#if i need to tag it as something else let me know

[teenagenutant]

a fic that has made me laugh and has very, very much made me cry just updated... so i drew about it! power up by @pickledcarrotsandradish!! wahoo!!!

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzles out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

[5sospenguinqueen]

Love To Hate | Daniel Ricciardo x Gasly! Reader

Summary: Daniel Ricciardo is known for bickering with Pierre Gasly's older sister online. The fans love it but they suspect there might be something more behind it.

Warnings: Swearing. One sexual innuendo. Female reader.

Takes place in the 2022 season so Daniel is with McLaren.

Main Masterlist

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mclaren just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon and others

mclaren spot the difference #MonacoGP tagged: landonorris, danielricciardo

2,446 comments

YourUserName the one on the left can actually drive

→ User 1 wtf does she know about f1

→ User 2 um, her baby brother is a GP winner so…

danielricciardo @ YourUserName coming from the woman who failed her driving test twice

→ YourUserName @ pierregasly you weren’t supposed to tell your little racing friends that!

→ pierregasly do not drag me into this nonsense.

landonorris @ YourUserName thanks pookie

→ danielricciardo more like pukie

→ YourUserName you’re just mad that he gets bitches and you don’t

→ danielricciardo okay, cradle snatcher

User 3 mom and dad are fighting again

danielricciardo here’s to a good weekend 💪

→ YourUserName ass licker

→ danielricciardo you wish.

→ maxverstappen1 can you guys not do your foreplay privately

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YourUserName just posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, lilymhe and others

YourUserName soaking up the sun before the madness resumes (01/06/2022) 🌻

2,488 comments

danielricciardo i need to bleach my eyes. please cover you up before you mentally scar someone else.

→ User 5 he says like his jaw didn’t drop when this came across his timeline

User 6 how to become y/n gasly

→ YourUserName have an annoying brother and endure his equally insufferable friends

lilymhe the only reason i’m still with Alex is so i have an excuse to spend time with you in the paddock

→ YourUserName we could get married and then you could see me all the time??

→ alex_albon it’s a good thing I’m used to this or i might cry

→ georgerussle63 don’t lie. i can hear you sobbing from my hotel room.

MaleFriend wow 🥵 → danielricciardo try harder (comment deleted)

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PierreGASLY you’re both certified yappers. it’s why the two of you together is a nightmare

User 7 hmm, okay but why were you two together in the first place if you hate each other…

→ danielricciardo I was bullying her

→ YourUserName pierre ditched me to talk to a pretty girl and Daniel was making fun of the fact that I got lost

→ LandoNorris i wouldn’t have left you… just saying 👀

→ YourUserName i’m 10 years old than you, boo.

→ LandoNorris age is just a number

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danielricciardo just posted

liked by mclaren, scottyjames31 and others

danielricciardo preferred mode of transport... fast

6,443 comments

YourUserName title of your sex tape “i'm in love with my car”

YourUserName someone’s clearly compensating for something

→ danielricciardo omg why are you so obsessed with me. Get out of my comments, stalker

→ YourUserName let’s not forget you stalked me first

→ danielricciardo where’s your proof

→ pierregasly here. you begged me for her instagram until i gave in

→ danielricciardo and then i realised what a bitch she was

→ YourUserName just ‘cause i wouldn’t blow you

→ pierregasly i need you to delete this

User 1 this man is so fine

User 2 i’d like to ride

→ YourUserName you’d have more fun with the car

→ User 2 omg hi queen

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liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and others

YourUserName last race of the season today. just wanted to say a big ‘well done’ to my baby bro. so proud of all you achieved this season and i know you’ll go on to kill it next year! 🍾 #AbuDhabiGP

3,323 comments

YourUserName yes, i know one pic has daniel. no, it’s not an announcement of our friendship. i just like how scared pear looks

User 8 i have never been more attracted to a frenchman before

danielricciardo and who is that handsome man

→ YourUserName there is not a single handsome man in this post; charles was sulking out of the frame

→ pierregasly 1) i am very handsome, 2) stay away from charles, he’s too nice for you

→ danielricciardo and too pretty

→ charles_leclerc stop it or i will fall in love with all of you

→ YourUserName @ pierregasly i’ll stop if you promise to get rid of daniel so i don’t have to see him again

→ danielricciardo and deny you of my bakery 🍑

→ User 9 it's cake, honey, but you tried

User 10 anyone catch the camera panning to y/n when daniel’s car spun out in qualifying

→ User 11 talk about delulu

→ User 12 because he almost crashed into her brother so obvi they would show her

pierregasly just posted

liked by francisca.cgomes, yukitsunoda0511 and others

pierregasly a huge thank you to my support system. je t'aime grande soeur 🌸 (she forced me to post this, please send help)

5,222 comments

YourUserName you’re such a liar! you were legit crying to me last night about how nice it is that i still come to all your races and then said you wanted the world to know

→ pierregasly don’t expose me!

→ landonorris come sit in my car instead. rub a little luck on it

→ User 12 never beating the no rizz allegations

danielricciardo @ landonorris probably best she doesn't, she’s clearly a curse, mate

→ YourUserName and how many races did you win this season?

→ danielricciardo i hope pierre pushes you off the plane tomorrow

→ YourUserName i hope you get run over in the pits

alphatauri we love having you in the garage

User 1 agreed. her hair looked so pretty today and he ruined it

User 2 only for him to then completely forget what he was saying when he realised she was wearing a white shirt? yes! it’s been playing in my head

→ User 3 can’t say i blame him. i too was no better than a man 👀

User 4 but the way he covered her body with his the second he realised to stop the camera focusing on her see-through top

→ User 5 and then gave her one of his shirts because she was walking around in a mclaren top until pierre yanked her into the alphatauri garage

→ User 6 guys, this is bare minimum. him being hot doesn’t make this extra chivalrous

User 7 another angle of that video showed it was an accident. he can be seen saying sorry a billion times and after that, they put a border around the fountain

YourUserName posted a new story

danielricciardo reposted your story

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YourUserName just posted

liked by carlossainz55, georgerussell63 and others

YourUserName happy 4 year anniversary to my professional car crasher tagged: danielricciardo

7,114 comments

User 1 i knew it! they all called me crazy

danielricciardo delete this. you said you would be a nice. i’m a champion! how many trophies do you have, huh

→ YourUserName depends on how many i steal from the trophy case in our living room (plus, those are replicas)

→ User 2 our?!?!

charles_leclerc but i thought you loved me?

→ YourUserName i do, citrouille. but, daniel and pierre are keeping us apart.

User 3 4 years? this means they were together when he was still at red bull! what did you think about him leaving?

→ YourUserName i'm not allowed to talk about that

landonorris congratulations, mum and dad

→ alex_albon congratulations, mum and dad

→ georgerussell63 congratulations, mum and dad

→ YourUserName i didn’t sign up for this responsibility

→ danielricciardo they’re a package deal, babe. they come with me

maxverstappen1 oh, thank god. It was so hard keeping this to myself in interviews

danielricciardo just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, kellypiquet and others

danielricciardo contrary to popular belief, pierre is not my favourite gasly

6,998 comments

YourUserName aww, mon coeur, you actually used nice photos

→ danielricciardo don’t speak french to me, you know it turns me on

→ maxverstappen1 i miss when you publicly hated each other

pierregasly you take that back!

pierregasly that’s it. you’re off the Christmas card list

francisca.cgomes wonderful, daniel, now he’s sulking

→ YourUserName you get used to it. they may seem cool but all f1 drivers are essentially big crybabies

→ danielricciardo hey!

→ charles_leclerc hey!

→ pierregasly hey!

→ alex_albon hey!

→ landonorris hey!

→ carlossainz55 hey!

→ georgerussell63 true

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Please request if you have any ideas you'd like to see, and I'll do my best to bring them to life <3

[andersonlore]

high sex with dina…. high sex with dina……

kiss of heaven | dina

tags: eighteen+, sexual content, cannabis sex, oral (dina!r), face sitting, , dub-con (both reader and dina are high).

an. here's my first fic of dina! it's not perfect by any means by i kinda like it?? i hope you enjoy it as well.

there’s something special about it. firsts always are. the adrenaline pumping through your veins, the serotonin getting sent through your head when someone new kisses you for the first time, the very beginnings of an orgasm never been given by them, the shivers traveling up your spine with a promise of something more. it’s all so inviting your doe-eyed heart welcomes it with open arms. 

but this isn’t the case. 

dina sitting on your lap the entire night, taking hit after hit, the both of you lost in the feeling of what could’ve been all night. now, the both of you are too far lost in the lust of weed, all you can think about is fucking her. she’s been grinding back into you all night, as if it’s not torturing you to no end. you’re sure you’ve soaked yourself through and it would be embarrassing. possibly. desperately, you crave her more than anyone, you just need to be satiated. or sedated if she turns you down. 

you’ve both been here before, years ago, but it feels just as it’s always been. somehow, you knew this would be your fate tonight. tongue tied with the woman you’ve never been able to get over. she comes into your life like nothing has changed. you let her, it makes you feel like a love struck idiot all over again. 

well, tonight. you’re more high strung than anything. the both of you are. 

the white of your eyes populated by red little lines, hooded as you have her pinned to the wooden door of a vacant room. all you have is a simple bra concealing your from her, delicate panties accentuating her divine hips. soft skin to the touch as you rub her hip bone with the pad of your thumb, drawing goosebumps in your wake. 

you can’t help but look at her perfectly sculpted breast, soft stomach, the collarbones you crave to sink your teeth into. it’s what you dreamed of. even if inebriation took over you both, if you got to have her? it didn’t really matter at all. not really. 

locking the door, you’re pulling her towards the bed as you take a seat in the middle as she stands there for you. “take them off.” you command, gesturing with a tilt of your head. she slips them off, not so gracefully, tripping as she does so. she warns you with her warm eyes to not utter a fucking word. 

but you can’t help the small giggle you try to stifle. it’s impossible to conceal. 

“you sure you want to test me?” she pushes, raising her bold eyebrows at you. intentionally, you snap your bra off before saying “no ma’am. wouldn’t dream of disappointing you.” instantly, the power becomes hers. as if it was ever anything different. a silent hope, wanting to have it for once, but with her? you crumble. 

her beautifully dark hair is a mess, from your endless pulling. “can you, um—” she raises her expressive brows indicating for you to give in and tell her. you try your best, but you’re so distracted by her beauty, the cannabis taking over as you’re impossibly wet, drooling over having your dream girl back. even if it’s for a short time, she’s here. 

“i want you to sit on my face, tonight. please?” she stalks you like her prey, climbing up your body before resting at your hips, before leaning down and whispering in your ear, “hm, finally seems like someone learned their manners.” the soft chuckle cured you of the last time before she wastes no more time. not a fucking  second. 

it’s all so quick. happening in a flash of your eyes, maybe it’s the weed and maybe it’s just her. the instant sigh released from her lips makes your thighs clench. you’re thankful she is facing you or else she’d make you split them apart. you know she would. 

it’s been too long since you’ve had her. your tongue licking a bold strip from her clit, sliding down her labia until lightly dipping into her hold before traveling back up her pearl of pleasure. you’re missing the way her head is being thrown back with your eyes shut as you suckle on your favorite meal. being deprived of the sweet taste of her cunt for so long, you eat it up as if you’ve been starved. 

“s’good baby, fuck. forgot how good your mo—” you spit dramatically on her cunt, smothering your spit on her pussy with your thumb, applying light pressure on her clit. “yeah , you should have never forgotten, baby. i always take care of you, don’t i?” slapping her supple ass with your free hand. 

dina sinks down the extra weight she’d been holding, suffocating you with her slick. you open your eyes for a moment to take her in, only to find she’s looking right back. “hi angel” she whispers, making you giggle softly. 

desperately, you’re trying to recall the last time she’s been this light hearted but you can’t. is it possible she’s changed? fuck, the possibility of new beginning is sent throughout your cunt. the idea only latches onto your brain for a moment before dina’s moaning again, rolling her hips deliciously, fucking your face and looking gorgeous doing it. 

“is this what you want, huh? fuck…need to cum so fucking badly.” she moves her hips quickly, lost in the way you’re fucking the shit of her. skilled tongue giving her your best, hoping she’ll paint yours in return. she knows she never would’ve succumbed so easily if it wasn’t for the cannabis. dina, always one to savor. not go through the motions so quickly, but now she doesn’t really give a shit. all she craves is the high she knows you can offer. 

fully focusing on her clit, you suck the pearl into your mouth, flicking your tongue over, over, and over. dina’s delicious thighs began to shake. irrevocably so. it’s her tell. right before she cums, each and every time, they shake. high pitched moans escape as she tries to regain composure but it’s useless. she’s far gone and you’re more than happy to send her tumbling over the edge. 

“jus’ let go baby, yeah? just me ‘nd you. cum for me mommy? please?” you pause before saying what you know will send her over the edge. “c’mon, making a fucking mess all over my face. i can’t take it, babygirl. promise.” 

[misc-obeyme]

cc. your tags on the boudoir post. MAMMON recieving an album of those photos. i'd love to hear your thoughts on his reaction (and everyone else's, if you're feeling particularly inspired?)

Ah, Daisy, my dear, thank you for asking!

I apologize for this late response, but I knew I was gonna be getting wordy with this one. Because I looove the boudoir photos idea in general and OH MAN just thinking about all their reactions is making me crazy lol. I was going to just do my regular sort of response, but this turned into full on headcanons oops.

So just in case anyone missed it, here is the original post!

My thoughts change a little bit depending on whether MC is present when the characters receive the pictures, so I included both! I only did the bros but I might be willing to do the rest upon request!

the brothers react to MC giving them an album of boudoir photos

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: suggestive but that's about it, nothing explicit

Lucifer

When you're with him, Lucifer is calm and courteous, but with a flare of arrogance. Of course you would give him such a special gift. It's only natural that you would trust such intimacies to him.

He asks you if you're trying to tell him something. Has he perhaps been neglecting you, MC? Did you give him this so that he wouldn't be able to help himself? He's onto you.

No matter your reason, he can't look through too many of the pictures before wanting the real thing that's sitting right next to him. Tell him you still have some of that lingerie in your possession. Especially if you happen to have some in his colors.

If you aren't with him, he's going to be a lot less arrogant in general. He will find you later, make no mistake. But he's honestly so touched by your gift that he spends a lot of time looking through the album, simply admiring you.

Mammon

Mammon is freaking out no matter where you are the time. If you're with him, it's definitely a lot worse. Blushing profusely. Opens the album then slams it shut because he can't handle looking at it for very long.

You can't help but giggle at his reaction and then it's all stop laughin' at him MC!! You'll need to take his hands or maybe kiss his cheek, let him know that you genuinely just wanted to give him a nice gift, you aren't trying to tease him or anything.

Ask him if he likes it. You'll get a serious response. Calms down enough to say 'course he likes it. Likes it so much, he suddenly can't keep his hands off you.

If you aren't with him at the time, he buries it under his pillow or otherwise hides it because this is now one of his treasures and nobody gets to see it but him!

Leviathan

Levi is another one who'd be a blushing mess no matter what, but if you're there at the time, he might retreat to his room and not let you in. He needs that barrier between you because if he sees you right now, his heart will explode.

He'll let you back in eventually, but it might be a minute. He needs to calm down. Are you trying to kill him, MC?! Even when he does let you in, he can't look at you directly. He's probably covering his face with his hands.

Reassure him that you gave these photos to him because you trust him with them. They're personal, intimate, and you want him to be close to you. He's going to calm down the more you talk to him. Pull his hands away from his face and when he sees the sincerity in your eyes, it flips a switch. Might even slip into demon form just to wrap his tail around you possessively.

If you're not with him at the time, he's going to need to take care of that raging boner of his right away. He won't be able to focus on anything else until he does. He's so embarrassed, he has to watch several episodes of Ruri Hana to recalibrate.

Satan

He will try to keep his expression unreadable. He's not having any over the top reactions, but as he flips through the photos, he keeps getting redder and redder. You're sitting right next to him, how can he not react? At some point, he has to close the album because he feels like he's looking at something he shouldn't.

Satan is quiet about how flustered he is, but he's having a hard time looking at you. He tries to say something and incomprehensible lines about how beautiful you are fall from his lips. He sounds like a broken record of spoken word poetry or perhaps a very drunk beat poet.

Recovers himself after a minute. As soon as he's composed, you're in his arms. You knew what this would do to him, didn't you, MC? You'll find yourself pressed up against the nearest wall in moments.

If you're not with him, Satan will tuck your album into a stack of his other books. He thinks it's well hidden there - in plain sight. But he's hyper aware of it. Keeps coming back to look at it. Ends up having to put it on the bottom of a stack behind a different stack to make it more difficult to get to.

Asmodeus

Thrilled. Absolutely thrilled in every way. Oh, wow, MC, you look amazing. He's breathless. He's entranced. He's even blushing because he knows what it means that you've given these to him. He's so in love with you, he can't stand it.

Asks you about everything you may be wearing. Comments on the skill of the photographer. Tells you that next time, you should do one together. He has so many ideas. He wants to do one where all you're wearing is jewelry - bright and sparkling, just like your soul.

Covers you in kisses. He's not shy about how this is making him feel, how much he wants you. He just wants to see your beautiful figure here and now in real life, MC! Won't you let him worship you?

If you're not with him, he will find you immediately so he can say all of the things he needs to say in that moment. You can't leave him alone with all these feelings, both physical and emotional. He brings them all to you without hesitating.

Beelzebub

It might take him a minute to understand exactly what he's looking at, mostly because he's never even heard of this. He doesn't know what a boudoir photo shoot is, so you might have to explain it to him. Once he understands, he starts lightly blushing as he looks through them. His expression is serious because he's beginning to see just how special this is.

Honestly surprised that you would give him something so intimate. He's touched. He's going to hug it to himself and look at you with tears in his eyes because he can't believe how lucky he is.

Give him another couple minutes to look through them and then he's having different feelings. He's not sure if he can hold back, MC. Tell him it's okay, that you don't want him to, and you'll find yourself on your back on his bed in zero seconds flat. You're quickly reminded why he's the Avatar of Gluttony.

If you're not with him at the time, he will figure things out on his own, though he'll have a plethora of questions for you later. He keeps it close to him at all times until you answer them because he knows one thing for sure - he doesn't want anyone else seeing these.

Belphegor

Oh, he sees what you're playing at. Trying to fluster him, are you, MC? Trying to rile him up? Are you sure you can handle him when you do that? He's so wound up by the gift he can't act normal about it. He's actually very touched by it, but he's not sure how to deal with the feelings, so he comes on too strong.

You laugh because to you, this is expected. You understand that this is Belphie's way of dealing with his own shyness. You respond by meeting him with just as much intensity. It's all kisses and touching and fumbling in the dark.

It's only later, when both of you are calm, when you're nestled in his arms, that he admits to you how much it means to him. That he tells you how he'll cherish the album you gave him. That he says he's stunned by how gorgeous you are, even more brilliant that the stars in the sky.

If you aren't with him at the time, you'll be dealing with a petulant but horny demon later on. He's going to be annoyed at you for leaving it for him and then not being there when it inevitably turns him on. Just as possessive as his brothers, he hides it in the attic where no one is likely to find it.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[fuyukohasnocreativity]

-date-

featured character ☆ itoshi sae

tag(s): fluff! ☆

apologies if this is out of character, again TT TT

______________________________________________________________

༊*·˚

        It was two o'clock in the morning and you couldn't fall asleep. Sae, who was next to you, his head, nuzzling against your back, was sleeping peacefully. It was cute to see him soundlessly sleeping against you but that's not the reason why you couldn't fall asleep. You grabbed your phone from the wooden night stand next to you and started going on Instagram. You were scrolling and saw that some of your friends were posting pictures of places they were going with their partner. But of course, Sae always comes home late, either training or having a soccer tournament. What are the chances of him spending quality time with you or go on outings? Quite rare to be honest. You then go on Google to search up "Things to do for couples", the results were going to a cafe or hiking, maybe going to an expensive mall but obviously you don't need anything from expensive malls since they're all Chanel or Louis Vuitton, fancy fancy fancy brands...  You could feel Sae shift positions. The next thing you knew, he was awake, rubbing his right eye. Although your phone's brightness was on the lowest, he still somehow woke up. "Y/n? How come you're still awake?" he asks, perhaps still half awake. He then turns on the mini white ceramic lamp next to him. You turn of your phone and held it tight, "Um... The thing is, I couldn't fall asleep. Because I wanted to do something fun with you tomorrow, like a date. But I mean, you don't have to go with me and I'm aware that you don't have much time either... I was just researching places to go, nothing else." You let out a small, weak smile, in the process of battling the urge of wanting to cry a little since you barely got to spend time with Sae. Suddenly, Sae got up, walked to the nightstand next to you and kneeled down. He opened the lowest drawer and got out a folded sheet of paper, written with black ink. He then hands the piece of lined paper to you. "Here, it's a list of all the things we could do together. The front has outdoor and indoor activities and the back has things we could do at home..." Sae looked away, from slight embarrassment. His cheeks were lightly tinted with a shade of pink, and he definitely avoided eye contact with you.

        Your face instantly lights up, eyes widened completely. "When did you have time for all of this?!" "I wrote it during breaktime, since I was bored. Everyone wanted to know what I was writing..." You bursted out laughing, "What did you tell them? I'm so curious!" "I told them directly that it was for you..." your face was instantly flushed with pink. There was a long pause of awkward silence until Sae pointed at the list of activities "Go ahead, you can pick anything." you nodded, to agree. Still, it was quite shocking that he told everyone that he was dating you, etc. You looked at the sheet of paper and the following list of activities listed. You then made up your mind, wanting to go to a café with Sae. "Hey, should we go to a café and walk around after?" "Anything you'd like." Sae smiled. You jump on Sae and gave him a big hug, smiling with joy. Sae gave you a kiss on the lips, and your cheeks. The two of you continue to stay in each other's embrace. 

       "Say, when do you want to go to that café?" you ask curiously, looking up at Sae. Sae didn't answer until ten seconds later, "Today. At ten o'clock, we'll leave." "Sounds like a plan." a few minutes later, your eyelids start to feel heavy and you doze off, still embracing Sae. He gently strokes pieces of your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. "You need to regain energy first before getting all excited..." he whispered then let out a soft chuckle. 

______________________________________________________________

ty for reading!! just a short drabble i wanted to write, not very long or detailed either.

-fuyuko

©fuyukohasnocreativity do not copy, repost, or translate. likes and reblogs are accepted and appreciated!

[floofanflurr]

Draw this in your style!

Hello!!!!! Wow, there’s a lot of people here now! I wanted to do something to celebrate my 300 follower milestone, so here we are!!! A draw this in your style challenge (invitation?)

Rules and details below!

Rules:

Have fun! If you don't want to do a night sky, it could be a sunrise, sunset, cloud-watching... whatever you want Sans, Frisk, and Papyrus to be watching as long as it's a sky of some kind!

Since someone asked- You can add characters- just don’t take any away!

Don't trace/steal other people's art.

Please @ me and tag your art #star shower dtys. I don't have a twitter, so if you post it somewhere else, please let me know on tumblr so I can still see it!

Anyone can participate!

But!!! As a thank you for following me and also for participating in this, for my followers, there is a couple prizes!

Who qualifies?

Any of my followers on tumblr! They also have to post the dtys art on tumblr, and tag it with #star shower dtys and properly @ me. If you're seeing this, and you don't follow me, you can always follow now!

I also need to be able to DM you if you win!

Who will be the winners?

One randomly selected person!

And! My favorite image at the end!

Detail about winning prizes:

Each winner will get a drawing! One to two characters of your choice, waist up. Plain/simple background. (I have full rights to deny any request I am uncomfortable drawing, and to ask for a different request. Please be respectful.)

Fair warning that my art is a mixed bag when it comes to quality and style - especially when I'm not drawing Undertale - if you do decide to ask for character(s) outside of the fandom.

I will do my best to draw any characters I am unfamiliar with (including OCs!) but I will need plenty of references.

Deadline?

May 25th, 11:59PM Central Time

(This is the cutoff for if you want to be considered for winning a prize - but please feel free to continue to draw this in your style even after this timeframe passes as long as you tag it #star shower dtys and @ me.)

Have fun!!!

[yuri-is-online]

Head up this ask is kinda weird.

So do you think people wear perfume in omegaverse AUs 😀? Because the fact that everyone already has scents, perfume has to kind if clash with it right? Maybe some people use light perfumes to enhance their scents, and then those "Alpha Male" (omg that just gets a whole other meaning) podcast bros call it catfishing.

Would perfume even exist in the first place? I don't really see a purpose for perfume if everyone already has a scent... but bro imagine Yuu (who isn't from an a/b/o world and is getting really confused as to what the fuck an omega is and cringes every time of the guys calls themselves an alpha. Meanwhile everyone else is trying to figure out why this weirdo doesn't even have the slightest sent. Especially jade becuase I'm on that JadeYuu shit rn) that wears perfume or cologne trying to get more. And when they can't find any at Sam's they just try to fucking make it. I mean it's a little weak smelling and some of the notes don't exactly go with the others but hey! They have something to spritz now! :)

And now their friends are doing double takes because bro you did not smell like that last night. Also it smells artificial and it's weirding them out

Anyways I sincerely apologize for making you read that.

oh no you don't go apologizing for this confused, a/b/o is a guilty pleasure of mine (also i am doing concept drawings for asmodeaus rn. the timing of this ask made me laugh real hard) This isn't a smutty ask, but just so all of you know, I am good with those since I need the practice with suggestive stuff. I just won't be very good at it for a bit.

Anyway. I have never actually thought about this, but I have always sort of thought of scents in abo worlds to be a very instinctual thing that no amount of perfume can cover up. I don't know if you've ever encountered a scent you can taste but I have, a light in the room of a pool I was swimming in went out and let out a smoke so foul you could still feel it on your tongue and in your lungs when you pinched your nose. It was beyond overwhelming. That doesn't mean there's any less of a reason for perfumes to exist though, as I talked about in that post about Rollo's handkerchief in the past disease was thought to have been spread through foul smelling odors and bad air. If anything I could see that being an even bigger superstition in an abo world where scent is already super important. I could see people trying to make scents that complimented their natural one, maybe it could even be a courting ritual for an Alpha to give an Omega they are interested in a perfume they've made that compliments their smell and has notes of their own... Oh! Or working in notes of their scent to their own perfume to indicate interest!

a-twistedheartslonging mentioned in their tags on that post about Jade's scent that Morays use scents to attract a mate, so if you take that idea about perfume being a courting step I could see Jade just being so distraught that his beloved pearl has no discernible scent. And what's worse they keep changing what little scent they do have! What's he supposed to do with that huh? I think he'd be the only one excited by Yuu making their own perfume because it gives him an excuse to talk about the scents that Yuu likes and what perfumes are like in their world. Maybe they could make a perfume together next time (⚈_⚈)? Oh haha he's just thinking out loud he knows you aren't close enough for that ye- Oh you... you would like that? You think he smells nice and you want to know what sort of perfume or cologne he uses?

(he'd get so delulu so fast if you said that. sure Yuu you can smell just like him c: just let him dim the lights a bit first he hears that's important c: just remember to be gentle with him ok???)

[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones - XVII

Genre: Angst/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse.

@abruisedmuse thank you for always being my sounding board bby <3

tagging: @climb-the-mountian | @vanserrass | @positivewitch | @zenkindoflove | @animezinglife | @readthelastpaage | @clockwork-ashes | @carolynmezzosoprano | @carnythian | @runningwiththeoceans | @readychilledwine | @goldenmagnolias | @thedarkinmansfield | @mali22 | @maidr-00 | @electromagnetic-waves | @theeternalstruggle | @devilsfoodcake22 | @the-midnightwriter | @moonfawnx | @weesablackbeak | @ladywhilemia | @illyrianshadowhunter | @alohaangels | @moobell55 | @bibliophiliaxvignette | @easchies | @feysandfeels | @thelovelymadone | @corcracrow | @dawneternal | @teddyhoneybear | @sinnerrsworld | @queenoftheworld1998 | @gracie-rosee

Find it all here.

Eris hadn’t even felt them winnow. He knew nothing — had sensed nothing, save for Iris and the feeling of her lips on his. All that he was, was being consumed by her. 

She pulled away, a fraction of an inch between them, eyes wide as she stared into her husband’s amber eyes. She barely breathed as he stared and stared and stared.

Mine.

The word clanged in his mind as Iris gripped the front of Eris’s tunic tighter, her fingers tightening as she staggered back slightly. He wondered if she had felt it — the thread tugging at his rib. If she knew how suddenly everything between them made sense. The attraction. The constant need to touch. How right it had felt even when neither of them had wanted it to be.

The Prince of Autumn wondered if it had clicked for her, that Iris was his and he was hers in a way no one would ever be. Something he never thought he’d have. Something he hadn’t even dreamed of being worthy of.

His. She was his and he was hers.

Iris blinked, finally noticing the heat that radiated around them. 

“We’re — we’re on fire.” she whispered, her eyes darting to the flames they were engulfed in then back to his face, cataloging what he was sure was a slightly dazed expression. 

“I know.” he said tightly, his gaze never leaving hers. 

Iris reached out a hand, letting the flame dance between her fingers. “It’s not burning.” 

She watched him in a way that made him feel too vulnerable — too raw. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, then said hoarsely, “My fire would never burn you.” 

And Iris flushed as the words washed over her. At the honesty of them. His fire would burn whomever he wished except for one person — a person he could never harm.

“Oh.” she whispered, her eyes darting across his face and the many emotions Eris knew he was fighting to hide.

But she must feel the sheer amount of intensity between them. She must know.

“Iris —” he rasped and licked his lips. “I —”

“Shut up.” she breathed and met his lips again, pulling him into her once more, and oh, what a kiss. 

Eris’s kiss was an imprint on her very soul and Iris felt and felt and felt. Iris felt so deeply, she wished she hadn’t wasted a single kiss on anyone else. 

She let him tighten his grip and a noise slipped from her lips when his tongue met hers. She wouldn’t let him stop — would simply keep going. They didn’t need to see anyone. They could go home and keep kissing. They could sink right here, out in the open, and simply keep kissing.

“If you don’t stop —” Eris said in between the heated kisses, his hands squeezing her waist, then sliding to squeeze lower and the feeling of his hands on her had gooseflesh erupting all over her skin. “Nothing will stop me from letting this get inappropriate very quickly.”

“If you stop kissing me —” she whispered against his lips, arching into his touch. “I will stab you in so many places —”

He pulled away with a laugh and Iris truly wanted to gut him. But she also wanted to kiss him again and — and have him touch her some more. Face heated, she tried to yank him down to her lips again but Eris smirked, his hands coming to grip her face. She tried not to shudder at the reverent way he held her, at the way his thumbs traced her cheeks so gently. His lips were smirking but his eyes gave away all that he was feeling. It mirrored all that she was feeling.

“Please don’t stab me.” he said in a tone more gently than he had ever used with her, his gaze matching the whirlwind of emotions blazing through her. “I want to keep kissing you but can’t if I’m bleeding out all over my nice clothes.”

Iris couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her lips. “Such a pretty princess you are.”

“The most pretty of princesses.” he confirmed with a smirk then leaned in and kissed her once more. This kiss a caress, a little hello as they met in the middle. Iris’s hands slid down and she splayed her fingers on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat and Eris growled against her lips, sending a shiver of delight down her spine. 

His lips left hers and Iris was about to protest when his hands slid to wrap around her waist again and he kissed the corner of her mouth instead then slid to pepper her jawline with more. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her when his lips slid to her neck and his tongue darted out to taste. She bit her lip to hold back a groan as Eris’s mouth explored and he certainly had no qualms about the noises that slipped from his lips. 

“You have terrible timing.” he whispered into her skin and Iris’s grip tightened on him. “How am I going to endure this visit now that I’ve gotten a taste of you? How am I supposed to pretend I don’t want to lay you here and taste every inch of you, Iris?”

“I won’t apologize for giving you an excellent thank-you gift.” she said breathlessly, her lips twitching when his head lifted from her neck to smirk at her. “You’ve only wanted it since you met me.”

“True.” he said quietly, his eyes holding the predatory gleam she knew so well. “I demand about a thousand more of them.”

The corner of her mouth curled up as Iris slid her hands around his waist and up his back, feeling every inch of his hard muscles through the layers of his clothing. Her eyes were glued to his as they stared at each other once more, the silence between them holding a steady, palpable tension. She wanted him closer, especially as his grip on her tightened again.

It was thrilling. To touch each other so openly, so easily. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself other than kiss him some more. Iris may have hesitated before but now — it seemed hard to resist. 

“I think I can manage that,” she whispered. “But we might be late.”

“I don’t give a shit.” Eris murmured and pressed his lips against hers again. And it wasn’t so much of a kiss as it was an ascension to heaven. 

Iris let out a soft whimper as Eris kissed her fiercely, their kiss a clash of fire. Heat like no other spread between them, their hearts ticking bombs, a volcano of emotions erupting; hands roaming, and suddenly, they couldn’t get close enough. It was an intensity she could barely process, could barely keep up with — but all Iris knew was this deep desire to stay wrapped in him. 

“Eris.” she breathed into him and then gasped when he pressed her firmly into him, feeling exactly how much he liked her lips on his. He kissed her deeply, swallowing her moans and every touch of his fingers sent a wave of pleasure that seemed to be unraveling her. She felt invigorated and Iris knew she was melting against him, knew she had become putty in his hands when she felt Eris’s smile against her lips.

“See what you’ve been missing, wife?” he murmured against her lips. 

“B-barely much.” she breathed and felt his chuckle tickle her lips as she leaned into him, unable to stop the constant need to have their lips meet. 

“Think of all the other places I will kiss you when we go home, ma —”

But Eris stiffened, the flame that had encased them immediately flaring out and Iris froze in his arms. Her brows furrowed in confusion until the sound of someone approaching became clearer and Eris’s entire demeanor changed. A blink was all it took for Eris’s face to fall back into the sneer he was known for. Another blink had Eris now in front of her, hands clasped behind his back, tension hardening the line of his shoulders as he faced away from her.

“What —”

“Helion may have granted me permission but that doesn’t mean I am always welcome whenever I visit.” he said quietly as the footsteps approached. His stance had hardly shifted but Iris knew he would be ready to strike. “If needed, you winnow right back —”

“Why would I leave?” Iris demanded. “I know how to fight! You taught me.”

“I know that.” he snapped as he looked at her over his shoulder. “But I’d rather wait to know what I’m up against before throwing my m — my wife into —” 

“No.” she objected, jutting out her chin. “I’m not going to leave you.”

Eris’s jaw clenched, cutting himself off when her firm gaze met his and he shuddered. “You’re going to end up being my biggest source of anxiety, aren’t you?” he mumbled with a scowl as she shifted next to him.

“I don’t have to be.” she said with a quirked brow and Eris noted the way she was leaning into his side, staring up at him challengingly. “Don’t try and make this my fault.”

“If you insist on being stubborn all the time and not following directions, it will be.” he said through clenched teeth and flared nostrils, his gaze ravenous as he looked at her. 

Iris swallowed as she watched him but then narrowed her eyes in return, her hands sliding to her hips as she leaned in closer. “I’m happy to follow directions if they make sense and those directions are something I actually want to do.”

“You’re supposed to follow directions even if you don’t want to.” he retorted, his eyes now on her lips, inches away from his. “Especially if it concerns your safety.”

“I don’t think my safety would be jeopardized if I’m with you, husband.” Iris replied, though her tone had no heat in it as the closeness of him threatened to overwhelm her. 

Eris’s own eyes narrowed and he snorted softly. “Your safety would absolutely be jeopardized if you were with me. Because you’re with me. Enough people dislike me to target you.”

“Well. It’s a good thing I have a knife then.” she shrugged, without losing his gaze.

“And an attitude of reckless endangerment. What an excellent combination,” he said, baring his teeth in a smile that would be threatening to most. Iris had to fight back the urge to kiss him all over again. 

“I can hold my own just fine.” she said firmly and hesitated before lowering her arms from her waist and gently placing a hand on his arm. “You should just listen to me and make things easy for yourself.” 

What Iris really wanted to say was, You’re my friend and my person. I don’t want to leave your side. Instead, she added, “Stop being an idiot.”

“I’m going to throttle you if you keep arguing with me over this.” he mused calmly, his hand coming to settle over hers without a single hesitation. “Your safety is non-negotiable.”

“Neither is yours.” she argued, and Eris tried not to roll his eyes. 

“You know I’ve fought in wars, yes? I will be fine.”

“You are a fool that is very close to getting stabbed.”

“I am a prince who most definitely does not want to get stabbed.”

“A prince that is a pain in the ass.”

“You are on thin ice with my patience, wife.” 

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it, husband?”

The two shared a breath as they seemingly forgot what the source of their argument was, too engrossed in staring at each other and fighting the urge to desperately touch again. Iris didn’t know if she had it in her to stop if they started again and Eris would definitely not be inclined to stop at all. 

Iris licked her lips. “If I kiss you again, will you relax?”

A soft smirk graced his face. “If you kiss me again, I will be the farthest thing possible from relaxed.”

“Hmm.” she mused. “I should definitely kiss you then. That’ll get you to shut up at least.”

“Maybe I should kiss you so you’d quit being so damn stubborn.”

Overwhelming need thumped through her veins as she stared at him and he stared at her. Had a simple kiss intensified whatever it was she was feeling now? It — it seemed ridiculous. Iris licked her lips again as she glanced at Eris, his gaze turning positively wicked. But as she opened her mouth to speak and put an end to this madness, another voice interrupted.

“If I were anyone else, you’d both be very dead by now.”

Eris’s sword flew out faster than Iris could blink, his eyes never leaving his wife as Iris whipped her head at the sound of the stranger’s voice and found who could only be their gracious host glancing at them. 

And Lucien was very, very amused. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting what seemed to be a very charged argument, brother dear.”

Eris finally looked away from Iris to shoot his brother a glare as Lucien stood there, hands raised by his head and a knowing smirk on his face with Eris’s sword at his throat. Eris spared Iris one more glance and squinted at the faint color gracing her lovely face, sensing her embarrassment. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t stab you in the throat.” he said tightly, his body relaxing as he slowly sheathed his sword once more and scowled at his brother. 

“I’m so thrilled at your enthusiasm to see me.” Lucien said with a grin, lowering his arms. “Somehow, I knew it was you causing fires on the outskirts of my home.” 

“Ah, fuck off.” Eris said with a wave of his hand as Lucien chuckled and Iris fought back a smile.

“I take it this isn’t the first time you brothers have drawn swords at each other.” Iris said lightly.

“Look at his obnoxious face. How could I not?” Eris demanded and Lucien snorted.

“If anyone here has cause to stab someone, it would be me stabbing you for being rude all the time.” Lucien said, crossing his arms. “I know that note came from you, asshole.”

Iris’s lips twitched and Eris watched her curiously as she raised her hand. “I would like to say, legally speaking, I am the only one allowed to stab him at this point,” she said calmly. “But since you are his brother, I will allow it if you ask nicely.”

Lucien glanced at Iris and tilted his head. He silently observed her for a moment and then smiled. “We’ve only just met and I am certain we will be the best of friends.”

Iris smiled warmly and held out a hand. “Agreed.” she said. “Iris. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the only brother Eris admits to having. You must be so proud.”

Lucien took her hand with both of his hands and squeezed it. “Lucien. And the pleasure is all mine.” he replied with a grin. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you since I heard about your engagement. You’ve been within choking distance of my brother on a daily basis. I am very jealous.”

“He is very chokeable, isn’t he?” Iris said and glanced at Eris, her lips twitching at the deep scowl on his face. 

And it was a deep scowl indeed because Eris — he was feeling too many things at the moment. The high of kissing her was wearing off and now — now it was starting to catch up to him. 

Frankly, he was going to start freaking the fuck out. 

He…he had a mate. His wife was his mate. And he’d fucken finally kissed her. He had wanted to kiss her some more and possibly slowly peel that damned dress off her — goodness knows he had made an art out of fucking outdoors that he knew Iris would enjoy it too — except of course, of course, his insufferable brother just had to interrupt.

He should’ve stabbed him when he had the chance. 

Eris glanced at Iris and Lucien as they chatted softly. He heard nothing of what they were saying, only watched their lips moving and his heart did a strange spasm at the sight. Two important people of his life smiling at each other, likely talking about him, finally meeting.

He had the strongest urge to vomit.

Squinting himself back to reality, Eris’s face heated at the sound of Iris laughing and the urge to strangle his brother skyrocketed when Lucien high-fived Iris. They already had inside jokes. He wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“I am immediately objecting to this friendship.” he snapped then squinted at Lucien and pointed with one finger, his other hand clasping around Iris’s hand to tug her closer. “Keep your hands off my wife.”

Lucien rolled his eyes and then gave his brother a curious look. “Sensitive today, are we, brother?”

“One more word out of you and I’ll show you exactly how sensitive I can be.” he sneered and glanced down at Iris when she nudged his side.

She gave him a pointed look. “We just arrived. Be nice.”

“But I don’t like him.” Eris argued calmly and Iris rolled her eyes. 

“Should I tell him what you said to me the first time I asked you about him to debunk that statement?”

Eris’s eyes narrowed as he took in his beautiful wife’s teasing expression and gods, if Lucien wasn’t standing right there, he’d devour her. 

“I have no recollection of such a conversation,” he said haughtily then promptly turned to his brother. “Take us to your better half. I like her more than I like you.”

Lucien shot Eris a look that was too knowing for his own good; it was easy to see that Lucien already had so much he wanted to say and it made Eris want to winnow home and avoid the whole thing. As if sensing that one word from him would send Eris bolting, all Lucien did was wave a gracious hand and walk them toward his home. 

And now, they sat in Lucien and Elain’s home, trying to pretend the kiss and grand revelations hadn’t happened. Trying to pretend everything was fine and they hadn’t been interrupted. 

Desperately trying not to pounce on his wife.

Elain had given them such a warm welcome, Eris would forever be grateful to her for making Iris comfortable right away and he tried to focus, to pay attention to the conversation around them as two of his favorite people got to know each other. He nearly choked on his drink twice.

His mate.

Everything suddenly made so much sense.

And simultaneously, everything just got so much worse. 

He sensed Iris watching him and his hands tightened around his glass. She had no idea, did she? He wasn’t sure if Iris was actually aware of what Eris had figured out. He also hadn’t had a chance to really process what happened and it was all too much. He couldn’t look at her for too long — everything in him ached when he did. Was this what a mating bond was supposed to feel like? 

Someone that was all his own. Someone that was his in a way no one would ever be.

He hated it. This feeling of losing control. Having feelings at all.

Having a mate. 

Oh gods, he liked that more than he’d care to admit. 

He shot back his drink in one gulp then held out his glass that Lucien warily refilled. Iris gave him a bewildered look as she placed her own glass gently on the table then turned back to Elain and Lucien who were watching the two of them with barely contained amusement.

“You have such a beautiful home.” she finally said with a smile. “It’s so cozy and welcoming.”

“Thank you!” Elain said brightly. “Lucien and I really wanted a place that felt that way. Neither of us is much for fanfare.”

“If it was up to Helion, we would be living lavishly inside his obnoxious palace but he was nice enough to let us venture on our own here.” Lucien said with a chuckle.

“That’s very generous of him.” Iris commented. “I didn’t realize you had such a close relationship with him.”

Lucien stole a glance at a mute Eris who only glared at his brother and then gave Iris a small smile. “He has been incredibly good to us both.”

“Eris mentioned you play the piano beautifully.” Elain jumped in with a smile. “Lucien plays really well too! You two will have to play us a song together at some point.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” Iris said, smiling widely, and glanced at Eris who still avoided looking at her. “I’d love that! This one has never offered.”

“That’s because he’s terrible at it.” Lucien said with a mischievous grin towards his brother. “Did Eris ever tell you about the one and only time he attempted to play the piano? He was so bad at it, that the instructor resigned almost immediately due to the levels of distress he caused.”

Iris raised her brows at her husband who rolled his eyes at the chuckles around him and finally spoke stiffly, “That idiot was terrible at his job, stuttering like an imbecile. How am I expected to learn to play the piano if his fingers were trembling all over the place?” he asked indignantly.

“As if a measly instructor could stand against the wrath of a tiny Eris.” Elain teased.

“You must’ve petrified him immediately,” Iris commented with a small smile and glanced his way. Eris licked his lips, his gaze flickering to Iris’s mouth and then back up at her eyes. 

“I like instilling fear. It gets people to do what I want much quicker.”

“I doubt that always works for you, does it?”

“There has ever only been one exception, wife.” he replied with a raised brow and Iris flushed, the atmosphere between them immediately tensing.

It took all of his willpower not to pounce on her instantly. He hadn't tasted anything he’d been offered since they arrived and if Lucien and Elain noticed the scent change, they were gracious enough not to show it. His mind kept wandering to what her skin would taste like. What she would look like when he had her splayed before him and spread those lovely thighs to —

He scowled immediately. This was absolutely ridiculous. He was more self-composed than this. Eris would not let himself become an imbecile just because they had kissed and happened to be mates. He stole a glance at his wife as she continued conversing with their hosts.

Mine.

His grip tightened on his glass. In a way, this reaction made absolute sense with the way they’d moved so carefully around each other before. Were they both so pathetic that kissing would seemingly destroy the self-control they had? 

Eris swallowed, ignoring another look from Lucien, focusing only on the drink in his hand. As long as Iris didn’t move too close to him or touch him, he would be fine. He could be composed. He was a Prince.

Who really, really, really wanted to kiss his wife again. And do many, many other things to her.

He stole another glance at Iris and immediately regretted it as she smiled at Lucien then much to his dismay, cautiously placed a hand on Eris’s thigh as she continued, “Eris mentioned you —”

She didn’t get a chance to finish the statement as the glass in his hand shattered and Iris’s head snapped towards her husband in shock.

A beat of silence passed then Eris glanced down at what remained of the glass in his hand and blinked up at his brother. “I think my drink was too strong.” he said lamely.

He shouldn’t have looked at her again but he did and swallowed as Iris’s mouth fell open then closed, baffled for a moment, her eyes flickering between his tense face and his now bleeding hand. She blanched at the sight.

“Are you alright?” Iris demanded and despite her tone, gently took his hand in hers to inspect it.

“I don’t think you should do that.” Eris said tightly. If she kept touching him, he would not make it through the rest of the day. 

“You’re bleeding.” she snapped. “You might have little pieces of glass stuck in your hand and I don’t want you to —”

“Iris — wait —”

“— I need to clean it and then —”

“Lucien.” Eris snapped, snatching his hand out of Iris’s grip, and glanced at his brother with wide eyes. “I need to walk off this drink.”

“I — okay.” Lucien said with a confused glance to his wife then shot his brother a bewildered look. “We can take a walk outside.” 

Iris frowned at her empty hands then looked up at Eris, annoyed. “Well, let me clean your hands first, Eris.”

“I can get something for that — “ Elain began but Eris cut everyone off as he stood abruptly.

“I need fresh air.” he said hoarsely and gestured to the shattered glass. “Nobody touches that. I will clean it.”

“Eris – “ Iris tried again but he whirled rather wildly towards her and she froze.

“Wife.” he rasped. “If I stay here for another moment, I will do something very, very stupid and will not have a single slither of regret. Now, if you will all excuse me, I will walk this drink off.”

And the three of them watched silently as Eris briskly exited the room.

Lucien paused for a moment and looked at Iris curiously as she stared after her husband in disbelief. 

“Well.” Elain blinked. “That was rather dramatic of him.”

“I can’t believe him.” she muttered then turned to Elain. “I’m so sorry for the mess. I don’t know what made that happen but let me go check on —.”

“I’ll go see what’s wrong.” Lucien interrupted gently. “He’s my brother. I can handle this.”

Iris took a step forward but paused as Lucien waved her off with a reassuring smile. She gave Lucien a tight smile in return as he left to follow Eris and bit her lip. He had — that was — she wasn’t sure what that was but Iris could only stand dumbfounded.

“That doesn’t mean they’re going to hit each other, does it?” Iris asked quietly after a moment, her eyes still searching for wherever Eris had escaped to. 

“Maybe, but it’s all done lovingly,” Elain said and Iris turned to find her holding back a laugh. “Being affectionate with each other makes them nauseous.”

“Not surprising in the slightest.” Iris said then shook her head with a sigh, holding out her hands. “I’m sorry if things are…tense.”

Elain’s lips twitched. “Don’t even worry about it…first meetings and all.” she began gently. “Did something happen before you came? You seem to be worried about him.”

Iris flushed instantly and looked away from Elain towards the door Eris had exited from. 

Did something happen? Why, yes. She had finally kissed her husband and had been about two seconds away from climbing him like a tree. Iris bit her lip and glanced at Elain who encouragingly patted Iris’s arm. 

“Don’t feel pressured to say anything. I just want to make you feel comfortable.”

Iris groaned. “You’re so nice. I’m sorry we’re being — whatever this is.” she immediately said, waving a hand and Elain laughed.

“It’s fine! You have no idea how strange it is to see Eris with a wife.”

“You have no idea how strange it is being Eris’s wife.” she said with a huff of laughter. “He’s so…. ridiculous. What kind of exit was that!”

“He’s always been that way.” Elain said with a chuckle. “But don’t worry, I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Oh, I’m not too worried. I’m definitely going to choke him later for this.”

Elain raised a brow then smiled knowingly. “Will you? You seemed very concerned a few moments ago.”

Iris blinked then as calmly as possible said, “I can’t stand him actually.”

“You’re about to break your neck to see him through the window.”

“I want to break his neck,” Iris replied, momentarily distracted when she saw her husband pass by said window. She could tell he was frustrated by his pacing and it made her tense. Was he — was he truly upset by the timing of their kiss? She knew he liked it but something — something had shifted his thought process. Iris had hardly been given a moment to really think it all through, but Eris seemed ready to launch himself into the sun.

It was just a kiss. A kiss that felt so…right. At least for her. 

Iris narrowed her eyes at the open window even though Eris hadn’t passed by it again. Had she done something wrong? Was it bothering him that she was friendly with Lucien after all the jokes she made about him? She blinked. That couldn’t be it. He had been looking forward to them being friends.

“Yes, that is the exact look someone has when they want to break someone’s neck.” Elain said with a laugh and Iris turned back to her sister-in-law. She gave Elain a sheepish smile and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Again, I’m sorry.” she said quietly, her fists clenching then unclenching. “We had a…difficult morning before coming here and then had a bit of a moment right before we came —”

“Yes, Lucien mentioned something about that.” Elain said and Iris’s face flushed again at the grin on her face. She opened her mouth then closed it, brows furrowed.

“How?” she then demanded. “He was with us the whole time.”

“Mating bond,” was all Elain offered then giggled at Iris’s indignant expression. “I have to say, I’m very happy that you two seem to be getting along well.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I wanted to break his neck?” 

Which, of course, was a lie anyone could see right through. Iris wanted to kiss his neck maybe. See how he liked it if Iris decided to get a taste of him the way he had teased her outside.

“Getting along very well, it seems.” Elain said and Iris was mortified to realize the scent of the room had changed. 

“Oh gods.” came her response and Elain let out a hearty laugh as Iris covered her face. “I’m so sorry. This is disgusting. We just met — I’m in your home — this is absolutely his fault for behaving like a —”

Elain only patted her back sympathetically and tried not to laugh again. “Please, don’t apologize. This is extremely amusing.” she said. “Besides, I lived with my sister and her mate for a while. I’ve learned to very quickly tune out anything I don’t wish to see, smell, or hear.”

Iris pursed her lips, squinting at Elain who poorly attempted to hide her glee.

“To be fair, this is our first time out in public where we can be comfortable with each other.” Iris muttered, fingers smoothing down the fabric of her dress. “Usually, we have to pretend I’m a doormat and he’s a maniac.”

“Oh, I understand.” Elain said with a snort, “Try to pretend you don’t want to jump his bones while your sisters and their friends are all in one room.” 

Iris tilted her head curiously. “Eris mentioned you and Lucien took time to get to know each other.” 

Elain smiled down at her hands. “I had a hard time coming to terms with turning fae and getting a mate all in one breath.” she said and glanced at Iris. “Once I let myself give Lucien a chance, it was a whole different battle trying not to have everyone else know I wanted him just by being in the same room.”

The corner of Iris’s mouth lifted at Elain’s expression. “I bet Lucien enjoyed that.”

“He kept behaving like a true gentleman which only made me feel like a wild woman desperate to get his clothes off.”

Iris laughed then gave Elain a pointed look, thinking of every moment her husband had said the most scandalous things to her. “Yeah, no. Eris is just a heathen. Nothing gentlemanly there.”

Elain snorted. “Sure.” she teased. “Judging by the glass all over my floor, I’d say he’s struggling a lot more than you think.”

At the reminder, Iris rubbed a hand to her forehead, roses blooming on her cheeks. He had been right. Kissing him right before this visit had been a terrible idea. Now she wanted to hurtle herself into the sun. 

“I should go check on him.” she said quietly, giving Elain a small smile. “As much as I want to punch him in the face much of the time, I — I want to make sure he’s okay.”

Elain’s gaze softened and she shared Iris’s smile. “He’ll be fine, Lucien pushes his buttons but he’ll make sure Eris is okay.”

Iris nodded slowly, her gaze back towards the open window where she could see Eris and Lucien talking in the distance. She had to fight back the urge to follow him and instead turned back to Elain, who was watching her with that same smile.

Flushing, Iris let out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry. This is all…” she started and waved a hand. “Very new for me.” 

Elain chuckled. “I’ll bet.” Her sister-in-law watched her for a moment then spoke gently, “He’s been very lonely, you know.” she said. “He pretends otherwise but…I think he’s needed someone like you for a long while now.” 

Iris felt her smile slowly slide off her face and she glanced down at her hands. 

“Eris always says how we’re two sides of the same coin,” she began in a low voice. “The more time I spend with him, the more I see how much we work well together. How much we…match.”

Even if it scared the living shit out of her.

“It didn’t start off that way though, did it.” Elain said, the corner of her mouth ticking up.

Iris shook her head and said softly, “No, it did not…but I think we were meant to find each other. Unpleasant circumstances aside, I…am glad for it.” She licked her lips and tugged gently at her ear. “I’m assuming he, uh, mentioned how we got married.”

“He might have.” Elain said slyly and Iris rolled her eyes.

“He comes by here often enough, doesn’t he?” she asked with a chuckle as she glanced around the home. “My beautiful flowers are always from you.” 

Elain laughed and reached out to squeeze Iris’s hand. “I hope that’s okay.” she said gently. “I’m always so happy he feels comfortable sharing with Lucien and me. They haven’t had it easy. We’ve gotten a lot closer.”

Elain gave Iris a warm smile as she continued, “Despite the rough start you two had, I’m glad he has you to shake him up and get him out of the mold everyone keeps trying to shove him in.” she said. “You see him. And he needs that more than anything. He isn’t used to kind or gentle and Eris may not want that all the time but he certainly needs it.”

Kindness. Iris thought about that word and what her mother-in-law had told her.

“You and Lady Enya share similar thoughts.” 

“She is our mother-in-law and we both strongly disliked her sons at first.” Elain said with a wink. “This wouldn’t be the first time she’s dealt with this.” 

Iris let out a chuckle, smoothing down her dress again. “The last thing I ever expected was Eris Vanserra to be kind to me.” she said quietly. “It’s been so…unexpected.”

Elain smiled knowingly. “I felt so wary of Lucien at first. I didn’t want anything to do with him.” she said then shrugged as her smile turned fond. “But we were meant to find each other too. He was my mate for a reason and despite the circumstances of our meeting, Lucien was one of the best things that happened to me.”

A mate. Gods, Iris thought. She had gone into this marriage barely wanting a husband but now…she not only had a husband, but a friend. She wondered if…would it be silly to think that Eris could be her mate? The intensity between them would certainly make sense but…mates were equals in some way and Eris…well, she certainly was not on equal footing. 

He was the son of a High Lord. She was the daughter of a fiend. 

A shitty father was the common denominator between them but…he was still hers now. Her husband.

And her shitty father couldn’t take that away from her.

The word mine flashed through her mind.

She pursed her lips and rubbed at her forehead gently. Too much was happening so fast. Too many emotions, too many feelings. Iris wasn’t so sure she was ready for everyone to know exactly how she was feeling. Until she felt brave enough to figure it out.

“I…tolerate him.” she finally said and Elain rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Right.”

Iris gave her sister-in-law a pointed look, changing the subject. “He speaks so highly of you. I want to know more about you and Lucien. I’d love to know what it’s been like to live in this court.”

“And know more about Eris too, I presume?” Elain asked and it was Iris’s turn to roll her eyes at the suggestive look on her sister-in-law’s face.

“If you’d like to share.” Iris said casually. “I guess it would be interesting to know what he’s like through your eyes.” 

“You guess, huh?” Elain asked with a wiggle of her brow and Iris’s lips twitched.

“I wouldn’t say no to whatever you decided to share.” she said with an air of indifference and Elain laughed.

“The first time I was in direct contact with him after the war was at a ball.” Elain began with a grin. “We didn’t even speak to each other, we just observed each other from a distance. I think he was trying to scope me out and tell Lucien about me.” She rolled her eyes with another fond smile. “He ended up proposing to my sister that evening.”

“Did he now?” Iris asked with as light of a tone as possible. She would not get jealous of something that happened before her time or of Elain’s mysterious sister who had to be magnificent to get a reaction like that from Eris. Nope, she would not be jealous at all.

Elain froze. “Had he not mentioned that?” she squeaked and Iris snorted.

“No, but I am very intrigued,” she said. “Please Elain, don’t hold back now.” 

Like a deer caught in the wild, Elain blinked rapidly as her cheeks turned pink and Iris couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I think I should stop talking.” Elain said promptly.

“And I think we should take a walk in your beautiful garden that Eris is always raving about and make fun of my husband.” Iris said with a pointed look. “You’re the only one I can get true intel from, Elain.”

Elain groaned, covering her face with her hands which only made Iris smile. “I shouldn’t have said anything! I feel terrible!”

Iris chuckled and nudged her with a shoulder. “There’s nothing to feel terrible about. This was before my time and besides, you really expect Eris to tell me about something like that?” she said with an eye roll. “Eris sharing anything is like him trying to pass a kidney stone the size of a building.” 

Elain snorted and then doubled over laughing. “Oh, you! I like you.” she said and then gave her a sly look. “You’re right. Let’s take a walk and get to know each other better. I’ll spill some secrets while we’re at it that you absolutely did not get from me.”

Looping an arm through Elain’s, Iris patted her hand. “Secrets? What secrets?” Iris said airily. “We’re just going to take a walk and you’re going to tell me all about your lovely garden.”

“Of course.” Elain agreed with a serious nod. “Nothing about your husband, of course.”

“Naturally. Talking about him is nauseating.”

Elain let out a laugh and shook her head. “Yes, so nauseating you can’t keep your eyes off him for a moment.” 

And indeed, the moment Iris stepped outside, her eyes locked in on her husband and his pacing once more. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

[ken-dom]

The Stars Look Very Different Today

∘₊✧ Ryland Grace solo fic

2.5k words

∘₊✧ Summary: The computer has a new command for Ryland — one he’s extremely relieved to carry out.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: I’m barely half way through the book and I’m so in love with Ryland already. My god. Anyway this obviously got me into researching some of the hornier aspects of space travel, potentially unlocked a new kink along the way, and this is where I ended up. If you’re as curious as I am about the topic of this fic, you might enjoy this Vice article and also this Mauden article!

Title from Space Oddity by David Bowie, suggested by the wonderful @heresthestorymorningglory who encouraged me endlessly with this fic, as always!

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, Project Hail Mary spoilers!, masturbation, if you squint it’s kinda Ryland x Computer — and it’s kinda forced masturbation but he definitely wants to do it so take it as you wish, premature ejaculation, written from Ryland’s POV in keeping with the novel, horny Ryland, mentions of porn, low key science kink, and my favourite tag ever: cumming in space! 🪐🛸💦

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

‘Ejaculate.’

The voice has become familiar to me over the last few days. Almost comforting at times, if not a little on the unsettling side. But hey, unsettling isn’t the worst thing a person can be, right? Or a computer, if we’re being technical. Which I suppose we should be.

I blink my eyes open, groggy from what I’m guessing was a relatively short period of sleep before I check the analogue clock on the wall to confirm it. I don’t think on it for too long, however, because my attention is pulled to the heat I can feel pooling in my gut, and the throbbing sensation in my… between my legs. It’s untimely, but expected.

I’ve found myself with this little problem upon waking up for the third time in a row, now. The previous times, I’ve ignored it, willed it away while trying to keep my mind on everything else I’m still adjusting to rather than wasting my time… enjoying myself a little too much. 

This time, though, it seems the ship knows and wants me to do something about it.

I obviously haven’t heard correctly. My inconveniently timed arousal must be playing on my mind. It has been a while since I… no, that’s irrelevant right now, I’m giving in but I need to focus.

Why would the computer instruct me to-

‘Ejaculate.’

There it is again, plain as day this time. Yup. The computer wants me to… ejaculate.

Despite being completely alone, lightyears away from another living human, I feel incredibly exposed all of a sudden.

I gradually sit up and look around the room, rubbing at my tired eyes, careful not to cause any friction that might exacerbate matters. One of the robot arms is waiting patiently at the other side of the small room, holding out a little plastic cup, which I presume I am supposed to deposit my offering into. And then, what? Give it back to put into safe storage? Or eject it out into space where it’ll crystallise and float forever as evidence of my deed, only for some alien to discover and analyse a hundred years from now and take back to his home planet with breaking news. ‘Sex seed found among the stars, Earth astronaut got too excited about space travel.’

Sex seed? Jeepers.

Maybe, more likely, they’ll keep it to repopulate in the event of this whole thing not working out, or-

Ok. Let me think this through a little more scientifically.

Why would I need to ejaculate right now? What’s different about this time to the previous times I’ve woken up with a raging erection straining against my uniform?

‘Ejaculate.’

‘Just give me a moment, please?’ I reply, irritable, and the computer does not answer. The robot arm remains, though, and I know I will be given no choice in this.

Is that ethical? 

Whatever. I don’t think I need to get caught up in the semantics of whether one can consent to a spacecraft computer asking for one’s semen, robot arms or not. And after all, in the words of the wise Beyoncé, I woke up like this.

So, back to the question. If it’s not for repopulation purposes, perhaps… ah! Of course! It’s for my own good! The computer is trying to make sure I stay healthy.

Masturbation has been proven to lower anxiety levels and stress. This is a high-pressure sort of situation after all. Maybe it thinks I need a little relaxation to be able to focus properly, or to keep my blood pressure levels well maintained?

That’s the stuff. I’m really getting the ball rolling now.

I remember a study I read, and realise that actually, the fact that it’s been a while is actually important here, too, and not just a distraction my body insists on.

Infrequent ejaculation can result in prostatitis, and the way to avoid the secretions and subsequent bacteria growth that cause the condition, is to ejaculate. Frequently.

The computer has either noticed my recent arousal levels; the higher heart rate, the dilated pupils, the change in blood flow to cause certain… swellings, and let’s face it, the scent of desperation I must be giving off after this long without an orgasm, and thinks I’m overdue an ejaculation or two… or, it’s programmed to encourage masturbation at set intervals with frequent ejaculation in mind as a necessary tool to health.

In honesty, I started to lose my erection when the first of all these thoughts occurred to me – nothing like a computer and a robot arm teaming up to persuade you to rub one out for them to kill the mood – but… mmh…

Listen, I know I can get a little… carried away with science, but I really am alone out here and I don’t think the computer is at all concerned with what gets me going. It just wants me to cum in a cup. I can do that. I think.

I retrieve the cup from the robot arm, which folds away, patiently waiting for me to return with the goods, no doubt.

‘Don’t look, okay?’ I say a little weakly, feeling my cheeks heat up. I know it’s a computer, but it knows things. Too much, almost, and I feel watched. I’ve never been into that, being watched. Nothing against it, but I much prefer to do this with my curtains closed and my doors locked, preferably in a darkened room, or the shower. Since I can’t be afforded these luxuries aboard the Hail Mary, the least I can ask for is the computer not to look.

It doesn’t answer me, of course. I didn’t really expect it to, but at least with whatever else it gathers about me, it’ll know I’m not enjoying it’s presence while I knock one out for it.

Who knows, maybe over time, we’ll get to know one another and the computer’s presence will be the only way I can jerk off. Maybe it’ll start talking me though it… would dirty talk be programmed incase of difficulty… getting into it?

I chuckle softly, knowing that liking the computer is a real possibility. Doll syndrome, it’s called. I’d start preferring the computer to a real living, breathing human. Or maybe there’s another syndrome specifically for the preference of a computer…

But I’m letting myself get distracted again.

Back to the matter at hand. Ha!

I sit back down on my bed, my erection pressed painfully against my uniform trousers now, as I consider the little plastic cup. By the look of it, it holds about 100mls. The average ejaculate is around 1.25-5mls, and from experience I tend to fall somewhere in the middle of that range, so it’s extremely unlikely I’ll fill it, but it really has been so long, the fleeting thought passes through my mind that it won’t be big enough.

Then my thoughts switch to how this is all so clinical and not at all sexy. I guess that’s another kink I might be missing out on, but before I can get carried away again, the robot arm drops something else down for me.

Oh. It’s a dirty magazine. The sort they keep on the top shelf, hidden behind more family friendly editions like House and Home or Celebrity Chat or whatever people read these days.

A pair of breasts almost knock me clean out as the magazine drops into view before me. The robot arm flicks through the thin, glossy pages and holds it open at a page of a woman with her legs spread, glistening folds displayed beautifully as if just for me.

But she’s not real. Looking at the image only reminds me that I’m alone, and whilst her aroused state and thoughts of how she might pleasure herself does make my cock twitch, my heart sinks a little that I’ll never feel another wet pussy.

‘No thank you,’ I choke out, slightly reluctant, and the robot arm switches to a magazine it was apparently holding behind the one with the pretty vagina photograph.

This one displays an image of a thick, handsome penis, uncut and leaking at the tip, fingers ghosting over the happy trail above…

‘No, that’s not the issue,’ I say, a little high pitched, because my cock is leaking now too, and I know I’m not going to make it to the cup if they keep showing me images like this.. ‘I just… I can manage on my own, thank you.’

Still, I feel a little disappointed when the robot arm takes that enticing cock away, too, and I’m left truly alone once again.

I let out a long breath, as even as I can muster. I need to get out of my head.

I close my eyes, breathing deeply. I focus on the ache between my legs. I think about taking my time, really enjoying the sensation of touching myself in space – and the thought that I’m actually in space, does it for me again. With an involuntary pulse of my cock, I feel a thick drop of pre-ejaculate form at the tip.

Take my time? Who am I kidding.

Clasping the cup securely in one hand, I slip the other over the crotch of my trousers and the strangled noise that escapes me would’ve been enough to wake the whole neighbourhood had I been back home on Earth.

I feel a rush of shame flood my senses, but then I remind myself that I can be as loud as I want here. In space, no one can hear you moan. I laugh again, feeling giddy. This is kind of exciting, actually. The thought that I’m alone is finally working for me, and without overthinking it any further, I tear open the fastening on my trousers and let my cock spring free.

I’m so hard it’s painful, visibly throbbing, angry red tip shining with pre-cum. Begging to be touched.

I realise as I stare down at my neglected equipment that words like cum and cock aren’t usually so easily thrown around in my vocabulary, and that I must be unusually horny – another word I tend to shy away from until the moment calls for it – to be thinking like this.

I bite my lips together, anticipating how it might feel.

I’ve never done this in space before. It must be ok to do it, otherwise the computer wouldn’t expect me to just get on with it, ‘reading’ material included, but what if it feels different? What if it hurts?

I tentatively raise a trembling hand and carefully drag a featherlight fingertip up the underside, base to tip, tracing a thick vein and collecting some pre-cum on the way.

I squirm, moaning loudly. I wonder if the computer has really shut its ears off, or if it’s simply programmed to know the difference between horny, desperate groaning and other types of sounds, like real pain or distress.

Whatever, I need more. Fuck.

I suck my finger clean and do it again. A gentle fingertip ghosting up the hot flesh and my body jolts upright.

I’m not gonna last more than a few seconds, and I know it.

It turns out that for whatever reason, touching yourself in space feels fucking incredible.

I lose track of most of my thoughts after that, feeling like I’ve transformed into some sort of rabid animal.

I slump backwards, spreading my legs, and my hand wraps around my shaft, immediately pumping furiously as a broken string of growls and roars rip from my throat.

I barely have time to remember the cup, but somewhere in the haze of unbridled bliss, my lizard brain must have kicked in at just the right moment because only instinct could have given me the sense to raise my other hand and position the cup to catch the insane amount of ejaculate I release as I writhe on the sheets.

Some of it dribbles down over my fingers, but it doesn’t matter, as long as I deposit some in the provided receptacle, I suppose, the computer will be satisfied.

It seems to drag on for a while, this release. Not that I’m complaining; it feels so good I wouldn’t be able to comprehend words enough to form an actual complaint at this moment, even if I wanted to. But as climaxes go, this one, long and intense and oh, so delicious, is up there with the best.

I shakily place the cup (around 7-10mls not including what I didn’t catch – that has to be some sort of record for me) onto the floor and roll over, curling into a ball, my softening cock twitching through aftershocks of pleasure as every muscle in my body relaxes me into another round of sleep.

I wake up five hours later, sprawled on my back with my cock out, still soft for now, and my hand sticky. It must have worked. I must have needed it.

Slowly, I sit up again, tucking my co- my penis back in. Making myself presentable. I am in uniform, after all. I reach up to smooth my hair down. It’s a mess, and there are loose strands stuck to my forehead. I’ll deal with that later.

I notice the cup of ejaculate has gone, collected by my trusty pal, the porno robot arm, and a little sink has been revealed from behind its wall panel.

The computer isn’t going to instruct me to clean myself up – it’s giving me that dignity at least, but it’s pointing me in the right direction. And it’s correct.

I stand on shaky legs to head over there, feeling a slight headrush.

Hopefully, the computer will never speak of it again-

‘Thirty-seven seconds.’

‘Until what?’ I ask, too relaxed to care very much, as I soap up my semen-coated palm.

‘Thirty-seven seconds to produce 7.8mls of semen.’

My cheeks burn. It timed me? And I couldn’t even last out a whole minute?

Did computers care about premature ejaculation as much as humans seem to? Is it even premature when you’re only trying to pleasure yourself?

‘Yeah, well, it’s been a while,’ I retort, sheepish but clearly irked. ‘A long while.’

No further comment from the computer. Great.

I know it’s time for me to get on with the thousand other things occupying my time on this ship, so I do. But the nagging thought I couldn’t shake as I observed the beetles told me that I had to prove the computer wrong about my stamina.

I can last.

And apparently, the thought of proving the computer wrong about my own masturbation habits was doing it for me and-

‘Mmhhnnn-’

That delicious friction against my sensitive cock in these pants was tormenting me. And I thought cock not penis so I must be horny again. Does space travel typically cause high levels of arousal?

Fuck it. It doesn’t matter.

‘Computer, you got another cup? You can watch this time. I’m gonna put on a real show for you.’

[fallow-hollow]

Hiii I am Dying of nervousness sending in a request for the first time but could I get Mithrun and a gn!reader? Nothing else needs to be specific, just that (sorry if I am making it difficult for you ^^')

body heat

…ft! mithrun x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, post-canon, spoilers for manga and ending, established relationship, cuddling

…word count! 955

…notes! don’t see a lotta mithrun content out there, so i’m happy to write for him! i hope this meets your expectations anon!!

“Mithruuuun,” you whined, unable to see your lover even when looking over your shoulder. “C’mere with me and light the fire already, it’s so cold in here.”

Mithrun shot you a glance from where he stood a distance away, despite the fact that you couldn’t return it. “Is it? I can’t tell.”

His flat tone of voice made it even more obvious that the elf truly knew nothing of the agony you were experiencing, imbuing you with a sense of lighthearted frustration. Tossing your head back, you would groan,

“Of course you can’t tell, you’d wear a flowy tunic even if it was a blizzard outside! Now come help me!”

Without as much of a sound to warn you, the man suddenly appeared at your side, causing you to both jump and squeak from the spontaneous nature of his movement. Scratch that, knowing him, it was probably teleportation. Hardly necessary, considering how close you were, but you wouldn’t put it past your lover to do such a thing just to scare you. What a tease…..

“I don’t mind helping you, but sometimes I do wonder if you choose not to do it on your own just to spend time with me.”

Now, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for Mithrun to say something like this completely genuinely, but the ghost of a smirk gracing those gorgeous features of his let you know that he was most certainly poking fun at you right now. He could be so arrogant sometimes… not that you truly minded.

Ever since Mithrun had recently retired to live with you in the still fledgling Golden Country, you’d noticed him start to become ever so slightly livelier at times. In the past, he’d always said he was grateful that you didn’t meet him when he was so pompous and flippant, but to you, a few snarky remarks here and there didn’t bother you at all. If anything, it meant that he could reclaim his old self while also embracing the new, which made a hopeful prospect for your shared future.

While you were in the process of pondering these feelings, the man beside you went right ahead with his magic. Though he mainly specialized in teleportation magic, any self-respecting member of the Canaries, former or otherwise, knew how to do something as simple as create some flame. The firewood you’d piled up caught almost instantly, creating a blaze that was perfect in both size and temperature.

“Thank you.” You acknowledged him with a nod, figuring that was all he would do. It seemed that Mithrun had other plans, however, judging by his choice to lift up one end of your blanket and wedge himself into the space next to you. A bit confused, you shot him a glance. “I thought you said you weren’t cold?”

He hummed. “But I want to be with you.”

Want. It was such a strange word to hear from Mithrun. For the longest time, he insisted he was unable to want anything at all, aside from the burning need for vengeance. Even now, he struggled with things like eating or sleeping. So to hear that he wants you, of all things…

You did nothing to hide the smile on your face. “You always can, you big goof.”

Whenever the two of you snuggled, your lover never really knew where to put his hands. This rang just as true now, with his arms awkwardly hovering on either side of you, unsure where to grasp or hold. With an almost practiced sense of effortlessness, you guided him to wrap both arms around your waist, positioning one at a time.

For a man so strong, he was quite pliant under your touch. One could easily say that it was his own apathy causing such behavior, but on the other hand, it was nice to believe that he chose to do so of his own free will.

He certainly had no trouble plopping his head down on your shoulder, completely unbothered by the way his cheek was squished from the proximity. How could someone be so battle hardened yet so…..cute?

“You comfy?”

The elf hummed affirmatively, the sound slightly muffled by the close contact. You allowed one hand to snake behind his back and rest comfortably on his hip, meanwhile the other grasped the edge of the blanket to keep it snugly wrapped around you. Honestly, Mithrun could probably be in the strangest position imaginable and still consider himself perfectly comfortable, so you weren’t entirely sure why you asked. It just felt… nice to check in on him. Like the right thing to do, no matter how obvious his answer may be to you.

Soft crackling sounds served as the backdrop for these thoughts, all while your lover remained still and relaxed by your side, having some ponderings of his own. Without you, Mithrun often found it difficult to settle down. He was getting a little better at knowing when to rest and eat in recent days, but even at times where he was well aware of the tiredness weighing him down, it was difficult to want to rest. Especially when what he wanted even more was to wait for you.

With you, he was able to feel at ease in a way that he still struggled with for the most part. Just like that dwarf had told him, even vegetable scraps could grow anew when placed in the soil and cared for. Maybe you were the earth, and he wanted nothing more than to relax while surrounded by you. He really wasn’t great at metaphors, so he couldn’t quite tell.

Of one thing, though, he could certainly be sure.

“I think that it should get cold more often.”

[jjkamochoso]

In Sickness and Sadism

Not fluff, not angst, but a secret third thing... (it's Feitan from HxH, what can I say)

Feitan Portor x gn!reader with chronic illness

You can't afford your medicine. Feitan won't accept that!

Warnings: cussing, breaking of human bones, mentions of other violence (not toward reader)

"What do you mean the price went up that much?"

You were incredulous. You had been frequenting the same pharmacy in your home town since you could remember and the price for medicine had always been consistent. That's what you liked about shopping there--the owner didn't price gouge like they did in every other store. Now, you didn't know what to do. You needed to buy the damn medicine or else you would be miserable, or probably even dead. It already wasn't easy having to deal with a chronic illness and now you had to face the fact that you definitely didn't have enough money to buy something you needed to live.

"That's just how much it is now, don't cry to me about it," sneered the cashier and you felt your anger bubble up at his lack of empathy. Your life was terribly unfair and you wanted to scream, cry, and punch the smirk off the cashier in that order.

"Please, can I talk to Mr. Greck, the owner, about this? I've been coming here for years, maybe he can get me a discount," you pleaded, but the cashier just laughed at you.

"The owner has a job from which he needs to make money. Not that you would know what it's like to have money in the first place. So no, you can't waste his time begging like the poor person you are. Now get out or I'll throw you out."

You glared at him, hoping he was bluffing, but he seemed the type to follow through with hurting someone like you and you knew your body couldn't take the exhaustion, especially if you were going to be off your medicine for a while. You needed to make sure you were in good condition to work every day of the week, plus overtime, to make enough to buy your month's supply. Feeling defeated and upset, you left the building, tears falling freely.

Feitan prided himself on his distinct lack of empathy. He relished in the fact that the pain of others makes him feel warm inside. There was no better symphony of sounds than people crying and screaming for their pain to stop.

So why the fuck was he finding himself so outraged at some random person's medical predicament?

The raven haired man had stopped in to a local pharmacy to pick up (ahem... steal) some supplies for the Troupe in case anyone managed to get hurt on the latest mission. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings for the first few minutes of his shopping spree, completely uncaring to someone else's woes of the fragility of the human body. All of a sudden, after stuffing the last roll of gauze in his sleeve, his ears perked up to listen in to the conversation happening at the front register.

"What do you mean the price went up that much?"

His eyebrows furrowed. Not that he cared, because he wasn't paying for any of his things anyway, but he did notice that the price tags here for items displayed significantly lower numbers than previous pharmacies he had visited in other areas around. You had affirmed his findings in your conversation with the cashier and Feitan felt his blood boiling at the brash rudeness coming from the cashier's mouth. Who did that scum think he was, speaking like that to someone for no reason? Feitan certainly wasn't the nicest guy around but even he had the decency to not be a total jerk to random strangers, let alone people in distress about their medical and financial woes. He didn't know why he was giving this ordeal the time of day. Maybe it was because of his upbringing? He saw this type of thing daily in Meteor City. Hell, he lived it himself. There was nothing scarier than seeing a totally healthy person decay rapidly and shrivel into nothingness, all because they were born in unfortunate circumstances. He scoffed when he saw you leaving in tears. Why didn't you just use your brain and brawn and steal it? Were you too weak? He saw your fists clenching earlier and figured you were strong enough to take down that slime ball. If you did end up getting your ass kicked, at least you didn't lie down like a dog and take it, like you were doing now. His eyes followed your frame until you left the building and he watched until your silhouette was no longer visible outside. He didn't know why he was doing this. He wasn't supposed to make a big scene whenever he was out and about, but the events were already set into motion before he could stop himself.

"5 month supply of whatever that person needed." Feitan ordered, pointing to the boxes behind the cashier's head.

The cashier just laughed at him. "You too, huh? What are you, their boyfriend or somethin'? Maybe their kid? Scrawny little thing."

Oh, he'll wish he never had a tongue to speak those words.

Feitan kept his cool, procuring a velvet bag from his person and set it on the counter with a clank emitting from the contents of inside. "I have money."

The cashier's mouth opened in a greedy smile. He quickly retrieved the 5 month supply Feitan requested and put it in a bag.

"That'll be 100,000 Jenny."

Feitan smirked under his cowl. He reached into the bag, seemingly to pull out money, but instead of coins, the cashier's outstretched hand was met with a mini hammer. The sickening crunch of bones could be heard as the man howled in pain.

"Oh? Big man can't handle small hammer?" Feitan taunted, his eyes crinkled in delight at the man's suffering. The cashier tried to reach for a gun he had stashed behind the counter but Feitan was much too fast, grabbing his wrist and turning his arm the wrong way so that, too, was broken. The cashier couldn't get a word out, instead crying out with tears running down his face.

"Don't cry to me about it." Feitan mocked the worker by using his own words against him. The shorter man hummed a bit, thinking of what to do next. He needed to finish up quickly or else he'd lose track of you and end up having done this all for nothing.

Well, this wasn't all for nothing either way. He needs to make sure he practices his methods often so he doesn't lose his edge.

Feitan grabbed the bag containing the medicine and cleaned up his own bag of tools while the cashier was lying on the floor, writhing in pain and ready to pass out. He gave him a strong kick before turning toward the door.

"Good luck getting all that fixed at hospital. If you can afford it."

You were walking down the street, dejected and unsure of what to do when you felt a nauseating presence appear behind you. You turned around to face a short man with a skull face covering offering you a bag. Naturally, you were hesitant to take it, but he nudged it to you again.

"Medicine. For you."

Your eyes widened in surprise. Did you hear the soft spoken man correctly? You tore open the bag and saw multitudes of your medicine within.

"5 months. Go get better job or learn to steal."

You went to thank him but he was already gone, disappearing like a ghost. You were thoroughly confused but at the same time, extremely grateful. You stood on the street corner in a daze until the sound of screaming could be heard somewhere close to you.

"Someone please help! This cashier's been seriously injured!"

You whipped around to see a woman running out from... the pharmacy? What exactly had that man done to get you what you needed? You were ready to run away from the scene so you weren't questioned as a suspect when you caught a glimpse of your savior once more, watching you like a hawk from the rooftop of the building next to you. He put his finger to where his lips resided under his mask, a signal to stay quiet about what happened, as he let out a short maniacal laugh and disappeared from your sight.

Feitan finally realized why he decided to help you that one day. There were many people in this world he'd gladly see rot to death and then rot even further after that.

But not you.

No, you were much too attractive to be a corpse so soon.

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Kabal x Reader: Usual Visit

~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Pleasure doing business with ya as always, Flash." The red eyed Aussie grins wickedly at Kabal after handing him today's cut. The fast man smirks beneath the mask, counting through his pay like a child in triumph after doing such simple allowance.

Simple tasks such as terrorizing and killing a few people for Kano due to late fees they never paid back. How unfortunate for them, but to Kabal - and definitely Kano - a job is a job.

"Don't spend it all on hooks and hookers." Kano joked before dismissing Kabal off.

"Right," Kabal scoffed with amusement. "I have better things to spend it on." Without giving Kano the chance to pretend to be interested enough to ask, Kabal dashed off in his usual abnormal speed. Far outside the clan, he runs to a big house on a hill. Thank the gods, no cars were outside, and he's willing to bet there isn't one inside the garage.

Carefully, he walks around the house to the back and knocks on a specific window.

...

You peered at the window, putting down your brush and walking to see who it was. Pushing the blinds away, you smile happily to see your masked friend. Opening the window with a little struggle, you greet him. "Kabal!" You lean over to kiss his cheek affectionately. If only you see the goofy, flustered smirk beneath his mask.

"Hey, Y/n! Doing well today?" He asks charmingly.

"Fine as usual. I don't take my medication until about an hour, so I'm not drowsy yet." You shrug with an aloof hint. But you didn't want to bring down the mood. "What did you do today? Beat any bad guys?!" Your eyes sparkled, hoping he has a cool story on how great of a hero he is.

"Ehh, just a few." Kabal says, tilting his hand side to side. "No one too powerful, but I still got a good amount of money from it." The boasting continues. You were slightly disappointed, not because there wasn't much of a story today, but-

"I thought heroes don't get paid." You murmur with furrowed brows. You folded your arms on the window frame and rested your chin, looking at him, downed.

"Well, yeah- but I need to eat too, you know?"

"I guess." You agree with the easy excuse, much to his relief.

"I've actually forgot something for you! I'll be back in not even three seconds." Kabal promises. You lifted your head up and raised an eyebrow at him. It feels like a dare.

"Really? One-"

A gust of wind flew through your hair as Kabal rushes off, your heart skipping a beat or two before he suddenly appears back with a small bouquet of flowers. He makes sure to rip the price tag off before you notice. "Sorry, a few of the petals came off on the way back." He hands his gift to you.

The flowers were still pretty nevertheless. They brought a warm smile to your face, the joy radiating from you to Kabal. "They're beautiful! Thanks!"

"No problem. Is there something else I can do for you?"

Setting your gift gently aside, you thought for a moment. "Well, father doesn't let me order food online. For awhile, I've been wanting to try that bakery from down-" You weren't given the chance to finish your sentence before he rushes off again.

Briefly he returns with a fancy bag for you. Inside was a fancy plastic box of macarons - and you knew those were pricy - along with fresh strawberries, covered in chocolate. One of your favorite treats that made you disregard sadness. "Ohh, thank you so much, Kabal. I'll go get my-"

"No need, princess." Kabal 'humbly' raises his hand. "It's my treat to treat you."

You softly coo at him before you hear the garage open. Readjusting your gown you stood up, alerted. "My dad's back. You should probably go now." You warn him. He nods and steps back.

"I'll visit you again soon, okay?"

"Okay." You smile once more. "Thank you for stopping by."

Kabal takes off before he gets caught. As for you, you hid the flowers somewhere. Before you hid your treats, you took one out to eat it before hiding it.

What an admirable hero Kabal is. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Content warnings for this chapter: weapons, ptsd references, implied violence

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55445686/chapters/140852350

Chapter 5 - Kaz

“It can’t be a coincidence,” 

Kaz mused over Nina’s words for a moment, the cogs in his mind turning slowly to put the pieces together. It definitely didn’t feel like a coincidence. But Kaz tended to follow a strict practice of believing nothing was a coincidence. He’d told Inej that once, and she’d nodded wisely.

“Fate has plans for us all,”

She’d been sitting on his windowsill, watching the rain running down the glass. She began to trace one with her fingertip, and he followed it with his eyes. Kaz frowned. He’d left the door open, because it was raining and he didn’t want her to open the window, but for some reason he was suddenly compelled to push it shut. Like there was something here that should be hidden, that he didn’t want to entertain the possibility of anyone else ever bearing witness to. He flexed his fingers and gripped his cane tighter, refusing to move.

“Suddenly, I believe in coincidences again,”

Inej looked at him for a moment, then back to the rain. 

But it seemed very unlikely that Nina landing a strange job on the Geldstraat right before this job started was a coincidence. Kaz didn’t know what it added up to yet, but he would figure it out.

“Well, anyway,” said Nina, “I spoke to Feliks, all good for the job. He’s not thrilled about it though,”

“Of course he’s not,” said Kaz.

“He said you’ll owe him for the lost income,”

That would be more concerning if Feliks didn’t already owe Kaz money. And anyway he wasn’t really paying attention to that; mind still whirring away trying to solve the puzzle of Nina’s job on the Geldstraat last night. Not a coincidence. No such thing as a coincidence. No such thing as fate either, but Kaz really shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

“Did they want you to go routinely? At the Geldstraat?”

Nina bit her lip.

“He said it could be an ongoing offer, if I wanted it. But he also said he lost an indentured Healer recently, if he gets someone else I don’t see him forking out any extra cash for the pleasure of my company,”

“When you say lost…?”

Nina grimaced.

“Concerningly vague,”

Kaz wasn’t surprised. He nodded.

“Alright, I’ll look into it. If this ends up being an ongoing job for you it might be good for intel. Inej is at the Crow Club, tell her to get a bag together - I want you at the university tonight,”

“Tonight? Kaz, you said two days, I have clients-”

“They’ll wait,”

“Kaz-”

“Update Inej. I need to talk to the old man,”

Nina huffed a little, but she turned on her heel and went on her way. Kaz watched the empty doorway for a moment before he slowly stood up - his leg was wreaking havoc today, and he leant heavily against his cane to find his balance. He was going to be vulnerable without the Wraith for a time, and now she was vanishing slightly earlier than expected. He’d set up a communication line but it still felt dangerous not to have her close by, gathering secrets. 

“I’m not sure I’m following,” she’d admitted last night, when they were discussing the plan.

It was before word had come from Nina and she’d left to follow her to the Geldstraat. They sat in Kaz’s office at the Crow Club - the door was closed and the room had no window, but they needed privacy and there wasn’t much Kaz could do about that. He watched Inej, wondering if they would need to step outside, but she seemed fine perched cross-legged on a chair, posture perfect, hands planted on her knees. Kaz found himself studying the tiny movements in her fingers, the occasional movement of her boots against her knee as she shuffled her feet. He bought her the boots the night they came back to the Slat, because he was an idiot and he hadn’t brought anything with him for her to wear. She’d traipsed after him all the way from the very North of West Stave to the very South of East still dressed in those ridiculous purple silks, completely barefoot. It hadn’t helped the whispers amongst the Dregs about what he’d hired her for.

“What connection does any of this have?” she asked, beginning to drum her fingers against her knees.

“It’s about forming the connections,” he’d told her, “Just focus on getting close to the mark - or let Nina get close and follow suit. Then we can discuss what comes next,”

Kaz’s leg screamed at him all the way down the stairs, only quieting slightly when he began to cross the ground floor of the Slat towards Per Haskell’s office. The Slat was nothing special to look at - actually it was ugly as hell to look at, with its faded, faintly mossy eaves, the wonky boards at the front that made it look like it was leaning on the buildings either side of it for support, and the fact that it probably was leaning on them but the boards just accentuated it - but nothing had come as close to feeling like home to Kaz as the Slat did since he’d arrived in Ketterdam and his entire world was slowly pried from his weak little childish hands. That was what this city did; took everything from you. And this is what you did to survive it: demand something in return. Scrape and claw and bleed your way through the Labyrinth until you didn’t just defeat the monster at its centre, you became it. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. He wasn’t quite there yet, on the very top, but he would be. He would taste the monster’s flesh, and embrace the city as his own. The Labyrinth was meant to be a prison, but if you played your cards right you could own it. And Kaz never sat down to a card game he couldn’t win. 

“Enter,” came the gruff, muffled response from Per Haskell to Kaz’s sharp, single knock on the door.

It sounded like he’d already been drinking, and when the door was open the smell alone confirmed it. Kaz fought the urge to grimace, keeping his face a cool, flat mask as he closed the door behind him. There was a window in this room and for a strange, ridiculous moment Kaz almost moved to open it. He needed to get his head on straight - the Wraith wasn’t even here, and if she had been then she could open a damn window herself if she wanted to. 

“Kaz, my boy,”

Haskell gestured for him to take a seat, and Kaz’s leg was putting up such a protest that for once he took up the offer.

“Sir,” he said, nodding.

Haskell grunted. He was playing with one of his little ships in a bottle things again, and for a moment just let Kaz stew whilst he drove his focus into rearranging one of the tiny pieces. Kaz didn’t get the appeal of these little models but they were popular to display in merchant houses, to sit on desks or mantelpieces like the homeowner was waiting for your gaze to linger on it just a second too long so that he could tell you a long story about it and how it’s an exact replica of a ship he, in fact, owns himself. There were two half-constructed ones sitting on Haskell’s desk that he’d given up on over the last few months, and Kaz watched the man’s meaty, and slightly shaking, fingers fumble over the details of his newest one, feeling unsurprised that he’d never been successful at finishing any. After a minute had passed Haskell sighed and plunked the thing carelessly against the table, then picked up his glass and downed the last few drops before all but slamming it back down. Kaz flexed his fingers over the crow’s head of his cane, tightening his grip. 

“Brandy?” asked Haskell, as he began to pour himself another glass.

Kaz abstained.

“Alright,” the old man breathed, taking a sip before he continued: “What trouble are you here to tell me this time, then?”

What could Kaz tell him by way of trouble? That Jesper Fahey abandoned his security shift without telling anyone where he was, only for the Wraith to drag him back five hours later from a Dime Lions club? That Nina Zenik had been sent to the Geldstraat to complete a highly suspicious Tailoring job that might have had something to do with the job Kaz had been planning for so long? All he said was:

“I need Nina and Inej to start the job earlier than I thought,”

Haskell frowned.

“How long will they be gone?”

“I don’t know yet, but it’s all under control. You’ll get your twenty percent,”

Haskell’s jaw twitched. It always got on his nerves when Kaz didn’t tell him what a job was, but that wasn’t part of their agreement. And besides, Kaz didn’t want to spread the details of his plans to too many people - everything in Ketterdam leaked.

“You can’t just take my Heartrender and my best spider without telling me h-”

“They’re not yours,”

“Well they ain’t yours,” growled Haskell.

“That isn’t what I meant,”

He groaned loudly and performatively, shaking his head.

“Don’t go getting righteous on me now, boy. I want them back here within the month, at minimum,”

Kaz pursed his lips.

“I’ll try to arrange that,”

“You see that you do,”

“Yes, sir,”

Haskell snorted, but Kaz knew he lapped up every stupid politeness he gave him. He liked to think of himself as the patriarch of a large, criminally-inclined family, but everyone knew it was Kaz who did the real work. It was more of a formality for Kaz to ever tell him anything at all.

“The Black Tips are still edging away at Fifth Harbour; pushing their luck,” he said, watching Haskell run a ringer along the rim of his glass, “We should move quickly if we want to re-establish our dominance,”

Haskell waved a hand dismissively through the air,

“A mere dog yapping at our heels. Monitor the situation, if things are any worse in a few months time we can organise a parlay,”

The man really was an idiot. Kaz nodded.

“Yes, sir,”

By the time Kaz left the office, disgruntled and impatient, Nina was back at the Slat. 

“Where’s Inej?”

“Upstairs getting her stuff,” Nina said, nodding vaguely towards the stairs, “You really not going to tell us anything at all?”

Kaz sighed.

“When you get to the University, go straight to the office opposite the Boeksplein; it’s 24 hour, and they should be expecting you. You just arrived from Ravka - private journey, pepper it in because the tourist ferries don’t arrive this late - and there should be transfer papers waiting in your name. They might kick up a fuss about you being early, accommodation-wise, but-”

“But we’re two young rich girls from Ravka, it’s the middle of the night, we’re exhausted from travelling, and we’ve nowhere else to go,” Nina finished in a falsely distressed voice, winking at him, “I think I can manage that,”

“Good,” he handed her a thin stack of kruge, “That’s a month’s salary in advance, if it takes longer I’ll give you more but if it’s shorter I’ll need it back,”

She narrowed her eyes.

“This is your money? Not the Dregs’?”

He shrugged. He had to pay her somehow.

“Thank you, Kaz,”

“You won’t be any use to me if you run out of cash and starve,”

Nina sighed, tucking the notes into her pocket.

“Well thank you anyway,”

[sunwarmed-ash]

Heyoooo Happy Monday!

Did yall read last nights Sinful Sunday update? its here if you didn't get a chance yet!

I also got tagged by @lizzy0305 for WIP Wednesday Monday!

WIP MONDAY

Detroit Become Human, Hurt/Comfort, Sad Gavin Reed, HankCon established, previous Hankvin, eventual Hankconvin

My love language is misery: (Ch 3 preview)

It's silent in the car since Connor and Hank left the station to go check on Gavin.  According to Detective Chen, the younger Detective had left work shortly after their ‘interaction’ outside the breakroom. Mentioning something about needing a change of clothes before walking out. Hank and Connor were quick to follow him out the doors and Connor’s earlier worry only compounded the longer they traveled.  “To answer your question from earlier, about me and Gavin having a relationship. sorta.”  “Sorta how?” Connor asks, needing to know everything to sort out a best course of action to help Gavin.  Hank exhales through his nose and keeps his eyes forward out the windshield.  “Before everything went to shit, and before me and Annie got together again. When we were both young and single, and fuckin’ everythin’ that moved… We hooked up, few times. But I thought- He never mentioned…” Hank huffs a little, struggling to find the right words, “I didn't think it was more than that… Always thought we were just playin’ but, what he said yesterday… haven't been able to get it out of my head since.” Connor analyzes Hank's increase in blood pressure and stress and places his hand on Hank’s knee in comfort.  “What did he say?”  Hank takes one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze it before returning his hand to its previous position on the wheel.  “That I only want him when I can’t have him. Specifically, when I’m already with someone else. I don't know, I guess, now that I look back and think about it, I can see why he said it. I’ve never been very good at maintaining personal ‘relationships.’” “I don't know, I'd say this relationship is going quite well,” Connor smiles. It eases enough of the tension hanging in the car and Hank chuckles.  “Yeah, I think that’s sorta the problem.” “He perceives me as a threat,” Connor interprets. “Big time.” “I see.” “We’ve always had a, complicated, relationship, Gav and I. But he's got some of his own additional demons on board. I think that might be what’s fucking him up now. Especially since uh, we aren't doing to much to hide our relationship at work.” “Yes, perhaps we have been playing a little ‘fast and loose’ with that line,” Connor agrees.  “Mmm,” Hank agrees. A few moments of silence pass in the car and then Connor has to ask,  “What happened to him?” Hank’s next exhale is obviously conflicted.  “Can’t tell ya that, I’m afraid. Sorry Con. It's his business, nothing personal. I just wouldn't feel right.” “I understand,” Connor says, because he does. No unintended subtext. PTSD is something Connor is intimately familiar with now, and he wants to come across as non threatening as possible tonight. “Are there any general things I should be aware of? I don't want to unintentionally set off an attack.”  “Just, follow my lead. And let him come to you. When he’s dissociating, he can’t always see what's going on in front of him.” More pieces slid into place for Connor with that confession.  “Like this morning, in the breakroom.” “Yeah, exactly.” It’s quiet another moment and then Connor says,  “He’s lucky to have someone like you Hank,” because he means it. Gavin doesn’t have a lot of friends at the DPD thanks to his almost 24/7 sour mood. And after today, he could probably use one.  Hank scoffs a little disbelievingly at Connor’s praise but meets him in the middle with,   “Yeah well, hopefully we can at least convince him to accept our help.”

@sweeteatercat @treeffles @disdaidal @tradedsymmetry @covenscribe @advictoriams @negative-citadel @writerwhowritesao3 and anyone else who wants to!! Have a great day everyone, I'm gonna try and get some sun today!

[kittlesandbugs]

FHR: Just a chat (AO3 link here) Pairing: Sidestep/Ricardo Ortega (hints of Chargentstep), Sidestep & Hollow Ground Warnings: None, they're just chatting lol Word Count: 1720 Summary: Ortega takes Sidestep to the park to get some fresh air after being cooped up with broken legs in his apartment for a couple weeks. When he steps away for a few minutes to take care of something, someone else swings by for a talk.

It's a peaceful day at Memorial Park. The sun is shining through the carefully maintained trees, dappling the green grass. The air is cool and calm, balmy even with your multiple layers. The birds are chirping around you and every so often, a squirrel darts by. The air is full of children's laughter as they play on the jungle gym. People are calm and content around you, enjoying the nice weather. 

You haven’t been this tense since the last time you were hauled into a lab and strapped down. 

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," you hiss at Ortega, sitting on the bench next to your wheelchair. 

He's lounging, at ease, though still alert. You see it the way his eyes roam around through the back of his sunglasses, watching everyone and everything around you. "Relax, Riley. Nothing is going to happen here," he chuckles. His hand starts towards your knee to give what you assume is supposed to be a reassuring pat before stopping and redirecting to your arm. You don't like it when anyone touches your casts. "You need some fresh air and sunlight once in a while. You were going crazy in the apartment."

"You could have at least waited for Argent to come over," you growl quietly. "Four eyes are better than two."

"We got four eyes. Hell, four hundred probably, if we count your telepathy." 

"Fine, four working legs." You roll your eyes at the pedantry. 

"We're in broad daylight in the good side of town, no one knows we're here. Relax." 

There's a little note of a plea in there that makes you sigh and nod. He is right, but you aren't going to tell him that. The chances of anyone coming after you in broad daylight on this side of town are almost nonexistent. And if they knew where you were, they would have gone for the significantly easier hit on Ortega's apartment by now. 

So you try. Take in some sun from the sky. Some sun from the carefree kids running past in a game of tag. As good for your brain as dogs, and they're here too. You sink into the padded chair and close your eyes, trying to focus on them rather than the itch of your healing bones that reminds you just how helpless you actually are. 

"Hey, wait here a moment," Ortega says after a few minutes of peace and quiet. You open your eyes to find him perched at the edge of the bench, eyes honed in on something. Your gaze follows but you can't make out who or what he sees at this distance. Are his sunglasses enhancing his vision? Probably, knowing him. You try to follow his line of sight with your telepathy, but what you find that might be getting his attention is strange. Foggy. Nebulous. It's difficult to latch on to any thoughts. Not blocking you like numbers, no, that's closer to the static of Ortega's brain. But someone that is definitely strange. Who is it? 

"Ric, what do you see?" you whisper harshly, the anxiety you felt earlier returning in full force like a hammer strike to your skull as he starts to rise, gesturing with his hand for you to stay put. Like you have a choice

"Just an old friend," he says, the cant of his lips saying the opposite. "I'll be right back. You're safe here."

And then he's off at a swift jog before you can protest, leaving you fumbling for the locked brakes you can't easily reach on the wheelchair handles. 

"Wait! You stupid fucking jackass—" 

"He is, isn't he?" A laugh behind you, and it takes all you have not to scream as a familiar lanky figure folds into Ortega's vacated seat. She's dressed in a finely woven linen jumpsuit, warm sepia with matching leather loafers, her gold piercings sparkling in the dappled sunlight. Her too similar face looks at you with a too similar crooked smile. 

Hollow Ground. 

How the fuck could she sneak up on you like this? You didn't sense her at all. You still can't. Not even so much as a thought void, just nothing. You've never seen anything like it. How is she concealing herself? What the fuck does she want with you? Your chair is still half-locked, trapping you here. Should you scream? Should you—

" Relax," she says, and it's almost a command as she meets your gaze with your own gray eyes. Still, you try to rein in your heart attempting to race its way out of your ribs. "I just want to talk."

"About what?" Your voice betrays the tension tight in your spine, much as you wish otherwise. If one more person tells you to relax, you think you might actually snap. You need to regain control of yourself. You are Reckoning, for fuck's sake. You're not some helpless child. 

"You," she says simply and then pauses. Frowns. Like she's no longer quite sure of what to say. Like she had a plan, but now she doesn't know if it should be executed. 

You try to touch her thoughts again, and again you're met with less than nothing. Are you hallucinating? No. The man walking down the path sees you both. He isn't worried by what he sees, two sisters having a conversation that seems tense. You aren't going to dig into the implications of that one. So she's here. She wants something, wants it enough to approach you about it. You realize the benefit to her closely kept secret identity means she can approach you freely as long as Ortega is not around. The weird presence you felt before, you realize that was Jake, you felt the same nebulousness of his thoughts when you went to meet Hollow Ground at Parkside. Irresistible bait to lure Ortega away. But you have no idea what it is she wants. So you wait. Ortega is right. No one is going to try and do anything in public in broad daylight. She won't, not like this. 

"What about me…?" you prompt when the quiet of her gets to be too much, impatient to find out what this is about with her mind giving you no clues. 

"How… are you?" she asks, surprisingly tentative. 

That reserved inquiry catches you off-guard, but you recover swiftly, her odd nervousness making you feel more confident despite your obvious weakness. "Oh, you know. Peachy. Just out for a stroll," you drawl, gesturing at your propped up casts. 

She snorts and the corner of her lips twitches. Somehow, your snark steadies her. "I should have expected that."

"Why do you care?" you ask sharply. She's being weird, and you don't like it. What is this about? Why would she risk meeting you like this?

"You're a mystery, Riley Owens. I'd hate it if you died before I could solve it." She smirks as you feel your blood run cold. Something about the way she says your name makes you feel jittery. But even more importantly, how could she possibly know who you are? You never gave your name before, to anyone at Parkside, you were there as your villainous alias. Argent scrubbed all records of your surgery at the hospital, though you have no doubt Hollow Ground knew who had been involved in the wreck. How does she know your name? Do the Rangers have a leak? 

As your brain stumbles over what this could mean, she holds out a small white card with something scrawled on it. An address. You recognize the area. Rich and residential. Very rich and residential. Is this… She can't possibly be just handing you this… 

"Got it memorized?" At your nod, she pockets it with a smile that's a little sharp for your liking. 

"What is your g—" 

"Fuck." Her hand shoots up, silencing you as her head tilts slightly like she's listening to something. You can just make out the outline of a small clear low profile receiver in her over-pierced ear. "We lost your pet Ranger, and he's on his way back. I have to go." She rises from the bench with the grace of a crane, giving you a conspiratorial wink.

"Wait, what— Fuck!" You swear, fumbling for the other lock on your chair before she can get away. 

As she strides away, she calls back, "You should stop by sometime, when you're back on your feet. We have a lot to catch up on."  

For someone so tall, she disappears far too easily into crowds. By the time you can roll after her, she's gone, as traceless as she appeared. What the fuck did she mean, catch up on? You're left sitting there, stewing in your own bile, until Ortega finally returns. 

He's sweaty, looking a little tired and roughed up. You think you can see the outline of a bruise blooming under the edge of his bearded cheek. He's definitely been in a fight. You don't know if you should be pleased or pissed that he learned to leave civilians behind for these kinds of escapades after his stunt with Jolene went awry. "Hey," he says with a little wave as he catches his breath. "Everything okay?"

 "Just dandy," you snarl, playing into being pissed that he left you. If he knew who just stopped by to pay you a friendly chat, he'd shit his own generator. "Sitting like a duck while you go haring off to go fight some rando."

Luckily, you think he's getting the right message, because he holds his hands up, placating, as he talks to you in the same tone he uses with his unruly horse at the ranch. "Hey, c'mon. I was just gone a few minutes. Nothing happened, right?" 

"Yeah," you lie with a sigh, dragging a hand down your face. "Nothing happened."

He grabs onto the handlebars of your chair, and if he notices you've unlocked it, he doesn't comment on it as he starts walking you through the park. "Angie texted me about meeting us at the ice cream stand. You want to get some ice cream before we go home?" 

"Yeah." Sugar will help steady your nerves. Get your mind off what just happened. “Let’s get some ice cream and go home.”

You have a lot of thinking to do later.