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nightingale-prompts · 1 day ago

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Phantom is so Moody

"I don't even understand what I am. I'm a clone so I can't age. But what does it even mean to be a clone? I'm not 100% Superman but I'm still nit like him or Lex? I wasn't born like a normal person so does that mean I don't have a soul?" Kon ranted.

Danny the multi-dimensional godlike being the team had contracted into being their aid slowly shuffled from under his mountain of blankets and pillows and yawned.

"What are you talking about?" He drawled lazily. "Of course you have a soul.

"But I'm like artificially made in a lab." Kon retorted.

"And? So what? Are you telling me I'm wrong?" Danny challenged " Hey stupid, everything has a soul. You, your friends, animals, a tree, a fucking blade of grass, even a kid's toy. If it has energy it has a soul. I'm not talking metaphorically, I mean literally. Souls are a real tangible thing and I will eat your soul if you don't put some food on my sacrificial altar. Also, get therapy."

Kon much like the others had gotten used to Danny. He was mostly all bark and no bite.

As Kon headed to the kitchen to get the god his post-nap snack he heard Danny speak again.

"Also, you can age. Who told you that you couldn't? Age isn't anything but the slow decay of atoms. You are aging. You just aren't changing because your body is so new. Given enough years it'll start to show. Then you'll be no different from anyone else. Granted Superman's race also grows differently. You are so fucking dramatic. You are fine the way you are." The godling huffed, "Ancients, you guys are annoying. You treat existence like it's torture and you'll bearly understand how blessed you are to exist simply because of how un-ideal it is. Look shit sucks, it sucks most of the time but human suffering is caused by humans. You are torturing yourself with all these what-ifs and angst. Just stop caring."

Danny wasn't saying all this to be comforting. He rarely does stuff like that. If anything he was ambivalent to Kon. It still made him feel better though. One thing you could trust about Danny was that he was honest. He could even be helpful considering his job was to be a living encyclopedia of information from beyond the pale. He has always been an asset if you can wake him up from his days long naps.

****

"You sleep all the time." Raven complained.

The Titans were here this time. They needed something from Danny. Something about having to seal a threat away.

"Just death being shy." Danny mumbled curling up on his raised platform. "Now go away."

Raven pulled out a smudge stick of white sage when Nightwing silently held up a hand to stop her.

"Phantom, look we need your help. This issue needs your assistance. We just want info on how to seal this threat properly." Nightwing said.

"Ask Constantine."Danny whined back as he shuffled deeper into his blanket cocoon.

"Unfortunately he can't help. This is Darkseid—"

"WHERE IS HE?"

Immediately he was wide awake. You see there are few things to stir Phantom to his full attention. He isn't inactive out of pure laziness. He lets the hero do their thing and he helps when he thinks it's appropriate. But he will not let anything or anyone harm the planet

*****

"He really doesn't like people," Impulse whispered to Aqualad.

"I still don't understand how the Justice League managed to get in contact with him let alone sign a contract with him. " Aqualad answered.

"Flash said he was pretty easy to convince. Hell he said that Phantom was so docile he let Wonder Woman carry him around. Now he'll practically snap of your hand if you touch him."

"Emm...think about it he must have just been really weak back then. If he was injured badly enough maybe he—"

"Stop talking."

*****

"I still don't trust you. What is your game?" Raven said sternly.

A being with origins like Phantom couldn't really be helping them out of the kindness of his heart. What did he gain from this contract.

"You assume you are worth games."

"Were you sent by my father?"

"Your father, Trigon? That nuisance? A petty demon like that having any say over me? I'd crush him if I ever saw him. He claims to have conquered a billion worlds. That alone makes me want to destroy him. No one OWNS a world. If anything I own all worlds. No one touches my universe, all universes are mine. And if people would just stop touching my stuff I wouldn't be here." Phantom growled furiously.

"So you are just like him." Raven hissed in anger.

"Like I said. I own it. It is my domain. My realm. So no one can destroy it. No one can control it. I make it. Every star, every planet, every person is a product of chaos. It is the universal law. I keep my chaos in check. Trigon, Darkseid, Anti-Monitor—I don't care. If they touch what is mine I will destroy them."

"Anti-Monitor?"

Phantom curled his lip in anger then relaxed.

"He is someone you don't need to be concerned about. Not anymore." Phantom sighed. "Just know; I don't care what you think of me. I only care about keeping things the way they should be. I'd prefer if you didn't trust me."

Raven narrowed her eyes in thought before she relaxed. Then a small smile appeared on her lips.

"No. I think I can trust you."

Phantom immediately frowned. This wasn't the response he wanted.

"I think you are doing this on purpose. I think you want us to dislike you." Raven teased "Phantom do you perhaps have a heart?"

Phantom just sighed, his cheeks were greenish hue. He was blushing. Then went back to his dais to sleep.

****

Phantom was certainly a prickly guy. He was sweet deep down. Everyone could tell after a while. It didn't help that Wonder Woman always gave as good as she got.

"Answer the question Phantom. No cryptic riddles either." She said climbing the dias.

Phantom scrambled to escape as she grabbed him by the ankle and held him upside down.

"That's not fair! Kronos said I didn't have to answer this one. I have permission to tell you wherever I feel like."

"Oh? Then how about not having snacks on your offering plate? We'll burn nothing but vegetables until you tell me."

"How dare you! That's child abuse. You'll be starving me."

"You don't even need to eat."

"I still taste everything you burn. That's force-feeding. That's bad too."

"Just tell me!"

"Fine!" Phantom grumbled "Trevor Barnes...didn't pass over yet. He waits for you in the realms between. You shouldn't know that though. He doesn't want you to know."

"Why wouldn't he—"

"Because he wants you to live for yourself. He wants you to love again. You have a long life ahead of you and he didn't want to hold you back with his memory. Although he contradicted himself because he still wants you to think of him fondly."

Phantom phased through Diana's grasp and retreated to his lair.

****

Phantom was like a stray cat or maybe a spoiled one. He was wary of most people.

But even the most moody cat likes at least one person.

"Phantom I—"

"What do you need?"

Tim had entered the chamber only half expecting Phantom to be awake. Though Phantom was always awake when Tim entered. He guessed he was lucky since he didn't have talk to empty space.

"Eh, nothing. I got put on sacrifice duty. I brought some Bat Burger and cookies from home. I'm warning you now that Wonder Woman said you have to eat a serving of vegetables. So I'm burning them first." Tim placed the steamed vegetables on the offering plate and before he tossed them into the green fire he felt the cold hand of Phantom wrap around him.

"Don't." He said softly.

"It's just broccoli and cauliflower," Tim said still putting it on the electrum disk.

"Don't wanna," Phantom whined petulantly holding Tim in place. His head buried in his shoulder.

"You big baby." Tim sighed.

If anyone saw this interaction they'd be disgusted. The oh-so-great and moody god is l acting like a soft and pitiful little guy. Phantom seemed to have such a unique fascination with Red Robin. To the point he acts completely different if Tim was in the room.

"Two-faced." Kon mumbled as he watched Phantom readily answered Red Robin's every question without complaint.

"He's always like that," Tim said afterward " It's probably because I was the one to help form the contract with him when he was summoned here. The League treated him like a threat when it wasn't his fault he was here. He just wants to keep his distance but he is the same age as us."

"He is?" Kon asked astonished.

#dc x dp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #konner kent

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somanyideassolittletime · 2 days ago

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To be loved is to be changed.

Pairings: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader

Summary : 3 ways you changed Jack, and one time Jack changed you.

Warnings: fluff, Jack is in love with his wife, language, grammar inaccuracies (maybe? idk), so much fluff I felt giddy writing this.

Author's note: I love Jack so much, enjoy!

| one

Jack, albeit all of his typical stereotypes people use to box him into, is secretly tech-savvy. It comes with the job, he supposed. Working in a field where technology is always evolving, he learnt to adapt, and he learnt to love it. It started with geeking out when the newest, most updated machine was delivered to the hospital, up to buying himself handheld medical pieces of equipment delivered to your door – he would wait for you at home before unboxing the most recent ‘toys’ he ordered, and he would talk your ears off about how cool and innovative it is.

You loved it, you loved hearing him talk passionately, you love that even after all this time working in his job, he still finds wonders in it (it doesn’t help that he looked so hot with his forearms flexed, knife in hand, while opening the package).

He understands technology, he does. But he doesn’t get the idea of FaceTime. He wasn’t a big texter himself; nothing beats the good old phone calls, where you can get your point across without fear of miscommunication on both sides. Even when you dated, you never went as far as FaceTime; it was always a phone call with a promise of meeting each other, and now that you are married, sharing his home, he still doesn’t get it.

“Why do you even need to look at their faces when you call? What matters is what you say, y’know, besides, it’s awkward to call someone with your phone far away from your ears,” He once said while holding you tightly in his side, cuddling in his far too comfy leather couch. Both of you watching a movie, where the scene of people facetiming each other just finished. You laughed at him back then, nudging his sides, “Eh, don’t knock it till you try it, hon.”

What a turn of events now for him, as you were called away across the country for a few guest lectures and seminars for two weeks. Away from Pittsburgh, away from him – that he finds himself thankful for whoever invented the damned thing. He’s sitting on his bed, currently deprived of your presence beside him, when he decides to try out FaceTime.

“Hi, handsome,” you pick up on the first ring, he’s greeted with the face he’s been missing for the past few days, smiling at him. He sighs in contentment, he finally gets to see your face. “Hi, sweetheart.”

He can hear you rustling around, looking for something to prop up your phone before you settle on your water bottle. Your screen is now steady. You grin at him, “Finally getting the whole FaceTime thing now, huh?”

He huffs, “Don’t wanna get used to it, i’d rather have you here.” he starts, “But yeah, thank god shit’s exist. Been so long since I've seen that face.”

“I’ve been here four days and you turned grumpy, huh?” You tell him, referring to the text Dana sent you earlier, “Your husband is Mr. Grumpy. Med students scared to approach him all day”

“What do you mean?” You’re still grinning at him, you’re afraid your cheeks might be too sore to talk to the faculty tomorrow. “Dana texted me, said you were being bad teacher.”

He groaned, “I’m annoyed at everything, it seems.” he mumbles just loud enough for you to hear him on the other end. He’s holding the phone a little too close to his eyes, he squints to look at you. You noticed it, “Wear your glasses, hon.” He hates wearing his glasses, which you know, but he’s squinting so hard you’re afraid he’s gonna get a headache later on. He’s contemplating debating you, but he knows that you’re right; he’s getting too old to see something so close to his eyes now.

“Ugh, fine. Wait,” he puts his phone in the bed, now his screen is showing the ceiling of the bedroom you share back home. A few rustling and groans later, you find yourself looking at Jack wearing his glasses. Your breath hitched. The sight of him in his glasses always gets to you, even after all this time. “Looking good, Dr. Abbot,” you joke. He smiles, “You’re Dr. Abbot yourself.” You frowned mockingly. “I was looking at my reflection, y’know.”

He laughs, and your heart aches to be with him. You missed him as bad as he missed you, it seems. You lift your phone, standing up now, he’s curious, “What are you doing?” You reverse the camera now, showing your room. “I’m doing a room tour. Now shut up and listen to me yap.”

He gladly obeys, he loves listening to your voice, he watches as you explain everything in your room, from the bathroom, the wardrobe, the bed, all the way to the balcony. His eyes caught something when your camera points at your desk, a familiar bottle of cologne – one he’s been wearing for ten years – so he decides to jab at you. “Is that why I can’t find my cologne in my bag?” You turn the camera facing you, and he’s glad now that he can see your face again. “I miss you. Sue me.” You stick your tongue out at him. How he wishes to wipe that shit eating grin from your face.

“I’m suing you for that with a lifetime with me,” he says earnestly. You look at him fondly, “Jack Abbot, I didn’t know you get sappier the further we departed.” He puts his phone on the nightstand, angled so that you can still see his face, pulling the comforter up to his chin.

“I miss you so much, baby,” you blegh at the nickname, phone now back at your desk, “You sounded like a teenager,” he chuckles, he looks at you putting on your glasses, the light from the laptop reflecting in your eyes. “Talk to me,” you say.

So he did, he tells you about the shift he’s had today while you’re typing away at your laptop, looking at him every once in a while. He tells you about the boy who went berserk, hands flailing around, making Langdon drop the scalpel in his hand, dropping it to his prosthetic feet, panicking the entire trauma room, only for him to be unfazed. You laugh fondly at him, eyes twinkling with the same mesmerization you only hold for him (and for a crazy innovation that you find interesting).

He’s holding his yawn, but you know better. His eyes are glassy now. “Go to sleep. It’s late,” you say, he obeys you, taking off his glasses, relaxing into his pillow. “Don’t turn it off,” he says softly, eyes fluttering. You shake your head, “I’ll turn it off when you snore,” he huffs, “what? You snore.” you start, “But I need to hear you snore to sleep nowadays.” you explain.

His eyes are half-closed now, and he finds himself relaxed, hearing your breaths on the other side, keys clacking softly. “I love you,” he whispers to you. You stopped your typing, now looking at his eyes fully closed, “I love you too, goodnight, hon.”

For the next 7 days, he finds himself loving FaceTime, finds himself looking forward to FaceTime with you every night before he sleeps, and like other technology he once frowned at, he finally gets it.

| two

Jack is not a man of pop culture, he never understands the appeal of it. He rarely watches movies by himself, let alone pop culture movies or series. But you loved it to no end, you often ask him to watch those movies with you, ranging from sci-fi, fantasy, to superhero movies, whatever you want to watch, he’ll gladly oblige. He’ll pretend to be uninterested in your series whenever you watch it alone with him moving around the house. But you always find him standing behind the couch, watching the show intently, before finding him beside you, starting to give commentary on what's happening on the screen. And slowly, he finds himself enjoying watching those movies and series with you.

He loves watching you explain to him about the complexity of a character you like, loves hearing you badmouth a character you hate, and when you both find yourself watching sci-fi movies with futuristic technologies, he finds himself falling a little harder, hearing you explain to him the concept of the technology in said movies. “I don’t understand a single word you just said. Is this what you feel when I explain procedures to you?” he once asked you. You nodded, “Yeah, pretty much, but you’re hot when you’re explaining it. So I love it,” you said to him. And he agreed with you on that one.

Jack was covering the night shift tonight, it’s Halloween night, so he’ll find himself drowning in patients in costumes, no doubt. You had dropped him off earlier with a kiss on his cheek and a promise to pick him up later in the morning.

He’s talking to a ten-year-old kid in a yellow uniform, one he recognized as a Star Trek uniform when Ellis enters the room, “I got this, Abbot. You go ahead,” she says to Jack. Jack nods at her before saying, “You’re in good hands, kiddo.” Ellis looks at the boy in the bed, saying, “Well, what do we got here, Mr.Spock?” The kid was about to protest when Jack reactively says, “He’s Captain Kirk,” Earning a look from Ellis. He fistbumps the kid and leaves the room, fully trusting Ellis.

The rest of the shift is pretty slow, filled with kids getting food poisoning from the candy being given away, typical drunks, and some OD patients from parties. It was now one hour left in the shift, everyone was either hanging by the hub or just doing a frequent check for their patients. He was charting when Shen and Ellis approached him.

“Hey, Abbot. How’s the stormtrooper guy?” Shen asks him. He’s currently scanning through his memory, not finding a single stormtrooper costume in his recollection of the night. “We haven’t got a stormtrooper,” He frowns at Shen. Shen points his fingers over Jack’s shoulder, he turns his head – now looking at a man in a Mandalorian get-up, his helmet on the chair beside the bed – he turns back to Shen, “That’s a fucking Mandalorian, good to go in a few hour, ” Shen doesn’t say anything, opting to look at Ellis beside him. Who, for the second time that night, gave him a weird look. He’s been doing medical procedures that might be crazy ballsy for some, but never once he received that look from either Ellis or Shen until tonight.

“Okay, you know what, what the hell?” Ellis starts, “You corrected me earlier cause of a fuckin costume, and now, what the hell, man?” Jack shrugs, “What?” Shen points his finger at Jack, his voice accusatory, “Dude, you only ever turn your TV on for penguins games, now you tellin me you know fuckin sci-fi shit, now.?” Jack looks at him, “Wrong, I turn on my TV for the Steelers and Pirates too,” he says casually.

“Ugh, you know what we meant. Since when do you even watch that stuff?” Ellis says exasperatedly. Jack crossed his arms, shrugging, “My wife likes that stuff.” He says that so casually that Shen and Ellis might combust at his tone.

Shen laughs at him, “Holy shit, you’re whipped.” Jack smirks, “Yeah, I wouldn’t get married if I weren’t.” his hands find the ring in his necklace now. Fully smiling at Shen and Ellis, both of whom groan at him. “Ughhh, please be a simp somewhere else, not here.” Shen rolls his eyes.

Shen and Ellis walked away from him before he muttered, “God forbid a man is in love,” smiling to himself with the thought of you in his mind.

So slowly but surely, he understands the appeal now that he can see how your eyes lit up every time he referenced something. And like any other form of entertainment, he once cringed at, he finds himself enjoying and looking forward to the next time he has you curled up beside him, whispering theories he doesn’t get. Anything that makes you happy, it seems, makes him happy.

| three

Jack is a man of many talents, but not of many coffee orders. He takes his coffee as plain as possible. Black, no sugar. He never ordered his coffee sweet, not before he met you at least. For him, coffee should be something simple, he doesn’t need extra flavor in his coffee, he just needs it to fuel him through the day.

But you? You take your coffee as abstractly as possible. Though you do enjoy a plain black coffee once in a while, once the occasion calls for it, you actually prefer some flavor and sweetness in your coffee.

“black , no sugar, please. What about you hon,” he asked you, ordering for himself to barista; he never ordered for you since he knew he would botch the task. “Uh, let me think. I ordered the almond latte yesterday. I think I’ll go with hazelnut today, please. Thank you,” you answered to the barista, who punched in some buttons. Jack tapped his card to pay before moving over to wait for your order.

“Here, try this. You’ll like it.” you said to him. He shakes his head, refusing to take a sip. “Just try it, I swear” he takes the coffee in his hand, sipping on it. Fuck. that’s good. He thought. He bites the inside of his cheek to hold back a smile, not wanting to give you the victory. You pointed at him victoriously, “aha! You like it don’t you.” he shrugged, giving you back your coffee. “Eh, black’s still better.” though you know that he actually enjoys it.

But now that it’s been a while since the two of you went on cafe dates, he finds himself missing your random coffee order. So when the opportunity comes for him to drink your coffee order, he’ll take it.

“Hey, I’m ordering coffee, your usual?” Robby asks him, typing in his notes app to list everyone’s coffee order. Jack thinks for a second before answering him, “I’ll have a vanilla latte,” earning a raised eyebrow from Robby, who types it down without question before moving over to the others. Making a mental note to ask him later on.

It was a while later when the order came in, and everyone stopped by the break room to take their coffee. Jack is greeted by Langdon and Robby inside, both holding their coffee. Langdon doesn’t even think before handing him a black coffee, one that Jack doesn’t take. “It’s not mine,” he says, walking over to the table, reading the labels in each cup before settling on his order.

He holds it in a way that the label is visible to Langdon, who looks at him weirdly, “a Latte? Really? Vanilla latte?” Langdon asks him. Jack sips on his coffee before entertaining Langdon, “What? It’s good,” he answers. Langdon, who looks at Robby as if saying, dude, you seeing what I’m seeing???. Robby teases him, “Yeah, I don’t think that cuts it, brother.”

Jack huffs, sipping some more, “Fine. My wife takes her coffee like this.” he wants to look annoyed, but he can’t bear himself to do it; not when he just drank your coffee order, being reminded of you seems to have that effect on him.

“I’m a married man myself, but I never even order my coffee her way, man.” Langdon laughs at him. Robby smiles at him, putting his hand on Langdon’s shoulder, slightly leaning toward him. “I believe we are seeing Jack in love. What is it? To be loved is to be changed?” says Robby to Langdon’s who laughed at Jack.

Jack wants to retort something smart as usual, but somehow, he doesn’t want to. So he opted to just smile at both of them before taking his coffee outside the break room.

Because yeah, he might realize himself that his preference is changing, but what Robby said earlier was right, that he’s in love and that he’s loved – and he wouldn’t change that for the world.

But the next time the two of you went on your cafe dates, he would still order his usual, not because he wanted it, he ordered it because for him, nothing beats the mischievous smile you gave him after asking him to try your coffee. (and it doesn’t help that he liked seeing your lip product mark on his cup after you drink his coffee, and that both of you just did an indirect kiss) Though that was a thought he’ll keep to himself forever.

“How do I look?” you walk into the living room, twirling your body to Jack, who is sitting on the leather couch, now looking at you. You were sporting a Penguins jersey with a big 87 on the back, CROSBY above it. You were offered a sideline ticket to the Penguins game by your friend, which you excitedly accepted. So here you are, getting ready for the game with the Penguins heartbreaker’s Jersey on you.

Jack smiles at you. “Well, you look like you’re drowning in it, Mrs. Crosby,” he says coyly. You frown at him, walking over to him, “Jack, as much as I love Sid, I actually prefer being Mrs. Abbot,” you say to him, leaning down to give his lips a peck.

Jack puts his hand on your waist, capturing your lips on his. Pulling back, Jack let out a breathy chuckle, “Yeah? Say that after you see him, hon. You know I’m straight, but he’s hot as hell,” he jested. You laugh at his confession, about to say something when you hear a honk in the driveway. Jack walks you over to the door, opening it for you.

Jack pecks your lips once again before saying, “Stay safe, okay? I love you.” You smile, kissing his cheek, “I will. Love you too.”

It’s almost midnight when you come home, and the Penguins won, so it was a victorious night out in your books. You open the door slowly, not wanting to disturb Jack, who should be sleeping by now. You can hear the TV still turned on in the living room, so you decide to check it out.

Jack was sprawled over the couch, the light from the TV illuminating his figure, his prosthetic placed by the table, as much as you want to move him to the bed because you know that his back would scream at him tomorrow if he spends as much as an extra hour on the couch, he looked so cozy you can’t help yourself, so you lay down on the couch, joining him.

Your movement startles him at first, but upon seeing that it’s you, he relaxes, “Hey,” he whispers into your ear. “It was fun, wished it was with you though,” you confess to him. His arms now caging you, drawing soft circles on your back. It was quiet before you started.

“Jack,” you whisper softly, he hums, acknowledging you. You continue, “I think you broke me.” Jack stops his hand, pulling his head just enough to look you in the eyes. “What do you mean?” you snuggle further into his chest before saying, “I don’t find Sid attractive anymore.”

“Huh?” Jack asks, You sit up, placing your hand on his stomach. “Imagine, I was that close with him, I could practically see his pores, Jack.-” You put your hand in front of you, in an attempt to emphasize just how close you are to The Sidney Crosby earlier. “But all I can think about is eh, he’s okay. Jack’s way more attractive.” Jack’s entire body warms at hearing your confession.

He’s about to comment before you put your hand that was previously on his stomach to his mouth, not allowing him to speak, “No, you don’t get it. It's THE SIDNEY CROSBY, Jack. You know how much I love him, right?” he nods against your hand, now smiling as wide as ever. You lift your hand from his mouth, continuing your explanation. “I was supposed to be entranced by him, Jack. But I kept on thinking that he had nothing against you.”

“You’re putting me on a damn high pedestal now, hon,” he says jokingly, though his eyes shows nothing but adoration looking at you.

You lie back on the couch again, cuddling him. “Nah. I think I just love you too much that I find any other guy to just be….mid.”

He chuckles, resuming his hand motion on your back. “I love you too, so much.” You don’t say anything after that, you're both snuggling, the TV playing softly as background noise – the intimacy of this moment has nothing against anything else.

You both stayed that way for a while until you mentioned to him that you needed to move before you both fell asleep on the couch, so you walked over to the bedroom, Jack behind you, searching for the remote to turn it off, seeing the highlight of the day on the screen, with crosby’s goal earlier. He smirks proudly at the TV, remembering your earlier admission.

Sid 0 - 1 Jack.

#jack abbot x reader #the pitt #jack abbot

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covenofagatha · 3 days ago

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Summer Starts With You

Agnes x reader

You're bored at your graduation party until your mom's best friend, Agnes, shows up.

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: agnes has a penis, blowjob, sex, age gap, bratty reader, choking, handjob

“So, graduation…what’s next?”

It’s the only question you’ve been asked for the last few months. It’s gotten boring—you’ve lately started switching it up. Sometimes, you’ll tell them that you have absolutely no clue. Other times, you’ll tell them you’re thinking of going on to get your doctorate.

God forbid they give you more than two seconds after graduating college to figure out the rest of your life. All you know is that you want to have a free summer so you can do whatever you want, whenever you want, with no responsibilities or school or work to worry about. You’re owed at least that.

You plaster a smile onto your face. “I’m going to probably take a small break, maybe a gap year, and then apply for my Masters.”

A lie, or maybe not. You don't know yet.

It’s a distant relative you’re talking to, a cousin a few times removed that you haven’t seen in a few years, but for your grad party, your parents pulled out all the stops and invited as many people as they could. It’s a party at their house and guests have been trickling in and out for the past two hours.

Only one more hour of The Question to go.

“Don’t take too long in between,” your cousin advises solemnly. “Super hard to get that motivation back.”

You nod. “That’s what everyone says.”

There’s people hovering in your periphery, just waiting to talk to you. You told your parents you didn’t want a big thing but of course, this was more about showing their daughter off to everyone rather than actually giving you the small get-together you actually asked for.

All you want is a break.

Or someone interesting for you to talk to.

As if on cue, the front door opens and in walks Agnes O’Connor, one of your mom’s best friends. She’s a detective and you’ve had the hots for her ever since she pulled you over your sophomore year of college for not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign. She had ultimately turned you down after you had flirted for a bit—you could tell she was thinking about it, at least—but she didn’t give you a ticket. A good sign.

That's actually how she met your mom, after you had exaggerated just a little when you told your parents about getting pulled over and your mom had flown into the station in a rage, hellbent on finding the woman who had “accosted” her darling daughter.

Agnes had explained what really happened—although she left out the flirting; another good sign—and for some reason, that’s what made them click.

You watch her look around the crowd of people and you lock eyes. She raises a brow and you wink.

Just because she turned you down the first time, and the second time, and all the other times you’ve tried, doesn’t mean you stop. She’s fun to tease, even if you know it’s probably not going anywhere ever. Plus you see the heat in her eyes, the way she checks you out when she thinks you're not looking. She wants you just as bad, she just has a harder time admitting it to herself.

Agnes walks over into the kitchen where platters of subs, chicken nuggets, and fruit are laid out and she picks up a plate. Her long, dark hair is tied back and she’s wearing a royal-blue checkered shirt with navy pants and black boots. Your vision is glued to the subtle swaying of her ass in those pants that fit her just right and someone says something to you that you completely miss.

She grabs a sandwich and spoons some watermelon onto her plate and then takes a beer. You feel hope rising in your chest that she’ll come over and save you, but much to your chagrin, she walks over and finds your mom. They strike up a conversation and you’re left having to answer The Question again.

This time, you tell them that you’re going to try to find a job and the couple says, “Good luck.” You know what that means—you’re not finding a good job right out of college and you better get your ass back in school.

All of your friends are outside, actually having a good time. You long to join them, but your mom will kill you if you disappear into the backyard, or anywhere. You’ve thought about making a break to your room a few times, but she always stares you down like she knows exactly what you’re thinking and she’s just daring you to try.

But then Agnes touches your mom’s arm, whispers something in her ear, and walks right past you into the sitting room at the front of the house. It has doors and she’ll be the only one in there.

“Will you excuse me?” you say to the person you’re talking to now—a neighbor of your parents, maybe a friend of your dad’s—and avoid your mom’s eye contact as you follow Agnes into the room.

Just as you suspected, it’s only Agnes, and she’s sitting on the gray couch against the wall, right in the middle. Her legs are spread just a bit, the plate of half-eaten food on the end table next to her, and her beer in hand.

“Thanks for coming, Agnes,” you say as you close the door behind you. She smirks and rakes her eyes over the crop top and definitely too-short jean shorts you’re wearing. “Were you expecting someone in here?”

She gives you a crooked, wry smile. “Just wanted a little break from the festivities.” It’s not a definitive “yes, I wanted you to follow me,” but you can read between the lines.

You grin and cross the room in a few long strides and slide right onto her lap sideways, so your thighs are perpendicular on top of hers. You steal the beer bottle and take a swig.

“Congrats, kid,” she says in a gruff voice and she shifts beneath you. Her lashes are long and you’re so close you think you could count them. Her blue eyes are deep and full of something. You can see her pupils expanding.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing after graduation?” you simper and hand the bottle back to her.

She huffs and takes it and ignores your fingers blatantly brushing against hers. “Figured you’ve been drowning in that question.”

You shrug with a coy smile playing on your lips. “I’d happily answer anything you ask.”

Agnes shifts again and you bite your lip. There’s a hardness—or at least a semi-hardness—in her pants that’s now pressing into your thigh.

Her cock.

The outline has been visible before and it makes your head foggy and your cunt wet. You’re not sure when the last time you came not thinking about it was.

You push your leg further into her cock and she grimaces, but she doesn’t pull away. You can hear people outside talking and you can’t remember if you locked the door. You’re friendly with Agnes in front of others—albeit, not sit-on-her-lap friendly—so it wouldn’t be super damning if someone were to walk in right now, but you don’t want to be interrupted.

“Did you get me a gift?” you ask teasingly, but there’s no mistaking the heat in your voice.

Agnes takes a deep breath and she takes a sip of beer before resting the bottle on your thigh. It’s cold and your chest flares. “There’s a card on the gift table. Wrote in it that you shouldn't roll through stop signs.”

“If it gets you to pull me over again, Agnes, I’d do anything,” you say sweetly and she rolls her eyes fondly. As much as she puts up a front, you know she secretly likes you like this. “But I know something else you can give me.” You wink, just so she knows exactly what you mean, and she scoffs.

“I’m best friends with your mom and you’re like twenty-five years younger than me,” Agnes points out, as if you can’t feel her erection right now.

“So?” you breathe, pushing your leg harder against her cock and she presses the bottle harder into your leg with a glare. “Don’t act like that doesn’t turn you on. I can feel you.”

Agnes grits her teeth. The lines on her face are hardened and you want to drag your tongue over them. “You need to go back out to your party, kid. Your parents will be mad.” But her resolve is weakening, you can tell.

“Please, Agnes?” you say, giving her puppy-dog eyes. She refuses to look at you so you get out of her lap and sink to your knees on the white carpet in front of her.

Now she does look at you and there’s no denying the heat in her pupils. You put your hands on her knees and drag them up her thighs until your right hand is right below her bulge.

“Let me give you what you need,” you plead, taking a chance and laying your fingers over her length. She jolts and bites her lip.

It’s her, in the end, that unbuckles her belt and unzips her pants for you. She doesn’t take them off, just opens them enough for you to eagerly reach into her boxers and wrap your fingers around her.

She groans quietly when you pull her out and you’re surprised she made it this long without fucking you if this is the reaction you have on her. Her cock is standing tall in the air, rigid and leaking, and blue veins stretch from the base to right under the head.

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper and it’s echoed by her when you start slowly moving your hand up and down her length. You collect the liquid beading at the top to reduce the friction and it works because Agnes’s head drops back onto the couch and her eyes flutter shut from just your hand.

“I shouldn’t fucking want you this bad,” she spits out, almost as if she’s angry at herself for it, and you chuckle sweetly before rubbing your thumb over her tip. Her hips jerk up. “Your mom would kill me.”

It should be a turnoff, her mentioning your mother, but something about the forbidden nature of this—and Agnes bringing it up as you're stroking her cock—makes your cunt ache even more.

“What would she say if she knew you fucked her daughter?” you ask and twist your wrist so she can’t answer the question. She clamps a hand over her mouth because if she makes a loud sound, your mom will know.

“I don’t fucking care right now,” Agnes growls and a thrill runs through you. She’s leaking copious amounts of precum right now and it’s getting all over your hand and the only thing you want to do is taste her.

She watches your mouth get closer to her cock and her breathing becomes short and shallow like she can’t actually believe what you’re about to do.

Your tongue darts out to flick the head and Agnes gasps. You smile up at her and then enclose your lips around her before sucking gently. She moans and it’s muffled by her hand as she struggles to keep eye contact.

Her hand buries into your hair when you start to move further down her cock, always bobbing back up to give yourself a break and some time, and her fingers tighten but never push. She’s being gentle, even though you can feel the restraint in her thighs.

One of your hands strokes the bottom half of her cock while you mouth at the top part, dragging your tongue filthily over the tip and tasting the salty precum. You moan softly around her and she screws her eyes shut at the vibrations.

Agnes is having a really hard time staying quiet and you’re loving every second of it. You almost want her to make noise just so you can know how much you’re affecting her, but her cock is twitching and pulsing and throbbing on your tongue, so you have a good idea.

There’s an ocean between your legs and you’re a bit worried you’ve soaked through your underwear and shorts. Your entire body is humming with energy and you’ve never felt so alive, even when you take Agnes’s cock all the way down and you feel it hitting the back of your throat. You gag and spit flies out of your mouth and gets on your chin and the bottom of her flannel, but she just whimpers lowly and tugs at your hair as encouragement.

Her hips thrust up, pushing her cock over and over into your mouth, and more precum is dripping onto your tongue, which you rub on the underside of her length. Her legs spasm and she sharply inhales.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” she pants and you chuckle as much as you can with her cock in your mouth, which only makes her whine more. You lose yourself in sucking on her, closing your eyes and getting more enthusiastic with your movements, and you think she’s about to come very soon.

You open your eyes and look up at her through your hooded lashes and she groans at how you look with her dick in your mouth. The only sounds in the room are her quiet but heavy breathing and your slurping sounds and you wish you were able to hear her falling apart for you properly.

Maybe next time.

Your throat is raw but your clit is aching and if you don’t get some relief soon, you’re not sure what will happen. And you have to go back out to your party after this.

That’s enough for you to pull back with a pop and it takes a moment for the strands connecting your swollen lips to her wet and messy cock to break. You stand up while she watches you, too dazed out with pleasure to ask what you’re doing, and shimmy off your shorts.

Agnes’s cock lurches forward and spills precum on her shirt when she sees the purple underwear you have on underneath. Can she see how wet they are from there? You can certainly feel it.

“Do you have—”

She knows what you’re asking for before you finish and she reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a gold, square packet.

You smirk. “Do you always come over to my house with a condom or were you just feeling lucky today?”

Agnes doesn’t answer; she just tears the wrapper open with her teeth and rolls it onto her cock. You ache for her, you long to feel her inside you, so the moment the condom is on, you’re straddling her lap again, only this time, facing her.

Her tongue pokes between her teeth as she reaches down between you to pull your panties to the side and then position her cock at your entrance. Even the slight pressure brings you pleasure and you can only imagine what she’ll feel like inside you.

You move down slowly, pausing after the tip slides inside to adjust to the girth—she’s big, bigger than you realized even when you were sucking her off. Her head drops back again and your forehead falls onto her shoulder, your mouth open-breathing against her flannel as you take her in. Your walls stretch to accommodate and it burns in the best way and you whimper when you feel her finally all inside you. There’s a feeling you’ve never felt before in your stomach, almost like you have to pee, because of how deep her cock is.

“Fuck, Agnes,” you whine into her shirt and her hands grip onto your hips to hold you still. You can feel her pulsing and she’s holding her breath like she’s afraid to let too much out.

When you pull back, you see her bottom lip is sucked in between her teeth and the vein in her forehead is throbbing. There’s a pink tint to her cheeks. She’s never looked so hot to you right now.

“You feel so fucking good,” she groans, voice rough as gravel, and it sends tingles down your spine; you unconsciously clench around her. “Your cunt is so tight. So fucking wet.”

You nod, not able to put how good she’s filling you into words, and you need to start moving.

Her fingers dig into your hips when you lift yourself back up, putting your hands around her shoulders to stabilize yourself, and you feel her cock drag against every groove inside your pussy. It’s delicious and mind-blowing and this is the best thing you ever could’ve gotten.

What are your plans for after graduation?

Agnes.

Both of your mouths drop open when you start to slide back down her cock and your warm, wet walls are once again wrapped around her.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Agnes says sternly, but thrusts her hips up so she hits even deeper inside you and that’s the message you choose to listen to.

She gasps when you grind on her and then swirl your hips around and it feels like her cock is swelling inside you.

Her nails scrape against your skin and you stop going slow because both of you need this so insanely much right now. You start riding her, fast and hard and determined, and she bucks up to meet you each time.

It’s getting harder to stay silent and you reach down to tug at her left hand and pull it up and around your throat. Her eyes flash, her breath catches, and her rhythm stutters and you’re worried for a second that you’ve gone too far, but her fingers tighten around you, not too much, but just enough to make your thoughts blur.

The light pressure makes your gasps more breathy, but they’re definitely quieter and Agnes’s lip starts to bleed from how hard she’s biting it while watching you move up and down. You arch your back on the way up and her hand still on your hip claws at you.

Your walls are clenching furiously, spasming and convulsing around her, and you can feel her pulsing inside of you, too.

“Agnes, fuck,” you moan and her fingers on your throat tighten, making your vision swim for a second. It only makes you wetter and you can feel the slickness on your inner thighs from the mess leaking out of you. Her pants are going to be soaked.

She nods frantically, cheeks a bright red now, and you never break eye contact. It’s strangely intimate, but you know how long both of you have been waiting for this.

If only she had let you blow her for rolling through the stop sign the first time you met her. It could’ve been two years of her cock inside you.

But in some ways, the wait just makes it better.

The pressure in your stomach is building and it’s getting harder to keep moving up and down on her and she’s feeling it too, based on how sloppy her thrusts have become. Your breaths intermingle and your forehead is resting against hers, sweat mixing, and you’re so fucking close.

“Agnes, I’m going to—fuck—I’m gonna come,” you pant out and she laughs breathlessly and the hand on your hip moves down and effortlessly finds your clit. You clench around her with a steel grip and you crash your lips against hers without even thinking so you don’t moan loudly. She groans into your mouth and then her tongue is sliding against your tongue and you momentarily forget that you’re supposed to be riding her.

Her hand tightens around your throat and you keen into her mouth, clenching, and she keeps rubbing your clit and you’re so close, you’re so fucking close—

“Come for me,” she growls and nips at your bottom lip, drives her hips up, squeezes your throat, and presses hard on your clit.

That’s all it takes and she swallows all of your moans even though a few escape as you fall apart for her, but you can’t find it in yourself to care that someone outside this room at the party—your party—could come barging in and see you coming all over your mom’s best friend’s cock. Your mind goes blank and your vision goes white and for a moment, the only thing that exists is Agnes.

She hasn’t come yet and she takes her hand away from your throat, letting air finally rush in unrestricted, and paws at your hips with a desperate look in her eyes.

“Your mouth,” she whispers like she’s hurt and you quickly get off her, the emptiness gaping in your cunt now, and sink to your knees.

Agnes rips off the condom and her cock is weeping precum and it looks angry and painful with how red it is.

She grabs your hair preemptively before you envelope her tip with your mouth and hollow out your cheeks. She lets out a strangled groan, both of you apparently past the point of caring if you get caught, and she throbs on your tongue.

Agnes pumps her cock in hard and fast and you gag but relax your throat so she can use you however she wants. Her face contorts with pleasure; she’s close, you can see and feel it.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come in your mouth,” she gasps and you nod eagerly, sucking and licking and swallowing around her thick length that’s making your jaw ache. You feel tears gather in your eyes and you’re not sure how you’re going to hide your ruined state from the partygoers. “And you’re going to be a good girl and swallow all of it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you garble around her cock.

Her hips jerk and the vein in her forehead throbs furiously and then she thrusts up one last time, stiffens, and lets out a slow groan, idly moving her hips while she pumps a load of cum into your mouth. It’s salty and hot and you make a muffled sound as more strands keep shooting out.

You swallow all of it the best you can and Agnes nods approvingly. You can feel some of it leaking out of the corners of your mouth and you hope that none of it is dripping onto your shirt.

“Fuck, you’re good,” Agnes says despite herself and you hold her cock in your mouth as she softens and then she slides out, fully limp. The praise settles warmly in your cunt.

She leans forward to wipe off the excess cum and holds out her finger to you. You suck her off it and she bites her lip at the feeling. Her spent cock gives a little twitch and you wonder if you’ll get her back in here before the party is over.

You’re willing to bet that you will.

Agnes stands up and you scooch back on your knees to give her some space. She tucks her cock back into her boxers and zips her pants before fixing the buckle. Her booted foot slides your jean shorts back over to you and she holds out a hand.

You reluctantly take it and she pulls you up. You fix your underwear and then put your shorts back on while evaluating Agnes’s pants. There’s a few wet spots, but someone would have to look closely to see them with how dark the fabric is.

Agnes looks at you and barks out a laugh. “You look well-fucked.”

And of course, you smirk.

When you both rejoin the party, no one notices that you came out of the sitting room together, looking significantly more disheveled than before. Thankfully, there was an incident with the dessert that your mom had to take care of, so she didn’t have the chance to send out a search group for you.

Agnes crumples her plate up and slips the condom in between the folds and throws it away, all physical evidence of your tryst gone.

You’re pulled into a group of relatives, who are all so excited for you and can’t wait to hear about what you’re going to do next.

You feel someone’s eyes on you and you look across the room to find Agnes staring at you. You give her a wicked smirk and she raises her bottle of beer.

A silent toast.

It’s going to be a fun summer.

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#agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x you #agatha smut #covsfics #agnes x reader #agnes o'connor

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reiderwriter · 3 days ago

Text

Rumours

A/N: I'm back! I started this one literally in February and then got so distracted by my job I couldn't finish it. Employment is a curse.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: Spencer is displeased about some rumours he hears about you around the office. Only the way he goes about confronting them is clumsy and downright maddening.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, misogyny, misunderstanding, Spencer is a dick for a while, violence (breaking glass etc.), penetrative sex, oral (F receiving), slapping, choking, anal fingering, general BDSM content, Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, breeding kink (tee hee), cock warming, almost exhibitionism?

Masterlist

It wasn't as if you'd made it your life's mission to be the most rumoured about person on your team at the FBI, but you weren't exactly doing anything to correct people's perception of you. Spencer may have been to jail, Emily may have faked her own death, and Luke's past was a big, fat question mark, but nothing caught the attention of the pencil pushers in the office than the string of broken hearts you'd ostensibly left behind you at Quantico.

At one point in time, you'd even promised yourself you wouldn't date anymore law enforcement officers, lawyers, detention officers or anyone even remotely adjacent, but life was short, and you had a decent appetite for a men with guns and badges. It was very convenient to say the least.

Convenient for everyone apart from Spencer Reid.

The FBI was a boys club, sure, but with all the women on your team, the most ridicule you got after a drunken escapade with a distant coworker was a few teasing remarks. The first few months on the team, you'd been able to date, fuck, and play freely without any judgement. And then Spencer Reid had come back from leave, and you suddenly began to doubt your bachelorette lifestyle.

Because fuck was he frustratingly territorial.

It wasn't as though he was interested in you. He was 13 years your senior, fresh from an FBI mandated leave of absence and false imprisonment, and absolutely used to being coddled by every member of the team. If the BAU was a family, he was absolutely the youngest child who'd returned home to find his parents had adopted a dog while he'd been gone to replace him with.

You were the dog.

Spencer took issue with your attitude, your work ethic, your professionally, and with the sheer amount of times he'd been approached by men asking for your number, home address, or if the rumors were true.

He was used to casual oversharing, of course, he'd worked with Penelope long enough to not be phased by much sexual talk. But everytime he stepped into the office - or specifically the offices male bathrooms - he'd end up stuck in the same conversational loop.

“I heard she can do this thing with her tongue…”

“... definitely likes it rough…”

“I could show her a good time…”

“....I'm definitely hitting that by the end of the year…”

He stewed in it for a few weeks before the cracks fully formed in his exterior professionalism. When he heard about how you'd definitely fucked every male member of your team, though, that's when he lost it.

“You need to be more careful,” he said one day, pulling you aside between cases in a rare private conversation.

“Oh, yeah, in the field I can definitely rush in-”

“No. You need to be more careful with men.”

The look on his face sent a flare of shame through your chest, as you found yourself suddenly out of your depth. You didn't know this man well enough for him to be giving you advice. Your body set to full alert, and your fight or flight was in full go, as he cornered you and continued.

“They talk about you in the bathrooms, and I would not like to repeat what they say, but-”

“I don't care what they say.”

“You should.”

You frowned again, as he continued, completely oblivious to your growing anger.

“You should, because now it's reflecting badly on the team, and-”

“The team? I'm sorry what had the team got to do with this?”

To his credit, Spencer at least managed to look uncomfortable after that. He was set on reprimanding you, fine, but you'd make sure he wouldn't try to get so personal again.

“They're saying that you've slept with a number of coworkers-”

“Why should I care if-”

“Including me.”

You managed a half laugh in his face as his frown deepened.

“Oh so this isn't about my reputation, it's about yours. I should be safer with men because I'm reflecting poorly on our golden boy?”

“That's not what I'm-”

“Don't worry, Spencer. I'm safe enough.”

You made sure to push past him as you walked away, and he'd not been quiet about his dislike of you ever since.

Every man on a case you interacted with got you a disapproving glare, a slight turned down lip, a questioning glance. It was like you were being watched constantly, and it felt horrendous.

It was almost worse when the knowing looks he sent you were spot on in their assumptions. If you spoke to a man you had been with, hooked up with, been on a date with, even simply flirted with for a while, you felt his eyes pricking you.

His gaze knew everything it needed to know, almost as if he'd been in the room watching you submit your body for pleasure.

You thought it would be better on cases, that he'd be focused on other things and not worry as much, but when your first case post-argument landed, it landed you uncomfortably close to your childhood home, and included a face from your past you'd hoped not to see again.

Having an ex boyfriend in the police department in the middle of nowhere Washington was helpful for the case, but on a personal level it sucked.

You managed five minutes of personal conversation before you felt his eyes on you.

“Beautiful, you're not paying attention to me anymore. And here I thought fate had sent you back into my life as a little gift for a job well done,” your ex had said, ducking in close to you at your makeshift desk but locking eyes with an approaching Spencer as he spoke.

“Y/N, can I have a word?” he asked, though his jaw was set, and his tone insistent.

“Professionally or privately?”

“Y/N,” he warned, his tone a bit lower as you rolled your eyes and stood, following him to a quiet interrogation room quickly.

“What's wrong with you this time?” you demand as soon as he has the door closed. “Panties in a twist?”

“We are on a case, Y/N. Please at least pretend to be a professional.”

“What? What am I doing that is so wrong?”

He fisted a hand in his hair quickly, closing his eyes as if it would drown out your arrogant tone.

“You can't be serious, Y/N, he was practically fucking you with his eyes in the middle of the precinct-”

“And that's a behaviour he needs to change, not me. What. Did. I. Do. Wrong?”

“What? What, you expect me to sit around here and wait for him to ask you if you can still do that thing with your tongue that makes him cum instantly? Want me to wait around for him to ask you if you're still as flexible as you were give years ago, while we have work to do?” He demanded, stepping so close you had to back up against the wall to avoid colliding with his incoming body.

“I bet you'd love to hear just about everything I can do Spencer, but if you're going to act like a jealous ass, maybe you should take a breather.”

“Jealous? You think I'm jealous?” he chuckled slightly, raising a hand slowly and pushing against the wall as he stepped, somehow, closet to you again.

“You're so obsessed with my personal life that-”

“Your personal life is not so personal when I have people asking me if I've also fucked you on a weekly basis-”

“You're being cruel. My sex life is none of your business, Spencer.”

“That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you. I'm glad we finally agree.”

He was so close you could practically taste his breath, and while your mind raged at his thoughtless words, your body wanted his to press his against it and say all of that one more time with his hand wrapped around your throat this time.

“Jackass,” you said, pushing against his chest and storming out of the room quickly, before you could make any other mistakes.

Part of you wanted to stick it to Spencer after that. Part of you wanted to do something to start an even bigger rumor, something to piss him off more, something that would get him angry and bring him closer to you somehow.

Another part aggravatingly agreed with him. Your behaviour, while nowhere near as promiscuous as half of the male staff, was judged twice as hard as anyone else's. You enjoyed sex, and you wanted to unashamedly keep enjoying sex, but every man you ran into recently had that look about them. Half judgement, half possession, like they were looking at goods to consume rather than a coworker. You weren't obtuse, but you'd allowed yourself to ignore it until Spencer made you face it, which only made you resent him more.

You stopped going on dates, stopped entertaining the men in the office when they flirted with you. You put your head down, and you worked, and it frustrated you to no end.

You ended up snappy in the office, short with every single coworker and not just Reid, who was also (inexplicably) short with you. You'd done what he'd asked, and he was still not satisfied.

Emily, sensing the tension, tried to ease the situation slightly, with a mandatory team dinner, volunteering Rossi for dinner duty.

“Welcome to Casa Del Rossi, keep your hands off the pasta until I serve it, and please do not ask about the wine unless you want to be talking about it all night.”

You felt slightly uncomfortable being forced to play happy families under the watchful eye of 5 profilers and an incredibly perceptive tech support girl, but you tried to be civil over dinner.

Until you couldn't be.

“So, Y/N, any dates recently?” Emily laughed over a sip of wine, genuinely curious about your sudden lack of suitors.

“No,” you said, locking eyes with Spencer, who rolled his eyes as he looked away.

“What, not even a single hinge match?” JJ added, and you suddenly regretted not telling any of your other coworkers the root of your tension with Reid, because they were happily digging your grave.

“Come on, we all love your stories, Y/N,” Penelope laughed, prodding you with a finger as you smiled feebly.

“No, not all of us do,” Spencer mumbled under his breath, still loud enough that the room fell silent.

“Relax, Doctor Reid, I'm not going to regale you with tales of my conquests.”

“Good, I get enough of that in the male bathrooms,” he said, standing up from the table and excusing himself.

You stared slack jawed at him as he walked away, simmering anger getting ready to explode. You stood as well, and followed him, aware of every set of eyes watching you intently as you searched for Spencer.

You found him in a spare room, following him in and closing the door behind you with a thud so he would know you were there.

“What the fuck is your problem, Spencer?”

“Oh, it was Doctor Reid earlier, but now we're friends, huh?” he said, not bothering to look at you as he picked up a book and sat in a chair at the edge of the room.

“You can't just disrespect me in front of the team like that, and… and what? Slink away to read?”

He looked up at you with an annoyed glance, and you almost lunged at him. You'd probably be able to gouge out an eye before he could react if you wanted.

“You know, when we first talked about this, I was seriously worried for you. The way those men talk about you-”

“How do they talk about me? What do they say about me specifically that's any worse than usual misogynistic bathroom talk, huh?”

You stepped closer, leaning over him and poking his chest. You wanted him to react, wanted him to get angry. You wanted a fight, not for him to walk away shaking his head in resignment.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes. I'm a big girl, tell me what's so bad that has you acting like such a spoiled brat.”

“Okay. Okay, fine.” Putting down the book, he looked up at you, locking eyes with you as he started.

“They talk about how well you take it. How much you love cock, and how if they got the chance they'd fill you up with so much cum you'd be leaking for days. Some of them even talk about using you as a human toilet.”

“They mostly talk about your body, about how flexible you are, about how flexible they'd force you to be, how-” he had to stop to look away, clear his throat and start again.

“Mostly they talk about your lips,” he said, finally risking a look down at them before dragging his eyes back up to your own.

“My lips?” you asked, mentally scolding yourself when you hear the breathy whisper you let out.

“They talk about your lips a lot. I'm sure you can imagine.”

You take a second to think about it, reeling at how close he was, how open he was being, how….

How turned on you were hearing these words fall from his mouth. Every sentence from his mouth felt like a confession.

“I don't believe them though,” he said finally.

“What?”

“I don't believe them. I don't believe you're as good as they say you are, as they're fantasising about you being.

Your mouth opened in shock, and the indignity of the accusation had your heart beating out of your chest.

“Say that again,” you demanded, forcing him to meet your eyes again.

“You're not that good, Y/N. I'm sure of it.”

Quickly, you snaked your arm up and around his neck, grabbing him and pulling him down to meet your lips. You'd hoped to take him by surprise, to enter his mouth as he lost himself in the feel of you pressed against him. You'd hoped for the upper hand, until you realized you'd played right into his.

He kissed back immediately, hotly, insistently. His hands roamed your body for any hold of you they could find, settling on your waist and your ass as he pushed you back into the wall you stood in front of.

Frustrated by his attitude, you pushed back, twisting your bodies around until you'd switched positions, nails digging into the tender skin at his collarbone. You wanted to grab him hard enough to draw blood, you wanted to permanently scar him to remind him how good this felt.

He growled into the kiss, and you momentarily lost focus. He swung you around again, hands pushing your shirt up and roughly grabbing your boobs as he bit down on your lower lip.

With a moan, you hiked a leg up around his hips, rolling into him as he pinned you to the wall.

Your final act of defiance was pushing him away with all your strength.

Taken aback, he stumbled once or twice before hitting a dresser behind him. It shook, and with the tremors, the lamp that had been sat on it fell to the floor with a crash.

You stared at him panting as your coworkers ran to you both, opening the door with a loud bang as they assessed the situation.

You kept your eyes on him as Emily scolded you both, putting the two of you on BAU time out.

You quickly left the party after that, apologising to Rossi and tucking your tail firmly between your legs as you retreated.

Desk duty for the next two weeks was exactly the punishment you were expecting from Emily. Honestly it was what you deserved. If you couldn't play nice together, you weren't allowed to play at all.

You sat at your desk, and Spencer sat at his, and you were happy and content to ignore him for as long as physically possible.

Unfortunately, your sudden voluntary celibacy must have been driving you insane, because you couldn't stop picturing his hands on your waist, his hot lips tracing down your neck, your hips pushed so close you could practically feel his cock begging to be inside you.

Imagining.

You were sure your staring was making the man uncomfortable, or at the very least frustrated. You saw the vein in his neck jump out when he noticed you looking at him, but it didn't help too much to dispel the sudden and aggravating attraction you felt towards him.

You wanted to be angrier. Every interaction you entered needing to be angry.

Instead you found yourself somewhat softening based purely on lust, and it was eating you up.

You were not a pushover, and contrary to popular office belief, neither were you desperate or easy. One kiss with a coworker shouldn't have you trailing after him like a forlorn love struck child.

Spencer was definitely avoiding you though.

At first, he justified it to himself as giving you space, an apology of sorts after you'd been so brash before.

Then he came clean to his own conscious and realized he was afraid of another confrontation. Afraid was perhaps the wrong word, eagerly anticipating might be better, though when he tried to explain it to Penelope it didn't come out right at all.

“It's like- Okay, so we're like water and potassium, right?”

“You've lost me lover boy, I do computers not sciency science.”

“Potassium and water are both stable enough on their own. They do their job well, they work nicely.”

“Potassium is in potatoes, ergo they are in French fries. They work superbly.”

“Yes, but when you put potassium in water it has a tendency to catch on fire and explode.”

Penelope still looked at him confused, unsure what kind of avoidance excuse he was crafting in his mind.

“I'm potassium. She's water,” he said again to no avail.

“I need to avoid her so I don't explode.”

“What makes you think you're going to explode? Just talk to her nicely. Avoid topics you think are going to be more… reactive?”

Spencer just solemnly nodded and went back to avoidance.

He realized quickly that the only thing he'd ever talked to you about outside of working hours was your sex life, and that made him feel like both a creep and a pervert and also like he needed to take a long cold shower before quitting his job and moving into a cabin somewhere in the woods. But he wasn't Gideon, so he just suffered through it, leaving rooms you entered and ending work related conversations as quickly as possible, before his mouth could move quicker than his brain.

After a week of being swiftly dodged, you had the chance finally to corner him and you took it.

Watching as Spencer stood to get himself another coffee from the break room, you stood, grabbed your own mug and quietly followed him. You prayed to God that the room would be empty, but were quickly forsaken by the door when you heard two make voices inside.

“So Y/N, huh?” an unfamiliar voice asked, tone polite but playful.

“I've heard some stories about that one,” he chuckled, and even the sound of it set your hair on edge.

“She's a very hard worker,” Spencer simply answered, as you heard him preparing his own coffee.

“She certainly makes working hard,” the man slapped his back, taking a sip of coffee.

“I heard you two have been going at it in the office. Strange foreplay, but she must be into rough stuff like that, isn't that right?”

You'd heard enough men talking about you in your life to be used to it, but a flush of anger still ran through you at the man's insinuations. You almost walked in to embarrass the man when Spencer spoke up.

“I don't like your tone,” he said calmly, and continued quickly when the man tried to joke again. “I have been to prison, you work in white collar, let's see which of us comes out of the kitchen in better shape when you're done speaking.”

“You're fucking insane.”

“You're what, 35? From the looks of it, your marriage is over because you keep playing with your ring uncomfortably, probably because you're cheating, but you feel just guilty enough about it to worry about your kids. They lied by the way, your not the world's no. 1 dad. Even if such metrics could be determined, you'd rank low on the list. Is it their babysitter or their teacher you're sleeping with? Or your wife's sister, perhaps?”

“You're crossing a line, Dr Reid, I don't know how-”

“Well, I'm glad you seem to understand boundaries well enough. There are lines you cross, and ones you respect, and if I hear anything at all unprofessional from you about my coworker again, I will use the last six months of my experiences to make life difficult for you.”

You walked in quickly, hearing the change in Spencer's tone from casual to something more threatening, more desperate. The other man had two fistfuls of Spencer's shirt, though you didn't doubt Spencer would easily be able to floor the man.

“Good afternoon,” you said quickly, just loud enough to be heard above the thick tension filling the room. “I believe you were just leaving, right?”

You looked to the unfamiliar man, and the shame burned his face as you forced him out of the room. As soon as he was gone, you walked over to Spencer, finished making his coffee as he stood silently next to you, eyes refusing to meet yours.

You put the hot drink in his hand, smoothed his shirt out and whispered a quick thank you before retreating back to your desk.

After that, you didn't get closer.

You thought you would. You tried to follow him to the kitchen to actually have the talk you wanted in the days that followed, but you never quite managed it.

You'd just stand together in equitable silence making your coffees. Sometimes you'd talk about the weather. About the case. About things your coworkers did that you both found funny. About shows and books you both liked. About whatever random fact Spencer became enthusiastic about that day, or whatever noir movie he'd seen the previous day.

You didn't become closer, but you grew used to one another.

When the team finally came back, Emily patted herself on the back for a job well done for keeping the two of you grounded. You begrudgingly admitted to yourself that while Spencer lacked tact, you should've been more patient with him when he was asking you to be careful.

You'd heard him similarly chastising a handful of men since, always careful just to listen until he was done, and then clean up afterwards.

Spencer found his anger closer to the surface after prison than it had been before prison. Instead of sympathy or words, his fists always tightened into balls when anything displeased him. He wanted desperately to hit colleagues sometimes, and kept his breathing steady enough to reply with violent words rather than violent actions.

He couldn't blame his experiences in prison for everything, of course. Part of the blame was yours.

As much as he knew potassium and water weren't a safe combination, he found himself wanting to be dropped back into that pool once again. Looking at you was like setting himself on fire, remembering your bodies twinned together was like a little explosion.

He didn't know what brought him to your door, but he knew it was an inevitable reaction, one in a long chain.

“Spencer?” you asked, meeting him at your door, wrapped only in a loose robe and the too small, too flimsy sleep set you'd taken to sleeping in in the summer months.

“Hi,” he said, a little awkwardly, as if gaining the courage to knock on your door was the end of his plan, and he didn't know what the next steps were.

“Hey. Why are you…?” Here. Standing at your door looking so hot after you'd stayed obsessed with him for the last week.

“Why are you holding a bottle of wine?”

“Oh. Oh this. This is for you. To drink. Its for us to drink together, really, I… I wanted to apologise.”

You welcomed him in silently and quickly. Quickly still, you made your way to the kitchen, grabbed two glasses and a bottle opener and made your way back to your sofa where Spencer was standing awkwardly still.

“Please sit down,” you said, craning your neck to look up at him as he gently handed you the bottle. He nodded and sat down next to you, both too close and too far away at once. You'd thought of Spencer as more of a silent apologiser. You'd expected him to just be happy and friendly with you from here on out instead of directly acknowledging anything had happened. You'd seen him bottle up so many emotions, what was a little more shame and sympathy?

Now that he was in front of you, you didn't know what to do.

“So, um. I'm sorry.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.”

The tension in the air was thick as you turned to pour two glasses of wine, waiting for him to continue.

“Thank you,” he said taking the glass you offered him in two hands before glancing at it quickly and then downing it.

“When I got out of prison, I was in a bad shape, and that isn't an excuse, it's just a fact. My brain was in overdrive, and I was on guard around all… all men specifically. The things I heard in prison weren't good, nothing nice as said about women in prison, and when I got out, and I still heard those things…” He stopped and looked away, taking another deep breath.

“I was overstepping. I was being overprotective, and overfamiliar, and jealous-”

“Spencer, stop,” you said, putting your glass down, and smiling at him reassuringly.

“I appreciate your apology, but really it's fine. I came in while you were gone and getting back to schedule when your entire team dynamic is off is hard, so of course you were going to be on edge around me and a little bit jealous of my bond with the team but-”

“The team?” Spencer stammered quickly, cutting you off as you tried to reassure him.

“You were… jealous of my place in the group. I was an outsider who took your place and then you were just a little shorter with me than you would've been if we were introduced in normal circumstances.”

“No, Y/N… I- Did you think this whole time I was jealous of you?”

He said it in his softest voice which almost hurt a little bit more.

“Yes. That's how you were behaving, you were always annoyed and-”

“Jealous. Yes. Not of you, because of you.”

You felt every single place on your body where the material of your clothes were touching your body. The distance between the two of you, already small, felt smaller still, like you were tipping over an edge towards one another when in reality you were as solid as a statue in your seats.

“Y/N, I want you,” Spencer whispered, almost little bit ashamed, a little bit scared of his confession. It was the kind of voice criminals used when confessing, a voice that seemed ashamed of its own actions. “I listened to every single word men said about you, and I wanted to rip their tongues out and feed them back to them so they wouldn't have the chance to taste you again. So they couldn't torture me with their knowledge of you.”

He stood up abruptly and took a step back, placing his wine glass down on the table and pacing a few more steps away.

“Y/N, why did you have to kiss me?” He said, almost defeated. “Why did you have to kiss me and then push me away?”

You stared at him for a second, unsure whether he wanted a real answer or not, his eyes round with desperation, but face turned away slightly, as if he couldn't bare the answer.

“To shut you up,” you whispered. He nodded at your answer and took a deep breath.

“Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don’t tell me that this means war, if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that Antichrist-”

“Spencer? What-”

“I really believe he is Antichrist—I will have nothing more to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my ‘faithful slave,’ as you call yourself! But how do you do?”

“Spencer, what are you doing, why are you- are you quoting something at me.

“If you want me to stop, you know an effective solution,” he said, kneeling to the floor and looking up at you, continuing after a moments pause.

Quickly sinking to your knees as well, you grabbed the man by the collar and brought your lips to his.

As quietly desperate Spencer had been moments before, he took your kiss as an act of submission and countered quickly. You'd come to him, you'd listened to his request, and now he wasn't going to let you get the upper hand anymore.

Pulling you into his lap, his to guess pushed into your mouth as he wrapped your legs around him, guiding your cunt over his bulge as he kept up his attack against your tongue.

You fought back, trying to push him down to no luck. He caught your hands quickly, and standing up on his knees with one hand holding your ass in place, pinned you to the floor, arms held above your head in one large, strong, nearly painful grip.

Your body shook at the sudden motion, robe falling open and satin spilling over your body, revealing a single pink, perked up nipple that he eagerly latched onto.

You moaned at the contact of his hot tongue, the cold air hitting you at the exact moment his tongue dipped, as you held in a moan.

You couldn't hold in the second or third. By four you were practically humping up into the air to chase the sensations of his body pressed against your cunt.

“Spencer-” you moaned, cut off by a choke from your own throat as he roughly ripped down the other side of your shirt, harshly tugging at your other nipple with his fingers.

“If I had more time, I'd make you cum just from this. I'll spend hours edging your sore little nipples, just to make you happy,” he whispered, and you moaned as if it were your job, as if you were some cheap whore he was paying to abuse for the night.

“Good girl,” he said, tugging your underwear to the side and rubbing you slowly, coating his digits with your juices before pushing two fingers fully inside you quickly.

“No complaints. Take everything nicely.” he said, changing the angle of his hand as he began fucking you hard with just his hands.

“Fuck, Spencer, fuck- no, no, no, you have to stop! Fuck, I'll-”

He stopped just as instructed quickly, and you grabbed his hands to still his fingers, still inside of you.

“I need… shit I need hard nos's quickly Y/N. Tell me what I can and can't do.”

You gathered your breath enough to speak, but it was breathy, your breath still uneven, your legs still twitching as you lay on your back, cunt exposed to Spencer's greedy eyes. He drew small, gently circles on your clit with his thumb as you recovered.

“W-Why?” You managed to squeak out, cunt twitching at every accidental contact between you both.

“Because I'm either going to slap you to shut you up, or fuck your face, and I do believe in letting the lady decide.”

You couldn't help the scoff that came from your mouth, even though it was followed by another hitched breath and moan as you melted beneath him.

“You wouldn't do that, you're not the type.”

“What? What type am I not?”

“Slapping, spitting, demeaning. You're too… Spencer to do any of that,” you said, slowly raising your hips to fuck his fingers once again, pracitically begging him to keep us all his hard work.

Until he withdraws his hand and pulls you back into his lap, arms locking you in place on either sides of your waist.

“If I was anyone else,” he said slowly and deliberately, “Or if I was me and I possessed the ability to do any of that, would you consent to it?”

His words were a whisper, his fingers wet and hot on your nipples as he pulled, prodded, and played with them quietly.

“Well… you wouldn't-” you moaned at a sudden hard pinch, your hips jolting as he continued abusing your nipples.

“Everyone else has. Why can't I?”

“Spencer-” Another sharp pinch cut you off, forcing your eyes down to where he had a hand gently brushing against your chest, before sharply pinching it again.

“Hmm? What was that?”

“Spencer, p-please-”

You moan again as his other hand hooks around you to slide into your panties.

Pulls you fully onto his lap as he starts playing with your clit while tugging on your nipples, and he's waiting for you to give him permission to fuck you rougher.

“Can I do those things, Y/N?”

“Spencer….”

“Use your words to answer me, not your cunt. I know you're enjoying this.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Thank you,” he said, letting a hand trail up to your neck before kissing you gently on your lips again. The softness didn't last long as he picked up the pace with his other hand again, looming over you like a monster bent to its prey. His hand moved quickly, pushing in and out of you as you writhed on the floor, breaths shallow as he controlled where you went, where you looked, how you moved, and even how you breathed.

“S-Spencer,” you choked out, hands wrapping around his between your thighs, already twitching as your first orgasm hit you, twitching as he didn't slow down, moaning as you felt wetness seeping out of you in waves.

“Good girl. Good girl, you're doing so good for me. You want me to stop?” He asked.

“Yes, I can't- I can't do it anymore- nghhhh.”

“You can. Yes, you can, baby, you can. My little whore,” his voice was soft where his hands were hot, gripping your neck tighter as you focused only on breathing, legs shaking and twitching, squirming to get away even as you wished yourself to stay put.

“Good girl,” he said again, kissing you once again as his hand on your neck eased up. “One more time? One more right, baby?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself not to scream. With an open hand he slapped your face, just hard enough to draw a moan from your lips.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Y-Yes, I can do one more,” Ayou moaned, unsure if the stars you were seeing were from the harshness of the slap or the overstimulation. “Please.”

“Good manners,” he said, fingers slipping out of your cunt as you started to grind into him again, as soon as you said yes to another orgasm. “But I don't think I want you to cum yet.”

Lifting your hips, he urged you to turn over, pulling a pillow under your hips to help you lift them, still trembling as you were. A soft blanket was put under your head as he pushed your hips up, your shorts and panties pulled down and not just to the side now as he took all of you in.

“So drippy and wet, just for me…” he mused, probing a finger at your pussy again, laughing when you twitched at the contact.

“They say it tastes better than it feels you know,” he said pulling his phone out of his pocket before snapping a photo of your pussy, dripping and ready for him. “Look at it, what do you think?”

He thrusts the photo in your face as he pulled his dick out, letting it rub against the folds of your pussy as you moaned into defeat.

“Y/N, come on, what do you think? Do you taste better, or feel better?”

He propped up the phone in front of you and opened the camera, clicking record quickly as he slapped your ass.

“Answer me,” he insisted, cock head rubbing furiously against your clit now, fingers clamped down on a nipple, nails digging into your waist.

“Should I fuck you or eat that little cunt?”

“I- I don't know, Spencer, I don't know please-”

“Yes, you do. What should I do?”

You cried out in pleasure as you came again, the pressure on your clit too much too soon.

“F-fuck me,” you said, exhausted but still excited.

“Good girl,” he said again, withdrawing his touch before laying down under you and bringing your cunt to his mouth.

You tried to hold yourself up, but you couldn't as he licked and sucked and nudged at your clit with his nose. He'd ignored you, prolonged your torture, and decided he needed to decide for himself.

“Spencer…” you moaned, but it was weak. He chuckled into your cunt and you clamped your thighs around his face as far as you could, but he didn't relent.

Running a finger through your pussy to pick up your cum, he pushed a single digit into your asshole as you moaned slowly and weakly, face completely squished into the floor.

He pushed in and out slowly at first stretching your ass as you began riding his face, fucking against his to gue as you got closer and closer to release. The sooner you came now, the sooner he would release you.

But Spencer stilled your hips, and slowed his own movements to a few kisses here and there, letting one finger become two as he fucked your asshole. Eventually, all contact stopped with your cunt as you hungrily fucked his fingers, the stretch uncomfortable but good.

“Good girl, you like that? You like being my little anal slut? Good girl.”

The words hit hard, as you came on his face. He pulled his hands away and pushed you onto your back again, rising up to your fsve again.

“Open,” he said, and you obeyed letting him spit your own cum back into your mouth. His tongue connected with your own as you tasted yourself, hot and heavy on his lips.

As you kissed, he pushed your legs up, knees spread and with a single, hard, rough push, filled you with his cock.

You screamed in pleasure as he cooed into your ear. “I'm sorry baby, I couldn't help it. Your cunt looked too delicious, it was begging for my dick.”

Another slow pull out, and again he pushed in hard, stealing the breath from your lungs without even needing a hand on your neck.

Grabbing his phone, Spencer angled it towards where you were hungrily taking him in.

“This cunt is mine now, okay?”

You nodded, and he slapped you again.

“Words, Y/N, I need words. Tell me whose cunt this is.”

“Its yours, Spencer, all yours,” you moaned as he picked up his pace, lifting to his knees so he could drop it all into you.

“Shit, say more. Tell me what I can do to this pussy?”

“Abuse my pussy, Spencer. Stretch me out, slap me, keep me full, fuck I don't care, breed me,” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your chest up to his, thighs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked together behind him.

“You want me to cum in you? Want me to claim you so everyone can see?” He asked, nails digging into your thighs almost hard enough to draw blood.

“Yes!”

“Good…. fucking… slut,” he saif, and with a final thrust, he emptied his balls inside you.

You didn't move for a long time, catching your breath on the floor, a pile of limbs coated in sprsys of wetness and cum.

You started rubbing your cunt again first, as he joined in again with shallow thrusts, wincing and seething as he overstimulated himself.

You came quietly that last time and waited for him to pull out and clean you up.

He didn't. Keeping himself sheathed inside you, he awkwardly lifted the two of you to the couch and pulled your head down into his chest, letting you cockwarm him as your cum soaked into the material of the couch.

“Sleep for an hour or two. You'll wake up when it's time to go again.”

When you woke, it wasn't to Spencer starting again, but instead the ring of your phone. You tried to reach for it, to silence whatever alarm had decided to disturb you at that point, but Spencer was faster.

“Hello?” he said down the line, forgetting where he was for a second before you nestled into the crook of his neck again, fingers gently tracing his collarbone.

“Spencer?” Emily asked, confused and voice tired.

“Emily?” He asked. “We have a case?” He sat you up with him crasling you in his arms as you fully woke, your muscles objecting at this sudden movement. His cock stayed buried within you as you reoriented yourself.

“Uh, yeah. We've got an hour to get to the office and debrief, then were flying out- Spencer. This is Spencer?” she asked again, voice a muddle with confusion, tone rising by the second.

“Yes, Spencer. I'll be there.”

“And Y/N?” Emily asked. “I didn't dial the wrong number, Spencer, I have you all on speed dial. You're with Y/N?”

You sat bolt upright and took the phone from Spencer quickly, the shrill ringing of Emily's voice echoing down the line.

“We’ll be there,” you practically shouted. “We just drank together and-” you pulled the hair out of your face as you felt Spencer go rigid inside you again.

“A-and that's it. See you in an hour.”

Speedily you hung up, grabbed Spencer and pressed your lips to his again, pushing him down into the couch.

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practistyles · 3 days ago

Text

party 4 u

Inspirations: party 4 u by charli xcx my queen!!

In this part: smut!! also mean!harry, exes, slight dom!harry, choking (light), slapping (light), unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, size kink, belly bulge kink👀 , dirty talk, soft!harry at the end

word count: 2.5k

Y/N stood with her hip against the kitchen counter, frowning at everyone over her glass, as the lights and music thumped. She'd been stood here for a while, not because she liked the people here - she didn't even know them, or because the food was good - she wasn't hungry. The only thing that rumbled in her belly was a deep, fiery need.

A need to see Harry saunter in through her front door. She was down bad. It had been a month since they'd last seen each other, and as much as Y/N could tell herself she'd thrown his party because she needed to let loose and have fun, she knew the real reason deep down.

He still wasn't here, and now Y/N couldn't remember why they'd fought. Why she'd screamed, and he'd screamed back, and she'd locked him out in the middle of the night. The next day, he had moved out. And honestly, that first week without him, Y/N was happy. She felt free and joyful and embraced her single status. But now everything was different. She wanted to be near him, she wanted to feel his hands on her. Anytime she thought of fucking someone else to satisfy the itch, an ugly pit formed in her stomach.

She'd thought it was very smart to have this party, to invite all their common friends and ask them to bring everyone. She made sure someone texted Harry. But it seemed very much like there was no use. He was nowhere to be seen.

Y/N pushed herself away from the counter, avoiding the calls of some of her friends. Her mood was sour. What could he be doing instead? Y/N felt the snake of jealousy crawl up her chest. She'd been feeling restless enough this entire week, and she'd convinced herself that today was the day Harry and her would finally talk. But now she guessed she'd lie alone in her bed.

Outside the kitchen, people danced and grinded against each other. Y/N wanted to shove every single person outside her house. But she smiled as people pulled her into their groups, and she had no choice but to sway her hips along to the music.

She turned around, throwing her hands above and shaking her head, and then, their eyes met. Y/N's body kept moving, but she felt mentally paralysed. Harry stood in his black jacket at the edge of the room, sipping from a drink, eyeing everyone like they crowd bored him. He smirked, and lifted his drink up at Y/N. She saw his eyes move up and down her body, and every single thing she felt for him came rushing back.

She turned her body back toward the music, trying to ignore the way her entire body buzzed, but her head just wasn’t in it anymore.

He was here. He came.

She felt him before she saw him again - cutting through the crowd like a tide, eyes laser focused on Y/N. His hair had grown out a bit, and his emerald green eyes flashed in the lighting. There was a tingling in her belly, amplifying every minute.

And then he was beside her. He ducked his head to put his mouth next to her ear. "Nice party," he whispered. Y/N forgot how deeply his voice affected her too. She felt his lips almost graze her ear, and the shiver that went through her body was almost shameful.

"Didn't think you'd show up," she said. Huge lie.

Harry cocked a brow at her. "Really? I would say that all you've thought about is me showing up."

"Don't boost your ego too much. I just wanted to let loose."

Harry's face was impassive. With a clench of his jaw, he put his hands on Y/N's waist and turned her around to be pressed up against him. "Why'd you stop dancing then, hm?" He patted her hip. And like she was hypnotised, her hips started slowly moving side to side again. Harry's arms slid all the way around her waist, and he leaned in closer. Y/N felt intoxicated on his smell, mixed in with a bit of whatever drink he'd had.

"Tell me the truth, Y/N," he started, moving along with her. "No call, no text. But this entire house full of people just to run into me. Am I right?"

His fingers wandered underneath her top, pressing lightly at her belly. Y/N contained her groan but let her head fall back into the crook of his neck.

"Only threw this party for me, didn't you?"

Y/N turned around to face him, and she could tell he was just as turned on. She leaned in close, seeing how far she could go, and then her tongue shot out to lick against his jaw. Harry's breath hitched, and Y/N revelled in it.

"You know me so well. Why did you come, Harry?"

Harry's hands slid up her body to her neck. He put a bit of pressure, and Y/N's eyes almost rolled back, but then he went higher up and pressed her cheeks together, making her lips pout.

"Same reason as you I guess. Missed this little bratty mouth." He released her. "That's exactly what you are, right? A little brat, just dying for a bit of attention from me."

Y/N tugged on his shirt. "I could go to anyone..." she started, but he did not let her finish. He grabbed her hand, pulling her with him down the hallway into her room. As the door shut, Y/N was slammed against it, and Harry's mouth was on hers.

Y/N groaned into his mouth as he moved his tongue around dominantly, and bit her lip before releasing her.

"Don’t even think about touching anyone else" he spat out. "You understand?"

Y/N nodded. She was a bit too far gone in her horny state of mind to care about any self respect she had.

"Say it," Harry said. He lightly slapped her cheek with his palm. "Missed this, didn't you? Missed being roughed around by me."

She kept her head nodding. "Yes, Harry, fuck. I'm yours, just please..."

"God, Y/N, already begging. What do you want, hm?" Harry's fingers reached inside her pants. The moment they made contact with her wet, bare pussy, he groaned.

"Fuck, baby. I missed how wet you get." He slipped one finger inside Y/N, and she felt like she was going to burst with bliss. She moved her hips around his finger, head turning away from him, eyes shut tight. It was just one finger, but she felt full and achy already.

"More, please..." she whined, and Harry chuckled meanly. He put another finger inside her and Y/N let out a lewd moan.

“This what you want?” Harry growled, burying his fingers deep inside her until the heel of his palm was pressed tight against her clit. He rotated his hand, slow and deliberate.

Y/N nearly screamed. “Harry—oh my God!" She couldn’t do much but revel in the pleasure rolling through her body. It wasn’t enough. She needed more.

Y/N reached down and pushed his hand away from her pussy. Without a word, Harry brought his fingers up to her mouth, tapping gently at her lips.

“Open up,” he said.

Her mouth parted automatically, and he slid his fingers between her lips. “Suck.”

She wrapped around them, sucking greedily, tasting herself. Harry's free hand came up to wrap around her neck, squeezing possessively. His voice was strained.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re so hot. You know that?”

She sucked harder in response, her eyes fluttering shut, needing him in every way.

“I want you,” she whimpered around his fingers, but he understood. He always did.

“You want my cock? Think you deserve it?”

“I’ve been good,” she mumbled.

“Yeah? But can you take it?” he taunted, pulling his fingers from her mouth, eyes dark.

“I can. I will. Harry, please, I’ll do anything. I’ll beg...”

He clapped a hand over her mouth, pressing her back against the wall. “Shut up. I got it,” he hissed. “You’re just needy for my cock, aren’t you? Can’t think about anything else.”

Y/N shook her head frantically, tears of frustration starting to gather in the corners of her eyes. Harry unbuckled his jeans, shoving them down with one hand. Y/N groaned at the sight of his bulge, thick, hard, perfect, and reached for him instantly.

Her hand wrapped around the base of his cock and she let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut. She forgot how big he was, how heavy, how deep he could reach inside he, and she needed him now.

Harry leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers as she stroked him once, then twice.

“Hands off,” he warned, voice rough.

She let out a whine of protest.

“You only touch what I tell you to.”

He grabbed both her wrists and pinned them behind her back, pressing her harder into the door. Harry pumped himself a few times and lined himself up to her entrance. Y/N felt like she was on a rollercoaster, waiting for the peak to happen. She felt him nudge her hole with his cock and she jerked forward at the contact.

When he finally pushed in, he was kinder than she'd thought. He didn't slam all the way in, but tortured her with a slow, increasing pace. When he pushed all the way in, Harry slammed his palm on the door behind Y/N.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed. His forehead came to rest next to hers, and he stayed still for a second, buried deep inside her. Y/N felt like she had passed out for a second. She didn't think she'd ever felt this full, even they fucked before. She moved her hips around and another noise drew out from Harry.

He pulled back and put his hand against her stomach, pressing lightly. "Fuck, I can feel my cock in here, baby. So deep inside you."

"Oh my god," Y/N whined at the visual. "So fucking deep, feel you everywhere."

Harry suddenly pulled out and jerked his hips forward. Y/N cried out. "Your little belly just swells up with me in it, doesn't it? Tiny little hole you've got. I can tell you didn't let anyone else in here," he said and bought his fingers to strum on her clit.

"Just you," Y/N trembled. "Harry, I'm going to cum," she cried. He said nothing, just increased his strokes. His cock bullied in and out of her pussy which opened up for him nice and easy with how wet she was. The sound of the door rattling behind them accompanied the squelch of his hips snapping at her soaking pussy.

Y/N came suddenly and all at once. She went completely silent and she felt something burst within her. Her eyes rolled back and her head tilted up against the door. Harry continued to hammer in and her pussy squeezed him tight as she came.

Her orgasm only made him go harder. Y/N's hip bone hurt with how hard she was being pressed into the door behind. Harry continued rubbing her clit, and Y/N felt faint. "It's a lot," she whined. "Too big, I can't take it anymore Harry..."

"Aw is it too much for your cunt? Just want your own and be done, huh?"

"Noooo," she cried.

"Bad luck, Y/N. I haven't had your cunt in a month. Gonna have my fill now." He continued thrusting, and Y/N felt the rise of another orgasm.

"Please," she pleaded, not sure if she was begging him to go harder or easier on her.

"You gonna cum again?"

Y/N shook her head no — even though her body said something completely different.

"You will. I wanna feel your cunt squeeze my big cock again. She’s so good to me even after all this time away. You can pretend all you want to hate me, Y/N, but no doubt your little wet pussy missed me a lot."

Y/N was crying now. Tears rolled down her cheeks. This is what she wanted — but she forgot how good, how full, how too much it felt. How deep he got inside her, how her entire body seemed to open up just for him.

Harry periodically slammed his fist against the door. Y/N was sure people knew what was going on behind it — with the way the moans were ripping out of her, the way Harry was fucking them out of her so clearly.

She felt the bubble pop again and she screamed — only to be silenced by Harry stuffing something in her mouth. It was her underwear, she hadn’t even realised when he’d snapped it off her, but it muffled her screams and loud moaning.

Harry was breathing hard and deep. He pulled out of her, and Y/N saw his cock glistening with her juices. She drooled at the sight of his red, angry, pulsing tip.

Harry put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her down to her knees. He tapped her cheek with his wet cock, and Y/N opened her mouth.

"I’m gonna cum in your other hole so you can swallow me into your belly, okay, baby?"

Y/N nodded and opened up wide. Harry grabbed her underwear out of her mouth and threw it behind him. He tapped his cock on her tongue, and a deep moan left him. Y/N wrapped her lips around his cock and moved her head up and down his length. Harry thrust his hips in time with her movements, and in no time, she felt his warm cum flood her mouth.

There was a lot of him, but Harry pressed her mouth down all the way to the base of his cock — and she had no choice but to swallow it all. She kept sucking and trying to lick, she wanted to please him as much as he had her, and she knew what he liked.

Harry pulled out of her, a string of saliva connected his cock to her mouth. He pulled her up, and Y/N was barely able to function with how hard she'd been fucked. Harry let her fall against him.

"My good girl," he cooed, and kissed over her face. "I missed you so much," he said, the roughness leaving his voice. Y/N felt her heart flutter. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him, to walk her to her bed. Harry put Y/N in, and her eyelids fluttered with tiredness.

"Where do we go from here, H?" Y/N mumbled as Harry pulled the covers over her.

"Well for starters, party over. I'm gonna throw everyone out. And next time you want to get fucked just find me, okay?"

Y/N smiled. "Are you gonna stay?"

Harry's face fell. "I don't know, might not be the best idea."

Y/N frowned. "You can't leave after you just fucked me full."

He needed no convincing. Harry nodded. "Fine, baby. Go to sleep. I'll be back."

Y/N snuggled deeper into bed, feeling the soreness all over her body. She knew she was gonna wake up with his head in between her legs.

****

this was so hard to smash out for some reason. writing smut is still a bit weird for me lol but anyway hope this was fun!! i couldn't stop thinking of this scene. we love a bit of mean dom h. 🤭

also idk if people who wanted to be tagged for ewh want to be tagged for all posts. so let me know if you want to be tagged for all posts!

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eternaproject · 22 hours ago

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okay this is so good and i'm gonna do it for both protags in eterna

chia (bc u should all know who my fav is by now):

doesn't know them, doesn't care to know them. maybe a little bitter about being abandoned, but purposefully doesn't dwell on it as a coping mechanism.

that the universe is random and cruel and you should do what you have to in order to survive and enjoy what you like for as long as you can, knowing that eventually it will all end

to be comfortable, as much as possible. they don't want to fix the world. they want to be content and safe and left alone.

they weren't "raised" per se, but they definitely learned growing up to never trust anyone or anything. i think they're learning to open up more and to let people be in their life.

they've never been able to count on a future, but they imagine a life where they can be peaceful and content with clay. watching movies with a couple of cats in a cozy little house where no one bothers them.

they don't really see themself as a hero, or even as a particularly kind person. in eterna they talk a little about how the way they see their body specifically has changed—from being purely utilitarian to being something that's theirs. anyways, they play the villain because that's what they think they are. that's what they've alway been told to be.

kind of laissez-faire, honestly. they're kind of a "well, that sucks" and then chuck it in the garbage kind of person when things don't go their way.

they never wanted to be. but being around clay has made them more willing to take action, and more convinced that they have to.

clay:

she also doesn't know them, but she doesn't blame them for giving her up. she sees it as a reasonable trade.

she believes that the rune, and eterna as a whole, are inherently good. she believes that sharing this good with other planets is a kindness.

to spread eterna's ideals. this isn't really an intrinsic desire, though, because she was raised to believe it was all she could ever want.

she was raised to be an efficient, powerful soldier, content in all things and denied the ability to question her situation. after meeting chia, though, she's learning to think for herself. and she's starting to doubt.

clay doesn't think that far ahead. she just does what she's told

she sees herself as a tool for the rune. as such, she doesn't value anything over their will, even herself.

not good! she hates it!

she's eterna's first conduit for the spread of their ideals, and she's integral to the very survival of the planet in ways that i can't tell you because it would be a spoiler lmao

basic things you should know about your main characters

how is their relationship with their family

what are their beliefs, if they have any

what is their motivation (preferably something unrelated to their love interest/romantic feelings)

who were they raised to be vs. who they became/are becoming

what are their plans for the future, if they have any

how they feel about themselves and how it affects their behaviour

how do they feel about things they cannot control

and last but not least: Why is This Character the Protagonist??

#eterna #character games #writing tips

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intoblonde6ftwbbplayers · 2 days ago

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Relationship Gets Exposed

Can you do one where reader has this professor that's really mean to her, so after her lectures, she goes to Paige's room, but kk is on live, but everyone can notice something's wrong so paige asked about it then reader says I can't say on live, so then paige asked the room if she should either mute it or end the live, paige, reader and some other people say end it and some says mute so kk mutes it but reader and paige thinks the live is ended. Paige then goes closer to reader as she's telling her story, then like hugs her and pecks her lips, then kk would be like ..." um, guys, we're on live" and PANIC

A/N; I absolutely love this idea omg!! Sorry about making her grandpa sick but just an outlet for some stuff im going through right now anyway hope you all enjoy!!

Exposed

pairings - Paige Bueckers x gf!reader

warnings- none baby angst fluff at the end

not edited sorry

You've been dating Paige for a little over a year now. You were a junior and she was a senior and you've been together since last year.

You were always together and anyone with eyes could see how much you were meant for each other even before you started dating.

That being said even though you were both sure in your relationship and that this was it, you haven't told the world yet. Paige wasn't even officially out to the world yet.

Obviously they knew I mean one look at her everyone knows but it wasn't official and you didn't mind and respected the fact she just didn't feel the need to address it and you didn't either

Anytime the team would go on live you would go into friend mode, it wasn't particularly hard considering you had been introduced to the fans long before you and Paiges relationship started.

The whole team loved you and treated you like one of them which you were grateful for because you loved them like family too. Recently you've had a rough couple of weeks with school and family so they've all rallied around you like the found family they are.

You've always liked school. You were never one of those people who hated going to class and actually enjoyed learning and academics. You weren't a teacher pet per say but you enjoyed talking to most of them and ended up getting close to a couple of them in your high school and even college experience

That's not to say you never had some teacher you didn't like or who, no matter how nice you were, didn't like you. You weren't disrespectful but you weren't quiet and you weren't egotistical when it came to voicing your views just a bit opinionated and loud.

That's the main reason some teacher or professors didn't like you but you've never had one hate you until now.

The thing is this particular professor really had it out for you. Every time you would as a question in class he would really with a sigh, eye roll, and a comment about you needing to pay better attention.

Every assignment you turned in was 99% never 100 when others could do less or just the same and receive that grade. It was fine though. You had a 98 in the class overall.

But today you had missed an assignment, you went back home to visit your grandpa who's sick and has recently been getting worse the past couple of weeks.

You missed one assignment in your 2 days at home and stayed after class today practically begging the professor to let you turn it in late.

He made it a big deal and yelled at you while his new lecture class started coming in only embarrassing you further. Making you explain how you went home to see your sick grandfather before he died before almost full lecture hall.

So after that all you wanted to do was lay down and be held by your girlfriend to hopefully drown out the noise of the day.

You didn't ask Paige where she was or if you could come over you just showed up and let yourself in with the spare key like always.

When you opened the door to her room and heard the noise it was your end point. You could barely hear them say hello to you or register the fact that Kk was on live.

Everyone could see the tired way you walked and even the tears starting to form in your eyes that you haven't even realized are there yet.

"Hey you okay should we end the live?" Paige is the first to speak going up to you our of frame and blocking your view of everyone else

She moves to his you and you immediately melt into it letting yourself finally start falling apart. You both stay there for a few seconds while everyone else debates whether to end the live or not.

"Should I end it?" Kk asks the room

a series of yes or maybes follow until Azzi says "Maybe just mute it for now" so thats what Kk does she mutes the live and leave the phone on the dest where its currently propped up facing the rest of the room

You and Paige dont hear this though and assume the live is ended once KK and Azzi move to sit on the edge of the bed waiting to hear what's wrong.

You just let Paige hug you there standing by the bed. "Wanna lay down and tell me what's going on ma?" You just nod in response already calming down by being in her hold

You let her lead you onto the bed where unbeknownst to you guys you were both perfect in frame of the live. You tell all three of them the story of what's been going on the past couple of weeks which isn't new news to Paige but when you get to what happened with you professor they all feel bad for you Azzi even offering to do the assignment for you right now since she has free time and knows you're already swamped with work.

Kk sits there and listens and gives you a hug that you're extremely grateful for.

"Thank you Azzi and thanks Kk" you say as you see Azzi grab her computer from the nightstand start to work on an outline for your assignment and Kk move a bit to help her out a bit.

Paige then leans back against the headboard and pulls you with her. She holds you on top of her and then plants small kisses from your hairline to the tip or your nose then finally on the lips.

Kk and Azzi don't even register it as Paige is such a clingy person in general and with you it's only amplified but suddenly Kk snaps her head in the direction of her phone thats still set up with thousand of people watching your girlfriend comfort you and then kiss you.

Your girlfriend who isn't officially out to the media yet just kissed you in front of thousands of people.

Kk jumps up so fast and grabs her phone and just ends the live.

"Bro Kk tell me that didn't just happen" You say

"Omg guys im so sorry" Kk starts apologizing but before you can say anything you just hear Paige start giggling beneath you

She starts laughing "It's okay for real dont stress bout it. they were gonna find out eventually and that's kinda funny the way you jumped across the room getting to the phone"

Kk and Azzi sigh with relief but you just look down at Paige

"I love you Paige"

"I love you ma" she says kissing you again this time without the cameras

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logince · 3 days ago

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do you think that everyone in the justice league think captain marvel is gay?

because they know he's uncomfortable with women flirting with him. women hang on his arms and bat their eyelashes and make salacious comments... he always slips away, nervous laughter and rubbing the back of his head, making an excuse to get away (Billy is only 12 and no one knows and he doesn't like the way the women speak to him)

because he's always got that starry eyed look on his face when he talks to Batman and Superman, even though he's been heroing as long as they have. yet Wonder Woman and him have a far more casual relationship. (billy always wanted to be Batman and Superman growing up, and Diana is more of a sister to him than anything)

because he excitedly showed the team pictures of him at Fawcett Pride last summer, rainbows on his cheeks and glitter all over his cape (it was Pedro's first year going to pride so they all went, and Billy went as Marvel to dissuade protesters)

because he tenses up when people ask about his civilian life, and gets defensive, saying his relationships aren't league business (he means his familial relationships, he doesn't want to give too much away and have them find how he's actually a kid)

and the league starts to wonder... does Captain Marvel think they don't support him? Cue aggressively LGBTQIA+ supportive League, trying to show the Captain they care.

(Billy is so confused, why is everyone telling him that love is love and that they'll care about him no matter how he feels? Why are adults so fucking weird?!)

#billy batson #jumping jax #dc #shazam #dc captain marvel #justice league #this is so silly i love them

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callikari · 3 days ago

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YOU'RE MY FAVORITE ╰┈➤ kind of problem 。。。

PRECIS 。 he doesn't hate you (but he think he likes it that way.)

西村力 x fem!reader 1218 fluff highschool au opposite attract ─ kissing teasing emotional vulnerability skinship

REBLOG FOR A KiSS

nishimura riki hates mornings, loud people, and unnecessary affection. so of course, fate seats him next to you.

you — with your sparkly pens, cherry lip gloss, and the habit of being genuinely nice to everyone, including him. you talk too much, always smile like the world isn’t exhausting, and keep offering him gum even though he never says thank you.

(he always takes it.)

“you should smile more,” you say one morning, tapping the corner of his mouth with your pen. “you’d look cute if you didn’t look like you hate everything.”

“i don’t want to look cute,” he mumbles.

“too bad. you kind of do.”

he chokes on his water.

you treat him like someone worth taking care of.

when he shows up with damp hair, you push your umbrella into his hands without asking. when he skips breakfast, you press half your sandwich into his palm. you say his name like it’s normal to look at him gently, like it’s not strange to care even when he doesn’t make it easy.

and somehow, he doesn’t push you away.

riki acts annoyed. at your chatter. your energy. the way you remind him to drink water like you’re responsible for him now.

but then it’s picture day, and you’re fixing his tie like it’s second nature, murmuring something about how “you’d be helpless without me,” and he just… lets you. doesn’t move. doesn’t stop you.

when you pat his chest lightly after, like you’re proud of how he turned out, he has no idea what to do with that.

“look at you,” you say. “pretty boy.”

he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

he gets a paper cut during class and barely reacts, but you notice.

“riki. you’re bleeding.”

“it’s fine.”

you dig through your pencil pouch. “i’ve got bandaids—want rilakkuma or space rockets?”

“…rilakkuma?”

“thought so.”

you stick it on for him, then tap it once like sealing a deal. “good as new.”

he doesn’t respond. just leaves it on for the rest of the day.

“drink water,” you tell him, holding out your bottle.

“i’m not a toddler.”

“didn’t say you were. but dehydration makes you cranky.”

he glares at you, but takes it.

(he pretends not to notice the lip gloss mark on the rim.)

when you find out he’s been skipping meals, you start showing up with something wrapped in foil.

“what’s this?” he mumbles.

“something with actual nutrition, for once.”

“you’re acting like i’m five.”

“you’re acting like you don’t need it.”

he eats it anyway.

(you cut the crust off the next day without comment. he doesn’t complain.)

“you’re kind of like a cat,” you say once, watching him swat at a paper ball someone threw at him.

“what?”

“you pretend you don’t like people, but you keep showing up. and you’re grumpy when you’re hungry. and—” you grin— “you’re secretly affectionate when no one’s looking.”

“take it back.”

“never.”

you boop his nose. he mutters something under his breath and doesn’t meet your eyes for the rest of lunch.

one day he shows up late, hoodie on, eyes heavy. you don’t ask questions. just tug him toward the empty music room and sit him down.

you pull out a cookie from your bag. press it into his hand.

“eat first,” you say quietly. “then nap. i’ll wake you up before class.”

he looks at you like he wants to argue, but doesn’t. he eats in silence. and when he finally closes his eyes, you drape your jacket over him and keep watch.

he says your name softly, right before he dozes off.

that afternoon, he finds you by the back steps.

“why do you baby me?”

you look up from your phone. “what?”

“i’m not some charity case,” he mutters. “you don’t have to do all this.”

you shrug. “i know.”

“then why?”

you blink at him, like the answer’s obvious. “because i like you.”

he freezes.

“like, not just ‘you’re tolerable’ like. i actually like you. and you’re terrible at taking care of yourself, so i do it for you.”

“…oh.”

“you okay?”

he hesitates. “you like me?”

“yes, riki.”

“…like, really?”

“you’re exhausting,” you sigh. “yes.”

he stares. then: “can i hold your hand or are you gonna turn this into a whole thing?”

you smile. “i mean, i could—”

he takes your hand.

you stop talking.

he’s still grumpy. still rolls his eyes when you make a big deal out of nothing. still pretends he’s unaffected when you fix his hair or lean your head on his shoulder.

but he lets you do it all.

and when he calls you “sunshine” under his breath — quiet and honest, like the word is just for you — you pretend not to hear it, just so he’ll say it again.

he’s not good at affection. not the way you are. his hands get awkward, his words feel clumsy, and he never knows if he’s doing enough.

but he tries.

he starts carrying an extra granola bar in his bag — not for himself, but for you, when you’re running late or forget to eat. he won’t say it’s for you, but he slides it across your desk when you’re too tired to smile and mumbles, “you always feed me. figured i’d return the favor.”

you beam at him like he just handed you the sun.

he nearly explodes.

one day, it’s cold and rainy and you show up to school shivering, jacket forgotten. at lunch, you come back from the vending machine to find his hoodie draped over your seat.

you look at him.

he doesn’t meet your eyes. “it’s not a big deal.”

“riki—”

“just wear it.”

you slip it on. it smells like fabric softener and him.

“you’re warm,” you tell him.

“shut up,” he says, ears red.

when you forget your umbrella, he waits outside your classroom after school, pretending he was “just passing by.” walks you home without a word. you don’t bring it up, and neither does he. but the next day, he hands you a compact umbrella, still in the wrapper.

“keep it in your bag,” he says. “you forget stuff.”

you blink. “you bought this for me?”

“don’t make it weird.”

you smile anyway.

he starts noticing the little things — how your hands get cold easily, how your hair gets tangled when it’s windy, how you forget to take breaks when you’re stressed.

so he does what he can.

throws a scarf at you in the morning. pulls you toward the shade when it’s too hot. slips your favorite snacks into your bag with no note, no explanation, just a quiet kind of care.

it’s not perfect, but it’s him. trying.

and you notice. of course you do.

“you’re getting good at this,” you whisper one day, threading your fingers through his as he walks you home.

“at what?”

“being mine.”

he squeezes your hand. doesn’t say anything.

but when you get to your door, he kisses your forehead — awkward, fast, barely a brush — and mutters, “you’re my favorite, okay? just… don’t tell anyone.”

you grin. “your secret’s safe with me.”

(he kisses you properly a week later. still shy. still soft. but this time, he doesn’t pull away.)

taglist is open :: @nocturnebite @cheruphic @chrrific @manaah02 @jungwonbropls @ijustreallylike2read @ijustwannareadstuff20

vi says :: i worked hard on this so i hoped you enjoyed it TT

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blazillafirefox · 2 days ago

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Christianity romanticizing suffering honestly messed me up since I grew up as a Christian. Plus, I wonder if this has to do with why people take it personally when you complain in any capacity about suffering. It doesn't even have to be your suffering you complain about. Complaining at all about suffering, or God forbid any talk of fixing it, seems to seriously offend them for a reason I've been struggling to understand.

If this is why so many people choose suffering, even when it's more than justifiable to let go instead, then that's all the more reason to start looking into the effects of religious trauma and how to undo it. For people who left and people who stayed.

The people who leave deserve a chance to heal with hopes that they don't get sucked into another dangerous group.

The people who stay with their religion also deserve a version of their religion that doesn't ask them to unquestioningly obey abusive authorities or to endlessly suffer for some twisted version of purity or sense of obligation.

Btw, that idea that privilege makes you morally evil and suffering makes you morally good is just repackaged versions of the Christian concepts of the evils of luxury and the holiness of martyrdom. Hope this helps!

#religious trauma #former christian

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honeybunnyale · 2 days ago

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Claiming l J.M.

w.c : 1.8k

t.w.: Dark!, Smut, Breeding kink, Somnophilia, Possessive and Jealous Joel, Tess, Manipulation, description of violence and sexual assault

a/n: Please read warnings for all of my works before reading. 18+ only!

Summary: Joel wants to make sure everyone knew who you belonged to.

It wasn't a relationship, you’d tell yourself. It was mutually beneficial, but it was not a relationship. You just wanted someone to hold you, and he wanted someone to fuck.

The problem was that at times you couldn't help but wonder what he was to Tess, considering they're practically at each other's hip all day, with the exceptions of when you would stay over, of course.

She liked to stare at you. Glaring whenever Joel was around, especially when she opened the door to see you on top of him, nude and obviously just about finished with your, slowly becoming more frequent, sessions.

She sat to watch once. You were bouncing on his lap, his mouth attached to your breast, sucking bruises into your hot, sweaty skin. So passionate neither of you were even clothed or covered in sheets at the very least.

He liked how plump you were. How your soft body jiggled whenever he thrust up into you. He especially loved to watch your supple breast.

He loved your chest. He loved seeing them being squeezed in his hands, the flesh bulging between his fingers as he gripped you tightly.

It wasn't until you were coming down from your high of orgasm that you noticed his eyes flickering behind you. He kissed your shoulder, his arms tightening around your back possessively, almost in a bear hug.

You turned your head slightly, only able to glance behind you because of the restriction of his hold.

She was just sitting at the table, watching as you forced yourself out of his arms to grab the sheets to cover yourself quickly. Joel huffed, returning his grip on your waist and turning you with his back facing Tess, covering you and pressing his heaviness against you, ignoring her despite your panicked state and your rapidly beating heart.

You couldn't move, you attempted to hide against his chest, attempting to make yourself disappear from her sight. Despite this, you could still hear Tess slam her glass onto the table, standing and leaving as the door shakes the frames.

His palm smooths over your shoulders, his fingers wrapping around the back of your neck gently but still pressing.

"Ignore her, she's just…” His nose presses against your hair, he adjusts you to lean further against his chest.

”Jealous."

Your heart drops. Everyone knew Tess and Joel. Joel and Tess. She was the brains, and he was the muscle. It was a well-known fact in the QZ to not mess with Tess.

And you probably just pissed her the fuck off. You lift your head slightly.

"Joel, I don't think-"

He knew what you were doing. You were trying to find a way out.

"Then don't," he snaps.

You shake your head sharply, rising from the bed and looking for your clothes on the floor. He grabs your arm, you stop, sighing.

"It's past curfew, stay," he says.

You slide out of grip; you move to the door before he could try to persuade you.

"I know where to go. I'll be fine."

The door slams shut, and he groans, pressing his palms against his eyes.

…

You wake up to knocks at your door. He's been doing this for two weeks, knocking at different hours of the day, lingering for about thirty minutes, tapping the wood three times and waiting for you to answer.

He calls your name sometimes, it’s always quiet. As if he were hoping his soft tone would lure you out. He doesn't want to make a scene with your neighbors.

It wouldn’t matter even if he did, no one messed with you. They knew you were something to Joel, and maybe to Tess considering she glared whenever someone brought you up.

But now that you weren't making your usual appearances walking with him around town, people were starting to talk, they were starting to target you as someone vulnerable again.

You sit on your bed, your leg bouncing in anxiety as he knocks. You've had some men come up to you the day before, one of them slapped your ass, another making a passing remark about being Joel's bitch as another had gripped your arm so tight you bruised.

It was scary. Usually you were ignored, they even cowered with Joel and Tess at your side, often accompanying you to your shifts.

It was almost as if it angered them more. The thought that they would get fucked if they even came close to you. They were more aggressive because of that.

You hide the bruises on your arm before opening the door, pulling your sleeve down your forearm.

He immediately does a once over. You roll your eyes, stepping aside as he strides into your small apartment.

He was angry, his hands at his hips and leaning towards you in scolding.

"Are you okay?" he asks gruffly.

"Yes."

He gives you a look. You pretended to be confused.

"I don't know what-" you start.

He huffs, and his jaw tightens.

"Someone told Tess and Tess told me."

You just noticed his hands. His knuckles were bruised, skin was broken and red.

"Shit-Joel, you're bleeding."

You tend to his hand. You sit face to face, his forehead resting on the crown of your head as you hunch over to wrap along his palm and knuckles.

"I think I killed one of 'em," he mumbles.

You stop your movement, only for a second. Your heart hammers in your chest. You didn’t know if your heart stopped beating out of disgust or flattery. Could have been both.

He continues.

"Face was barely recognizable."

You sigh, sitting up and shaking your head. You didn't like to get into their business. You didn't like when he went into the details of the latest smuggle, how much of FEDRA he's gotten addicted to the opiates he trades.

How he's killed, beaten and threatened innocent lives for the sake of getting more ration cards and keeping himself out of trouble.

His hands find your shoulders, caressing up to your neck to make you look up at him.

"I know, I know," he utters softly.

He leans down slowly. You let him. His mouth is hot against your throat. He kisses down your neck. His hands are already working to unbutton your shirt.

He pulls you to his lap, landing you right over the erection in his pants.

"Fuck, I've missed you," he groans.

You did too.

…

You snore in your sleep, it was sweet and all, but it woke him up. He stares at you, the way your chest rises and falls in rhythm, how your hands twitch to grab hold of something.

You stop snoring with a retort, you adjust by nuzzling your face against the pillow.

His hand smooths over your soft stomach for a couple of minutes, making sure you were still in deep sleep. His fingers press against the chunkiness of your thighs, sliding between them and to your folds.

He's woken you up with cock before, his mouth too. You've always liked it.

He presses his body closer, his erection meeting the apex of your thighs.

You moan quietly, your hips twitching back and forth slightly. Your eyes were closed tightly, your hand finding his side.

He stills and you repeat your motion, seemingly while sleeping. Your moans were muffled and quiet, only guided by your breaths.

You were a heavy sleeper; he noticed the first time. You only ever wake up when you orgasmed or were on the verge of one.

You also humped the mattress in your sleep. Once he was woken up as you were laid on your stomach, gripping onto your pillowcase and moving your hips in random intervals.

You made yourself cum and were embarrassed when you realized he was watching.

You gasp when his cock spears into you. He lifted your thigh onto his hip to open you wider. Your cunt was drooling over his cock, sucking and urging him to cum inside you.

He was pent up, stressed with the need to protect you. Bitter in the way you ignored him, causing more problems to arise.

They thought you weren’t important to him anymore, that they could do anything to you without consequences. They thought you weren’t his anymore.

He palms at your breast.

His thoughts shift to the time he was delirious in alcohol and drugs, murmuring into your skin as he fucked into you.

He whispered how much he wanted your breasts to swell and grow heavy with milk for his baby. He imagines you now with a cute little belly, walking around, practically proclaiming that you were his.

He was almost to his limit, he started to pull out ever so slightly, your brows furrow.

He shouldn’t, he can’t. You’re not prepared for a baby. His thrusts become shallow, his cock aches with rising pressure. It’s dangerous for a child, but you’d be such a perfect mothe-

He groans, closing his eyes tightly. His ass flexes, his thighs tense. His balls ache as they spill. The image of you on your back, belly swollen, legs spread for him threw him over the edge.

His thumb runs over your clit quickly, helping you along as he shallowly thrusts his cum into you. You let out a sharp moan. Your pussy was squeezing his overstimulated cock so deliciously as you orgasmed in your sleep that he groaned, and you opened your eyes.

You breathe heavily, moaning as your hand instinctively goes to the arm around your hip.

“Joel?”

He hums, his fingers caressing over your cheek.

He shushes you when you move.

“Fuck, Joel, did I…?”

He kisses you. He’s never done that before. He kisses you breathless, his mouth opening wide, his tongue sliding against yours and his hand pressing the back of your head forward into his.

He groans when you start to reciprocate, your fists wound around his hair, lightly tugging as he nips your lips.

He lets up with a final peck. Your eyes were wide, mouth slightly parted. He cups your face gently.

“I’ll take care of you.”

“Joel-“

“Me and Tess, we’re gonna make sure you two are safe.”

His palm caressed your stomach. You shifted and you felt his cock inside of you, softening.

“You and Tess?”

You were disoriented. You were shocked.

“She’s soft on you…” he whispers.

His hands go to your ass, jiggling it and squeezing.

“Thinks you have a cute ass,” he teases.

“What?”

He eyes your arm, you wince when he grazes over it. He purses his lips.

“She cares about you almost as much as me, you should have seen the look in her eye when we found the boys who bothered you.”

He pulls you into him. You were still trembling from your climax, maybe a bit of something else.

Tess was running through your mind. Her actions before never seemed nice. You thought she didn’t like you.

“You’re ours. Everyone should know it now. I only got one of them, she finished the rest.”

You don’t like it when he talks about these things. If you didn’t see the men around the corner of the street, you would have known what had happened on your own.

You guess it was just their way of showing they cared.

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

Thank you for reading guys! Comments and Reblogs are motivational, please let me know your thoughts! Also, I am not beefing with my boyfriend anymore, god bless.

-Alejandra 💋 🐇

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #tlou #tlou fanfiction #dark fic #ale's fics <3

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