#like. what am i existing for? why am i trying so hard? whats the point anymore for any of this?

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls 14 part 2/2

Masterpost 

Danny had kind of ignored the most important part of that initial message. Crud. Of course the poor bastard wanted to know about the progress on their spiritual separation. Danny cringed. He typed fast to send a new message before Jason could ask again.

It did not come out easily. He wrote and deleted two drafts before he groaned aloud. “I am not prepared to tell him that the options so far are either to marry and divorce me or to get his ass banished from the ghost dimension.” Danny spent a moment pitying himself. “I just have to say the truth.”

Cringe. Cringe so hard. 

I have two possible solutions but they both suck really hard. :/ Suck so hard you’d be shook. The suckage would change your life.

Jason sent back ellipses. It belatedly occurred to Danny that it might have looked like he was making a blowjob joke. He put the phone back on his chest and stared at the ceiling for a while, wondering why he was this way.

“Jason didn’t see that,” Danny told himself. “Jason is a professional. A professional something. I don't know what.” 

He wanted to believe it so badly that he just decided not to be mortified. Danny lifted the burner phone back up and painstakingly assembled a shrug emoji from symbols. 

Honestly they’re such bad options that I don’t even wanna tell you. Can we change the subject? : (

Jason sent back a series of laughing and crying emojis and then, Fine. Let’s talk about all the other stuff we have in common.

Danny pursed his lips. “...Do we have anything in common?” It wasn’t like he knew much about the guy, but he presumed Jason kept himself busy with some boring adult job, building muscle, and biking around looking hot. Danny crossed his legs at the knee and tried not to think of what a twig he looked like in comparison to Jason. He didn’t feel bad about it, honestly. Danny was too busy to make fitness a part of his personality and he had nothing to prove.

I’m illiterate, he settled on as a response. They definitely did not have a love of literature in common. What else did people do? I uh…. Watched a movie two years back.

Any good?

T’was shit, Danny admitted. Hm. He frowned. “I’m not sure where to take this conversation,” he said aloud.

I’m so hungry. Just got off work and I’m trying to decide what to do.

“Oh, I can do something with that.” Danny felt better. Yeah me too, I would kill for an enchilada. He tried to send a ghost emoji and groaned when he remembered that this was a shitty burner phone with no keyboard downloaded and apparently no access to the app store. Jason had already responded by the time that he gave up.

Ghosts eat Mexican food?

They would if they have human zone money, Danny sent back morosely. Oh no, it wasn’t fun anymore. Ya boy can’t pay in the tears of the damned anywhere on this plane of existence smh. His stomach growled with obnoxious timing. He groaned. The last thing he’d eaten had been that sandwich with Jazz. He could cook… He really should cook. 

Ugh. Effort. 

Danny tried to motivate himself up to the kitchen. “It’s four steps,” he said aloud, trying to be encouraging. “I can make it.”

Ah. No. That was actually kind of depressing. He lived in a shoebox with a monthly grocery budget that was just pitiful.

Haha ur broke, Jason sent, because he was a massive bitch. Danny felt a lot better about flipping him off. But then Jason followed it up with an obviously insincere, I’d get you enchiladas if you were in Gotham. Sucks to suck.

Danny sensed weakness to exploit.

“You’re going to regret that,” Danny grimly promised, and hit the call button.

Jason picked up on the second ring, sounding confused and electronic. “Hey?”

“I can be in Gotham for enchiladas,” Danny threatened. His stomach growled again. “You feeling brave? Huh? Huh?” He punched a finger at the air in accusation. “I’m not scared of you or your dank gargoyles, leatherboy.”

There was a weird mechanical sound. Maybe a snort? A laugh? “I’ll send you a GPS point, if you’re there in ten I’ll buy you all you can eat.”

Danny went still like the predator he was. “Bring your life savings.” He hit the end call button and launched himself off the couch to go stuff his feet into his shoes. He let his apartment door slam shut behind him carelessly. He’d made it to the ground level before the pin point landed.

“Fuck, it’s even in my neighborhood.” Danny laughed, flush with petty victory. He looked left, right, and went invisible before he went ghost. There was no one around at this late hour to see him drop off the visible spectrum.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

i am SO here for the influx of love for “keep quiet”. that fic… S…

potentially my favorite fic of yours to exist and if you EVER wanted to temporarily put pause on pussy steve to bring back this sloppy, squirty, dumbified, pretty pussy bucky i would be forever in your debt

related to this, and this

of course, also, "Keep Quiet, Nothing Comes As Easy As You"

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

Thank you!!

And, listen, why spend time just talking about one of those boys when you can ramble about them both?

Attempted 69, oral sex, fingering, teasing/dirty talk, etc.

Bucky is scorching hot--red-hot--from the tips of his ears aaaall the way down to his clenched, curled toes. It is redicious, how fucking lethally high the fever he's running has gotten. But he's not just flaming. Every inch of his body is a guitar string twisted and tightened to the point of breaking.

He's so fucking tense and yet so useless, too, limp like an overcooked noodle that's weak, falling apart, barely keeping it's head above the surface of the simmering water. Both. He's, yeah, he's both.

He's burning up, evaporated, but he's also just a liquefied puddle. Solid mush. There is too much sensory onslaught to track.

And Bucky can't make sense of it all, spinning and sloshing inside his empty head. He's so fucking thankful he's lying on his back, face-up with their sex-mused, sweat-damp sheets stuck to his arching, tingling back because if he were anywhere else he would be crumbling. Falling to his knees, or, worse, more embarrassingly, straight onto his face. There is no way to hold himself together when such intense pleasure flows through him like a fucking waterfall. All soaked. There is no way to hole himself together when he's consumed by flames in the middle of a firepit. Burning hot.

Bucky is quivering chaotically, uncoordinatedly, and he's moving his mouth, sloppy and fast yet slow, and he's not talking, he's barely able to rattle out moans, and he's blushing so badly from head to toe that he must look like he's been dipped in a pool of wet, glistening pink paint and he's swollen from how fucking much he's blushing, his blood boiling, and he's sensitive. Tingling. Sparkling. His blood is wreaking havoc on his body as it rushes through his veins, boiling, boiling, thick, and pumping.

Oh, god.

It's so goddamn overwhelming.

Bucky doesn't know what he's doing--he doesn't even know if he's making Steve feel good. Because. Yeah. That's right. That's what he's supposed to be doing.

He has a mission here and he's probably utterly fucking failing at it. He can't rub two brain cells together to think about how to do better, though. He is, just, consumed by this. Now. Here. Hot. Wet. Sensitive.

Steve told him he'd make him feel good if Bucky made him feel good, too. And he's trying. He's trying so hard that he's pretty sure there are tears leaking out of his eyes, but his face is also so slick and coated in the wetness of Steve's arousal that he can't tell.

What's tears?

What's dripping wetness from Steve's hot cunt?

What's the fucking difference?

Bucky can't tell if he's crying, sobbing, choking, or just using his whole face so uncoordinatedly, so unashamedly getting up in Steve's pussy that he's smeared his heated, briny wetness so high up on his cheeks that he thinks he's crying. There's sweat beading his hairline, too. He's soaking into the mattress from the perspiration seeping from every pore on his body. His lips--his mouth and his... not mouth lips--feel swollen from how long they've been at this. Overused. Licking and tonguing and nipping each other to rip out moans and gasps and cries of pleasure. Orgasm after orgasm.

Bucky spread across their bed, Steve on top of him, flipped the other way.

When he got like that, positioning their bodies just so, Steve lewdly spread his legs to expose himself from his cute, sweet swollen clit past his wet, clutching vagina to his tight, tight asshole; he's so pink and pretty and Bucky might be fucking burning, but he's also drowning and suffocating and dying a million different ways between his legs. Steve on top of him, bodily, his weight shoving Bucky down into the mattress.

Jesus.

Bucky has pressed his entire face up against Steve's pussy, diving in, and he's dying that way plus dying at how Steve is doing the same for him.

Too much pleasure.

He can't.

Steve is doing a much, much better job. Bucky is... pretty sure. He can't think straight. Earlier, he had his tongue on Steve's clit and two fingers buried in his cunt and was pulling more fucking sticky, hot, salty wetness out of him with the stimulation but at some point. Christ. At some point, Steve stepped up his game, and Bucky couldn't. He needed something else to hold onto. He needed to dig all ten points of his fingers into Steve's hips to keep from thrashing and squirming hugely, getting away from or getting more of Steve's talented mouth. He doesn't fucking know. God.

Please.

He can't.

He whines needily, stupidly into Steve's pussy, licking at him broadly to try and give some of what Steve is giving him back. It's so hard. He doesn't know what he wants; he doesn't know what he needs; he doesn't know what he's doing.

It's a stupidly pathetic and delicous display. The difference between them stark. They're both so fucking aroused but Steve can keep his cool and keep his technique, Bucky, on the other hand, can't keep a single fucking shiver from shaking through him as if it's the most devastating earthquake. Steve is curling three fingers deep inside him and sucking at his clit and Bucky feels like he could fucking burst out of his skin. Steve's pressing hotly against that spot inside him that has his vision blurring into a hot, white void of, just, need and he's sucking on his clit hard enough that it hurts. It's that bite of too much, too good pain that leaves Bucky failing to swallow down a little behind-his-teeth shriek.

Steve is too good at multitasking for this to be fair. Bucky can't help it. He can't keep up! He's infamous for going dumb during sex and he's so sensitive between his legs, just one touch, one murmur of sweet words, and he can't handle it, and Steve is too damn skilled at eating pussy and he's just--

It's not fair!

If Bucky wasn't crying before, now he is.

He is.

Crying.

"C'mon, princess," Steve pulls back only the slightest bit with a truly obscene sound. Almost a goddamn wet slurp. All that fucking wetness dripping like honey out of him, making Steve's breath against him even more noticable, his huffing feels painted on. Every word leaving Bucky quivering and exposed.

Brazenly, at the same time that Steve's voice purrs over those teasing words, he drags his three fingers out of Bucky's tight, trembling pussy and slips them up and down, up and down, up and down his wet slit, teasing him, playing with him so fucking effectively. Shit. He feels how fucking hard his clit is but also, god, he feels swollen everywhere.

He's blushing with his entire body, so how can all of his blood be centered between his legs, making him flush hot and swell with arousal? It doesn't make sense. It doesn't have to make sense. Bucky can't make sense, he can't put one thought in front of the other.

Oh, fuck. me.

"C'mon, pillow princess, baby, don't stop," Steve doesn't stop. Nevermind how he's not even out of breath, the fucker.

He's terrible. Eating pussy like a champ, dirty talking like he doesn't care about how pornographic his mouth is getting, not ashamed for even an instant, and totally merciless as he strips Bucky down.

Bucky whimpers, sucking wet, sloppy kisses down the inside of Steve's thighs clenched around his face to try and not drown. If he didn't already know Steve likes it--likes him like this, likes teasing him--he'd know now with how he's flooding him, shoved in so close to his cunt.

Bastard.

Meanwhile, Steve fucking kisses him on the pussy like he'd kiss his mouth if they were face-to-face, frenching. Filthy motherfucker. He will call him names until his eyes roll back because he's awful. And names are the best he can do. He doesn't have anything else going for him--so weak.

"Thought I told you not to stop," Steve rumbles, sliding the tease of two fingertips in him, making him really fucking feel how his hole clenches tight.

Bucky whines like he's dying because he is.

In retort, Steve slaps him; he doesn't hit him in the face or let his big, heavy hand collide with his ass, spanking him, nah, Steve's worse. Steve is a pervert. 'Cause, no fucking problem or hesitation, he's manhandling Bucky's legs apart, spreading him wide and leaving him vulnerable to the rush of cold air across his sex, and, from there, he's bringing his hand down flat and stinging across his pussy.

He slaps Bucky's pussy.

And.

Bucky just fucking squeals, his eyes rolling all the way back into his skull.

He's gone.

If he was useless before, then there isn't a word for how vulnerable and helpless and fucking dumb Bucky is now. There's no one home. He's vacant. Eyes glassy and far-away. But it isn't enough for Steve. It never is. It's not a true Rogers marathon fuck session until Bucky passes out.

So, as Steve turns around--purposefully grinding his pussy against Bucky's lazily open mouth, hanging wide, before he dismounts him, using him how he wants--Steve makes sure to arch his back, showing off his goddamn perfect ass, and settle neatly in his lap. Okay, almost in his lap. He's offset enough to grind, humid and sticky, against Bucky's thick upper thigh. Riding his leg as he unceremoniously shoves two fingers back into Bucky's cunt. Torturing him.

"Should've known better," Steve muses to himself as he fingerfucks him into oblivion. Two fingers in, fucking him good, giving him something to clench down on while his thumb is against his clit, rubbing and pressing tight enough to leave his vision to ignite into sparking fireworks. Shit. Wet sounds fill the room as the air grows thicker and more fragrant around them. It smells like sex. Like pussy. Undeniably.

"There's no fuckin' way you could handle 69in', 'course not," he smirks to himself, his accent really coming out the hotter he gets for this. "You get too fuckin' dumb. Can't even do anythin' when I'm just touchin' you. How could you have any smarts when you're getting touched and expected to touch me, too? Fuckin' pillow princess." He's all too self-satisfied because he fucking knows he does this to Bucky. Before him, Bucky wasn't so--yeah. He didn't get so dumb. It's just Steve. Steve gets all Steve, and Bucky can't handle it!

Bucky is so dumb now that he can't even argue. He can't agree, either. So, he just lays there, whimpering and pleasured so exorbitantly he can't hardly take it.

He's gonna cum again.

P.S. I don't have an ask to relate this to as an excuse to write it, so I'm just gonna fucking stick it here because why not-?

So, imagine pussy Steve getting it into his head for one reason or another that he's gonna peg the shit out of Bucky (even though pegging implies that it's a woman doing it to a man and they're both men here), like, he's gonna dick his boyfriend better than Bucky can dick him.

He's stubborn.

He's competitive.

He's... oh.

Bucky gets him a nice big, thick strap, something that will be a struggle for him to take because he's hungry like that, and Steve harnesses it on.

He puts his shiny new toy in place and he's so fucking excited that he's all wet and slippery between his legs, and he fucks in and, "OH!" He can't keep his moaning gasp in. It's just the way his clit grinds against the base of his toy. It feels like lightning cutting through him. White hot.

He was so into the idea of fucking Bucky and taking him apart but here he is, puppy panting, tongue out, shaking because every time he jerkily thrusts, it makes him wetter. He's so sensitive down between his legs, he can't help it. Every thrust is a bigger shock for him.

Plus, the sight of his strap fucking in and out of Bucky? Jesus Christ. How does Bucky ever do this, much less do it while being able to feel his dick? What the fuck?

Steve squeals when Bucky chuckles and strains to reach between his legs, cupping his wet, swollen sex in one big palm and asking, "aw, is this too hard for you? Are you too sensitive down here?"

Steve. can't. take. it.

[bunnihearted]

🌧️🫧💭

[non-un-topo]

"It's not dysphoria" I say as I write an entire assignment on my own invisible queerness and gender identity, and as I feel like tearing my skin off and crawling into a cave forever

[hunxi-after-hours]

lianhualou the novel is also a pretty fun read too btw

I've heard!!! I'll admit I kind of fell out of the 古风 genres recently, I've somehow pendulumed hard in the other direction and am wallowing in uhh science fiction & friends these days

[kimmkitsuragi]

not my first reaction to this information as i learned it during the intermission of challengers (yes i finally went to see it) and i was having a lowkey breakdown through the intermission and the beginning of the second half a little bit but ummm: well of fucking course i literally dont deserve anything

[telemiel]

i am genuinely incapable of interacting with or existing around other people without fucking everything up and i'm so tired

[neverendingford]

.

[toastsnaffler]

ahh.. I have tickets for a small music festival tmr which I went to last year + had a whale of a time but this year theres only like 2 artists I wanted to see but they released the schedule a couple days ago and neither are playing before 9:30pm. since I don't live local anymore I'd have to leave to travel back home around that time or I'd miss the last train... and there's not rly anywhere I can crash overnight there (and I was planning on going alone anyway like I did last year). so I think im gonna have to let this one pass me by :-(

[bunnihearted]

🍷

[hurlingdown]

NEED YOU — TOP MALE READER X RORONOA ZORO

synopsis. zoro being drunk and needy for your attention was always a sight to behold. but after being way too focused on his training and barely interacting with you for a full week, it wouldn't be fair for you to just give him what he wants. guess he'll just have to earn it from you, one way or another. wc. 2.1k

tags. anal sex, drunk sex, fingering, slight feminisation, tit-sucking, overstimulation, reader edging both zoro and himself in the process, creampie, bit of cockwarming

It wasn’t often that you got to see him like this. 

Zoro pressed his hard-on against your abdomen, making a low, needy noise into the crook of your neck. You held in a leer as he clumsily rocked his hips against your crotch, thighs clenching around your hips, trying to get you hard and ready for him to ride. 

You chose to feign nonchalance. It was always more fun when you made him beg for it. “What’s the special occasion, hm? I smell sake.” 

Zoro mumbled your name, borderline whining, “Not the point.” 

“Yeah?” You grinned. “It’s part of your routine at this point, no? Drinking, sleeping, training. I don’t think you need anything else to keep you satisfied.” 

It wasn’t like you were angry with him. The time you spent together had been barely existent in the past week, with him busy perfecting his swordsmanship in the day and falling asleep immediately when you came to join him in bed. On lazy days he would be sneaking alcohol from the kitchen to drink, and then dozing off—but none of these activities involved you. 

It wasn’t like you were angry—just slightly irritated that maybe he had forgotten about you. But it didn’t matter now, did it? 

Zoro sat back on his haunches, eyes wide with defiance. “No, no—” He leaned in, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. “I need this—need you.” 

You kept the kiss as chaste as possible (if it even was possible, as he tried multiple times to stick his tongue into your mouth), hands moving to his waist to gently tug him back, ignoring his red, flushed face, drool almost trickling at the corner of his mouth. One kiss was all it took to reduce him to a mess. It was always a sight to see him drunk and needy, eyes hazy and lips parted, begging for you to take him right there. 

Not today, though. 

“Why’d you—stop?” Zoro panted, hands tightening on your shirt to pull you into another kiss, only to frown petulantly when you held him still. “What? What is it?” 

The corner of your lip twitched as you hid a sadistic smile. 

“I’m not in the mood.” 

“You’re—” Zoro’s eyebrows scrunched up, and he made a face. “And I’m not in the mood for—” He hiccups. “—jokes.” He grinds his front against the hard outline of your cock, letting out a brazen moan, as though proving his statement. 

“I’m not joking. I’m not in the mood.” 

“You’re always in the mood.” 

“Not today,” you told him, not even bothering to be apologetic as Zoro continued to helplessly grind against you, showing you how much he needed this, how badly he wanted it. “And that’s a biological reaction, it means nothing.” 

“Babe,” Zoro whined. “I’m—please—fuck, there, I said it!” He looked at you expectantly, as if he thought you were conditioned to respond to all his requests with one word. 

You looked at him, amused. “You thought I wanted you to beg?” 

“You didn’t?” Zoro frowned, confusion taking over his features before the possibility of you really not being in the mood dawned on him. Humiliation washed over him, and as though he wasn’t red enough already, a steady blush travelled down his neck and into the dip of his yukata, and if you were a weaker man, you would have ripped it off long ago to bite and suck at his huge chest until he was shivering with overstimulation, nothing but broken consonants of your name slipping past his lips. “Why now of all times? You’re, hngh—a cruel bastard.” 

“Am I not allowed to not be in the mood?” 

You grinned at him as he blinked back the tears gathering in his eyes, so painfully hard only to have you deny him of his birthright. 

“I got all ready for you,” Zoro muttered, glaring at you, “and this is what you do to me.” You were careful not to let any excitement show. After all, he had gone and prepped himself for you. He had probably laid on the bed with his hand between his thighs, three knuckles deep inside his tight hole and still pushing one more in—lifting his head with difficulty to watch them go in and out, in and out, feeling so full and yet not enough. 

“How about,” you suggested, smiling at him innocently, “you get me in the mood?” 

“What—how?” His head felt light from the alcohol, his mind was fuzzy, and all he wanted was that fat cock pounding so deep in him that he couldn’t even register the question. “Oh.” He swallowed. “I could.” 

Zoro got up from your lap, albeit a little pettish, and slowly crawled onto the bed. He slid his yukata over his shoulders to pool around his knees, revealing strong delts and a scarless back, save for the almost-faded bruises and love bites littered all over—the remnants of a heated night. Your eyes chased the bead of sweat that trickled down between his shoulder blades, down, down, down—until it reached two firm globes that you wanted to squeeze, or maybe spank them until they were red and aching, until he cried. Zoro canted his hips back to show you the wet, stretched-out hole between them, clenching and fluttering around nothing as he gave a pitiful whine into the pillow he held. 

That was when you realised. He had chosen a promising position, folding his arms and arching his back, pressing his tits onto the soft mattress, a keen, heated gaze thrown over his shoulder to make sure you were watching him. Presenting the most vulnerable part of himself to you. 

You were so fucking hard. But you weren’t going to give in so easily. 

Zoro, seeing as you gave no reaction, spread his legs a little wider, squirming on the sheets to settle into the right pose. He laid the side of his head on the pillow so you could watch, and then staring dead into your eyes, shoved three fingers deep into his mouth and moaned shamelessly around them, as though imagining it were your cock. He coated them with saliva as he slurped them, his blissful expression implying that he was sucking at anything but his fingers. 

You swallowed harshly as drool dripped down his face and onto the pillow, but he didn’t seem to care, only stuck the tip of his tongue out, sliding it between his middle and ring finger, as though mimicking the way he would toy at the slit of your cock. 

Fucking hell. You were moments away from ripping off your pants and pounding him senseless, but then apparently Zoro decided his fingers were wet enough—he pulled them out from his mouth, sticky spit drenching them. Reaching back, he deliberately made a mess as he slapped his fingers against the pink rim of his tight hole, the action making a wet, lewd sound, biting back a moan as one of them slightly dipped in. 

It wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough. It wouldn’t matter if it was three fingers, four, five—the whole fucking fist—it wouldn’t matter unless it was your cock. He wanted it so fucking badly, but there you were, sitting there like a fool, not giving him what he wanted when he needed it the most. Zoro whines out your name as he shoves two fingers inside, impatient as usual—his hole clenched around them, unused to the sudden intrusion. 

Zoro’s cock hung heavy between his legs, untouched, as his other hand obediently supported his weight. He added one more finger, shuddering as he pressed against his prostate, good but not big enough. 

“Please,” he pleaded, the last of his dignity thrown out the window. “Need you so bad, ‘m gonna die.” He raised his head to give you one last look—face red and teary, lips red from being bitten so hard to suppress his moans, and you fucking lose it. 

In mere seconds, you had thrust to the hilt and Zoro had barely any time to adjust to the size, mouth forming a silent scream as his eyes rolled back. 

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes, finally—” he cried, hips meeting your thrusts as unshed tears streamed down his face. “More, harder—ah!” 

You repeatedly nailed his prostate from behind, setting an absolutely punishing pace as you brazenly groaned out his name, uncaring if anyone heard the two of you. “Zoro, fuck, so good, so good for me, so tight—” 

Zoro pushed back against you, always greedy for more, hands grasping for purchase on the sheets as he panted and whined into his pillow. Normally that wouldn’t do, but you would deal with that later—not now, when he was clenching down on you with every thrust, crying out profanities that would send a whorehouse to shame, “I’m yours, fuck me—hnngh, ah! Fuck me with your—cock! Use me, ruin me—” 

“Fuck—Zoro—stop that, it’s too soon—” 

Zoro craned his head to snarl at you, clenching down harder if anything, “I’ll fucking kill you if you come before me!” 

“Well loosen up,” you snapped back, pounding into him harder and deeper, as he sobbed at the new angle, pleasure swelling in his core. 

“More, fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuuuuuuck,” he cried, eyes glossed over as he whimpered, “I need more!” 

“You’re barely hanging on—” you groaned as he thrust back against you just right, making you see stars. “And you're asking for more—?” 

“Just give it to me, harder—” 

Little moans and whines were punched out of him with every thrust as the wet slap of skin against skin and sick squelching sounds filled the room, and you pulled out all of a sudden, watching him scramble to get back on your cock with a displeased growl, he was so fucking close, and still, and still—

You took the opportunity to grab his hips and flip him onto his back, ramming your cock back inside—a direct hit against his prostate, at the same time wrapping a hand around his cock and giving it a hard, firm jerk, thumb digging into the slit—and then Zoro’s coming, locking up tight, clenching down hard on your length as he damn nearly howls your name, eyes crossing and tongue lolling out, body shuddering with the force of his release. 

“I’m so close, fuck, Zoro, Zoro—” you moaned, hands positioned on the back of his knees, spreading his legs wide as you continued to fuck into his used hole, making his toes curl and his nails dig down your back, bordering on overstimulation. 

"Too much—I can't!" he cried, tears leaking out of his eyes as he struggled to keep them open. "Just fucking come already—"

You slammed into him harder, making him choke on a moan. You had originally planned on going easy on him, but you guessed he wasn't planning on walking tomorrow anyway.

“Come inside,” Zoro demanded, weakly glaring up at you as he dared you to defy him, despite panting heavily and still shivering from his body-wracking orgasm. “Wanna feel you.” His cock hung limply between his legs, jolting every now and then as you pounded into him, but it was going to take a while before he was fully hard again. 

You bent down to take his tit into your mouth, sucking at it like a lifeline, like you expected something to come out of it, and Zoro whined, trembling, his tight hole practically wringing you dry as you continued to nail him into the sheets, intense pleasure flooding your senses as you bit and sucked at his chest, the need to mark him up as yours overwhelming you. 

“Gonna come so hard, fuck, s’tight, s’good, mine, Zoro—” 

“Love you—” 

That did it for you. His lips parted and you dove forward to kiss him, bending him in half as you did—cock stuffing him to the brim while you keened, vision whitening out as you moaned shamelessly into the kiss. As you pumped him full of your come, he clenched hard around you, trying to keep it all inside him. 

“Love you too,” you gasped belatedly, panting. 

You shuddered as you felt Zoro’s legs lock around your waist, stopping you from pulling out. 

“Keep it in,” he muttered, eyes drooping. “Take it out in the morning.” 

You watched with fascination as Zoro fell asleep within seconds, snuggling back onto the pillow he had moaned and drooled all over earlier, and you wondered how it was possible for someone who had been so insanely erotic to shift back into his usual sleepy self in a matter of moments. 

Chuckling to yourself, you pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead and settled down beside his sleeping form, making sure to plug him up properly with your cock and not letting even a single drop of your come spill from his hole.  masterlist!

[vanessagillings]

I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:  

I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic.  Some people who know me in real life still don’t.  And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM.  I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe?  I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag.  Even so, how could autism describe me?  I was a good student.  I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class.  I can make eye contact…if I must.  And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right?  Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?

If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it.  I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them:  sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak.  It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once. 

So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance.  It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day.  But it shouldn’t be like this.  It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities. 

It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.  This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs.  No two people on the spectrum present in the same way.  And that’s a good thing!  No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.

But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic.  I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway.  I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day.  More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing.  My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network  autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:

What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz

We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia

Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD

Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman

(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).

Thanks for reading 💛

[pizzapizzadickz]

Haaaaah. It's frustrating living like this tbh.

Like. Its been years and I'm still struggling as much if not more than I did as a child.

I wonder, does anything ever truly change?

[yenqa]

firsts

synopsis — sakusa and you have never had a conversation, and honestly you’re terrified of the man. but one conversation turns out to be many more of your firsts with sakusa.

warnings — reader is scared of men LMFAO, not really any

pairing — sakusa x implied fem!reader

wordcount — 710

a/n — happy birthday to himm! also my first hq post in a while OOPS also not proofread sorry!

You’ve never really talked to Sakusa.

You had been the manager of the volleyball team since your first year–and you had known him since then, but for some reason, you haven’t talked to him unless it’s volleyball related.

In fact–you don’t think you’ve ever had a conversation with him. But there's a first for everything, right?

Itachiyama has made it to nationals (not like it’s a surprise), and everyone has just arrived. The room continues to fill with people you don’t know, so you decide it’s best to stick with your team so you don’t get lost.

Well apparently that was a horrible idea to everyone else. Because you’ve lost everyone but Sakusa. 

And you’re terrified. Surrounded in a room full of men you don’t know sounded like your worst nightmare, and you were living it currently.

Frantically scanning the room for anyone that’s not Sakusa, you somehow can’t spot any of the familiar bright yellow and green jackets your team is wearing.

Everyone knows that Sakusa doesn’t like to be bothered. But when you make eye contact with him, you change your expression to a way where he understands you’re pleading for help.

And he nods once.

Your mouth breaks out into a smile, and you shimmy your way to the crowd. Letting out a sigh of relief–you lean on the wall for support, muttering a small thank you to Sakusa. 

You don’t expect him to say anything back, but you can hear his muffled voice say, “You okay?”

Tilting your head slightly up to make eye contact with him, you smile as you say, “Yeah–I’m fine. Are you nervous?”

You’re not sure why you ask the question, he probably doesn’t want to be bothered. I mean–you were still kind of shocked that he let you even be near him.

“Not really. Are you?”

You’re even more shocked when he continues the conversation. You’d expect he’d be the most rude person if he didn’t want to talk. “I-uhm I am a little bit. But we’re exempt from playing today right?”

Yeah–this definitely is the first and last conversation you’ll ever have with him.

He nods.

Then it’s silent.

Surprisingly, the silence isn't the most awkward thing you’ve experienced. It feels as if you’re just two people co-existing.

You watch as everyone excitedly hugs each other or glares at their next opponent. One person even tries to rile up the other, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

From the corner of your eye you can tell he’s curious, but he hasn’t said anything yet. This time, you take initiative to point at the players, also describing the jacket colors.

And you swear you can hear him laugh.

Not a full–hearty laugh obviously, but a small chuckle. A quiet one that you don’t even notice. But it’s definitely the first time you’ve heard him do anything resembling a laugh.

“You laughed.” You blurt out, before you even realize. 

He furrows his brows, “I did.”

Your eyes widen, “Sorry–oh my gosh, it’s just the first time I’ve heard your laugh before, Sakusa-san. I swear I didn’t mean it like that–you just have a nice laugh–”

And now he’s actually laughing–like not even hard to hear.

He’s laughing, he’s hunched over, shaking and clutching his stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more mortified in your life.

“It wasn’t that funny was it?” You ask, a frown on your face.

Sakusa catches his breath, “Funnier than any of the jokes Komori tries to make.”

“There wasn’t even a joke! And I happen to like the jokes he makes!”

“Only if you’re sick in the head.”

You scoff at his remark, “Wow, Sakusa-san, you’re very hard to please.”

“Kiyoomi.”

“Another complaint?” You tease, trying to play dumb at what he’s trying to imply. 

“Call me Kiyoomi.”

You can feel heat rush to your cheeks, you tuck your hair back behind your ear and mutter, “Okay, Kiyoomi.”

And even though he’s wearing a white mask, you swear you can see his eyes crinkle and you can assume the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. 

You’ve had many firsts with Sakusa today. This is the first time you’ve seen him smile–just maybe next time he’ll do it while his face is fully shown.

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[aperrywilliams]

Little Big Secret (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credits to the creator)

——————

Author Masterlist

——————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: You’re 36 weeks pregnant with Spencer’s baby. What happens when you are about to give birth and need to contact Spencer while he is in a case out of town?

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Pregnancy and labor symptoms are described. Some strong words. If I missed something, let me know. It's a fluffy one. Dad!Spencer coming to light. The chaotic trio I love having their moment (Reid-Morgan-Prentiss).

A/N: I wrote this fic based on this request. I loved doing it! Let me know what you think.

——————

Being 36 weeks pregnant and stuck in your apartment trying to convince your non-born baby girl to stop kicking your guts is not funny. It's worse when the same scenario occurs at 3 am, and you are alone, unable to sleep in the last 24 hours, exhausted and sentimental because your boyfriend Spencer isn't home.

You won't tell him that, though. You convinced him to go with the team to Trenton for a case, telling him you would be okay and that baby girl Reid won't be here for at least two weeks. That's what your doctor said to you in the last appointment.

Reluctantly Spencer agreed, making you swear you would call him or your sister if anything happened.

"Relax, baby. Everything will be okay. We'll be here when you return from your case," you assured him. "You have to go while you can. Once this girl is born, you'll be stuck here and will get tired of us," you giggled. Spencer's eyes widened.

"What? No! Get tired of you? Never!"

"About that. Do they know why you are taking leave in the next weeks?"

"Not really. Hotch knows, but the rest assume I'll go to see my mom," your boyfriend shrugged.

You still find it unbelievable that the best-known profilers in the country haven't noticed one of their own has a girlfriend for three years and a baby on the way.

At first, you had your apprehensions about why Spencer didn't want his team to know your existence. You thought maybe Spencer felt embarrassed because of you or didn't consider your relationship worth enough for them to know. But your boyfriend assured you it was anything but that. He told you what happened to Haley, Hotch's wife, and the multiple times a team's family member has been exposed to danger because of their job. He wanted you safe. He wanted to protect you.

The only one who knew about you was Hotch, Spencer's boss. But he, better than anyone, could understand Spencer's reasons, so he hadn't said anything.

You understood it and accepted it, even if you both knew that at some point, your secret would not be a secret anymore. For now, it was safer like this.

Exhaustion was all you got now, and even you have been trying to bribe your unborn daughter with chocolates if she behaved and let you sleep. It seemed you succeeded as she stopped making a party in your womb.

You fall asleep thinking about how your life has changed in the past years and how happy you were despite how uncomfortable pregnancy was at this point.

The next morning you woke up feeling a little better. Sleep helped, but your body was still tense, so you thought a warm bath after breakfast was a good idea to relax your sore muscles.

You were finishing your pancakes when Spencer called you.

"Hey, baby!" You greeted.

"Good morning, my love. How did you sleep?"

You didn't have the heart to tell him how uncomfortable you were last night.

"Good. Everything is good here. How is the case?" You tried to direct the topic to him. Spencer sighed.

"I think we are close to catching the unsub, but it had been hard," he confessed.

"I know you'll get him soon," you assured him. Spencer chuckled. He loved how you were always rooting for him. You were his biggest fan.

"I hope so. And you? Our baby girl has been good? When I come back-" he didn't even finish the sentence when someone called his name in the distance. 'Reid! We need you now!'

A heavy sigh left Spencer's lips.

"I'm sorry, love. I got to go," he mumbled into the receiver, guilt dripping from his voice.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't apologize and go to catch the bad guy," you encouraged him.

"I will. I love you so so much. And I love our little one. I promise to make it up to you both, okay?"

"I love you more. We'll be waiting for you."

Despite your efforts to relax during your bath, it seemed baby Reid had other plans, like moving and squeezing your insides. You tried singing to her, telling stories, and everything that came to mind.

You gave up and hopped off the tub. You dried your body and decided to watch some TV. After a while, stuck in a random show, the noise lulled you to sleep without noticing.

Everything would have been perfect if it weren't for the fact that an intense pain woke you up suddenly. You didn't know the time, but the TV was still on. You tried to sit on the sofa, but the pain wouldn't leave you, so much so that it was hard for you to breathe. The twisting in your belly was stronger than you'd ever felt and scaring you.

"My sweet girl, I know you're eager to see us, but you have some days left in Mommy's womb, so try to be nice, okay?" You panted, trying to reason with your baby.

You weren't ready to give birth, let alone without Spencer.

But, again, baby Reid had her own plans.

Another sharp pang made you slouch on the sofa; this time, you felt something warm running down your legs. You looked down and saw the liquid drip onto the couch and slide to the floor.

Fuck. Your water just broke.

-

The morning was a rush for the whole team and the Tremont police. After an anonymous tip, they located the guy who fitted the profile and ended up being the unsub they were looking for. As he had a hostage, the team moved quickly to the warehouse where he kept captive his ex-girlfriend, the source of his rage. Before things went further, Rossi's shot ended with the unsub screaming in pain and the hostage a nervous wreck but unharmed.

Spencer couldn't believe it took them a whole week to locate the bastard, but it was finally done. So they returned to the precinct to wrap the last details and go home.

Spencer was pulling the case photos off the board when his phone started ringing. He saw it was you and hastened to answer. Usually, you didn't call him while he was working.

"Hello?"

But a loud grunt came to his ear instead of your sweet voice. Spencer's eyes widened.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?"

You barely could say a word, the intense pain reducing you to heavy breathing and whimpers.

"Spence-" you managed to say. "The baby. It hurts."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening."Where are you? What's wrong? Where is Tania?"

Too many questions, and you had answers for all of them. But it was difficult to say a word with the pain cursing your body. After the contraction subsided, you could speak.

"My water broke. I'm home, and Tania doesn't answer. I don't know- ahhhh, fuck!!!"

Shit. You were in labor and alone at home. Spencer wanted to throw up.

"Baby, listen to me. I will call 911, but I need you to breathe, okay?"

"No! Spencer, don't hang up. I need you," you cried.

Spencer paced frantically in the room as Emily, Morgan, and Rossi looked at him, worried.

To call 911? Who the hell was he talking to?

"Reid? What is it?" Morgan tried to get his attention, but Spencer's brain was trying to make a plan to help you without stopping talking to you.

“(Y/N), please. I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me, please?"

JJ and Hotch entered the room at that moment. Both frowned when they saw Spencer pacing and the rest standing and waiting to know what was going on and what to do to help Spencer.

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?"

You couldn't reply to him, crying in pain instead. Spencer thought he could die of panic.

"Yes. But I can't move," you sobbed.

Hotch didn't need much to understand what was going on. Grabbing his phone, he called Penelope.

Spencer was reduced to dumb and didn't know what to do.

"Garcia, I need you to call 911 and dispatch an ambulance to..." he paused and looked at Spencer, who was talking to you. "Reid," Hotch named. When he got no response, he tried louder. "Reid! Where? Where is she?" Spencer's face found Hotch's.

"At my place," he told his boss.

"Garcia, an ambulance to Reid's address. Report a pregnant woman in labor that needs to go to the hospital. I need you to go there too. Make sure she gets to the hospital alright. I'll give you more information later."

Pregnant woman in labor at Spencer's address?

Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi shared the same confused looks.

"Baby, the help is on the way. Penelope knows and will help you to go to the hospital. She has a key, so don't worry. I'm on my way, okay? I'll call Tania too," Spencer informed you, moving to collect his things.

"Please, hurry up," you begged. As the call ended, Spencer turned to see his boss.

"Hotch. I have to-. I need to-," Spencer stuttered. Aaron nodded.

"It'll be okay; we are leaving now," he assured Spencer.

Morgan was the first to bring the elephant in the room.

"Can you tell us what's going on?"

Then, Spencer noticed the team hearing the whole ordeal.

"Uh. My 36-week pregnant girlfriend is giving birth to my daughter right now, and she's alone. I need to be there," Spencer succinctly explained as he dialed (Y/N)'s sister's number again without luck.

To say the team was shocked was an understatement. But there wasn't time to ask questions. They needed to move quickly.

Hotch was who took the lead.

"Morgan, you'll drive to the hospital with Reid and Prentiss now. I'll stay with JJ and Rossi to pack everything and follow you. The drive to DC is about three hours; make it two. I'll take care of the traffic police," he said to Morgan, who nodded, grabbing the car keys. "Prentiss, you'll get an open line with Garcia while she joins (Y/N) and takes her to the hospital. Now go!" Hotch instructed, now patting Spencer's back. "You'll get on time. Go," he told Spencer, who nodded and stomped from the room, followed by Morgan and Prentiss.

-

"Hey, Reid. We'll make it, kid," Morgan assured while driving on the highway, Emily as the copilot. In the back seat, Spencer couldn't stop bouncing his leg, worried about if the ambulance had already taken you to the hospital. On cue, Emily's phone went off.

"Garcia, you're on speaker," Emily announced.

"My lovelies, good news. I got your girl, boy Wonder, and we're heading to the hospital. Besides the pain, she's fine," Garcia recounted, and Spencer could breathe again.

"Can I talk to her?" Spencer asked.

"No, yet; they have her in the stretcher and with oxygen while monitoring her, but as we reach the hospital and will get her admitted, we can call you again. Nonetheless, she asked me to tell you she hated you for putting a baby in her. I really like this girl already," Garcia quipped, making laugh Emily and Morgan. Spencer's cheeks flushed.

"Garcia?" He sheepishly asked. "Can you tell her I love her and am on my way?"

Morgan and Prentiss looked at each other briefly. They still couldn't believe what was happening, but either way, they had a mission to accomplish: get to the hospital before you gave birth, so the resident genius could see his baby born.

"Sure thing. I will. I'll keep you posted," Garcia assured before hanging up.

Spencer could sense that Emily and Morgan were itching to cover him with questions, but knowing his nervous state, they were respectful enough not to say anything.

"I'm sorry, guys. I didn't tell you anything about (Y/N) before," he mumbled.

"And the baby," Emily added with a non-malice tone.

Spencer's face fell with embarrassment. They were his family, after all. And he kept this little big secret from them.

"But we get it, Reid. We do," Morgan ensured.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. We all know this job, and we want the best for our loved ones, keeping them safe," Prentiss said, turning to see Spencer, who nodded. "What I still can't believe is that you kept us in the dark for three years, and none of us ever suspected a thing. They should fire us," Emily added, making Spencer chuckle.

"What I can't believe is you were able to make someone fall in love with you," Morgan quipped, smirking and gaining a slap on the arm from Prentiss. "And get her pregnant! You have been having a game all this time, and I still thought I needed to be your wingman," Morgan scoffed.

"Worst wingman on earth. He had had to do all the work for himself," Emily added. The three laughed.

They were still with an ETA of one hour when Penelope Facetimed.

"Garcia! How is she?" Spencer rushed to ask.

"Hello to you, genius," Penelope greeted. "(Y/N) is already in a room. She's 7 centimeters of dilatation, so we're waiting," she informed, turning the camera to focus you on the bed, exhausted but relieved of being in the hospital already.

"Honey!" Spencer shouted as Garcia handed the phone.

"Are you coming?" you asked in a broken tone. You didn't have much energy at this point.

"Yes! On my way now. Morgan is driving us with Emily," he informed you.

"We're almost there, pretty girl!" Morgan yelled from the driver's seat.

You let a wary smile. Spencer only wanted to be there with you so he could hold you.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled.

"No. No. Why are you sorry? You have nothing to apologize for, okay?" Spencer hastened to point.

"Our little big secret is no longer a secret," you pouted, feeling guilty about the whole ordeal.

"Baby, it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is you and our little girl being okay. Believe me; it's the only that matters to me. I'm sorry for leaving you," Spencer sniffled.

"I love you," you said, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"And I love you so much," Spencer declared, wiping his tears.

You both kept in Facetime for a while. Spencer tried to keep you focused on anything but the pain, though it was difficult when a deep contraction raked your body from time to time.

Spencer recited your favorite poems and stories and recounted your best memories together. As a natural thing, Emily, Morgan, or Penelope made questions and comments about the things you or Spencer said. That helped. You felt accompanied, not only by your boyfriend but also by the beautiful people who were taking care of you and him. If you ever thought Spencer's coworkers didn't care about him, now all those doubts are cleared.

"We're getting there in five!" Morgan announced.

"Garcia, please tell the staff Spencer is coming so they let him rush upstairs," Emily requested.

"On it!" Garcia chirped. “The doctor is here, so I’ll hang up. Boy Wonder, the third floor, hall to the left,” she informed before the call ended.

Pushing the brakes in front of the hospital’s entrance, Morgan turned to Spencer.

"Go, pretty boy. We'll be there waiting," the man assured.

"Go to see your girls," Emily added. Spencer’s eyes were full of tears.

"Thank you. Really, thank you so much," he voiced before climbing off the SUV and rushing inside the hospital.

-

The doctor announced you were almost ready to give birth now. Just another centimeter of dilation, and you’ll need to push. After he left, you squeezed Penelope’s hand hard. You weren't sure you could do this.

“It’s okay, pumpkin. You can do it. Spencer is already here,” she comforted you. Garcia had just ended her sentence when Spencer rushed inside the room, panting and looking frantically. When he spotted you, you could see the tears in his eyes.

“Spencer!” you cried. He quickly lugged to your side. Garcia sighed, relieved that he was there. Spencer held your hand now, kissing your temple.

“I’m here, my love. I’m here. I won’t leave again,” he chanted, stroking your damped hair.

It was Penelope’s cue to leave the couple alone. But before Garcia crossed the threshold, Spencer ran to her and wrapped her in the tightest embrace he ever gave her.

“Thank you, thank you. For everything,” he mumbled. Garcia could have started crying, but it would be time for that later.

“Anytime, my love. Now go back to your woman. We’ll be outside waiting.” A grateful Spencer nodded before joining you again.

You didn't reach the last centimeter until an hour later. Spencer stood by your side, chanting praises and pushing away your sweat with a cloth whenever you needed it.

When the time came, you were pushing with all the strength you left, but your little girl wasn’t doing it easy for you.

“Spencer, I can’t,” you sobbed. Spencer kissed your head and stroked your hand.

“I know you’re exhausted, my love. But you’re almost there. We’re going to meet our little girl. Want that, right, my little pumpkin?” he talked now to your belly. The waiting room is full of aunts and uncles, ready to see you. They already love you, even if they didn't know about you until three hours ago,” Spencer pointed, and you let out a little chuckle in the middle of the pain.

The feeling of being cared for and loved gave you the last ounce of energy you needed. In the next contraction, you pushed harder, ending with a loud baby cry. Your daughter was here.

When they put her in your arms, wrapped in a white blanket, you couldn't believe it. She was the most beautiful baby in the world—the best combination between Spencer and you.

“You did so good, my love. She’s wonderful, and she’s here with us,” Spencer said, voice full of emotion and tears freely rolling down his cheeks.

You couldn’t stop looking at her.

“Our little big secret,” you cooed. “You’re a lucky baby already,” you whispered to her. Spencer chuckled.

“Should I go to tell them?” He asked you.

“They will kill you if you don’t,” you quipped.

When Spencer showed up in the waiting room, Hotch, Rossi, and JJ were there too.

All eyes were on him.

“A 7 pounds, 2 ounces, and 19.6 inches healthy baby girl,” Spencer announced, the biggest grin plastered on his face.

The room erupted in cheers and claps, everyone taking turns to hug the new father.

Once everyone calmed down, Spencer cleared his throat.

“I want to apologize for keeping this from you. I don't want you to think I don't trust or care enough to tell you about the important things in my life. It's just- you know,” Spencer trailed off. Rossi patted his shoulder.

“We know, kid. We really do,” the older man assured him.

“Yeah, Spence. We understand. That doesn't mean it’s not a big thing, but we get it,” JJ seconded.

“We are just jealous because Hotch was the only one who knew,” Garcia scoffed.

“Boss privilege, I guess,” Hotch shrugged, making the rest laugh.

“Well, being (Y/N) and baby Reid not a little big secret anymore, we can meet them properly, right?” Morgan pointed.

“Oh, yes! Please! I want to meet my goddaughter!” Garcia chirped, and Spencer looked at her, frowning.

“Don’t look at me like that, doctor. I won the privilege when I held that poor woman in pain,” she added.

“Maybe you’ll be the godmother, but I’ll be the cool aunt,” Emily chirped.

“And I’ll be Papa Rossi,” David seconded.

Spencer shook his head, laughing as everyone on the team fought for a place in his daughter's life.

He was so happy to have you and baby Reid. But now his happiness was complete knowing he could share it, and his whole found family could be part of it.

-------

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

[strawberryvanillafrosting]

success life story ♡

heyy i'm here to share about my success story, the beginning is only before i started manifesting and about when i just started, all my success are on the very end of the blog, so feel free to skip directly at it if you're not interest by all the rambling !

have a good read ☆

michiko is so pretty, i've literally been told so many times i looked liker <3

the old story that i don’t live in anymore

okay so before i didn’t hate my life, at all, but i just found very dull and so poor of entertaining like it was just too fucking regular and repetitive.also a bit depressing. i thought of myself of such an unlucky girl before and i was like affirming all the fucking time that i was unlucky and guess what? everything really used to go the way i didn’t want it to go every single damn time and i’d be like i knew it im so unlucky boo-hoo.

same for the money i would just go every single fucking day rambling to my friends how poor i was and how i wanted money so bad and the same story every single fucking for days, weeks, months.

i really wanted a new appartement and my own room cause i used to share same room as my sister and it really was getting on my nerves, i had no privacy and place for myself. the apartment was small, my mum always kept complaining about it and then she would argue about my dad about it but the reason why we couldn’t move out despite trying for several months was cause my dad had whole lotta debts and my mom had a really low paying and hard job she was exhausted and, it was quiet hard to see them being this unhappy and they still tried their hardest to make us happy so i really wanted to get back at them.

about social life i had very few friends and barely went out, i'd say probably one time a month. and i really wanted to get that life of the party, and those big ass friends group and also i was crazy desperate about having black friends cause i am black and literally the only black out here without none of black friends and i felt pretty left out like wtf am i the only black girl with no black friends cause all of them (that's so dumb tho.. ) were friends and gets invited to the most fun hangouts and i was embarrassingly jealous of that and also complained a lot about it…and kept asking tf was wrong with me.

STRONGLY on this one : i wanted a relationship so bad and i kept hating and being sad to those couple on tiktok’s. one time i actually cried cuz i wanted a boys’s love so bad like i was craving it so bad. i was in such despair state before..cringy ahh ☠️

i used to be rlly insecure about my looks too even tho at some moments i felt more confident, i kept comparing myself and waisting dozens of minutes enumerating my "flaws ". i knew about manifestation but not really about law of assumption , for me manifesting was really all about listening to subliminals, method and scripting. we all once knew that phase yeah? i used to manifest from time to time but then would just give up again,since i was not seeing results and so on. so useful wow.and then there’s the others things like mediocre grades, poor family health, just constant tiredness and fatigue feeling,

tw : mention of being depressed,sh,ed, : felt empty like life had absolutely no meaning, suicidal thoughts, tried to end by over-consumption of medication, self-harm and bulimia, constant complaining and NEGATIVE ONLY mindset.

but now, NOW i tell you ever single thing i’ve just listed changed completely like every single damn thing i’ve just listed is no more, it’s out of the date, dead, buried and no longer existing !

it clicked

then at some point at my life i was just like. yk what? fuck i just wanna change it all. then i really like really  got into it all over again and for good. no more 1 week i try then giving up cause i ain’t seeing no « results ».

i watched hours and hours of ppl talking about loa (i’m not saying you should do this at all it’s just that i was very under-informed and wanted to know everything about loa)on youtube, shoutout to rita kaminski and hyler who really put me into it and informed me. then i started reading neville’s pdf books, and tumblr blogs, kinda overconsuming but i liked getting myself informed.

and then that’s where everything started and that i got aware of all the power i actually hold. all the things i actually can do just cause of my mind. i wrote down all my wishes in present tense ,like every single aspect i wanted to change/have in my life. and i started fully living in the end like really got myself into and at first of course, wavering from time to time in the beginning. it was pretty easy for me since i was used to manifestation.but what i didn’t do before is persist no matter what and that’s what was really tricky for me in the beginning to persist no matter what and not just give up to bullshit 3D. but when i kept moving forward no matter the 3D and made it facts the only my 4D matters and everything has already happened, ALL and every single wish down to the last one flowed into my life. ONE by ONE every single hour of the day i would get my manifestations down to the last letter i wrote in my notes.every single thing

success storyy

in a matter of few weeks like really 3 week-ish like- 1 month max.

starting off LUCK i’m extremely lucky now every single time i play gambling activities i win. i’ve won insane amounts at scratch cards i think i’ve won in total more than 5’000$. JUST FROM SCRATCH CARDS.and before i started i NEVER EVER WON. now whenever i play there’s not one time that i’ll win absolutely nothing even just a small prize

won huge lottery prize (from 200 to 12k the biggest i’ve won yet)

winning a gambling games, either online or dice rolling luck,bets, bingos etc.. its literally insane every one keep telling that i literally has got god’s blessing (i’m the god guys🥰)

financially freedom, my parents upgraded jobs and i’ve got lots of incomes + the money my parents give me 

all the debts my dad had, he got rid of ALL of them and when i tell you mf had a lot of em☠️

move out in a new huge ass condo which is a duplex (like really like i wrote it it’s actually scary how powerful we are..) I’VE FINALLY GOT MY OWN ROOM and we’re getting my desired furnitures and decorating the house i’m so grateful

friends and popularity i think biggest shock for me is really this. like my social life has gone from very paisible to completely fully booked and passioning life. like seriously i’ve been to more parties, concerts, birthdays, and hangouts during the last 2 weeks holidays than in my entire life

got lot of new friends, healthy relationships and quality time passed on lots of fun activities and sm memories

black groups friend. WITH AN S.so thankful to myself to be this good a manifestation i litteraly got into a black friend group of girls and i’ve never felt more at my place and understood this much. and these girls know the black group boys (when i tell you that 2y ago they were the person that i wanted to be close with so bad..also they’re really hot and funny lol)so we hung out with them and i was literally so highlighted and became pretty much friends with all of them !! 

my man. HELLO I LITERALLY MANIFESTED MY DREAM RELATIONSHIP? when i met him i didn’t actually realize right on the spot that he was exactly how i wanted him to be and reading back to when i scripted out all the things i wanted at the beginning, everything matched. he’s literally physically and mentally the man of my dream LIKE REALLY. we’re no bf and gf YET cause it’s just a little soon but we see each others super often and we have the best relationship ever i swear it’s giving wattpad. the flirting is crazyyy.

dream bod.from head to toe my desired body. heavy on the lower body all for that azz and wide hips.ive got smooth and clear skin and smell good all the time!! litteraly flawless face + got my braces which suits so much and dimples

plenty of vacations (went to ibiza, usa and dubai )

lenient parents they use to be so strict before i swear its crazy they let me go so easily now, i can hangout without asking 3 days ,like they accept even if i've gotta go in the next hour or if wanna go on trip that's in another country. i can come back home so much later too

attractive & magnetic aura + being really charismatic (everyone i met keep telling me i’ve got this thing that really makes them want me, get closer to me)

good grades without doing much

perfect self-concept - as i kept living 24/7 in the state of wish fulfilled, my self concept only got better making me really know what i’m worth and never wavering/ going back to the old story

whole ass pc set up

all of my desired skincare/makeups/shoes/clothes

and so much more...

outro

i hope y'all liked my blog and that it motivated some of you to NEVER GIVE UP cause y'all are reallyy some powerful mfs and y'all already got all of yours desires !!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ honey kisses, shayama