#my doctor: have you ever thought to not do that? maybe just stop? maybe don’t be a weird freak and just do anything else but that???

[zurko48]

My favorite thing about doctors is how you can be like I have this problem because it’s something I can’t help doing i literally cannot stop doing it without excessive help. and they STILL go “you know it’d be better if you just didn’t do that :/// you should just stop doing it” like?? Did you not just HEAR ME??

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

“i doubt you’ll have it” “my sister had it and she was fine” “you don’t have it. but if you do have it, it won’t be serious” shut up!!

[frostbitesjc]

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[avis-writeshq]

heyyy omg I love your writings so much! congrats on your latest milestone, it's DESERVED 👏 can I pls request track one with spencer reid where he gets an epiphany and decides that he wants to propose to his girlfriend? just superrrr cute and fluffy 😍 thanks a lot!!

glue song – spencer reid

summary: “but you’re here, and so i love you.” in which spencer realises that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. pairing: s5!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: established relationship, fluff warnings: spencer in a knee brace (tell me why that’s attractive. why does he look good at his worst. face card never declines), he’s genuinely obsessed with you, not proof read oops a/n: thank you so much anon !!!! i’m so sorry it took so long to post; i kept changing and editing it hahaha i hope you enjoy it !! wc: 1.05k

“Careful watch your– no, pivot a little, pivot–” 

“I am pivoting! There’s nowhere to pivot to! Why is it so messy?”

You suppress a grimace as you manage to somehow squeeze your way through Spencer’s tiny doorway and into his apartment, the shoe rack on the side dangerously close to his damaged knee. You stumble a little as Spencer grips your shoulders tightly for support, his other hand holding onto a crutch. 

“Maybe we should move into a bigger apartment,” you muse, helping him to the couch. Your gaze shifts to his injured knee, your face falling. “Does it hurt?”

“Only when I think about it. Which is pretty much all the time,” Spencer says, wincing as he finally collapses against the cool leather cushions. “Thank you for doing this.”

You look almost offended at his words as you brush his hair out of his face and into a makeshift ponytail. “Did you think that I wouldn’t?”

He hums as he feels the way your fingers pull lightly at his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp. “Thought you’d get tired of me. After, you know, everything.”

“None of that was your fault,” you remind him swiftly. “This–” you gesture to his knee– “isn’t either.”

He softens, leaning his cheek on your shoulder. You’ve been there for him through everything and he knows what specifically it is you’re referring to. He could see it from the moment his doctors informed you that he wouldn’t take the vicodin they had prescribed to him to soothe his discomfort. His thought process makes sense; he didn’t want to risk it. Regardless, he was left with a growing pain in his leg that didn’t shake even after taking toradol. 

“I’d never get tired of you,” you clarify, squeezing his hands. “You’re too pretty to get tired of.”

He lets out a proper laugh as he squeezes back. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!”

He laughs again, shaking his head adamantly. “Liar.”

“When have I ever lied to you?”

Spencer beams in your direction, pressing kisses against the soft of your jaw. “You’re right.”

A triumphant smile spreads across your face at his words. “Exactly.”

*** 

From his spot on the couch, Spencer watches guiltily as you hustle and bustle about in the kitchen, grabbing plates and filling them to the brim with the food you ordered from the Chinese place he loves. He feels bad seeing you work so hard looking after him; especially when you have your own workload to take care of. He doesn’t even notice that you’ve already placed his portion of food in front of him until you whack him lightly on his head with some napkins. 

“Stop it. I know what you’re thinking.” You shoot him a half-hearted glare as you snap open your chopsticks. “I want to do this. I truly don’t mind.”

“You’re already doing so much,” he insists, “I’m okay, angel, I swear.”

You are not easily convinced and you point to the list of things the doctor suggested you to do in order to ensure Spencer’s speedy recovery. “I have a responsibility, Walter. What will your team do without you?”

“They’ll live,” he assures, reaching a hand out to massage the muscles by your shoulders. “I think you’ve seen me naked more the past two weeks than you have our entire relationship.”

“Well it’s not my fault that you need to bathe,” you argue, stabbing at your noodles. “You love it really.”

His cheeks burn with embarrassment at the accusation. “I do not! It’s humiliating.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you soothe, smiling at him. “Besides, it’ll only be like this for a little while longer.”

“If you consider five months to be ‘a little while longer’,” he quips as he shovels food into his mouth.

You let out a laugh, not finding offence is his sarcastic blow. He thinks you’re a blessing and he figures that you definitely are. Who else can deal with the problems of him being, well, him aside from you? Spencer doesn’t know what he would do without you. How could he when you manage to push all the darkness and negativity away?

“I’m lucky to have you,” he says finally, his gaze on your face. “You’re so good to me.”

You hum in response, wiping your mouth and curling into his good side, draping an arm over his middle. “That’s true. You’re good to me, too.”

He brings his hand over your waist and kisses the side of your face in an act of reciprocation. “You’re beautiful.”

Heat crawls up your neck to your ears at the sudden compliment and you can’t help the silly bashful smile that pulls at your lips. Your mouth opens and closes, deciding on what to respond with before you settle with a simple, “Thank you.”

It’s the honest truth. There’s a look about you that tells him that you don’t believe it, but he doesn’t say anything more to try and convince you. He tells it to you everyday; he’s sure that you’ll end up accepting the compliments more readily. Your being beautiful might have been what had drawn him to you in the first place. Although he isn’t entirely sure. He recalls a certain folktale about invisible stings and how it was tying him to you. There’s something pretty about that thought, the mere idea that you were made for him and he was lucky enough to actually hold you in his arms. 

You’ve turned the television on now, a romance movie playing on the screen with familiar actors. It’s supposed to be a comedy, at least that was what the description on the DVD said, about the main male lead reminiscing about his year that he spent with some manic pixie dream girl. Spencer doesn’t understand how that could be comedic but you seem to enjoy it. 

Spencer has tuned out the movie now, finding entertainment in the reactions you have. Your face morphs into different emotions with each dramatic scene and in that moment Spencer realises one very important thing. 

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he whispers, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. 

“What was that?” you ask obliviously and you lift your eyes to look up at him. 

“Nothing,” he dismisses, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Just keep watching the movie, angel.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

events page

[luveline]

May I pretty please request an emergency medicine doctor!reader x Hotch blurb? I’d love to see both of them in careers that are difficult, yet despite that they still manage to be together because they understand each other so much. Maybe something with the rest of the team as well if it’s possible 🫶🏼🥹

Emily used to think Hotch would never be happy again. She’d drive him home after work, pick him up in the mornings, and she’d think about how miserable he was, the kind of misery that hooks you in its grip, has you turning to wine or whiskey just to keep breathing. 

She thought for sure he’d buckle. When Hayley died, he’d have to. How could you not? But he kept going and proved she should’ve had more faith in him, becoming the father Jack deserves, and, surprisingly, your partner. 

“You’re squeezing me too tight,” you mumble, just loud enough for Emily and the others to hear you where Hotch hugs you a few feet from the dinner table. “Why are you trying to break my back?” 

“I haven’t seen you in three weeks.” 

“Eighteen days is not three weeks.” 

“It might as well be.” Hotch peels away from you to give you a once over. Emily’s half jealousy and half fondness, seeing him love someone so obviously. “Are you hungry? I ordered for you.” 

“Super hungry. Do I smell like antiseptic?” 

“No, just soap.” 

“Well, that’s not much better.” 

Hotch puts his arm behind your back and guides you to the table. The team squeeze out hellos between mouthfuls and you take your place at Hotch’s side behind a steaming plate. You’re as ravenous as the rest of them after your long shift; Morgan can hardly get a word out of you for the first ten minutes, though he tries, and you attempt to be polite. Emily nudges him until he gets the hint to stop. 

“Here,” Hotch says, putting a heaping of his food onto your plate with a large spoon. 

“Stop.” You attack his spoon with a fork. 

“It’s fine, you like it more than I do.” 

“Don’t care. You need your energy. I’m going to make you carry me up the stairs home.” 

He’s unintimidated. “Ah.” 

“Ah,” you echo. “You sound so doubtful.” 

Hotch looks like he might try to keep flirting with you, but he gives in quickly, betraying how much he’s missed you with a hand slipping under the table. Emily sees his fingers curl over your knee, averting her gaze with a feigned sip of coke. 

She can deduce the silent question you ask one another about anyways. 

“We’ll have dessert,” you say. We won’t skip out early. “What are you having, Dr. Reid?” 

Hotch orders you three different things, which you eat fast. 

“They’re not feeding you at the hospital?” Rossi asks. 

“Three emergency transfers in twelve hours,” you explain, slouching now into Hotch’s side, one slow inch at a time. “I didn’t have time for much.” 

“That’s not healthy,” Hotch murmurs in concern. 

“I’m sure I can ask any of your friends about your eating habits and find a similar schedule,” you brush him off, raising your gaze to Emily, then Morgan, then Rossi and Reid. Everyone smiles the same way. Hotch is caught, and his laugh jostles your shoulder. 

“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘do as I say, and not as I do?’” he asks. 

God, Emily thinks with a huff of a laugh she can’t contain, get a room. 

“He likes that one,” Spencer says. 

“I don’t doubt it.” You lift your lips to his jaw and press a peck to the line of it. One, then two. “Maybe that’s why we've lasted as long as we have. Mutual disregard for our wellbeing.” 

“And a great deal of care for each other,” Rossi says, nodding sagely. “This is why my marriages never last.” 

“Is that why?” Spencer asks. 

“You’ve gotten to be quite the lark.”

“Lark,” Hotch whispers to you. Emily, sitting at his other side, might be the only one who hears, the others distracted by Spencer and Rossi’s ensuing squabble.

“Scoundrel,” you agree. 

“How’s your head now?” 

“It’s gonna be a hundred percent better if you give me that,” you say, pointing hopefully at his full drink. 

He doesn’t hesitate to press it into your hand. Emily would never suspect you hadn’t seen one another for weeks; you move and he follows. You rub your cheek against his shoulder. He touches his nose to your hair, his eyes shuttering closed for one stolen, blissful second. “Missed you,” he says under his breath. 

Emily looks away with a smile. Hotch isn’t hopelessly miserable anymore. 

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being Their Pregnant Partner Featuring

Kita, Suna and Akaashi

Kita Shinsuke x Pregnant Reader; Suna Rintaro x Pregnant Reader; Akaashi Keiji x Pregnant Reader

Warnings: fluff

AN: and again : D

Kita

The beautiful sight of his fields at sunset were nothing compared to your gorgeous, full figure walking towards him with a basket full of food. He stopped his work, gathering up his equipment before making his way to you at the edge of the field.

“I thought you were suppose to be resting dear,” he asked you, smirk across his face as you scowled back at him.

“Well, you’ve barred me from field work so I guess the only thing I can do now is make you food and laze about the house, which I might add, is boring!”

Kita knew you’d have a hard time with the end of your pregnancy and with getting the required rest the doctor had ordered for you. At first, he tried everything to get you to just take one nap a day to rest and relax. Eventually he gave up on his quest and let nature take its course. Now that you were 8 months, your body essentially forced you to take a break which you absolutely hated.

“Why don’t you work on your knitting? You always complain you never had time for that when you worked the rice fields with me,” Kita suggested as you sighed.

“Well now that I have time I don’t want to do that, I want to work!”

You’re pout drove Kita insane but he knew there was little he could do to help you at this point. You absolutely were not allowed to help him in the fields but maybe there was something else you could do.

“Hey what about helping with packaging? You know that’s something you can sit and do,” he declared, waiting your response.

“I guess,” you groaned, admitting defeat, “I guess it’s better than nothing.”

Kita smiled, kissing your forehead and you both sat down to enjoy your food.

Suna

Suna couldn’t help but laugh at the sight before him. There you were, on the floor covered in paint as you tried to maneuver the piece of baby furniture you were painting.

“Hey Rin!” You spoke, face and hands completely covered in green paint as you continued to happily paint ground edges with great detail.

Suna wasn’t sure how you managed to be so careful with painting the dress or yet so messy with yourself

“Babe, I told you I’d help you tonight when I got home from practice,” Suna laughed, coming over to you to help you get off the floor in your extremely pregnant state.

He held out his hands as you gripped them, pulling yourself up and into his arms. You giggled as your painted body touched his and his EJP hoodie, making the colors now yellow, black, white and green.

“Good thing I got like 50 more of these in my closet,” he joked as you smiled

“You mean in my closet, I borrowed at least 10.”

Suna just chuckled, thinking how lucky he was to have such an amazing and wonderful partner.

Akaashi

“You’ve been working on that article all night babe, don’t you think it’s time you take a break?” You interrupted, bringing in a cup of tea and some late night snacks for your husband who had been working all day.

“It’s not an article love, it’s a letter your baby,” Akaashi answered as you stopped, eyes shifting to him as you set the tea down.

“A letter to the baby? May I ask what it’s about?”

Akaashi shrugged, “well it’s kind of about how you and I met and how our lives were before baby.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at your husbands thoughtful gesture. Akaashi noticed the tears, getting up and hugging you tightly as you sobbed in his arms.

“T-that’s got-got to be the cu-cutest thing I’ve e-ever heard Keiji,” you bellowed as Keiji just chuckled, consoling you, one hand on your back and one on your belly.

[kaijuno]

I decided to make a boostable post and use my last $10 for this because holy shit I almost severely fucked up last night.

IF YOU ARE BIPOLAR. YOU NEED TO BE EXTREMELY CAREFUL WITH CAFFEINE. IT CAN TRIGGER MANIC EPISODES.

So, I’m Bipolar I. I recently started drinking caffeine again and…. I did not know about the caffeine thing. Didn’t know it could trigger a manic episode. I’ve been in psych wards and to so many doctors over the years and never once was I told to maybe avoid caffeine. And that makes me a little mad, because I’m currently experiencing one of the worst manic episodes I’ve ever had. I’m practically itching with restlessness. I feel like I wanna crawl out of my skin or something. My mind won’t stop racing. It’s horrible. I was having self harm thoughts last night.

I don’t know what made me google it, but something in the back of my mind clicked that ‘hey, maybe caffeine could make bipolar disorder worse?’ Oh hell yes it does. I feel a lot better now knowing that I’m not just way more bipolar this week or whatever, and that all I gotta do is cut out the energy drinks. Who knew just 2 energy drinks would throw me so far off my block. Christ.

Sources:

[my-love-is-sunlight]

Turmoil

Law x gn reader

Warnings: little fight between Law and reader but nothing crazy, sfw and fluff at the end, good ending, FEELINGS

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: In which you save Law’s life and he gets mad at you

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

The moonlight danced with the dark sea water, accompanying you in your office as your eyes struggled to stay focus on the paper work in front of you, it was hard to tell the time when you lived in a submarine, but your body knows its well past 2 am, begging for you to snuggle into bed and drift away

From the shadows behind your door emerged your Captain, looking as tired as you did, a brow arching in confusion

“What are you doing?” His low raspy tone makes you jump on your seat as your eyes open wide in his direction, before they roll in annoyance and your eyebrows furrow

“Doing the work that YOU assigned me, Captain” the tone of your answer lets Law know that you’re still mad at him

“Should’ve thought better before-“ suddenly, and surprisingly you interrupt his so re-used speech he had given you a million times over since that evening

“Oh give me a break!” You trow your pen on the table, slamming your hands before gifting him the nastiest look he had ever witness painted on your face

Some days ago, the Heart Pirates found themselves in yet another fight were things weren’t going well for their Captain. You were the crews strategists and whenever you were caught in situations like these you were always by Laws side, but this time he had made you promise to stay out of trouble for this one, which in all honesty had struck your pride. Everyone knew how relentless of a fighter you were, that’s why you had gained such a position in the crew, so being told to back up was like a punch in the stomach, specially coming from your trusted Captain

Trafalgar Law was a stubborn, stubborn man, and that sometimes got him in more trouble that he could handle, as the enemies arrow flew trough his direction and a sword was drawn to his heart, in a blink of an eye you jumped in to protect him, without a second thought

Nothing bad had happened to you, you had came out victorious with a couple of scars nothing out of the ordinary, so when you were met with Laws angry eyes, a long speech on why what you had done was absolutely stupid and a punishment, you were left puzzled, and humiliated in front of all of your crew mates

Since then, you had been locked in your office, getting the extra work the doctor had assigned you so that ‘you learn how to listen’ done, and avoiding any words and looks of his

“I saved you” you got up of your chair as you walked towards the frame of your Captain, he may tower over you, but that would not stop you

“You put your life on the line y/n-ya, that I don’t tolerate” he answers you with a stern voice, eyes examining your every expression

“I did what I did because I wanted to, you may be the one giving orders around here, but you do not get dictate when or how I die”

As you get closer, Trafalgar cannot help but start to feel that maybe he was being selfish, after all, you had given him the greatest of gifts

Knowing there’s someone out there that is willing to die for you, no questions asked

But at the same time, the mere thought of losing you because he couldn’t be up to the task of protecting you boiled his blood and made his stomach turn a million times over

“Then maybe, you shouldn’t have joined my crew in the first place” he blurts out, every single word hitting you like a venomous snake bite, your heart clenching at the thought of being unwanted

Your greatest fear

Suddenly your body language does a 180, your anger being replaced with what could only be perfectly described as heartache. Almost immediately the doctor regrets even stepping foot in your office, before he can say anything you’re already back on your seat

“Sorry Captain” the pain in both your voice and your face makes Law hurt, and panic, and regret, yet words fail to come out of his mouth… just when he needed them most

“Don’t stay up too late” is all he can say before closing the door behind him

Next days in the Polar Tang were a pain, Law had been quite more irritable around everyone, even snapping on poor Bepo. You were either locked away working or in your room and sometimes even skipping dinner just to not cross paths with the damn surgeon, and if you were unlucky enough to do so, you would turn away immediately

Everyone knew something was up between the two of you, Ikkaku and Penguin had showed up at your office asking if everything was ok. You decided to keep it to yourself, you knew if Law found out you’re talking about him behind his back, about personal matters? Yeah, you would be dead to him, and even when mad, you respected him

Shachi was send to dig around Law, but when your name crossed his lips the doctor immediately shot down the conversation, this confirming their suspicions

But then, you finished the damn paper work, and guess who was the one you needed to hand it to?

You tried to convince anyone else to deliver the papers to Laws office, but it seemed like everyone had catch up and found this as an opportunity for you to make up with him, frustrating you beyond comprehension. They had even got to Bepo first

“Sorry y/n, I was told to tell you to deliver it yourself” he offered you a sympathetic smile, afraid of your answer, you just sighed defeated and thanked him anyways

“Just go in and hand him the papers! That easy” Ikkakus voice rings in your head as you try to wash your nervousness away in front of Laws office. Hesitantly you knock on the door, feeling lightheaded at the mere touch of it

“Go away Shachi” the doctors muffled voice meets your ears, confused you answer with the tiniest “It’s me, Captain” After a pause that felt like it lasted a decade, thinking he may had shambles himself out of the office, you hear a “Come in” so you do

You enter the office slowly, almost as if you made any sudden moves you’ll get caught like a pray in the wild. Trafalgar is sitting at his desk, his hands fidgeting and eyes following your form

“I have the paper work you asked for” you stay pretty far away from the desk, fear written all over you making Law feel twice as worse as he had been feeling this past few days

“Thank you y/n-ya, just leave them here” his voice sounded softer, but this didn’t made you feel any less scared as you approached the desk, gaze fixated on the papers in your hand. As you positioned your hard wok on the desk Law makes the uncharacteristic decision to hold your wrist before you retrieved, a shock running through your whole body at the action

Law’s heart beats a million times per second as he finds the right words to approach the matter, maybe he should’ve thought about them before taking your hand, your soft skin touching his freezing him. You lock eyes for a second and finally Law understands everything he had done wrong, from being ungrateful, rude, harsh and just overall mistreating the person he cares for the most

He would rather being shot than admit he was in the wrong, but he knew if he didn’t he’ll lose you, which was the reason he had caused this mess in the first place, so he swallows his pride

“I am sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed at you in front of everyone, or made you do all this work and… saying those awful things”

The fear washes from your body as you hear his apology, something you never thought you’d witness in your life, you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding since you stepped foot on the door, offering Law a genuine smile that made his heart fall to his feet

“It’s ok Captain”

“Law” he says, letting your hand go as his own insecurities disappear, thinking you were gonna bash at him after his apology

“Law” you parrot back, earning him another sweet smile of yours

“I just… didn’t wanted to lose you, I was so lost in that thought that I didn’t realize that’s exactly what I was doing” you had seemed to have pushed a button because he just couldn’t stop the thoughts that just fell directly to his tongue and overflow like a cascade out of his mouth

Laws eyes open wide as he sees you approach the other side of the desk, your arms wrap around his wide shoulders like the softest blanket, hugging him while he still sits on the chair, your head resting in top of his hat. The surgeon stays completely still, taken aback

“Thank you for apologizing Law, I really appreciate it” you whisper making his face bright red and his hands shake, the way your body weights over his makes his brain malfunction and his heart go wild

You let go and approach the door of the office, Law remaining completely broken and flushed in his seat

“See ya’ at dinner.. Law” you say his name mischievously, giggling after before you disappear

The Captain stays still for a while, alone in his office, thinking about everything being open about his thoughts and feelings had gained him, and how addicting his name sounded falling from your sweet lips

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

This came to me in a dream and wrote it in almost one sitting lmao, feel free to request anything you wanna read I am having so much fun writing his emo ass

Reblogs are appreciated ;)

[boldlyvoid]

Neighbourhood Beauty

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: Penelope is hosting Christmas at her apartment this year, she invites everyone... Including her new neighbour, who is exactly Spencer's type.

Warnings: flirting, love at first sight, kissing, making out, teasing, drunk bau friends, food mentions, Baker!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

She was sad the whole journey home from work knowing that Christmas was tomorrow and she was going to be alone. As she gets into her apartment complex, she runs into her neighbour at the mailbox. She’s got 3 packages in her hands while trying to figure out how to carry the last two, “do you want help?” 

“Oh, please?” She sounds so relieved. “What a blessing it is to see you today.” 

She smiles for the first time in a few hours, “Oh, anytime Penelope. Are these all gifts?” She asks as she takes the two packages in her hands. She’ll come down for her own mail later. Nothing interesting should be in there. 

Penelope nods, leading them towards the elevators. “I’m having a big holiday gathering tomorrow— wait, do you have plans, are you going home to see family?” 

“No,” she admits, sadly. “I couldn’t get a plane ticket, I tried but they’re so insanely expensive lately.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Penny sighs. “I haven’t gone out to see my brothers in years, they’re in California.” 

“It sucks… but you have lots of friends here, right? I’m sure they’re coming over tomorrow?” She asks, mostly so she can feel some sort of comfort if she isn’t doing anything tomorrow either. 

“I’m having Christmas here for the first time,” she shares. “Dinner starts at 6:30 but we’re having a little bit of everything for lunch around 2, if you want to stop by at any time?” 

“Oh no, I couldn’t—

“You can, and you will!” Penelope insists. “You don’t need to worry about gifts or bringing any food, just show up. I hate the thought of you being alone next door.” 

“Okay, I’ll come,” she gives in with a smile. “But I’m bringing a baked good… have you ever been to my bakery?” 

“You own the bakery?” She’s so flabbergasted. “I thought you just worked there?” 

She smiles, “I do… we do okay but I’m by no means rich enough to buy a plane ticket home.” 

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing cause now I can eat whatever you bring tomorrow!” 

—

She spends the whole night baking. She makes molasses cookies with powdered sugar on them in shakes of little Christmas trees and she makes chocolate croissants. One of which she brings to Penelope around 10 am so that she can have a nice breakfast before the party starts. 

She showers, picks a cute outfit and by 3pm she’s anxiously waiting by the door trying to hype herself up to go over. She only knows Penelope. They’ve lived beside each other for 3 years now. She’s seen her friends coming and going and heard them talking in the halls but she’s never talked to them. But if they like Penelope, they’ve gotta like her too. 

So she bucks up and heads over. 

She knocks and within seconds, a handsome man is throwing the door open. “You don’t have to— oh, hi?” 

“Hi… Penelope invited me? I’m her neighbour… Y/N,” she awkwardly introduces herself. 

He’s at a loss for words— and breath, for a moment and then shakes himself out of it. “Spencer… Reid. Doctor… Doctor Spencer Reid.” 

It makes her laugh, easing the anxiety out of her system. “Can I come in, Doctor Spencer Reid?” 

“Yeah, yes, come in,” he steps out of the way and extends his arm into the room for her to follow. He closes the door after she’s inside and smiles. “How do you know Penelope?” 

“I live next door.” 

“Really?” He can’t believe it. “How long?” 

“3 years now…” 

“And you’ve never come over?” He looks offended. 

She smiles, “Why, sad you haven’t known me longer?” She manages to tease him. She’s not always good at reading people but something about how he’s acting makes her think he likes her. 

He blushes but nods, “Well, welcome. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“You too,” she looks him up and down. He’s very handsome. And a doctor… “how do you know Penelope?” 

“We’ve worked together since I was 22…” 

“And you’re now…?”

“42,” he presses his lips together, awkwardly. “Old…” 

“No, no you’re not, I would’ve guessed 35 at the most,” she teases, stepping into his space, she places her hand on his arm. “You’re a very handsome 42.” 

“Are you doing anything for New Years?” He asks, removing all his fear and looking at her with hopeful eyes. 

She shakes her head, “no… I might be working but I can leave early, or you can come see me there?” 

“Where do you work?” 

“I own the bakery on 16th Avenue,” she smiles. “Penelope buys in donuts and things from me all the time, actually, I brought over baked goods this morning, they’re in the kitchen somewhere.” 

“Did you make those croissants?” He lights right up. 

She nods, “maybe I can teach you how to make some?” 

“I’d really like th—

“Y/N!” Penelope comes running from the kitchen and wraps her arms around her, “When did you get here?” 

“Just now,” she laughs. “Spencer’s been keeping me company.” 

“Ahh,” she pulls away with a smile. “Well, come eat, there’s lots of snacks in here.” 

She leads them into the kitchen where her other friends are around the table. “The ones with kids will be around later, they’re still putting batteries and things in their kid's gifts. But this is Rossi and Emily and Tara.” 

She reaches out to shake everyone's hand, realizing only now that she never shook Spencer's, but he doesn’t mind, he stays close to her. They sit side by side, he passes her things from the table that she wants to put on her plate and he gets up to get her a drink and everyone makes conversation while also watching him dote on her. It’s been 20 minutes but there’s something there… no man has shown her this level of interest or flattery before and not to quote Lana Del Rey but, when you know you know. 

They’re friendly as ever when there are people around them and they flirt like mad when they’re alone. She already has a date with him, but he’s just too cute and that shade of red he turns is starting to become her favourite colour. 

“You seriously used all the ice?” Penelope chastises Emily, who pretends she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “Go get some more, we have guests coming who don’t drink alcohol they need ice for their sodas!” 

“I am far too drunk to walk down the street,” she counters and points to Dave. 

“Not me,” Dave touches his nose, he doesn’t volunteer to do anything and Tara does the same thing, she’s just as drunk as Emily. 

Spencer goes to get his coat with a sigh, “I’ve got it.” 

“I’ll come too,” she rushes to the door with him, putting on whatever coat fits her so that she can follow him down to the street for some extra alone time with him. 

She reaches for his hand on the street, “So, what’s it like at the FBI?” 

He holds her hand gladly, “it's… okay. I just teach now. Fieldwork put me in the hospital too many times and I like being alive.” 

“I’m glad you’re still here,” she bumps shoulders with him.

His smile is beautiful. “So, about that date?” 

“We could do anything you want,” she assures. “But my offer still stands.” 

“I think I’d like a baking lesson,” he nudges her back. “It's the one thing I’m not good at.” 

“So what are you good at?” 

“Rambling, falling over, getting shot,” he teases but she swats his arm, leaning into him with a laugh. “Okay, but seriously, I have a Ph.D. in Chemistry, Engineering and Math.” 

“Well luckily for you, baking is just science and a bit of math,” she teases. “You’ll catch on quickly, smarty pants.” 

He pulls her in, chest to chest, standing beside an empty store with all their lights off. He cups her face, “what’s sweeter? Your chocolate croissants or your kiss?” 

She can’t help but laugh, “you’ll have to tell me…” 

He pulls her in for a kiss and sparks fly behind her eyes. As if every atom in her being is on fire, she melts into him. Kissing him deeply, she holds his sides and the hand he has on her cheek goes into her hair as they begin to make out on the snow-covered street. 

She pulls back first, smiling softly, “so?” 

“You, it’s definitely you,” he teases. “But the croissants are a very close second.” 

She laughs, “Well, keep up the compliments and there will be lots more kisses and sweet treats coming your way.” 

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the neighbourhood,” he teases, leaning in for another kiss but she stops him. 

“Just the neighbourhood?” 

“The whole world,” he corrects, which is the right answer. She lets him lean in closer, stealing another kiss. 

She kisses him again and again, trying to pull back but he kisses her a third time, making her laugh. “We need to get that ice, we’re going to be late for dinner.” 

“do you want to hang out after dinner?” He asks, “I can walk you home?” 

“And stay for more kisses?” 

“Or croissants,” he shrugs. Happy with either. 

—

They’re pretty normal for the rest of the party, she meets the rest of his friends and all their kids. And they’re some cute kids. The youngest is his friend Matt's 2-year-old, she sits at the grown-up table with them and eats one of the chocolate croissants with the biggest smile on her face. Y/N can’t help but think about how much her own kids might like her baking one day… and Spencer sees the way she looks at the baby too. 

His friends are so lively, the the party goes on until well after midnight. The friends with kids head out early, Emily and Tara get a cab home, Dave is passed out on her couch and Spencer isn’t going to leave until she does. And she’s helping Penelope clean up. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Penelope assures her, drying off dishes while Spencer washes them. She’s been putting things in Tupperware containers and organizing the fridge. 

“I want to help, as a thank you,” she smiles at her. “This has been a lovely night.” 

“And not just because I introduced you to your new boyfriend?” She teases and Spencer drops a plate. 

She laughs, walking over to place her hand on Spencers arm, “I mean, meeting Spencer is the best present you could’ve given me.” 

Penelope swoons, “Okay that’s it, love birds. Get out of my kitchen, go home, go canoodle and get to know each other. I knew this was going to happen.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me in advance?” Spencer whines as he dries off his hands. “I would’ve worn something nicer?” 

“You look cute,” she teases. 

“See, that’s why,” Penelope points at her. “I knew she’d like you for you, she’s a baker and you love everything I buy from her bakery and she’s so kind and you need someone to love you the way I know you love people back. This is perfect.” 

She wraps her arm around his waist and leans into his space, “thank you penny, we’re going to go now.” 

“Thank you,” Spencer agrees, following her out of the kitchen and towards the door. 

Once they’re in the hallway, he asks, “Did you really mean that?” 

She nods, “of course?” 

He lunges for her, kissing her with her back pressed up against her apartment door. She reaches for the doorknob, twisting it open so that she can bring them inside and push him up against the closed door instead this time. He moans into her mouth at the feeling of his back colliding with the door and her hands are immediately roaming his shirt.

He’s such a good kisser, he is gentle and soft, and he isn’t overly eager and controlling. He lets her explore and slow it down as she presses in closer to him and his hands wander to her hips. 

“Couch?” She pants against his lips, wanting to lay down with him. 

“Show me?” He agrees, following her into her apartment and to the living space. 

She pushes him down against the couch and climbs on top of him. He wraps his arms around her, cradling her body like she’s the most delicate thing in the world. He kisses her just as soft and she moves her kiss to his cheek and his jaw up towards his ear, “you’re so handsome,” she whispers. 

“Thank you,” he gasps. “You’re absolutely stunning, I don’t know how I got so lucky.” 

She smirks against him, kissing down his neck, “You deserve good things, Spence.” 

“You’re too good to me,” he teases, hand slipping down to her ass. “How far are we taking this?” 

She hums, “I’m good just talking and kissing all night?” 

“All night?” 

She nods as she pulls back to look at him. “I kinda don’t want to let you go. I’m afraid you’re too good to be real.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures. “I’m yours as long as you want me.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

[formulapai]

hi! would you consider writing a lando norris x reader about after his crash this weekend? ofc, don't feel obligated if you don't want to❤️🥰

of course love, thank you !!! so glad he’s ok :( 🧡

VIVA LAS VEGAS…NOT!

a lando norris fluff scenario🧡

scenario: see request :)

warning: crash, hospital

pai’s words: I watch the races in French or German so some terms MIGHT be wrong, I have a pretty good knowledge of f1 even in English thanks to my father BUT yeah, some things might be a little off :/ don’t hesitate to correct me 🧡

also, a little SHORT but I’m still sick 😀😀

“YELLOW FLAG ! SAFETY CAR !”

Time stops for a moment as you try to find your breath, try to find something to hold on to. The crash happened fast, unpredictable and merciless, as Lando lost control of his monospace and nearly took Oscar’s with him.

“Lando, are you ok?”

The next seconds are long and antagonizing as his engineer tries to get a response out of him. Everyone waits with batted breaths, desperately wanting to hear his voice.

“Lando, are you ok ?”

Jose tries again, agitated at the thought of his driver being unconscious or unable to answer due to the severity of the crash.

“Yeah, I’m good”

His pained groans are not ignored as everyone knows he’s most likely not ok and just trying to reassure his team, and you. The medical car is now on the scene, Lando being escorted out of his car and in with the medics. He’s going to be driven to the medical center for checkups, an important must.

“Want to go with him ? I’ll take you there, sweetie”

Some woman, that you absolutely know but can’t remember with your mind racing, smiles at you. Everyone knows about the two of you, having made your relationship public back in 2019, so it’s no surprise she’s asking you this. You don’t know the way to the medical center, not yet familiar with this circuit, so you thankfully agree.

“He’s going to be fine, he’s tougher than that. When we say he’s hardheaded, we also mean this”

She easily laughs, doing her best to decrease the tension on your shoulders, and it works. Yes, he’s most likely fine, probably bruised, maybe even with a concussion, but fine. You believe it, you have to.

“I’ll leave you here, alright ? He’s getting checked out but you can still knock”

You nod and thank her softly, deeply grateful for Lando’s team and their ever-lasting kindness. You do as told, knock sharply on the door and wait for a sign to go in. Someone opens the door, a medical staff probably, and they usher you inside, your lover lying on the bed in the middle of the room, still surrounded by a doctor. He looks fine, at least he doesn’t have a missing leg or something.

“Hi, Y/N right ? You can sit next to the bed, we’re just finishing some checkups”

Lando is already staring at you with a boyish grin as you take a seat, his hand finding yours in a matter of seconds. He still hasn’t said a word but it’s alright with you, he doesn’t need to say anything as long as you know he’s okay.

“Mr. Norris, I think it’s best if you are taken to the hospital, only to do a scanner for now. It seems as if you may have a minor concussion, we have to check just in case.”

At that, Lando sighs. He doesn’t like hospital, no one really does, and he’s not over the moon at the prospect of having to spend time there. You squeeze his hand, giving him all the strength you can mutter so he knows he’s not alone, you’re there, with him through it all.

“I mean, I don’t really have a say in this, right?”

The Brit tries to joke wryly, closing his eyes. Someone new appears in the room, bringing some paperwork with him, making sure everything is ready before accompanying your boyfriend to an ambulance. You can’t come with him, so you’re extremely relieved when Jon joins you in front of the center and tells you he’s driving you there. Being his trainer, Jon is naturally close to Lando and by proxy, to you. The both of you go through security, towards the car, and drive to the nearest hospital where Lando arrived minutes earlier. He’s already in the scanner room when you arrive, so you sit and wait for him, consuming probably too much coffee under the friendly gaze of the man next to you. Had it been another day, he’d have nagged you for your coffee consumption and how it affected your health, but he knows you need this right now, so he lets you be.

Minutes felt like hours and you thought you were slowly going crazy. He’s not out yet ? Did they find something strange ? Did something happen to him ? A stroke ? Questions just keep haunting your mind as the two of you are left in the waiting room with no news. Surely, they’d have told you if something happened, right ? You know the answer to this, and you keep on repeating that yes, indeed, they’d tell you. Still, worries are clouding your mind, only clearing when the man itself walks, more like prances, towards you. He’s still sporting the wristband, almost showing it off when he stands right in front of you, laughing with Jon about something you’re not bothered to understand. The way you wrap your arms around his torso is instantaneous, instinctive, as you lean forwards and let yourself fall against your boyfriend. This startles a giggle out of him and a brief chuckle from Jon as the two feel all the stress leaving you in an instant, wrapped in Lando’s scent, softly mixed with the infamous hospital scent. His right hand comes to your head, petting your hair as Jon asks him if he wants to go to the hotel or back to the circuit. Of course, he wants to go back to work, you’re not even surprised but still scoff slightly.

“Alright, off we go, lovebirds. I’ve already told Andrea, Oscar finished the race, P10!”

The ride back to the circuit is spent talking about the race, Jon filling the two of you in with the infos he’s got while you were waiting. A tough race, interesting and unexpected, but the drivers fought hard. You know Lando is bummed, rightfully so, but he still manages to congratulate his teammate earnestly once you arrive in McLaren. You wait for the meetings and media things to be done, sitting in a corner with your headphones and some snacks as you watch replays and edits of the race.

Soon enough, you’ll be back at your hotel room, comfortable and safe under the covers, but for now you enjoy the cheery atmosphere of the night and take a sip of your coffee, knowing Jon will undoubtedly annoy you about it tomorrow and already smiling at the thought.

[cometkenji]

Hi!

I love Doctor, Doctor, please listen! The way you wrote about the differences between the two that were apparent at first and then how they were actually similar! 🫠

Would you be interested in doing a follow up for the same reader who still refuses to carry a gun, but then she and Spencer are in danger and an unsub is about to kill Spencer, so she breaks her rule and uses Spencer’s gun to shoot the unsub? She doesn’t have to shoot to kill, but just to protect Spencer.

Like maybe she got injured first and didn’t defend herself but the moment it’s about to happen to “her Doctor”, she knows what she has to do.

(If youre not interested, totally get it!!!) thank you for reading!

ANON YOU'RE A GENIUS OH MY GOD Pairing: Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!reader Cw; Guns, mention of violence towards a kid, reader gets stabbed (again), death mention, mention of reader getting a leg amputated WC: 909 This is a little spin-off of my first fic which you can read here but it can be read as a standalone as well

Things had escalated fast. The team had profiled a calm, rational unsub. She was acting more out of desperation than anything, nobody thought an attack was plausible. You had ruled out a partner early into the investigation, the kills were too mundane for that of two people. Even now, with said partner having killed the unsub, you still wondered how the companion could have possibly hid herself so well. The partner was armed, clearly the dominant of the two, it became an obvious case of master/servant. 

It was just you and Spencer here, Hotch was following close behind but his ETA was around 6 minutes. You didn’t have 6 minutes. She had gotten you good, coming out angry and ready to take out as many as possible. Your leg paid the price as she dove at you. You aimed for the floor, just needing to get out of her way, but you’re about 60% sure she sliced right through your Achilles. It would take all the energy you had to get back up, leaving you stationary and practically useless on the floor. 

The woman was clearly struggling with paranoia. She ditched the knife she struck you with in favor of waving her pistol around. She was incredibly animated as she spoke, throwing her hands in tune with her words as she argued with the air around her. Soon, as though a decision had been made, she set her sights on Spencer. Up until this point, he’d been helping you stop the blood pouring from your leg. You saw her make up her mind, and knew you had to act quick. She was coming for him. 

“Spencer, give me your gun.” You said it quickly and near silently, thanking the heavens he was so close to you. You discreetly laid your hand on the ground, and he placed it on your open palm. His back was towards her, it was up to you to protect him now. 

“You people think the whole world is up for you to dictate, you know that? You can never just let people be.” She was panting, hauling Spencer up from the floor and walking him against the wall at gunpoint. “We were fine! Nobody was ever even meant to get hurt, but you all can never just let people make mistakes.”

You were hiding the gun with your arm, if she saw it she could snap. “We understand mistakes, ma’am. But sometimes people get hurt. Don’t you think it’s fair the people you wronged get some justice?” You tried, but in your professional opinion this woman was already too far gone. 

“No! Don’t say it like that! We didn’t mean to hurt that kid, ok? We just got carried away.” She was rising, there was no talking her down. “You could have let us go, we would have left the country.” It was horrific, she was crying - remorseful. “But now - now I have to kill you and I don’t even want to.”

“Put down the gun, ma’am. Please.” One last bargain. “It doesn’t have to end this way.”

She only cocked the gun as a response, raising her hand to aim the pistol at Spencer’s temple. 

“I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

You didn’t have a choice at this point. This was the first time in your entire career you’d been forced to hurt an unsub. You’d never been anywhere without a team to back you up. This time it was your finger on the trigger. The angle you were aiming from - crooked, while lying on the floor - made it incredibly difficult to predict where the bullet would end up. You aimed low, crossing your fingers it would shock her away from Spencer. She can’t hurt him. It was the only thought left in your head. Please don’t hurt him.

–

You found yourself in the back of an ambulance. Again. The wound was more severe this time, Spencer glued to your side for the trip to the ER. You were going to need surgery to repair the nerve damage she caused.

“I hate hospitals.” Dread pooled in your gut at the thought of going under the knife. Spencer looked at you appalled. He couldn’t believe you were complaining about the service that was going to save you from an amputated leg. Or in other words, he was panicking. 

“Are you kidding me? You’ve lost enough blood to fill half a milk carton, Y/n! The fact they think you’re going to keep your leg means you got luckier than 67.2% of patients with similar stab wounds. Have a little gratuity.” His face was flushed, the hand gestures that usually accompanied his words were otherwise forgotten about. 

“Spencer, I’m gonna be ok.” You looked in his eyes from where you laid on the stretcher. Sounding out each word a little more purposefully in order to calm him down. 

“You shot someone. You’ve never even had to detain someone. I know how much you prioritize peace, Y/n.” Ah, so that’s why he was worked up. 

“Spence.” You laughed a bit - endearingly - at how worried he was about you breaking a vow. “She was going to hurt you. I would have killed her if I had to.” He looked so fragile in the vehicle’s stark lighting.

“Really? You mean that?” The kinder way of saying would you have done that for the others? 

You smiled at his words. “Only for you, Doc.”

[cupid-styles]

Another lactation blurb for ymls would be amazing bestie! And I would also love to see them be all domestic and fluffy!

this is fucking F I L T H and I wrote it on my phone so I’m sorry if there are any typos!!!!!!

. . .

”My tits are so fucking sore.”

Harry chuckles gently, glancing over at Y/N as she cups her breasts through the soft fabric of her sweater. His smile quickly fades into a sympathetic pout, reaching over from the wheel to wrap a hand around her thigh, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry,” he says genuinely, pulling into the parking lot of their destination, “You’ve been doing such a good job with pumping and feeding Clem, though. I’m so thankful for you.”

It’s hard to be grouchy and grumbly when Harry says sweet things like that. His gratitude quickly melts away the irritation sitting heavy in her chest so she purses her lips instead, breathing out through her nose in lieu of a response.

It’s only their second time out without Clementine, and it’s not even anything terribly exciting. They’re just going to get lunch at a cafe they both like — they left their three month old off at Y/N’s sister’s place, but neither of them liked being away from her for too long (Harry in particular). The first time they left Clem with his parents, it was two weeks ago and it was just so they could go food shopping. They made it through two aisles before he started flexing his fingers nervously, asking Y/N if it was too early to call and ask about how Clem was doing.

(Y/N pretended like it was, but in reality, she’d been wanting to ring Harry’s mom up for the past 20 minutes.)

But having a newborn and navigating a relatively new relationship was exhausting, and Harry was insistent that they spend time together outside of her place. (He’d apparently replaced his obsession with parenting books with relationship ones.)

And that’s how they ended up sitting at their favorite sandwich spot, making quiet conversation about Y/N’s maternity leave, Clementine’s next doctor’s appointment, and Harry needing to end the lease on his own apartment sometime soon.

Everything’s going fine as they munch on their food, sharing a plate of French fries between them. And then Y/N feels it — the familiar sensation of milk dribbling from her swollen nipples, and she drops her sandwich to her plate, her eyes bulging with annoyance.

“Fuck me,” she mutters, sighing out in frustration. Harry glances up with a concerned expression and she leans closer to him, “I’m leaking. I think I need to pump.”

“Oh, shit,” Harry mumbles, “You don’t have a spare bottle or anything on you?”

She shakes her head. “No. I left all the pumping shit at home. I think I’m just gonna go to the bathroom and, like… I don’t know. Try to clean up a bit.”

“I’ll come with you,” Harry instantly volunteers, sliding out of the booth. Her eyebrows raise slightly. “I know you’re in pain right now. It’s the least I can do.”

She doesn’t fight him on the offer, instead following him to the single stall bathroom. With an annoyed expression, she locks the door behind him and hikes her sweater up over her nursing bra. There’s already faint stains over where her nipples are, making her sigh. She goes to reach for some toilet paper to clean off her breasts when Harry’s hand wraps around her wrist, stopping her.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, glancing down at her covered breasts, “Can I?”

They haven’t done this since she leaked for the first time, back when she was still pregnant. They hadn’t even really spoken about it, but if Y/N was being honest, she thought about it frequently. It had been one of the hottest things she’d ever been on the receiving end of.

Parting her lips anxiously, she nods, straightening her posture and subconsciously pushing her chest out. He smirks and unhooks her bra, a low groan sounding from his mouth when his eyes meet her milky breasts. It’s a mess he’s dying to clean up.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, “Let daddy have a taste, yeah?”

Maybe it’s the heightened post-pregnancy hormones or maybe it’s just Harry, but Y/N’s eyes flutter shut at the honorific, nodding quickly. It’s not a moment more before his lips latch around her nipple, sucking with an enthusiasm she’d only seen once before. Her fingers curl themselves into his hair, gripping roughly as she whimpers, her pussy instantly growing slick from the dirty sight.

“You’re so fucking incredible,” Harry mutters against her skin, nipping just below her nipple before switching over to the other one, “Feeding our perfect baby with this. You never let daddy have some though. Bit selfish, I think.”

“Y-you can have it whenever you want,” she mewls, tugging at his hair, “Fuck— touch me, please?”

She barely finishes her sentence before he’s pushing his hand down her pants and underneath the cotton fabric of her panties. They haven’t had sex since she gave birth, even though she’s been cleared. Harry still knows her body like the back of his hand, though, deft fingertips rolling over her wet, swollen clit as he sucks every last bit of milk she has to offer.

She doesn’t know what pushes her closer to her orgasm; if it’s the sight of Harry drinking her milk or the sensation of him rubbing tight circles into her clit, but it doesn’t take much for every muscle to clench itself, breathy whimpers falling from her lips as she comes all over his hand.

“There you fuckin’ go, mama,” he croons, glancing up to watch her fall apart. It’s his favorite view, but maybe he’s a bit more partial to the sight when her milk is dripping down his chin. “Cum for me, baby. Dirty girl, obsessed with daddy licking your milk up.”

He works her though it like it’s his job, her eyes only fluttering open when her peak has finally tapered off. The first thing she sees is Harry’s smug smile, an involuntary, shocked laugh sounding between them.

“You’re pretty kinky.” She teases. He rolls his eyes, clipping her bra closed and fitting her breasts back inside.

“Right, like you didn’t just come from all that.”

“Shut up,” she says, smacking his chest playfully. “I wanna finish that sandwich.”

[fariesoiree]

ever since you’ve became friends with hobie, he makes your insides feel all weird. he’s got to know what this feeling is. he can probably help you with it, right?

caution! mdni 6k wrdz, mentions of religion, reader is super sheltered, set in a college setting, black fem reader, fingering reader receiving, oral reader receiving, corruption kink mayb just barely, hobie is real gentle, everything happens on a desk, blushing is described but can’t be physically seen, unrealistic description of coochie juice we all know it doesn’t actually taste like that hobie is just obsessed, the smut section is a littleeee bit short but i def think i could expand on this in the future pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

hobie has been a good friend of yours for a few month now. it all really started at a party at the college you attend. with it being your first year, every experience is a new one. your sheltered childhood only further added to it.

it was easy, hobie always claims, to tell you didn’t belong when you stood in the room, eyes wide and frantic. not to mention, you were fully dressed in jeans and a sweater. he didn’t understand how you hadn’t passed out, yet.

he walks up to you that very same night. your panic only became more evident when he’s introducing himself. “you alright, love?” and he’s truthfully concerned. you’re nearly shaking, hands clasped together.

you explain to him what happened. that the group of girls you came with disappeared, that you don’t know anyone here, that you’re extremely overwhelmed.

it’s hobie who leaves the party early, despite enjoying himself. he escorts you back to your room and stands outside your door until it’s clicked shut and locked. he also leaves his number in your phone that night with the innocent promise to help you with whatever you need.

the reaction from your parents is expected when you tell them what happened. you receive a scolding for going to the party and indulging in secular music and sin, as well as trusting a man and allowing him access to your room. you can argue that you didn’t invite him in but your parents won’t and don’t listen.

you’re used to it, used to their lectures that you actually heed their warnings. all your life you’ve been living by their rules. no boys and no parties. church every sunday, home at nine. you’ve even accepted the routine phone checks every night with no back-talk. this has been your way of living since forever.

so of course the big, gentle, temptation himself intrigues you to no end when you’re presented with such an open gateway. you’re sure if your god-fearing parents saw him, they’d have a heart attack right on the spot.

six five and exactly what your parents warned you against. piercings galore, stick and poke tattoos decorating his skin. his hair is assorted into wicks, which you don’t mind but your relatives would have called him sloppy. not to mention the clothes he wears, decorated in spikes and chains. sometimes the gems in his belt catches the sun in just the right way and he glows like an angel.

hobie gives you butterflies and not just in your stomach but in other places as well.

you don’t know what to do about the fluttering in your pussy when hobie’s had grazes your thigh when he bends to pick something up. even the word pussy has your face warming up.

at first, you thought it would be a one time, unrelated thing. the wet mess in your panties shocked you after spending your evening with hobie. you made a mental note to stop by the doctors in case it was something serious and went about your night.

and then it happened again and every night since. coincidentally, you’re with hobie every night, only to return to the safety of your dorm and deal with the same heated feeling.

that’s exactly how you find yourself in this dilemma tonight. you’re as quiet as a mouse, strewn across his bed. the strip led lights cast a blue shadow on the room. hobie is across from you at his desk, clicking around in some music making site you wouldn’t even try to comprehend.

his headphones are over his head, stretched to the biggest setting to accommodate his hair and his fingers, nails painted black, tap against the wooden desk. hobie can’t hear you with the noise filling his ears. he hums softly to the beat.

you’ve been staring at him for a while, now. originally, you were working on some homework due that night but your gaze found him and his sharp jawline that’s just barely visible from the diagonal angle he’s sitting.

before you know it, your eyes have wandered downwards until you’re looking at his legs, wide and manspreeding. your downstairs area does that weird pulsating thing.

you lips form into a pout and you shift to remove the discomfort. you never actually made it to the doctor, having realized this is only something you experience around hobie. despite this unusual situation find yourself in, distancing yourself from him wasn’t an option. oddly enough, he’s one of the few people that didn’t make you feel other.

“come listen to this.” hobie swivels in her chair to face you. he pops the headphones off his head and waves you over. “was thinkin’ about submittin’ it as my project.”

you sheepishly shake your head. your cheeks burn at the possibility of him catching you. “oh, i don’t think you want me to.” it makes you nervous to partake in the creation of something so vividly can nonreligious. you're already laying in his bed, unsupervised and alone with him. all your teachings let you know it could lead to other things.

he tilts his head, dangling the headphones off his fingertips. you can hear the punk rock melody blaring from where you’re stationed. “you never wanna listen to my music. scared or somethin’?” he doesn’t wait for a response, already slapping the bluetooth headphones back over his ears and turning back.

hobie already knows the answer but he’s uncaring, regardless. he’s become accustomed to your thinking and even though he feels it’s distorted with reality, he doesn’t judge you for it. nor does he blame you.

you’re back to staring at him and the way his hands dance across the keys. his hands are so big, you think. each finger is slender and long and could probably swallow you whole.

you take your lips in between your teeth with a disgruntled sigh. all these impure thoughts are driving you up the wall. you can’t even blame him because he’s doing nothing to provoke it. you, apparently, just can’t control yourself.

with hobie’s back to you, you’re able to silently pack your stuff up. your laptop is tucked away into your bag and you grab your spiral notebook. he doesn’t notice you’re preparing to leave until you softly slide off his platformed bed and shove your feet into the soles of your matte mary janes.

“where are you going, duck?” he pushes the left side back until it’s no longer covering his ear, rapidly glancing at you.

“my room.” you grab your hello kitty lanyard off his desk. “i’m going to do my work in there. can’t do it here. i’m too distracted.” you sling your bag over your shoulder.

“shit, is it me? hobie pauses his track. he’s rapidly hanging his headphones on the stand and jumping to his feet. “at least let me walk you back.”

hobie stuffs his feet in his traditional black boots. he doesn’t care enough to tie the blue, ladder laced laces. he’s already grabbing that loud, extravagantly pinned vest before you have a chance to blink.

“no, you don’t have to do that.” you nervously fiddle with the blue ribbon tied at the base of your braid. “i don’t want to inconvenience you and it’s not the far from your room.”

he merely tsked and rests his hand atop your head, right in between the pigtails. “darlin’ there’s no chance i’m lettin’ you walk your little self back alone. you of all people? fuck no.”

“hobie!” you chastise, hands flying up to cover your ears. the keys dangle and bump again your cheek. your mom always told you that anyone who says adverse words is going straight to hellfire. you didn’t want to be apart of that.

he opens the door and motions you through, a hand on the small of your back. “you’d follow a man to his truck just ‘cause he said please.”

the warmth from his fingertips spread throughout the nerves on your spine and you feel like you’re on fire. you pout and it can easily be mistaken for your opposing opinions on your naivety.

“sorry but it’s true.” the door clicks shut when both of you have stepped outside it. hobie shoves his keys inside his pocket and begins down the hallway to the elevator. he hasn’t noticed you trailing behind him, teeming with explanations as to why your core throbs at the sight of him.

you do this all the way until you’re out the door of the men’s dormitory. you haven’t uttered a word, thumb rubbing against the warming metal of the cross dangling around your neck.

it’s not like you’ve ever felt this feeling before. not even around the other boys you’ve been around. granted, your hangouts were never like this. it was always under adult supervision, even in your older years, and you mostly saw each other during youth groups and summer camps. this, what you’re feeling now, is an entirely new and uncharted territory.

“hobie,” you start. the warm summer breeze ripples across your skin and leaves behind a chill of the promised winter to follow.

hobie lifts his head. the rock he kicked scattered off the sidewalk and into the grass. he hasn’t spoken to you. either. that’s the best thing about him. he doesn’t ask questions, letting you process things your own way. hobie is all too aware of your differences and has no problem letting you take your time.

“i have a question. it’s kind of personal, i think.” you take a brief pause before each word, meticulously picking them to match your uncertainty.

hobie is still silent. at some point, you would have begin to question if he’s even listening to you if it weren’t for the way he lazily shifted his gaze over to you.

“are you . . . have you ever gotten this feeling in your stomach? like a hot one.” you wet your lips. your heart is about ready to stop beating. how do you explain this to him? are you just supposed to tell him he makes your no-no square all fired up? do people say that?

“what are you goin’ on about, lovely? has my stomach ever burned? yeah, if i eat enough dairy.” he chuckles with a small shake of his head. unbeknownst to him, that is not at all what you’re referring to and you are too ashamed to ask him again.

“never mind,” you say with your head hung low.

it’s your parents fault and the way they neglected to teach you about your body. it’s not like you’re a complete idiot and you know sex can lead to children. however, you were taught that sex is bad and children are blessings so it’s fair to say you’re a bit clueless on the contrasting beliefs. not to mention this weird feeling a boy invokes. the boy that might as well be the son of satan himself.

you sigh, heavy and drawn, pulling your keycard out your lanyard. it scans and the lock beeps, allowing you both entrance into the girls dormitory.

hobie lifts an arm and holds the door open over your head. he’s confused. it’s obvious you’re mulling over something, putting so much energy into it that you don’t notice the weight of his eyes boring into the back of your head.

it isn’t until you’re standing in front of your door does he speak his mind. “what’s keepin’ your head so busy?”

your hand is steady on the handle but you have yet to turn it. you can feel the heat from his body standing so close to yours and just once you wish for him to reach forward and put his hand — oh no.

“m – maybe you should just come inside.” you yank your door open and pull him behind you. it’s a drastic decision on your part. never have you ever invited any man in your room, not even hobie. at best, he got glimpses of the shared living space but never of your room down the hall. he’s always walked you back, stood at your door until you were safe inside, and made his exit. always.

even when he’s come to walk you to class, your roommates would open the door and invite him in but he’d stay planted right at your welcome mat. hobie knows you, knows what silly boundaries you have but he follows them strictly because as long as you’re comfortable, he’s comfortable.

“hold on, look at me.” hobie finds himself abruptly stopping in your living room. he yanks his arm until you’ve spun back around and settles his hands atop your shoulders. his eyes fall on your lips, caught between you teeth and nearly knawed raw. he doesn’t miss your hands clenched into tiny fists by your side. “are you okay? this isn’t like you to act so . . . erratic.”

he has to stop his curiosity from getting the best of him and drink in the interior decorations you’ve done. out the corner of his eyes, he can tell just what you contributed, different nooks and crannies filled with pink trinkets and round eyed figurines. you’re the sweetest thing all worked up and making rash decisions. he doesn’t like where this is leading.

you give him a small nod of your head, eyes downcast and on the tops of his worn boots. the grime is welcoming. better than looking in his eye and having him see how unnerved you are.

as if you aren’t shaking under his grasp.

“dove, don’t lie to me. if there is somethin’ wrong, you need to let me know and i need to hear you say it.” his hands drop to your elbows, fingertips just barely touching your skin. hobie knows you’re avoiding him, avoiding addressing something big but welcoming him in your personal space. the contrast is enormous and it’s especially a big deal for you.

“i’m f – fine. i just . . .” you timidly shift your feet, sweatered arms going to wrap around yourself. you’re clutching your cross again, attention boring into the floor. “. . . can we please talk about it in my room. it’s not something i want to say here.”

he’s hesitant to let you go, drawing in a breath. you’re going to be the death of him, he decides, with the way you concern him but he’ll take your word for it. maybe, maybe just maybe you know exactly what you want.

he allows you to take him back to your room, pushing the door open. immediately, he gets a good whiff of the clean linen wax you have burning in your wax warmer.

your space is tidy, but not necessarily clean. you’re a bit of a maximalist, soft blankets and frills draped around your room. you have posters and paper hearts hanging on your wall, a my melody rug laying in the floor beneath your chair.

there’s a couple flower cushions strewn about and plenty of stuffed animals to go around. you have fairy lights across the wood of bed, casting the room in soft yellow lighting. there’s a rack in the corner full of lacey clothes that he assumes you’re planning on wearing soon.

you look so comfortable, fitting right in. of course you do, considering you decorated it yourself. hobie lingers at the edge of the room while you go through your routine of taking off your shoes and putting your bag by your desk. you’re putting your earrings in the strawberry shaped jewlery holder when you finally address him.

“you don’t have to stand there like that. you can take your shoes off and stuff,” you speak with your back turned to him. you know it’s weird, having him in here. it’s weirder when hobie acts as if his presence in your room will turn it into an active landmine.

hobie licks his lips, hands deep inside his pockets. he doesn’t even want to let his eyes linger too long on anything in fear he’s taint your purity, full of innocence and hope. “what am i here for?”

you rest your hand against the cool, light colored wood of your desk. you feel feverish, the topic making your palm sticky with sweat. the room suddenly gets hot and you’re clearing your throat while motioning for hobie to close the door. “um, well . . .” you trail off, tapping your manicured fingers loud enough to fill the silence with quiet clicks and clacks. “i have something to ask you.”

“ ‘nd you needed to bring me here to ask me?” his head tilts in deep skepticism. hobie leans against the white wall next to your door. he doesn’t want to go any further. he doesn’t belong here.

you’re irked, hands flying to wrap around yourself. the ruffles at the bottom of your dress rub against each other like flower petals in a spring breeze. “just listen! i have something serious to ask you and you’re being awkward. it’s making me awkward.”

hobie lifts and drops his shoulders. he’s tense when he crosses the threshold of your room and takes an uncomfortable seat at your desk chair. “sorry doll but we both know i’m not supposed to be in here. what do you want to talk about? make it quick so i can go.” he leans back as far as the chair will allow, eyes up and on you.

his question demands a straight forward response, one that you cannot provide. you don’t know what is happening, yourself. you’re back to your silence, grasping for words to form an explanation. “remember when i asked you if your stomach ever burned before?”

“not this again. i thought we already talked about –”

“no! listen.” you’re shouting at him again, lips pressed into a pout. you’re just barely working up the courage and you need to get it out before it goes away. “lately, i’ve been feeling like that but not in my stomach.”

you’re speaking so fast, hobie can barely understand you. he just catches your words, suddenly sitting up with his brows knitted together. “are you okay? sick?” he presses his hands flesh against your cheeks and forehead but your skin isn’t warm to the touch.

“n – no. not that i know of.” you nearly whine when his fingertips brush along your waist as they’re lowered back to his side. “it’s a little uncomfortable.” you rub your knees together in an attempt to satiate the ache between your thighs.

hobie has enough experience to recognize the little shuffle you do, accompanied by the needy glint in your eye. it startles him. not you. anyone but you, miss purity herself. he’s seeing things. “then what?”

he’s terrified of the way you look at him, eyes glossed over. the cherry colored blush dusted across your cheeks appeals to your cherubic state. this is his worst nightmare and best dream, that you would entice him like this.

it isn’t easy to ignore the chub of your ass that you’re unaware you carry and the softness of your breasts when you grab his arm and press your body against his. it especially isn’t easy to ignore the sweetness in your voice when you plead and chastise him for his vulgar words and behavior. oh how badly does he want to twist your brain but he won’t. he can’t allow himself to. you’re too good for that and that’s the problem.

“i feel weird inside around you, hobie. only you and . . . i don’t know.” you’re meek and quiet, face advert and back in the ruffled hem of your white socks. you cross and uncross your ankles to satisfy your need to stir and wriggle. “i wasn’t going to say anything but i don’t know how to make it stop and sometimes it hurts.”

you look so pitiful and pretty like this, almost begging for his help. it doesn’t take a genius to understand what you mean but hobie can’t bring himself to act on it. it feels so wrong on so many levels. he can’t take advantage of your unawareness like this.

“aw baby,” he has to curl his fingers into his palm to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing you. that’s why you were so insistent on coming to your room. “you don’t want my help with that.” he keeps telling himself he has to be the bigger person, the one who thinks clearly.

“i do,” you insist, daring to take a bold step closer until you’re slotted between his knees. it’s a lot for you, coiling in on yourself to find comfort despite acting out your comfort zone. “i can’t take it anymore. you don’t understand.”

his hand comes up to rest against your cheek, following an empathetic shake of his head. “no, you don’t understand. you don’t even know what you’re talking about. what am i supposed to do if you can’t even tell me what you’re talking about?”

hobie stands, presumably to take his leave. he pushes you away from him by your waist. he’s stopped when you wrap your hand around his slender wrist, staring up at him with big, entreating eyes.

“please? anything? please, hobie. i’ll take anything just help me do something. tell me what to do, i don’t care. it’s terrible and uncomfortable and i can’t bear it anymore.”

he takes one look at you and is met with your waterline, gathering in tears of desperation. all his resolve slowly breaks until he’s cupping your cheeks with a soft sigh. “you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? babblin’ about shit you don’t even understand.” he’s gentle, backing you up until your knees are knocking against your desk. he sits you up there, hands resting on either side of you.

“hobie,” you reprimand him again for his words out of habit, hands going to cover your ears again.

he stops them, much larger ones enscasing yours with a tut of his tongue. “don’t even. you don’t get to complain about me sayin’ shit and fuck and whatever else. not right now.” he presses your palm against his lips, piercings warm against your skin.

your mouth falls open, only to wordlessly shut. you don’t know what to say, what to do. all you know is you’re slightly overwhelmed with the future possibilities. what’s about to happen? what is he going to do?

“i don’t even know what to do with you. you sure this is what you want?” hobie doesn’t feel he needs to ask with the way you were begging him but he can’t help it. you’re such a sweet thing, asking him to do something about your aching cunt. you don’t even know what you’re asking him.

you nod, eyes widening when his hand falls over your knee. it’s a respectful distance but you’re anxious, already wiggling under his gaze. “you keep asking me.”

“i know darlin’ but can you blame me? just gotta make sure.” hobie ever-so-swiftly slides his hand up your thigh until his thumb is brushing against the front of your panties. he isn’t interested in beating around the bush and quite frankly, it would be so much better to just get the first touch done for. break the ice just enough.

your body immediately reacts, legs pressing closed as far as you can get them. your eyebrows knit together as your nerves crackle and pop with a sudden desire you haven’t felt before. “i’m s – sure.”

“never had this pretty pussy played with before have you? ‘course not. you’re a good girl.”

you hate the way he’s talking to you. it’s not quite derogatory but it makes you feel otherworldly in a negative way. as if you have no clue what he’s talking about. you don’t. and his words are so unclean.

“not gonna fuck you tonight. you’re not ready for that, yet.” he aids your legs back open with a firm grip, holding them in place. “you know what that means, yeah?” hobie doesn’t mean it as an insult, circling his thumb around your already puffy clit.

“mhm,” you’re wiggling again, lip caught between your teeth. you’ve heard the phrase in passing, understanding the word and its context. never have you used it, yourself. you’re clueless, not dumb.

hobie bunches your white dress up by your hips. he’s greeted with a view of your black panties, dark enough to conceal the dampening spot but he can still feel it beneath the pad of his thumb.

your glittery lip gloss has begun to spill over your plump lip and dribble down your chin with how much you quiver. he swipes the excess off, lightly chuckles at the way you fawn and fall over.

just over the clothes touching has you like this, mewling and hiccuping and doing your best to conceal it. it’s endearing, the way you try to maintain his level of composure.

he continues toying with you, a bit hesitant. it’s not like him but hobie knows he has to take his time with you. he can’t rush. he has to prep you thoroughly, get you used to his touches. this is what you want.

“and you’re not gonna act all shy when i take these off, are you?” his finger hooks through the leg hole, snapping the fabric back until it pops against you when it’s released. “or are you still trying to be a little angel?”

the thought of hobie pulling your underwear down and seeing what no one, let alone a man, has seen. your private jewels that you’re sure are soaping wet the way they are every other night. your cheeks heat up and you squeeze your eyes shut, knees trying to do the same. “no, i’m not.” you’re trying to be so brave, it’s cute.

“don’t worry, dolly. not yet. just gonna rub your cunt, just like this.” he pushes and pulls on your clit, hot underneath the pressure of his thumb. it has your hips shuffling in an attempt to rut against him. he doesn’t know if you’re aware, the way you stare at him like he hung the moon himself. “could make you cum like this, i bet. you ever done that before?”

a particular jerk of his finger has you gasping and grabbing whatever part of him you can get to first, his forearm and his shoulder. “i never –,” your chest heaves with a broken moan, partially restrained, “n – no. i don’t.”

as far as you know, premature sex and masturbation is a sin. you have never been tempted before even meeting hobie. not only would he be the first to touch you but he’d be the first to make you cum.

his boxers get increasingly more tight at the thought. you’re so pure and he’s so lucky, being the first, even before you, to dip his fingers between your folds. he can barely restrain himself.

hobie plants himself in your hair, his gruff groan vibrating your scalp. he can’t help the way his thumb jostles your clit. it’s nearly primal, how badly he wants to draw an orgasm out of you and he knows you’ll do it so easy with how pent up and inexperienced you are.

“you don’t gotta hide it, baby. let me hear you, dove. tell me what you like so i can make you feel good.” your hair smells of vanilla and shea butter. it makes hobie want to devour every part of you, his long cock leaking with precum but he has to remember to take his time. he has to.

“hobie . .” your weak whine fills the hazy spot in his brain that’s indulged so deeply in every part of you. you don’t have to tell him for him to know, it’s obvious in how you’re unable to be still, nails stabbing into his skin. “i f – feel weird.” you’re so wound up.

hobie pulls his head back. he feels heavy with need as he tilts your chin towards his face. he just wants to see you, that’s all. he just needs to see the expression you make the first time you cum. “don’t fight it, sweet girl. just let it happen. it’ll feel real good.” his thumb strokes your jawline, coaxing you to give in to the growing lust filled pit in your stomach.

hobie knows you cum simply because he can feel it. your pussy spams so hard, he swears he can hear it. he doesn’t even have to put a finger up to your entrance to feel the pulsating. it’s almost as if your hole is searching for something to suck in.

your mouth has fallen open in a tiny o, working your body into hobie’s through your experience. he was right. it felt so good, satiating the need and burn of your body. it’s almost addicting, the way your body reacts to his touch. your brain is becoming mush with each throb. “oh my goodness.” you speak in between breaths, finally releasing hobie and drawing back your nails.

he only chuckles, rubbing at your thighs. “that was good, wasn’t it? did it help your little problem?” he plays with the bottom of your dress, conflicted between pulling it down to set you free and suggesting another round. you offered a starved man a seat at the table.

you smile shyly at him. you don’t know what to say now, what to do. your friend just made you cum after you begged him to. how do people do this casually? “yes, thank you. i’m deeply sorry for being so forceful.”

at this, hobie laughs out loud. it’s genuine and booming against the walls. it seems he has yet to break you in but he supposed he was too hopeful. of course he couldn’t turn you into something like him just from rubbing on you a little bit.

“you’re all good, duck. you weren’t being forceful, at all.” he pulls out the desk chair and takes a seat, getting comfortable in the flower shaped cushion. his limber fingers are back to picking at the side of your panties. he’s a bit hungry, he thinks.

his eyes, dark and narrowed, do something to you. you don’t understand. you can still feel the sticky mess in your underwear but something is stirring inside you, again.

you both stare at each other in a heated silence, thinking the same thing but waiting for the other to say it first.

“you want me to eat you out?” hobie is the first to speak with his head tilted. he’s far more impatient and bold to play around. when he wants something, he’ll take it.

at first, you believe you heard him incorrectly. “do i want you to what?” you feel stupid having to ask but you’re truly at a loss. “i’m sorry. hobie, i don’t know what that is.”

hobie is the luckiest man in the world. if he could whip his cock out and slide it inside you, he would but having you on his tongue would be the next best thing, especially when you’re asking him what that is. “you’re about to find out.” he murmurs, pulling you to the edge of the desk.

you’re surprised when hobie yanks your underwear down, lifting up a hip at a time to get it down your legs and tossed across the room. both the cool air and his dark gaze has you snapping your legs shut. there’s too many things to hide from and you’re unprepared.

“no, no. don’t shut me out like that.” he has his hands hooked under your knees and props them on your shoulders. his excuse is that it would be better for you to manage but truthfully, he does it to get an eye to cunt view. he pulls you even closer until your lower body is dipping into his lap and you’re relying on him to hold you up. “you’re gonna like it, i promise.”

“oh, i don’t know about this.” you grip the edge of the desk, still sitting up and getting a perfect view of the carnal look in hobie’s eye. he actually licks his lips, flicking his attention up to you for only a second.

“just once. just try it once and if you don’t like it, we can stop. you have my word.”

you don’t know how much you can trust him like this but his warm breathe is just tickling you in all the best ways. it’s hypnotizing enough to have you nodding in agreement before you know it. “o – okay.”

hobie has enough sense, what little he has left, to put a hand in your tummy and pushing you down until your back is against the cool wood. he doesn’t have to tell you to stay there. he just knows you will, especially when you’re gasping at the feeling of his hot tongue on your cunt.

your sap is sweet and unbelievably so. like cherries and strawberries and mangos on a warm summer day. he’s delusional, drunk already and nose deep in your cunt.

his tongue finds your entrance as the source of the sweetness all to easy. he’s addicted to it, each suckle and slurp persuading more of your cream to pour out your hole.

it doesn’t take you long to start writhing, hand all in his hair, tugging in every direction. each swipe of his tongue and bump of his nose in your clit has your back arching. it’s better than you could have ever imagined. you can’t believe you were about to turn this down, or the fact that you didn’t allow yourself to experience such pleasure simply because of your parents fears.

you cry and sob, legs shaking on his shoulders. you can’t decide whether or not you want to tighten your legs around his head or open them wider to accept more of him. “hobie, p – please!”

hobie almost doesn’t hear you. almost.

your words just barely float around his brain but your pleas stick just enough for him to push your legs up by the bottom of your thighs. he keeps you hooked there so strongly, he’s able to grasp your hand and maintain his hold.

it sounds so wet that it’s humiliating. you can’t believe these sounds are coming from you, that hobie’s tongue is deep in you, that he has you folded like this. you didn’t know this was possible.

your body is all warm all over again. you’re fortunate there’s no excess clutter on your desk with the way hobie has you. your hands fly to the metal structure holding your bed together, mouth drying from how long you’ve held it open.

you swear it comes faster than it did before. it occurs to you that you’re a ticking time bomb. the previous orgasm has your clit feeling like each touch is a hot stone.

it’s as if hobie steals your breath with your growing cries at your approaching release. you don’t know what to do with yourself, where to put your hands. it’s overwhelming, your second orgasm and the first time anyone has ever “eaten you out”.

“feel weird again!” you say through broken sobs. you’re met with hobie’s acknowledging hands massaging into your skin. he’s coaxing, encouraging you without having to remove himself from his new favorite spot in the world, right between your thighs.

it gives you whiplash with how quickly your orgasm comes, pushing out of you as if the first one never happened. it’s just as strong, if not stronger. your body trembles with your spurts of cream. it’s weeks worth of sexual frustration to know end and a confusing search of a solution, all washed off you in one night.

you’re so sensitive, you have to push him off with your feet at his chest and chest heaving for air. “fuck, that was good.”

“did you just say fuck?” hobie leans over you, bringing the bottom of his shirt up to wipe your sheen off his face. he’s well amused, almost snorting at your response. that had to be his influence.

“did i?” you cover your mouth with quick regret. you didn’t realize it rolled off your tongue so easy.

hobie grins, pulling you to seating and then to your feet. he tries not to ogle at you too much. it’s difficult when your lower half is completely exposed and he’s still so desperately horny but he puts your needs first, closing his eyes and clearing his throat. “you got somethin’ to clean you up with? wipes or somethin’ until you shower?”

you open your desk drawer and pull out a pack of baby wipes. you present the package to hobie, who pops it open and takes one out.

he doesn’t ask you to move, merely just lowers himself to the ground and with gentle hands, wipe up the mixed mess of saliva and your juices.

you whine, presumably from the unavoidable ache that accompanies your sensitivity.

“i’m sorry, lovely. have to,” hobie tries to be as quick and harmless as possible, soothing you with kisses to your inner thigh. they’re well mannered and innocent, until you’re clean enough and he’s throwing the baby wipe away. “are you okay, though? you don’t regret it, do you?”

you watch hobie straighten out your dress again. his gaze is as polite as it can get, avoiding any look at your pussy, although its right in front of him. instead, he meets your eyes until he rises to his feet. “um, no.” you’re back to being quiet, hands clasped and fumbling with each other.

you’re suddenly aware of how close he’s standing but it’s short lived when hobie is making his way back to the door to put his shoes on.

“i’m gonna go because i’m sure you want to process that and get your space and whatever else, yeah? but don’t worry, i’ll answer your texts and your calls.” he does feel bad, as if he’s fuck-and-dashing you but in reality, if he doesn’t get out of here, he’ll be too tempted to try and actually fuck you. “i’ll be back tomorrow to walk you to class, doll.”

you’re speechless as you watch him gather himself to leave, grateful for the space because you could probably explode right now. you also miss your panties just barely peeking out of his pocket.

“and feel free me to ask me again if you ever need my help.” and with that, he’s gone with a soft click of your door.

[wosoamazing]

Negative Thoughts & Beach Days

Summary: Based of this request.

Warnings: Eating Disorders, R calling themselves fat, RED-S syndrome.

A/N: This took longer than I expected sorry. I hope you like it, might do a part two where R talks to Leah and Jonas etc. I took forever to come up with the title - don't be surprised if I change it.

“She’s so fat” “She’s ugly” “Literal definition of nepotism, search it up in the dictionary and you would find her, she is so unfit and a bad player, screams nepotism.”

Leah had always told you there are two main rules to being a professional sports person. Number one do not read the comments on any posts about you, and number two if you don’t listen to number one and do read the comments don’t let them get to you. But these three comments weren’t alone, they were three of millions, it had been going on for a month, its hard not to let them get to you, you open social media, and they were plastered all over your screen. You tried to ignore them, block them out of your head, but they always managed to find a way to wiggle in and eventually they were all consuming thoughts.

The girls first noticed an odd change in your eating habits one morning at breakfast, you didn’t stop at your routine stop in front of the cereal instead you continued over to the fruit picking up a fruit salad, you also had decided to have wholemeal bread instead of white bread this morning for your toast, these decisions received a few confused looks from the girls as you sat down, no one knew why, they just thought maybe you wanted to try and be healthier, so no one thought much of it and just shrugged it off.

You were 16, turning 17 in 2 months and had never had your period. Leah said you were lucky, that you didn’t have to deal with it. RED-S syndrome was what every single doctor you ever spoke too yapped on about, along with exercising less, which they all regretted saying the second after, exercising was your job, you couldn’t really stop it, plus it kept you skinny. You didn’t really listen to what anyone said, nor did you care, in your mind not having a period meant that you were skinny enough, you were thin enough, you were fit enough. This was far from the truth but in your distorted reality it was the truth. So, the day you got your first ever period your whole world collapsed, in your reality you were now classed as fat. In reality you weren’t, you were insanely skinny. But you weren’t in reality. You stopped eating snacks, you thrived off snacks or at least that’s what the girls said, but you had stopped eating them, that did concern them, but you were still eating your three full meals a day so no one was too concerned, well except for Alessia, she would always ask “You sure you don’t want some?” in regards to popcorn on movie nights, or “What happened to your snacks?” you knew somewhere deep down that she was concerned and just trying to help but you didn’t take the comments that way, it felt like she was having a go at you, and one day you snaped, “Alessia, why do you even care, it’s not like you’re in charge of me, you’re not my Mum, my Dad, you’re not Leah, you don’t fucking get to constantly nag me about food, you have no fucking idea what is going on. Just leave me alone” she stood there in shock that day and so did you, before you ran up to your room and locked it, she did know what was going on which is why she was trying to say things lightly, however she forgot that you wouldn’t have taken them lightly she had been in your position a few years ago and felt so bad that she forgot what it felt like when someone said something like that, so she stepped back.

You also started to wear obviously baggier clothes after your first period, you loved to wear anything with spaghetti straps that’s coverage stopped at your ribs, Leah referred to your clothes as ‘non-clothes’ saying you may as well just wear your underwear. But now you would always be found in a baggy overside hoodie or shirt and a pair of sweats, to be fair it was winter, however even in winter you would wear your Nike Pros and a cropped hoddie or cropped rugby jumpers, so the girls were confused and they didn’t really understand why you started wearing trackies and hoodies but the one day they had discussed it Alessia told them to just leave it be and she would deal with it. She wasn’t sure how she would deal with it, however the moment arrived on your team trip to Ibiza.

_____

It was the fourth day of your holiday trip with the team and today it was decided that you were all going to the beach, you had managed to suggest other activities, and avoided the beach for the previous three days. The girls were slightly confused as to why you were avoiding the beach as usually you were the one to suggest it and you always jumped at the idea. You loved to wear the skimpiest bikini Leah (or your Mum – depending on whether it was a team or family trip) would let you get away with, lounging on the sand for half of the day getting a good tan before turning into a four-year-old and splashing everyone in the ocean. You even once filled up a bucket of water and tipped it over Katie’s head when she was sleeping on the beach, it was safe to say you regretted that one.

“Come-on, Y/N lets go to the beach.” Alessia said as she pounded on your door, she waited a bit “If you don’t come out in the next minute, I will assume you’re sick and I’ll come in, whether you are dressed or not”.

“I’m still getting ready” you told her.

“How? Just choose the aquamarine bikini set, the side tie and triangle bikini ones, as I’ve told you before it definitely has the least coverage and Leah lets you wear it, and you always wear it, it’s your favourite, every time after I tell you to put it on you thank me, just chuck it on and let’s go” for some reason these words caused a tear to roll down your cheek, as you stared down at the bikini set that was laid out on your bed in front of you, the exact set Alessia said to put on, however there was one problem, it didn’t fit anymore, you tried it on last night and it didn’t fit, you had developed slightly since the last time you wore it and now it would be considered inappropriate to wear, you didn’t see it that way though in your mind you were too fat to fit into your own bikini.

“Less, just go down and meet the girls I’ll be like 5 minutes, I promise,” you said trying to get Alessia off your back, you felt as though you would break any second and you didn’t want Alessia there when you did.

“No, I’m waiting, why aren’t you ready yet though? You’ve had all morning, quite literally. Are you okay?” Alessia said back, she had some idea of what might be happening behind that door, she could feel it in the air, you were going to break, and she promised the girls she would help you and that they didn’t need to worry.

“I just can’t find them, I-I’m fine ” You said whilst your voice broke a little, ‘shit’ you thought to yourself, she will know something is not right and she won’t leave.

“Well, I hope you have pants on because I’m coming in,” she said half-jokingly, half seriously, whilst flinging your door open. “Um… what are these?” She said as she picked up the bikini set off the bed. Tears started streaming down your face as she looked over to you, you were caught. “Hey, what’s up?” She asked in a soft tone, you didn’t reply and slid down the wall, your knees were up near your chest as you hugged your legs, your head placed on your knees, your body started shaking from your sobs.

You heard Alessia’s footsteps, and then the creek of the door, then her footsteps stopped, maybe everyone was right, maybe no one actually liked you, Alessia just saw you start sobbing and left, maybe you were just a burden, maybe no one cared about you, maybe they wanted you gone, maybe …. “Y/N” your thought train was interrupted, Alessia was back, she sat down next to you and pulled you into her lap, at first you resisted but you gave up, she lightly pushed your head into her neck, and immediately you let your body relax against hers, you were still shaking from your crying and Alessia just let you sit there while she held you tightly rubbing your back. “Hey, can you drink some water for me?” Alessia said, her voice laced with concern, it had been at least five minutes, and you hadn’t calmed down, reluctantly you took the water bottle of her and took some small sips. “Thank you, now I think we both know what is going on here, but I would like to hear it from you,” she said, you knew this was coming honestly you expected this conversation weeks ago when you snapped at her but it didn’t mean you were prepared for it at all, you let out a sigh, “I promise I’m here for you, I won’t leave you alone, I’ll be here for you every step of the way, I’ll help you, your like my little sister, I care about you and I want to help, but I need you to tell me what’s up,” she said, a tear rolled down her check she knew the pain you were feeling and wished she could make it magically disappear but she couldn’t.

“I’m f-fat,” you cried out.

“That’s not true, you know that”.

“Yes, it is, I got my period, I don’t fit into my bikini and I-”

“Oh baby girl,” Alessia cuts you off pulling you in tighter, she didn’t need the rest, she had seen it, they girls had seen it, but they had hoped you hadn’t but obviously you had, “I promise you, you are most definitely not fat, getting your period just means that you’re getting healthy, and maturing and every girl grew out of their clothes at one stage, I grew out of multiple bikinis at your age and I still do but that doesn’t mean I’m fat does it? I promise none of us think that your fat, or unfit and I swear on my life that every single girl in this team would do anything for you, we all care about you so much and we all love you so much,”

“Okay, I-I’m sorry” you replied to her, you had slightly calmed down but tears were still streaming down your face.

“For what?” Alessia asked confused, “Being a burden”.

“Baby, you know you’re not a burden, this isn’t your fault, we will get you help okay, I can talk to the girls, to Leah but you will also have to talk to her yourself, I’ll help you, I can come with you to see Jonas, we can make a plan with Leah, and I promise every single girl on the team will also be with you every step of the way okay?”

“Okay, can we stay here for a bit?” You ask.

“Well, I think the girls are getting a little worried, what if we go down to the swimwear store and I buy you some new swimmers, whatever you like and then we can go to the beach, and you don’t have to swim if you don’t want to, I can stay with you if you want, but I think we should at least go down to the beach.” Alessia said as she dragged you up, she grabbed you both towels, hats and she grabbed her sunnies. You followed her down to the swim store and bought a nice set of bathers.

You made your way to the beach, Leah stood up and walked over to you, “Are you okay?” she asked as she gave you a hug, looking at Alessia for an answer as to why your face was puffy and tear stained, “She will be okay, we’ll talk about it later, let’s just enjoy our beach day first” Leah’s brow furrowed but she nodded her head, Leah trusted Alessia, so she decided to leave it until the end of the day. You were nervous for the conversation that was to be had at the end of the day but for now you decided to enjoy your beach day, but it was a bit more relaxed today you sat and talked with the older girls rather than messing about with the younger girls, you even fell asleep while tanning, you woke up to Leah reapplying your sunscreen and as promised Alessia stayed with you all day.

[cairavende]

My wonderful girlfriend got me Gideon the Ninth for Christmas and I realized why should I just give Worm recaps? Let's read some Locked Tomb! (We'll see how this format works, maybe I'll adjust it. Specifically might break stuff down into smaller segments instead of full acts, but I didn't think of doing this until after I had read all of act 1.)

Gideon the Ninth Act 1 (chapter 1 through 8) thoughts:

This book is so gay oh my god

Like, it's gay in ways I can't even explain. I love it.

Harrow beats the shit out of Gideon in chapter 2 and I don't know if I've ever seen someone get beat up in a more gay way.

"Oh Griddle! But I don't even remember about you most of the time." ROLL A FUCKING DECEPTION CHECK HARROW! You are saying this standing in the middle of the field you spent all night burying bones in just to foil her escape in the most dramatic way. You can't stop remembering her.

Gideon is the most herbo of herbos. I fucking love her. I love reading her PoV. She just knows punch and stab with sword and if those don't work than she'll just do them harder.

Also Gideon is SO fucking gay. Dear god. Dulcinea faints and Gideon turns off all though. HELP PRETTY GIRL. Nothing else.

Ok I could just make this whole thing "EVERYTHING IS GAY" but there is technically more than that.

I love how weird everything is and how little explanation is given. I don't want pages of exposition, I want to learn the world as it comes at me! This is perfect.

And just the very nature of things that seem weird not being given more than a passing thought in the book is information. Something may seem wild to the reader but it's so normalized to the characters that they wouldn't even think about the idea of it being different.

Lack of explanation also helps really show how much of a meathead Gideon is. Do the readers get to learn details about this thing? Only if it is a weapon, has tits, or Gideon is forced to listen while Harrow explains it. Otherwise no, why the fuck would Gideon spend her precious few brain cells on thinking?

And even if Gideon is forced to listen as Harrow explains it, the readers might not learn much cause Gideon might stop listening. I love her.

Aiglamene is wonderful. Crux is fine but I like her more.

Poor Gideon just wants a big sword that she can swing hard. It's not like she can't use a rapier. But why when she can go big sword?

SO MUCH CATHOLICISM

As someone who once was Catholic and then realized I was actually not a straight man, but instead a lesbian, I am in deep.

And the fucking slang used! Or whatever would be the right term. The shit they say! I love it. Just the weird sci-fi far future space necromancer universe and then suddenly "Are you asking me to . . . throw her a bone?", "Gideon had always known that this would be how she went: gangbanged to death by skeletons.", "Don’t hypothetically shove stuff up my butt again, it never does any good.", "Lo! A destructed ass.", "Well we were developing common sense, she studied the blade.", "Double Bones with Doctor Skelebone."

House of the First appears to be Earth. I kinda assume the House of the Ninth is Pluto, even though things obviously aren't in order given that the Seventh and Sixth are closer to the sun. Of course, I'm kinda expecting this to not technically be this solar system at all.

Undying Emperor, King of Resurrection, I Have Ten-Thousand Titles, Boss First, etc etc hasn't been on "Earth" in over nine thousand years. I wanna know MORE.

And the fucking Ninth House has their own prayer! Everyone else has one that the Ninth didn't know and then the Ninth had one that no one else knows! GIMME MORE!!!!

Also again, so many Catholicism metaphors or comparisons or whatever!

I could go on forever but gonna end this one with OH MY GOD SHE FOUND SUNGLASSES I LOVE HER. Fucking "I came prepared, my sweet." and "But then you couldn't have admired . . . these!" as she whips on the sunglasses. God. I nearly died.

[kalims]

Oh my goddess, orders are open! Ahem, ANYWAYS— I wonder if I could have an Idia with a fem or gn s/o who is introverted and generally closed-faced, being a sweetheart and even shy with him, pretty please?

• Remember to drink water and take care of yourself correctly, kisses <3

– Mel 🌙🩵✨

dress,

premise.

idia forever thought his cause of death would be the permanent termination of his end game account—which in theory, is now proven wrong at the existence of a brand new thing that just might obliterate his heart.

note. thank you mel <3 you too. i, for one will gladly accept kisses from u and idia (he's downbad here LOL)

idia is having a strangely, familiar sensation.

for example—the fact that his heart is palpitating so fast is making him afraid that he'll get the same sense of doom he frequently gets whenever this happens. like when he's the one that the professor chooses to answer a question up front. just his luck cause it absolutely sucks in real life just as much as his chances of winning that rare character.

but no, there isn't an impending sense of doom that sends him to the edge. no cold sweat forming on the skin of his neck, nor does it protrude from his clammy hands. it's weird, he feels warm rather than the cold it usually accompanies.

he needs to visit a doctor.

he gulps thickly. sending a lightning fast glance at your direction then averting it even faster. oh my god, your hand just brushed against his.. was it intentional? no, no—it mustn't be. you wouldn't waste your time doing that.

but you might even look more tenser than he is.

despite the attempt at flushing down the tightness in his throat, his words still break off into a croaky stammer that just sends his face into a grimace because, did he sound like that? "I'm.. I'm really sorry, you didn't have to do this," he says, looking away with those eyes that just screams a mixture of 'I hate it all.' and 'I'm so scared.'

his eyes in comparison to yours, dull significantly in terms of greatness. cause as rare as it is for your eyes to meet, he'll always marvel at the lush hue your eyes are colored with—and god, your lashes. so pretty, so, so pretty.

he sulks. he doesn't deserve this.

"it's alright," you answer in response, voice quiet but it's the only thing he ever hears despite the myriad of people quite nearly squishing the both of you. the crowd is large, and noisy. so he isn't sure why he's suddenly the greatest listener when you speak. "I'm glad you thought of... inviting me along, I know you're quite passionate about it."

passionate is not a strong enough word, it could be an incorrect word to use even. he supposes it's just a nice feeling to excel—be good at something.

but with how hot his heart is probably burning, maybe passionate really is the right word.

for you that is.

most likely idia's ideal type of player two <3 someone he can keep up with, not too fast and certainly not too slow. but either way, he’s probably having a heart attack at whatever you do. literally just sleeping? his heart… playing with him? please match avatars at once or he will combust. (and yes, he is hinting even though you already match everywhere else. had a house in a game, got married in a game.)

don’t even pull out the fact he buys you the currency to match and you feel bad cause he thinks it’s too cute. you need to stop or else he will buy you more.

speaking of more in game terms, he surprisingly garners a lot of attention online maybe because he’s endgame in every single account he’s made and many people like money so… there are many attempts at ‘rizzing’ him up but in the end he’s provoking them to screenshot it and report them as online daters.

^ says THE online dater.

still reports people if they flirt with you, but compared to his. not only is it a file for online dating he somehow dug up the dirt, the monstrous things they did like… 3 years ago and now they’re gonna get suspended. It’s concerning since he was talking with you animatedly during it and he somehow also exposed them all in 10 minutes.

did the see you again trend in secrecy cause he would rather leap down a hole to hell than let people see it. In any case… if it isn’t obvious he’s the lala, you the okok.

deluded himself, is convinced that he’s actually the nonchalant, ‘cool’ one but all he is, is a literal puddle. is still solid when standing but will be putty in your hands in SECONDS.

idia is secretly really proud of himself whilst being like: how did i even pull them. cause when he looks at your face when you’re talking to other people. he’s actually kind of scared cause it’s a really wondrous thing you never once looked at him like that… (please save his mind too. he’s trying to convince himself that you must be like this, soft person he knows to other people too and not just him because that’s just crazy right haha.. hahahaha…)

the type to tell you to stand back during raids, challenges, boss fights, etc…  that all you need to do is be there, and that he’ll solo it for you and you can claim your rewards even though he gave you the rarest, strongest equipment in respective games which won’t be much use at this point cause he insists he do it for you, and sulks all day if you don’t let him.

stay at home couple >>>

will order every single thing you crave during those times he’s too shy to consider date nights, and you too so it’s like an unspoken thing. he honestly plays better when you’re inside his room, even if it’s just laying on his messy bed scrolling on your phone or munching on something.

it’s just complete, comfortable silence.

except for the time one of you accidentally makes an indirect flirty comment and now the room could be considered a sauna from the literal steam only two people emitted. 

really, really, really, REALLY, likes it when your head is on his shoulder.

“─ean.. no one really asked for it, the nerf was completely unnecessary and─” the words poured out of his mouth, something uncontrollable that he couldn’t stop. there is something about you that just kicks down the layer of anxiety on him. comfortable might be the right word, even if you don’t talk that much (which is surprising cause he ends up being the talkative one and you always assure him that you like to listen.) somehow the thought: am i too annoying? doesn’t really pop up like usual.

in fact, he’s excited to ramble all about it. excited to hear your thoughtful hums, excited to see your attentive eyes on him since the first word he’s said─but it isn’t. because he looks up and you’re blinking haphazardly, thrice in a second and before he panics to shut his mouth he feels the soft slump of your head against the curve of his shoulder.

oh my god, oh my god, oh my g─

if idia had half of his mind he would scream instinctively at the weight he isn’t really accustomed to feel. actually, even if he did have his entire brain connected, and his thoughts coherent he still would. but he bites the inside of his cheek cause despite the chaos that just erupted in his mind which is somehow simultaneously blank, and swirling.

and he remembers midst his confusion that you are,

asleep.

you’re asleep on his shoulder

you’re asleep.

asleep on his shoulder.

on. his. shoulder.

he resorts to the screech in his head.

his shoulder─is so terribly stiff right now to the point where he thinks that sleeping on a hard, wooden surface would be surely more comfortable rather than where your head lays. he makes an effort to relax his muscles, tell himself that it’s only you and that there’s nothing wrong but there is something wrong because it’s you! idia dares to sneak a peek at you and your closed lids only confirm your unconscious state.

and careful with each nudge his movement makes sends to your head. idia can’t resist the hands that creep up his face and bury it, to hope all the embarrassment and whatever he’s feeling right now absorbs it right out of his face because god. he knows he looks like he just ate 10 bowls of lilia’s cooking.

he would scream, he really would. a second thought but you’re on his shoulder!

you, who rarely touches him too much.

on him.

him, who gets too flustered to be touched by you.

so he feels pretty obligated to just suck it up cause he’s enjoying the moment even if you aren’t conscious right now and he sure as hell is going to, for as long as he can.

idia releases a deep sigh, long and wistful because he’s gonna die before you even wake up.