own RCT that should be working again, but as I brought up before in my first aforementioned delulu post, what if Utahime boosts his RCT to quicken and strengthen it? Nice and simple, right?

Or, what if Utahime's singing will finally come into play? As I also mentioned before, what if Gojo can hear her in the limbo & will be guided back by her voice? Like the luring of a siren? Will she call him by (first) name? Shrine maidens can summon spirits & gods, so if that applies to the JJK verse, could Utahime perform a ritual to reach & summon Gojo's soul? Especially if he chooses enlightenment? Now, I would hope this wouldn't be a temporary thing...like he returns to help one last time before departing to the heavens in a godhood state or something. Oh, Gege, u better not...

What if her singing does have healing abilities? But even more crazily, what if they're not physical, but spiritual? Could Utahime restore both Gojo's & Yuuta's souls to their bodies? Could she help Yuuta's soul remain safe once the 5mins are up?

For all this to happen, Utahime would have to be in the medical room. Where is she currently? Is she on her way? Is she still out on the battlefield possibly boosting the remaining sorcerers (well, hardly anyone left, tbh)? If she's headed to the medical room with the intent to help Gojo, I imagine it'd shock Shoko & the others. Would they know what she intends or not? Would they think it's possible? Would they try to stop her?

This is super insane & bordering on headcanon (lol, I warned you), but wouldn't it be amazing if she could have possibly managed to achieve Domain Expansion during her long absence in the manga post-Shibuya? What if it was kept a secret from all? What if as soon as Gojo laid his Six Eyes on her after his unsealing, he knew? What if that's one of the things they were cultivating, planning around, during the time-skip? Could it have offensive abilities involving her voice, like a siren? Like maybe she can make the enemy do her bidding or de-buff them? What if it's the opposite & instead has healing/buffing abilities? Any ally inside it would be in a state of max HP? Now, whether she would use it to actually heal Gojo or in combat, who knows.

I once read a wonderful one-shot fic in which Utahime achieved DE by finally accepting everything about herself, which included her suppressed feelings for Gojo. I know it's fully delulu but do we really know Utahime's full abilities? How is she a Semi-Grade 1 sorcerer if she can only buff (unless her CT is seen as good enough to warrant the rank)? Come on, Gege, stop wasting her character potential.

Remember that Sukuna still hasn't been taught about love? Based on Yorozu's version of it, his idea of love is to become vulnerable enough to connect with others & not feel lonely anymore by being defeated in battle; basically, get humbled, lol. He thought only Gojo could teach him how to overcome the barrier between himself & others deemed weak. But how would that be now, if Gojo's possibly in a state of limbo? (Is it another hint to his return?) The only other people that could possibly teach Sukuna are pure-hearted souls like Yuuji or Yuuta, the latter whom has also experienced romantic love. However, Yuuta just "discarded" his humanity by choosing to become a "monster", so Sukuna may throw that in his face. Taunt him & the other sorcerers for going against their ideals to defeat him.

What if it's not one person, but multiple that will teach Sukuna? Nakama power, y'all. What if Utahime could be one of those? She's the most pure-hearted sorcerer besides Yuuji. Her love for her students, helping Gojo whenever he asked despite her "hate" towards him, her not getting that Mei was asking for money to promote her in S2E1 (and Mei didn't even push it as if knowing Uta would never agree), her not being informed about the assassination attempt on Yuuji at the Goodwill Event by Gakuganji & her students (not even by Gojo, who suspected something), & she wasn't even present at the meeting for the brain switch plan...

It's like Utahime is being protected and/or her comrades know that she would never support all this immorality. She's a selfless person, often seen risking her life or attempting to for others in her little screentime. Not to mention that her CT is literally named after a love song. If romantic love were to be addressed at all in this fight, besides Yuuta, could Utahime play a role there? Her giving her all to help Gojo while Gojo had done his all to protect her during his fight with Sukuna? (You know, since it's still too sus that Sukuna doesn't know about her CT... Gojo entrusted Ijichi, the man he trusts the most, to keep Utahime safe for her ritual...)

I've talked about this image before but I may have discovered something interesting: the Angel Number 3612. Gojo's revival could be on the horizon... I elaborate in this post.

(Shoutout to some other amazing theories out there on Utahime's potential in helping Gojo. As a shrine maiden here & here, or even as Buddha's wife here, for example. These are seeming more & more plausible to me now, since Gege mercilessly threw a wrench at us in 261... I'm coping hard).

Having a plan unrelated to Gojo's revival is still possible. One thing I've seen thrown around is what if Utahime & team will try to stop the merger? If we go with the idea that Utahime has healing abilities for spirits, could it be that she could help restore Tengen's soul or something, like at least bring her back to her previous state before Kenjaku took over? Help her regain consciousness if she lost it? (FULL DELULU, I KNOW).

FINAL THOUGHTS:

Utahime's only a minor side character, I know that 😮‍💨. Her having such an important role & any other formidable abilities may seem like a reach, but at this point, I need something to hold onto. I don't wanna lose hope like several others have. It's hard but... As long as it's not 100% confirmed that Gojo's dead, then there is still hope... There's still so much we don't know... His choice of north & south is still up in the air, his answer to Geto's old question, his reaction to everything that happened during his time in the Prism Realm, what happened in the Prism Realm, what he did during the one month time-skip... Gege, come on...

The fact Sukuna still doesn't know about Utahime's CT is something I can hold onto, right? I will ride this wave until it crashes onshore.

[mezmer]

And before I say another word, I will always feel nothing but empathy for those who suffer chronic pain and I only wish I could make a difference and support these people because I know how much it means to them. Jjahaahaha why the fuck is it so hard for people to talk with me about scoliosis. Epilepsy they're all ears asking me questions. And women with Endo? LOOOVE to talk about their condition. Haa. And of course I genuinely, organically, love to listen to others talk about their chronic illnesses because I know how important it is, and I'm interested to hear their experiences. No hate on women with endometriosis. They just love to talk about it especially when people listen intently. It just hurts so bad how hard it is to get even my own family to give a single fuck beyond "I'm sorry wow changes subject immediately" or "yeah I knew a girl with that back in high school" shit blows my mind. I'm not selfish for wanting an ounce of attention paid to it because I've hardly ever gotten that. I connected to my friend with scoliosis who died of an overdose. Fleetingly, a five minute conversation that meant the entire world, I could cry. The face she made, while telling me what I already know, my truth per se she lived all the same and she lost the battle. God bless her soul and her daughter who lives on. Plus my spinal therapist, Isabella and Ravi, and that is it.

Haha I've known women with scoliosis who are so turned off by me trying to connect. John tells me, well maybe you shouldn't dwell on it. When the fuck do I? Yeah, right now on my tumblr. Irl I dont say a fucking word because nobody has ever cared.

Oh my God, so worth mentioning. When I was younger and naive, I had men find out about my spinal deformity and show so much concern right up to the point they'd say "would a back rub help?" Just to get me to expose my body and allow them to touch my bare skin. I was so fucking foolish. I was so young and so excited anyone cared. I just thought since I mostly spent my time with men, it would make sense they'd show concern. Well, turns out women don't offer teenage girls backrubs. So idiotic. I yearn for anyone to give a fuck. I don't understand why I get fucking interviewed about epilepsy but my spine (bane of my existence, actively ruins almost every aspect of my life, I never have flare-ups, my spine is constantly regressing and worsening. I wake up every morning in a deformed body that is collapsing in on itself. Lol) and I mean whatever. Like I said, I'm hardly asking anything. If things were 5% better. If my family just asked how it's going. I don't give a fuck about anyone helping me with the groceries, I just want somebody to care and it's been like this since my diagnosis. My own parents cut the conversation short every time. What is wrong with the way I speak?

[whenthegoldrays]

Anyway Park's Marriage Contract gets a 5/10. The ending was a mess. I don’t mind that she came back, per se, I just hate how dirty they did Joseon!Tae Ha. What do you mean she married CEO Kang because he reminded her of Young Master but she wouldn’t marry Young Master when it came to it? Even though she had liked him first??

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya is rather touch averse, cringing away from casual contact people give him under the guise of being distracted or idle movement. He's used to it, the Ragnvindrs and Adenlinde got him used to frequent affectionate physical contact, but it can still be entirely Uncomfortable if he's touched by someone outside those he is close to or someone he's otherwise Allowed to touch him.

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[wetpapert0wel]

Hey, I saw your tags on the one post about abuse, and I wanted to reach out and say that I also struggled a lot and hurt a lot of people during a very low part of my life - and I’m proud of you, and of me, for doing our best to change ❤️🫂 I hope recovery for you is going well, brother, and that you have a great day/night. 🫶

aw thank you !! 🥺 same to you, homie. i hope everything's going well, & i'm proud of you for doing your best, too <3 🫂

it's been hard, especially since i lost my most recent job a year or two ago at this point, which has kind of put my brain into an isolative bubble. but i'm definitely still trying to be my best possible self.

[bohemiandeer]

You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.

But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.

Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.

I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.

FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.

[incognit0slut]

Behind Closed Doors

Part two

Your admiration of his vest leads you to an empty office with his face buried between your thighs—and an urgent Emily demanding your whereabouts.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spence (are we even surprised), fingering, oral sex (f), semi-public, slight overstimulation, and Emily kind of overhears because she calls Reader in the middle of the deed (oops). 5k words

A/n: I don’t have any excuse for this one, I just wanted to rewrite this scene of him because looking at it is not enough

You heard him before you saw him. It wasn't his voice per se, but the distinct sound of rapid shots cutting through the air. The noise seemed to intensify as you stepped into the control room, almost overbearing, but you'd long since grown used to its piercing sound.

"Is that Reid?" You asked, your polished boots echoing into the confined space. The officer monitoring him through the surveillance camera glanced over at you, and even though her expression didn't betray outright displeasure, you could hear a subtle edge in her voice.

"Agent Y/L/N," she greeted, her eyes darting between the rows of monitors, then to you, and finally settling on the clipboard in her hand. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Actually, I am. It’s Tuesday, my usual training day.”

"Not for another hour."

"I know," you countered, holding up your wrist to check your watch. "But I have some spare time, thought I’d come by early."

“I’m afraid it’s occupied right now. Agent Reid is still in the middle of his test."

This caught your attention. "What test?"

She glanced at you, her expression conflicted. "It's just a routine evaluation."

"He's currently not an active agent," you pointed out. It hadn’t been too long since his release from prison. It didn’t make any sense for him to go through an evaluation, not when he was behind bars for the past few weeks. Then recognition dawned on your face. "He's being evaluated to rejoin the team, isn't he?"

"I... I'm not at liberty to discuss that," she replied. Her gaze faltered momentarily before she nodded slowly, confirming your suspicions. "But yes, it's standard procedure for agents returning from extended leave."

"Oh wow—okay," you responded, absorbing the information. Your eyes flickered towards the monitor. "How's he doing?"

Her lips formed a thoughtful line before she answered, "Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp."

You let out a laugh, finding the comparison amusing. You'd known Spencer for what, three, four years? While he wasn't bad with firearms, comparing him to a historical figure like Wyatt Earp seemed a bit exaggerated. However, as you watched him through the monitors, despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the truth in her words.

You had witnessed him handle a gun countless times, but always in situations where there was a real threat, where you both had to be on high alert. Yet as you observed him now from a different perspective, it was hard to tear your eyes away. It was as if he was in his element, and Spencer Reid in his element never looked so... attractive?

Now that wasn't an exaggeration. Although you had never admitted this to anyone—god forbid what your teammates would say—there was an undeniable charm to the confidence he exuded. While Spencer had always been attractive, there was something different about the way he handled the gun.

You were sure it had something to do with his time in prison. After all, who wouldn't be affected by such a daunting place, especially when you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place? Yet, surprisingly, Spencer seemed to be coping better than you expected. Despite the toll it must have taken on him, it was evident that his experiences had shaped him, perhaps more than he let on.

Although he was still the same sweet, adorable guy you considered one of your closest friends. But you weren't sure your current observation of him fitted the typical definition of friendship… because there was nothing remotely friendly about the thoughts running in your head right now.

Not only was it not friendly, but it wasn't exactly innocent. Because look at him. Look at the way he was gripping the gun, his arms defined beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Look at the way his protective glasses covered his face, the black-rimmed frames accentuating his handsome features. And even though you had seen him wear the uniform vest countless times, somehow it was undeniably distracting the way it hugged his chest. 

Yep—there was nothing remotely friendly about how you wanted to climb up the man.

A sudden buzz echoed in the room, snapping you to reality. You glanced up and noticed the officer you were talking to entering the monitor screen and it dawned on you that you had been so distracted by your thoughts that you hadn't realized she had left the control room.

"I'll send the results to the review board this evening," the officer's voice resonated from the screen.

"Did I do okay?" His voice came through.

"Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp," she replied, echoing her earlier assessment. Her gaze shifted to the printed cardboard image of a man, supposedly representing the Unsub, which was shredded right around the face. "Or... Al Capone, maybe."

You observed Spencer's slight nod as she turned and walked out of the screen. Quickly, you exited the control room and met her in the hallway.

"Agent Y/L/N," she called out as she spotted you. "You can have the room in five minutes—"

"I need to reschedule."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Reschedule?"

"Uh... yes, something urgent came up," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

She regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, just let me know when you want to reschedule."

"I will, thank you," you said quickly. Sensing her lingering gaze, you added, "Oh, I'm just waiting for Reid. I need his help on... something."

A faint smile played on her lips, though she didn't press further. "Of course, I'll leave you to it then." 

With a nod, she turned and walked away just as the door at the end of the hallway opened, revealing Spencer emerging from the room. His eyes met yours in confusion, and you could sense his curiosity as he approached you.

"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

You cocked your head to the side.

What were you doing here? 

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before offering a shrug. "Just passing by, I guess."

His brow furrowed slightly as if he sensed there was more to your answer than you were letting on. "Alright," he said, though his curiosity lingered in his gaze.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject. "So, how did the evaluation go?"

"So you've heard.”

"Yeah," you confirmed, starting to walk down the hallway as he stepped in pace beside you. "I can't wait for you to be back on the team. Officially, that is."

"If they let me back on the team."

"Of course they will," you reassured him, your hand finding its place on his shoulder, offering support. "You're more than qualified."

He sighed, and you tried not to notice the subtle movement of his vest across his chest, or how it shifted under your touch. "You think so?"

"I know so," you affirmed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, they'll definitely bring you back."

He stopped his pace, and so did you, before his eyes flickered towards your hand on his shoulder. He must've sensed something different, considering you weren't exactly the type of person who liked physical contact. Neither of you were, actually. While Spencer was known for his aversion to germs, you simply preferred maintaining a certain level of personal space.

"Seriously," he wondered, his tone laced with curiosity. "What are you doing down here?"

You cleared your throat. "I told you, I was just passing by."

"Really? Is that why you're talking to me instead of going through your usual training?" he pressed on. "It's Tuesday. I'm well aware of your schedule."

Damn him and his eidetic memory. You shifted away from his gaze. "Can't a girl just choose to have a chat with a friend?"

"You chose me over your scheduled routine?” his lips curved into a subtle smile. “Am I that much of a distraction?”

Yes, that damn vest is distracting me.

"Distraction might be a bit strong,” you replied, the lie sounding feeble even to your own ears.

"So you’re admitting I’m slightly distracting?"

"I never said that.”

Spencer leaned in and you felt the heat of his proximity radiating from his body. "But you didn't deny it either.”

You felt a faint blush creep onto your cheeks as you realized the shift in his tone. Dare you say he was... flirting with you? Or was it just your imagination running wild? From the corner of your eye, you caught the subtle way he licked his lips, and without meaning to, your own gaze was drawn to the movement.

It was a habit of his, one you'd observed countless times before whether it was out of concentration or a mere reflex. But seeing it up close now, the way his tongue traced the curve of his bottom lip, was driving you insane.

You swallowed hard. This was not friendly behavior. A friend wouldn't be imagining what it would feel like to have his tongue on your lips instead.

"Y/N?"

Your face felt hot as you met his gaze. "I..."

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter and chatter from down the hallway reached your ears. You heard Penelope's unmistakable giggle with JJ's animated voice, and suddenly your instinct took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him into an empty office nearby. 

The door shut with a soft thud, and you frowned, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn't want to be caught in a state of flustered panic like some nervous school girl talking to her crush, but as Spencer stood behind you, you realized you were overreacting. The more you dwelled on it, the more absurd it seemed to hide away when there was no reason to.

With a sigh, you turned to face him. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to..."

But as your gaze met him, your words faltered because he was standing closer than you expected. Close enough that the color of his eyes seemed to intensify under the soft light filtering through the window—a rich brown, like warm chocolate, with specks of gold that danced in the sunlight.

Your eyes involuntarily traced downwards, from the sharp lines of his nose to the curve of his lips, lingering on the stubble lining his jawline. Your mind wandered, and now you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel having it against your skin. Or how it would feel pressed against your thigh.

Your face grew hotter at the thought.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step forward. You squeaked in surprise, an actual high-pitched sound leaving your lips, as you felt the hard surface of his vest pressing against your chest.

"It's just..." You hesitated, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "You're standing really close..."

He glanced down at you, his eyes resting on your lips. "Do you want me to move?"

"I... uh..."

His eyes flickered back up to meet yours. "I'll take that as a no."

Before you could process his words, his hand reached up, fingers gently gripping your waist. You felt a rush of heat spread through you at his touch, the sensation seeping through your shirt and you found yourself leaning into him, your breath catching in your throat as his face hovered closely above yours.

It was happening. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips drew closer. You couldn’t believe it, he was going to kiss you—Spencer-fucking-Reid was going to kiss you.

But just as his lips hovered dangerously close against yours, he suddenly stopped.

"Just to make this clear," he began, running a thumb along your side. "I respect you, both as a friend and a colleague. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with, so if you think this is pushing any boundaries then—"

"Spencer," you cut in. "Just kiss me already."

With a hint of relief and a small smile playing on his lips, he finally closed the gap between you.

You never imagined his lips could be so soft. He had the softest lips that moved against your own with a hint of coffee and something undeniably sweet. Those soft, soft lips parted away from yours for a moment before he leaned back in, more desperate, more needy. And when he swiped your bottom lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, you couldn't help but welcome him with a soft moan of pleasure.

He devoured you then, his tongue pushing eagerly into your mouth, his lips enveloping you with a hunger that left you breathless as he pressed himself against you. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, you were walking backward until your back collided with the solid surface of the desk. 

With strength you didn’t know he possessed, he effortlessly lifted you and perched you on top of it, prompting a surprised squeal to escape your lips. He laughed in response but you were too caught up in the moment to worry about whether he found you amusing. 

Your hands eagerly roamed over his chest, fingers curling around the strap of his vest as you pulled him closer. He slipped between your parted legs with ease and when he pressed his evident bulge against your core, you both gasped in pleasure.

"We should... we should probably stop, right?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your lips. Despite his words, his actions betrayed his self-control as he began to roll his hips against you.

“We're at work, someone might—” He groaned. “Someone might… hear us..."

He was right, but you found yourself unable to care about anything else but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your heat.

"We could stop, or..." you found yourself saying without thinking. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, finding their way between you as you started to unbutton your shirt, the fabric slipping away to reveal more of your skin. 

"Or..." He prompted, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip yet again, his breath coming out in shallow, ragged bursts.

"Or..." you repeated, pushing the front of your shirt open. "We could be quiet."

"We could be quiet," he agreed all too quickly. "We could definitely be quiet."

You let out an amused laugh. "We’re going to get in trouble if anyone finds us."

“Then you shouldn’t make a sound.”

“Me? What about—oh.”

His lips were already trailing down your body, leaving soft kisses as they lingered on your neck, across your collarbone, and then he moved lower, sucking lightly on the swell of your breasts. A whimper of his name escaped your lips, your fingers entwining in his hair.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking at the sight of your breast pushed up against your bra, a glistening sheen of his saliva coating your skin.

“You are stunning,” he murmured, before leaning back in to place a tender kiss on the spot where your collarbone met your shoulder. “How far do you want to take this?”

You blinked, trying to ground yourself into the moment between the lust fogging your brain. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he muttered as he rutted his hips against yours, drawing a needy moan from you. “How far are you willing to go?”

“If you’re asking whether I want to have sex with you, the answer is a hundred percent yes.”

You could practically feel his smile on your skin as he buried himself in the crook of your neck.

“That’s good to know,” he whispered, causing you to arch your back as your chest pressed against the hard material of his vest. “But I don’t think we can do much considering we’re supposed to be working. Well, you at least.”

You grasped his shoulders, pushing him away to meet his gaze. “I thought we agreed to keep quiet.”

“We can keep quiet,” he assured you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “But I can’t rush my time with you. Besides, you deserve a much better setting than an unoccupied office full of dust.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. “Maybe, but it’s more about time, really. I just want to take—” His lips brushed against your cheek. “My time—” A peck on your lips. “With you.”

You melted right there and then. You could’ve sworn you were nothing but a puddle mess. If he wasn’t holding you for support you were sure you could fall right back to the floor.

“Alright then,” you finally said, reaching for the buttons of your shirt with trembling hands only to be stopped as his fingers curled around your wrist.

“What are you doing?”

You shot him a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex right now.”

“I didn’t say anything about stopping,” he replied, releasing your hand before his palms slid up your thighs. “There are plenty of other things we can do.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “Like what?”

“Well, I guess we'll just have to get creative.”

Your breath hitched when his fingers hovered over the button on your pants. You watched with a mix of excitement and disbelief as he started to undo them, your mind turning into a mushy mess. It was as if every neuron in your brain had decided to stop working.

“Lift your hips for me.”

You met his gaze, trying to summon up your composure but you couldn’t help the nervous twitch of your lips. He smiled at you.

“Come on, pretty girl, we don’t have all day.”

Not only were you melting, but you were practically liquid by now. Your body moved on its own accord—your hands gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, synchronizing perfectly with his gentle movements to slide the material over your hips and down your legs.

He placed your pants on the empty space beside you while his eyes never left your body. His gaze lingered on the rise and fall of your chest, and he leaned in, his fingers trailing over your skin before settling on the hem of your panties. His thumb slid to the front, brushing along the delicate material. Your hips bucked as he continued to run his thumb up and down as if he were trying to map out your slick folds over the fabric.

“Look at you dripping,” he mused, his eyes fixated on the way his thumb slid over to your clit. “Are you always this wet?”

Your cheeks heated at the question. He wasn’t even trying to make it come off as dirty talk; he asked it like a normal question, as if he were simply wondering about what you ate for breakfast. But the question alone had your face burning because you did not expect it to come from him.

“I… I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he asked, his tone amused. He hooked his fingers into the material of your panties before pushing it to the side.

“I-I don’t know.” You let out a breathless moan when his fingers grazed your slit. “Whenever I’m turned on, I don’t... I don’t exactly touch myself just to check how wet I am.”

Spencer chuckled softly, angling his hand between your thighs before gently pushing his middle finger into your entrance. You gasped at the sudden stretch, brows furrowing as he pressed further, and your hand instinctively gripped onto his arm.

“Do you often touch yourself?”

Your head fell back as he started to move.

“M-Maybe,” you managed to stutter out.

"What do you think of when you do?" he asked slowly, his own breath starting to grow shallow as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He observed the way your mouth fell open, your tongue slightly slipping out in the corner, and the way your eyes shut closed. He was fascinated by the effect he had on you, on how just a simple touch had you squirming.

“A… a lot of things,” you managed to reply.

“Have you ever thought of me?”

Whoa.

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, momentarily stunned.

This was dangerous territory, but then again, nothing seemed quite as risky as being fingered by your coworker on a Tuesday afternoon. So what harm could it be if you admitted that yes, in fact, he had crossed your mind when you touched yourself wishing it was his fingers instead?

A lot of harm, actually. One, it seemed like an inappropriate confession given your friendship. Friends don't usually imagine each other in sexual scenarios. And two, you could die of embarrassment.

"No," you replied, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

He hummed skeptically. “I thought we were past the point of lying between profilers.” With a pause, he added another finger inside you, causing you to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. “Is this how you imagined it in your fantasies?”

What was the point of lying now? You swallowed hard, trying to think of a witty response to distract from the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

“Uh… This is slightly better.”

“Slightly? I’m hurt.” He pressed his thumb onto your clit. “What else did you think of then?”

Your cheeks flushed even more. “You… well, um, you also used your tongue.”

The airy laugh he let out sent a shiver down your spine. “Really? And how did that fantasy play out?"

Your heart raced as you tried to find the right words. "Let's just say it involved a lot more tongue action and a lot less talking."

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “Then let’s reenact it.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you. “Lay on your back.”

With a shaky breath, you complied, sprawling out on the desk, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. When he reached for the waistband of your panties, you couldn't help but crack a joke. "If I knew this was the direction this day was heading, I would've worn my fanciest underwear."

Spencer shook his head. “Trust me, you don't need fancy underwear to drive me crazy."

He then deftly removed your panties, his movements confident yet tender, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. When the fabric pooled at your ankle, he got down on his knees and parted your legs wider, positioning himself between them.

You watched, anticipation building, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your inner thigh. Then, with a teasing glance, he pressed his lips to your skin, planting soft kisses along the trail of your inner thigh, inching closer to your core.

You shivered at the sensation and your heart raced with every kiss. His hands roamed over your thighs, tracing delicate patterns while his mouth brushed closer to where you craved him the most. You bit down your bottom lip, unable to contain the moan that escaped as his tongue flicked out, grazing your sensitive flesh.

This was definitely better than your fantasies, the ones you'd harbored in secret, too taboo to admit even to yourself. But here you were, living out those desires in the most deliciously real way possible.

You gasped as his tongue lavished your slit, tasting every inch, mixing your arousal that was beginning to drip from your core with his saliva. Your back arched off the desk, thighs trembling and when they threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag over your clit.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Somehow it felt like a dream, but everything was real. His face was right between your thighs; his mouth pressed against your cunt, his tongue lapping through your wet folds. And it wasn’t as simple as tasting you, he was eating you, devouring you, swallowing every drop of your arousal as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste.

You started to lose control of your mind, your body, your actions. Your hips bucked to meet his tongue, your jaw slackening as stifled moans spilled from your lips. And that was when you felt it—a faint vibration against your thigh. At first, you thought it was just the sensation of his touch, but then the loud, unmistakable loud ringtone of your phone shattered the moment.

"Shit!" You squealed, scrambling to grab your phone from your discarded pants. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover you in this compromising position.

"It's Emily—“ You pushed his head away, trying to hide your flushed face as he looked at you with surprise. His lips were glistened with your arousal and his hair seemed messier. God, he looked so pretty.

"Don't answer it."

"It might be important." With a pointed look, you silently urged him to keep quiet as you brought the phone to your ear with trembling fingers. “H-Hey... what's up?"

Emily's voice came through the line, slightly muffled by the sounds of commotion in the background. “Hey, I need you to review the report you submitted yesterday, you left a few details about the Unsub.”

Spencer's lips brushed against your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, and you had to bite back a moan. You shot him a warning glare, mouthing ‘stop’ before turning your attention back to the call.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “So… um, which report?”

"The case in Florida," your boss explained. "You mentioned that the Unsub was targeting women between the ages of 25 and 35…”

You were trying to listen, you really were, but it was hard when you felt his fingers ease into your cunt, your juices dripping out, coating his flesh as he curled them inside. You almost let out a whine as his thumb pressed to your clit, caressing in circular motions. 

“…he's also been stalking younger women."

Your eyes screwed shut as he sped up his pace. His touch was driving you crazy, and you could barely register the conversation over the sounds of your own arousal echoing in the room.

“Y/N.”

You snapped your eyes open, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you tried to concentrate on the call. "Uh, yeah, go on," you managed to stammer, hoping she didn't notice your wavering tone.

“Are you okay? You sound... off," Emily's voice cut through the haze of pleasure. You shot Spencer another pleading look, but he simply smiled at you with a hand still between your thighs and the other slipping underneath your bra.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, fighting against the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "Uh, yeah, I… I-I’m doing my training.”

You mentally cursed yourself for the terrible excuse. Emily didn't seem entirely convinced. "Training?"

"Yeah, you know, the uh... firearm training? I-It’s Tuesday.”

There was a pause on the other end before she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound like you're in pain."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers curled inside of you. "No, no, I'm fine. Just... a little out of breath from all the… shooting."

Spencer let out an incredulous scoff, and you shot him a pointed glare.

“Are you with someone?”

You hesitated, racking your brain for a believable excuse, but all you could muster was a feeble, "Uh, nope.”

There was a pause on the other end, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken as your body flushed with heat. Meanwhile, Spencer seemed intent on torturing you, never stopping his pace. If anything, it seemed like his movements were increasing. Just when you thought you couldn't feel more exposed, another scoff echoed through your ear, this time from Emily.

“Alright, where are you really?” she pressed, her tone indicating she wasn't buying your flimsy excuse.

“I told you I-I’m doing my training.”

She laughed. “Y/N, we profile people as a job. I can sense your lie even through the phone.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. What was up with these profilers and their knack for sniffing out lies? You were one yourself, but apparently, you were no match for their scrutiny.

“I’m not—“ your words were cut short when he stood up, hovering above you. You looked up at him, smiling at you innocently as his fingers continued to curl deep inside you. You clutched his forearm with your free hand, attempting to steady yourself.

"I'm not lying," you managed to squeak out.

"Mhm," came Emily's voice from the other end. “Just come by my office and grab the report, okay?”

Your breath hitched as his fingertips delved deeper, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of his hand moving between your legs, coated in your arousal with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm edging closer. Your hips moved in sync with his motions as the pressure built, the tension coiling tighter in your stomach and—

“Y/N!”

“Y-Yes, I’m… I’m coming.” Spencer's low chuckle filled your ears, and you realized what you'd unintentionally implied. Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “I mean, I-I’ll be there soon, okay, bye!”

You quickly slammed your phone down on the desk, ending the call with a thud. But before you could even take a breath, Spencer's fingers were back to their rapid pace, driving you to the edge of sanity. Your body staggered under his touch, your hips moving in sync with his relentless rhythm, the world outside the room fading away into a blur of pleasure.

"A-Ah—w-wait, fuck—"

You barely managed to utter a protest before his hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure. Your back arched, your head thrown back as you tightened your grip on his wrist, your body writhing beneath him as your orgasm consumed you.

It lasted longer than you expected and Spencer seemed determined to push you over the edge as he shifted his attention from your cunt to your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew momentarily, only to return with a renewed intensity, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Your senses were on overload as you moaned into his hand, the sound muffled but still audible. He worked you, over and over, and you didn't even know your body could take so much. Every stroke, every caress sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, building up to an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as the sensations reached a fever pitch. It was all too much, too intense, and in a moment of desperation, you pushed his hand away. When the last tremors of your orgasm finally faded away, you collapsed back onto the desk, panting heavily, your limbs feeling like jelly. 

Spencer removed his hand from your mouth, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched you catch your breath. “Are you okay?" 

You nodded weakly. “Yeah, just… that was intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Really good intense,” you replied with a sheepish grin, which only made him smile. With shaky hands, you pushed yourself up from the desk, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over you. As you began to dress yourself, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him—or rather, the evident bulge underneath his pants.

“That… that doesn’t look comfortable,” you remarked.

Spencer waved off your worry with a dismissive chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of it myself.”

“Here? At work?” Your eyes widened at the implication. “I didn't know you had it in you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “That’s not what I meant. It’ll eventually go away if I ignore—stop staring at it,” he added with a laugh. “You’re not helping.”

Your gaze lingered a moment too long on his bulge. "I can think of another way to help.”

Spencer's breath caught in his throat, his imagination running wild with possibilities, but he quickly regained his composure. "Go," he said, gently nudging you towards the door once you were properly dressed. "Emily's waiting for you."

Your eyes swept over him and a wave of awkwardness suddenly washed over you. What was the protocol after experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life? Shake his hand? Give him a high-five? You couldn't help but stifle a nervous laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

After a brief moment of contemplation, you decided to trust your instincts. With a hint of hesitation, you stepped closer and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, you were already rushing to the door.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched you leave, a tingling sensation lingering on his cheek where your lips had briefly touched. But as he licked his lips absentmindedly, he couldn't shake the taste of your arousal that lingered there.

Groaning softly, he shifted uncomfortably as his mind filled with vivid images of you squirming under him; your mouth agape, eyes half-closed, your pretty legs spread apart. The memory of your moans echoed in his ears and his cock stirred in his pants. 

He sighed, realizing he was in for a long day if he didn't do something about it. With a slight grimace—and the embarrassment gnawing at him for what he was about to do—he let his feet carry him to the nearest bathroom.

[jyoongim]

Hear me out. I can't be the only one that wants to fuck Al's demon form. Like not just the black eyed tentacle gig, I'm talking full form like the size and all 😭 I can take it I swear, Al (narrator: she could not)

Title: A Reminder To All…

Themes: its giving monster fuc but like oof, demon!form Alastor, tentacles, established relationship, rough sex, growling, blood, possessive behavior, antlers, animalistic behaviors.

It was a rather quiet afternoon at the Hazbin Hotel.

You were up in the radio tower straightening a few things while Alastor was out doing gods know what 

You decided that since you had cleaned up most of the place that you would take a stroll through town as some down time.

You hummed a tune as you passed many sinners out and about. Your stroll led pass the digital shop. You slowed as you noticed a crowd gathered outside a Voxtech store.

There were multiple tvs playing things in the windows and what caught your attention was the deals they had going on.

You bit your lip. Oh it couldnt hurt to window shop right?

You entered and was immediately overwhelmed by all the fancy tech.

why did hell need modern tech you had no idea.

A shiny pink camera caught your attention.

And it was cheap.

You did need a new camera. It would help with advertisement and to show the progress of the hotel you thought as you happily paid for it and went about your way.

what you didn’t know was that Vox had been tracking you the moment you left the hotel.

that camera of yours was now his gateway into seeing what Alastor was up to.

Once back at the hotel you pulled out your shiny new purchase.

you turned it on and walked around filming a bit.

You checking the footage to check out the quality when you heard a record scratch

”what is that my dear?” 

You jumped at the sound of Alastor’s voice and spun around holding the camera

His eyes narrowed on it and quirked his brow at you, airing for an explanation.

”Well Al I-I just thought that the hotel could use a camera to help with promoting. We can record our progress. Now you don’t have to do all the work.” You said with a nervous smile, hoping he wouldn’t toss it.

He walked closer to you, mainly keeping his eyes on the tech.

”and where did you get such a frivolous thing?” 

you gulped “At the v-voxtech store”

His ever-present smile tightened before he shrugged “fine if you think it’ll help”

you breathed a sigh of relief and happily went about your way testing it out.

Unaware of the growing shadows emitting from him.

after spending a few hours getting the hang of your new device, you decided to call it a night and put your camera on your nightstand as you got ready for bed.

You shivered slightly under your cover, grumbling you furrowed further to seek some warmth.

why the hell was it so cold?

you shifted again in bed to feel a heavy weight on top of you.

your eyes flew open and you were met with a very frightening sight.

Alastor.

In his demon form.

Your breath got caught in your throat “A-Al?”

He tilted his head, smile wide and sharp “Sleeping well my dear?” His voice was staticky and distorted.

you were so confused.

you hardly EVER saw Alastor upset, especially to the point were he was in his demon form.

“Why is that in your room dear?” He hissed out, jutting his chin to your camera.

You tilted your head confused at his question.

he was angry about a damn camera?

A clawed hand was at your throat.

”I allow many things dear, but this unattractive piece of scrap in your room? That is where I draw the line”

You let out a squeak as your clothes suddenly disappeared and covers ripped away.

”A-Al?!”

Your hands were quickly restrained by his shadows and your legs were spreaded to welcome him closer.

when the hell did he undress?

You felt the faint ghost touch of a tentacle slide against your cunt, teasing your clit. You let out a soft moan.

”Already soaking dearest?” He hummed amused.

You felt the weight of his dick slap against your cunt.

your eyes widened he wasn’t going to…

”Alastor w-wait! I c-can’t!”

A long tongue sweated the side of your face

”But you will darling” and with that he slammed into you.

Your body seized at the sudden intrusion. You let out a cry that was silenced by a tentacle wrapping around your mouth.

Alastor rutted into you, growling and snarling.

Your eyes faintly drifted to the camera by your bed.

A blinking red dot turned on and off.

Alastor gave you a rather harsh thrust.

”eyes on me dear”

you whined loudly, trying to shift your body to accommodate to his harsh thrusting. Your eyes drifted to the top of his head.

Antlers.

you felt your fingers itch with the need to find purchase on them.

you gave a tug at the shadows and huffed, making little grabbing motions hoping he would get the hint.

he granted you grace and your hands immediately flew to his antlers.

He let outa low growl and sunk his teeth into your shoulder.

With his dick hitting that delious spot inside you, you could feel him bottoming out.

You were flipped onto your stomach, facing the camera.

the shadow around your mouth disappeared and a claw hand found your tongue.

”put on a show Mon cher” You felt him flush against you.

Moans and whines filled the room as he  pounded your cunt.

A high pitch whine left your throat as you felt your cunt clench around him.

you were gonna cum soon.

”A-Al-la-stor Ah!” Your eyes crossed as your body tensed and twitched from your orgasm. He let out a deep growl and quickened his pace.

Did he get bigger?

you were suddenly face to face with him.

Your noses brushing against each other as he sought after his own release.

Your arms wrapped around his elongated neck and a hand found one of his ears.

you tugged.

Static ran through your body as he slapped his lips on yours and slammed his hips into you, purring as he filled you with his cum.

you whimpered as your legs were finally released and dropped.

Alastor was breathing heavy as he reached over to the camera

”hope you enjoyed the show old pal” he laughed before destroying the camera.

you were drifting to sleep as you watched him transform back to normal.

”sleep well my dear” was the last thing you heard as he tucked you into his side, humming a soft tune with a wide smile.

He gave a reminder.

Dont fuck with the Radio Demon.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues. 

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong. 

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs. 

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface. 

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more. 

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment. 

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable. 

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness. 

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak. 

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you. 

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down. 

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!” 

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time. 

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder. 

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.” 

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. 

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs. 

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips. 

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade. 

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin. 

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh. 

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles. 

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg. 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly. 

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs. 

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases. 

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents. 

Almost. 

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed. 

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention. 

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him. 

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm. 

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him. 

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back. 

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them. 

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again. 

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him. 

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good. 

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice. 

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

 He hums contemplatively. 

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum. 

“About what?” 

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn you first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine. 

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?” 

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?” 

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again. 

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you. 

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away. 

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet. 

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes. 

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it. 

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message. 

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky. 

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort. 

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh. 

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly. 

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile. 

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily. 

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck. 

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly. 

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?” 

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy. 

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids. 

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin. 

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum. 

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you. 

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you

I love you. 

-

part two