#so maybe ill just. fuck off somewhere

[myattman]

Ive been so overstimulated lately that it's making me evil

[spaceistheplaceart]

me and a friend were having a great time with this NPC, but looking back on the clips it doesnt make sense why we were laughing so hard- so i did a little editing :)

NOBODY gonna find this as funny as we did but I think Gordon's a little Weird but nobody can say shit about it because he's the "Savior of Humanity" and you can't badmouth a guy like that!!! so they just awkwardly let him do whatever lmao

[anakeions]

[hella1975]

what do you plan to do with your degree after uni?

FUCK NASTY!!!

[toastsnaffler]

damn I rly have another 4 weeks of holiday this year huh. I should start making some plans

[piplupod]

i am going to be soooo fucked for this therapy appt _(:_」∠)_

[coloursofaparadox]

i ✨️cannot sleep✨️ and vaguing about shit on the internet feels more cathartic than writing it out somewhere else. suffer.

[wintersoldeer]

i hope everyone who watches videos in public without headphones drops their phone into a puddle and when they go to pick it up they accidentally step too far into said puddle so their shoes and socks get all wet and when theyre worrying about that they drop their phone again and this time the screen cracks 

[steampoweredskeleton]

.

Ignore

[svbhuman]

FINALLY I DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LETS GO!!!!!! thoughts feelings?

i ran out of tags.. continued next post mayb

[ceolocunt]

[volos-wish]

Y'know, I've been having an all time low past like 30 hours but y'know what really sells it? The fact that people are fucking awful and (still) steal packages that arrive at your door. My dad bought me the Aerith plushie for Christmas and it "never got here" but by all the signs it in fact DID get here. The front door is a flat hallway so someone 100% stole her. >:(

[eldritch-spouse]

You are running naked in the Jungle, searching frantically.

You look and you see another human, the first one you've seen in months and you run towards them.

“Thank God! Listen, we need to get out of here immediately, it's dangerous! Do you know the way out? Back to civilization?”

You feel a tentacle around your ankles

[Months? Couldn't be me, I'd just die. Let's downsize that to a week. Fem reader.]

TW: Reader has a self-loathing inner monologue; Reader is in a bad place mentally; Dubcon to full consent.

It was a stupid idea.

You knew that when you started it. So did everyone that tried to convince you otherwise. But common sense isn't something that could have stopped someone like you, someone who was ill enough to think taking a break from life in the middle of buttfuck nowhere would work out.

You didn't even have any sort of experience in this type of thing. Neither did you seek any kind of useful tips.

You just wanted to escape.

And you did, literally, into a forested nightmare that you got lost in not even hours after your arrival.

You just wish you could find your car, you just wish you could find somewhere warm and comforting to sleep in.

It's been days. Probably a week by now. Your stuff all disappeared, somehow. You swear you're not tripping, it all just vanished! Your phone, your bag, your keys...

Your back hurts, the nights are cold and humid and you're sure you're getting sick by now. Clean water would be a godsend, you've been drinking and cleaning yourself with some questionable-looking sources for a while. Not to mention you can't feed yourself properly, and you certainly don't know how to hunt.

Not that there's much to hunt. Every time you think you hear a peep, there's a brush of foliage and silence dominates seconds later.

You're going to die.

A horrifying reminder that has your chest pounding painfully and sweat glistening on your forehead.

You don't want to die.

But the modern human wasn't born for the wilderness, and you can only stand being clothed for a little longer before the sensation of being dirty has you clawing the skin off your body.

It was a fucking miracle that you managed to get a small fire going.

Finally.

You can heat up that fish you caught earlier.

If it's still good. Is... This is safe to eat, right?

You lean to sniff at the leaf-wrapped catch.

Eh. You can stomach it...

God, you're starving.

One thing that's been bugging you for a while is how... Deserted this whole place feels.

You're no wildlife expert, but isn't this kind of location supposed to be brimming with animals? Why is it that, everywhere you go, it's mostly just you and insects bumbling around?

Shouldn't there be some mammals here? Some birds? Maybe a squirrel or a snake... Aren't there predators you'd have to worry about in this kind of scenario?

Ironically, being alone makes you feel even more stressed out than if you were constantly surrounded by wild animals.

You huddle closer to the small fire.

Alone.

But always so on edge.

Always getting that tingling feeling crawling up your spine.

The one that screams- Look, look behind you! You're in danger!

The phantom feeling of something hovering behind your neck, goosebumps that hardly fade every time you do turn around to check and find nothing.

Is this a normal amount of paranoia for your situation? Is this your brain trying to cope with the fact that you haven't seen much wildlife so far?

Or is there something watching you from beyond the trees?

Something stalking.

A persistence predator, coming and going, to check on its latest prey.

Oh, and what a catch you are. Big and juicy compared to the things that probably roam this place -Roamed, more like...

Have you wandered into the territory of something that'll inevitably snap its jaws around your neck?

...

Just eat the fucking fish already.

Food.

Focus on the present.

The smell starts to hit your nose. Salt, oh what you wouldn't do for some simple salt. How do people get salt?

You're glad you got some berries along the way too, because this fish is probably going to taste like ass. You're sure they aren't poisonous or anything of the sort. If they are, then you've been eating them for the past few days so honestly you could keel over at any moment.

You'll see.

Once the fish has roasted enough where it's likely safe to consume, you peel it open messily and start munching indiscriminately, ravenous.

It's... Well, it's sustenance.

It's about the most nutritious thing you've eaten since you got here.

This survival thing is harder than the fake actors on TV make it seem.

A sudden crack of a branch has you pausing mid-chew.

You truly feel like a deer when your head snaps up and you stand very still to listen for a follow-up.

Nothing.

Tired eyes strain, trying to make sense of a darkened blob in the distance.

Huh.

What the fuck is that thing?

Tall.

Two legs...

Arms?!

Shit- Could it be?!

That can't be possible, someone else roaming around this maddening forest. Is that a sign that you're somehow getting closer to civilization? That you're making it out by sheer luck? What cosmic force could be on your side this time? Maybe they just live here, like some kind of off-grid retired agent- Okay, you've been watching too many movies.

Without stopping to think twice about frankly important concerns regarding this sudden development, you place the cooked fish down on the leaf it was previously wrapped in and start scooting forward towards the silhouette you saw.

That build can only belong to a man. Well, you assume as much anyway. It's hard to spot more from here, with the foliage covering their form.

" H- Hey... "

You haven't used your voice in a hot minute. Some part of you almost doesn't recognize it. A healthy dose of paranoia stops you from brushing aside the obstacles and facing this person.

But you need to at least try, right?

The worst that can happen is that you really are hallucinating for some reason or another.

With a surge of bravery, but mostly desperation, you push all the branches and greenery away to run towards this person, opening your mouth to greet them, to beg for help, ask for new clothes or just something cooked!

" Hey! Please, I need your... Help? "

Nothing.

There's no one.

But that doesn't make sense, you clearly saw a silhouette, someone was there! You didn't even have to run that far, how could it be that you already lost sight of them? That they could get away so silently?

No. Everything's wrong.

Before you know it, your vision is blurring and your face heats as tears stain your cheeks.

Why... Why would your mind fuck with you like this? Going from a shining shred of hope to complete despair in seconds has you screaming inside.

Why is this happening to you?

Are you really about to die in a stupid fucking patch of nothing just because you can't deal with the stress in your life like a normal person? Just because you made one bad decision when everything was weighing heavy on your conscience? Are you really so incompetent and so pointless as a human that this is how your story ends?

Anger and regret blind you to everything, fingers course through your knotted hair as you sob and tug, having no way to calm yourself and nothing to unleash your tension onto.

The moment you try to stomp your foot in a petulant act, you find it rooted to the ground. It takes a couple more insistent tugs upward for you to realize that something is coiled around it, keeping it firmly planted.

The train wreck of emotions and bile of self-hating thoughts takes a backseat, goosebumps pricking your skin from tip of the head to your very toes. The first thing you think of is some kind of snake, eyes bulging behind digits.

You look down frantically, shaking, but in spite of the sky being clear, all you see is this reddish mass, with neither end nor beginning. What... What the fuck is it?!

The thing tightens around your ankle, starting to slide up the length of your right leg, up to your knee. And immediately, you panic, kicking and shrieking, achieving absolutely nothing and getting promptly tugged to the ground.

Yeah.

Maybe freaking out isn't the best bet for your survival here.

Twigs and dirt get on your face, it takes some coughing and swiping to finally clear your field of view. But honestly...

You almost wish you hadn't.

Curved over your prone figure, staring down, is a creature you have never seen before.

Bipedal and quite large, like the silhouette you had glimpsed before, but so very far from human. The reddish coloration spanning the length of that bizarre body makes him -Because, again, you can only assume that is a male- Look as if he's made of flesh quickly molded together to imitate the figure of a human. What initially made you think he was skinless soon turns into the realization that there was never room for skin anyway.

Because his body is quite literally comprised of what you can only call tentacles. Tendrils and coiling tissue that clings and organizes itself in the vague lie of an organism like yours.

From elbows to fingers and knees to feet, the tendrils become a lot more discernable, coiling and uncoiling while he watches curiously. The thing around your leg is one of said tendrils, coming from the mass forming his own. Along the length of its torso, sharp-toothed mouths form and shift, almost seeming to have a mind of their own as they scent the air and snap at nothing.

That head has got to be the most striking feature. It's an amalgamation of tentacles all wrapped around each other, leaving room for an incredibly sharp golden eye to fix you in place. This thing looks like it crawled out of a sleeping ocean, like the roots and vines of an ancient jungle came together to form a totally new an extension of themselves. He looks like he's been sculped from the guts of others yet also composed in a way your mind could never hope to grasp.

Somewhere between trying to determine if you're dealing with an animal or a person, you reach the conclusion that an animal wouldn't stare you down for this long.

An animal would take a couple of seconds to determine if you're prey or predator and act accordingly. He would have snapped your neck or suffocated you like a boa constrictor with those tentacles by now.

And yet, he just stares.

Like you're the strangest creature to ever grace the woods this thing probably calls a home. You're as freaky to him as he is to you, enough so that he seems out of depth on how to proceed.

You stare back.

This has got to be the monster that you saw back there. Watching you. Now that you think about it, maybe this was the reason you'd always have a tingling sensation reminding you that you're not alone. Because he was there all that time, stalking.

Plenty were the moments he could have dug your grave until now. It's strange that he hasn't. Because surely, he's seen how you're failing to adapt to this location. Every step you take, you're stumbling and getting pricked, hungry, thirsty, afraid, disoriented- You're a fish out of water and he could have ended that misery a long time ago.

Odd.

Neither of you move. It blinks, vertically. You blink too.

And then, it makes this chitter.

Wet, like a gargle, followed by some kind of rumbling as more of those tendrils that form his limbs unwind, explore.

They reach down towards your frame when he squats, and you stifle the urge to scream at the sight of them getting nearer. Because who knows what he's going to do...

They poke and prod, grabbing lightly at parts of you, wet yet not quite. Two coil around your arms, then elbows, then wrists.

Other strays squirm around your sides, unintentionally triggering a squirming reflex as you muffle helpless laughter.

The monster seems intrigued by the noise anyway, making his own vocalizations as if attempting to communicate with you.

Abruptly, there's a blur of movement and you're yanked into the air by the arms, shrieking in fear and pain.

Not for long, because more of his freaky, flowing appendages wind around your middlesection, hips and knees, pulling in different directions.

In seconds, mere moments, this being has you suspended in the air.

Immediately, your panicked mind is going places where it absolutely shouldn't.

He seems more relaxed now that you're restrained, that gaze becomes softer, clouded with curiosity. To be monitoring you this long, you don't doubt he has his own questions and intrigue regarding how you work.

When that hulking red mass walks towards you, anxiety prevents your mouth from staying shut.

" H- Hi? "

A sound not too different from the peep of a skittish bird.

One that causes him to cock his head in a brief pause, processing the noise, and returning it with his own light gurgle. One of the mouths on his figure gets the pitch right down to a T.

Soon, he's lacing a hand through your hair, grabbing it, manipulating the protrusion and stroking your head inquisitively. He squeezes and almost scritches at your scalp, reminding you of the way someone acts when spotting a particularly cute cat. Yes, hair is likely a mystery to this creature, you can kind of understand why it'd linger here.

But that doesn't change the fact that you're being patted like a pet by a strange, unknowable creature- And that's morbidly hilarious.

When your cheeks start to puff with laughter, his attention finally deviates. You can feel the tendrils that form every digit when he splays them across your face, tracing your eyebrows, playing with the tip of your nose and even trying to poke into your ears- Something he halts when you jerk away rapidly each time.

When he starts trying to put a digit in your mouth, he's a lot more careful, aware that you have teeth and can bite, even if yours are quite small and blunt compared to the ones he sports. He succeeds, because your strength is nothing compared to that of a monster of his size and nature. The digit he dips into your mouth rests there placidly for a couple of moments.

You aren't sure what to do. Biting is not a bright idea when you know this creature can probably easily dismember you in this position. He himself looks slightly lost, as if he put his finger in your mouth out of impulse mostly. A false sense of security begets your own curiosity.

Perhaps you're just insane already -That probably says a lot about your overall mental fortitude- But seeing another living being that behaves and looks vaguely like what you might call a person makes you feel calmer than you have since the beginning of all this. You know it's an irrational feeling, that you're not any safer than before, but it's a thread of comfort you desperately cling to.

And it's what allows you to look this thing in the eye while you experimentally lick his bizarre tendril-clump of a finger.

It was only a little flick.

But naturally, he felt it.

The monster rumbles something incomprehensible at you, leaning closer still to cast a shadow upon your front. In this position, he looms between your clothed legs, though seems mostly unaware of the lurid position he's got you in, fixated on your mouth.

The sensation of his digit unfolding into two separate thin tentacles is bizarre. You picture a human finger splitting in two and curse your brain. Said tentacles poke and wriggle, capturing your tongue between themselves.

Yes, that's probably the part of your body that most closely resembles the mass of prehensile tissue composing his own.

The touch has you drooling, saliva trying to break down something probably few to no humans have ever come in contact with. He tastes slimy yet slightly rugged in some areas, not something you'd write home about.

Reflex has your poor muscle squirming to be freed, but that only causes him to tighten the grasp upon it. And, surprisingly, to let out this humid noise that sounds far too much like a groan of delight for you to interpret it as anything else.

There's a pause from your part as you wonder, incredulously, if this thing just got turned on.

There's not much time to ponder, because that digit very quickly slips out, and as he examines the sheen of drool on it, something else steadily approaches your mouth.

Ah, you've graduated from finger to proper tentacle mouthfucking. Commendable.

Making light of the situation is about the least recommended course of action, but after what you've endured so far, you think you deserve to be a little, tiny bit, insane.

Apparently convinced that you won't try to harm him, the crimson monster wiggles that darkened appendage and taps it against your lips, seeming very interested in how this is unfolding.

You should not have opened your mouth.

But you did.

And he visibly brightened up.

The tendril wedges itself in without much hesitation, resting upon your tongue. Much thicker than his digit, your jaw has no choice but to stretch, and your lips wrap around it in a rather phallic, dirty image. You barely realize you're making an effort not to scrape your teeth on the appendage. Perhaps because the sensation of it is a tad spongy and remarkably similar to that of any standard manhood.

And, as if to give reason to your lewd comparison, he shudders at the warmth of your wet mouth, the thing pulsing within you.

While he mostly simply lets the extremity sit there motionlessly, you do explore, trying to lick around it out of morbid curiosity. He watches you avidly, but apparently, what really gets to this bizarre entity is feeling you suck down the saliva that pools in your cheeks, swallowing.

Suction. Because of course he'd enjoy that. What man doesn't?

That begs the question, is the thing in your mouth part of his genitals?

Again, thinking is a privilege you can't afford when that tentacle starts sliding down your throat experimentally. It doesn't take him long to trigger your gag reflex, a violent kick and curve forward from your part causing him to pull back quickly. But he continues to test the waters afterwards, probably seeking the sensation of your stressed throat muscles tightening around him.

Instinct takes over.

Because even if he seems truly out of his depth maneuvering a human body, he's curious and, if you had to guess, attracted to you. Enough to put sensitive things in your mouth, to fetishize that part of you. Hormones make things work, which means he soon realizes he can make repetitive back and forth motions to get friction.

And so, just like that, you're getting fucked in the mouth, inside the woods, by an eldritch abomination of a monster you might find in a cheaply made H. P Lovecraft rip-off.

It should not arouse you.

It should horrify you.

... But it doesn't.

Those reactions are missing, leaving you befuddled at your own enjoyment of the situation. Are you just happy to have someone around? Has it truly been so long since you received this type of attention that you don't mind if it comes from an entity of unknown origin who is clearly not civilized? Are you just a freak actively discovering new sides of your sexuality?

Who knows anymore.

All you know is that there's a wet noise ringing every time he thrusts that slimy thing into your mouth, that he's resorted to gripping your hips hard while making intense eye contact, that he growls and gurgles whenever you have enough control to suck at him. If you had to guess, it's his unwavering, lewd and fascinated observation of your face and lips that has you likely forming a wet spot on your poor pants.

You think your wanton squirming is subtle, but reality proves otherwise when the monster starts getting distracted, one of those pupils shifting to the rhythmic movement of your legs as you shamelessly seek friction. At first, he seems irritated, as if questioning why you'd want to leave when you'd been so docile so far.

Then it appears to click.

You can almost see it in his face, in spite of how inhuman it is, that eureka moment.

And the tendril in your mouth slows down to a crawl.

He starts pawing and pulling at your pants, but not aimlessly. Not at all. He's studied you, he knows what he's looking for, the button and the zipper. You pale a few shades, the only way this thing could know how to take pants off is if it saw you doing it, if it saw you relieving yourself or trying to bathe to avoid infections.

Just how many embarrassing moments did he catch?

Too many, probably.

Still, you're pleasantly surprised to see him so easily remove the garment, fluidly shifting the positions of his tendrils to avoid tangling the fabric in them. Your pants come off without a single blemish, aside from those they sustained previously. Is he removing them so carefully because he thinks you need them to survive or is he just being considerate?

Your underwear is treated the same way, he spares no extra thought to it, and only appears to pause once your pussy is exposed.

Usually, you'd feel self-conscious in this position. There's not a lot you can do to properly groom yourself without the simple privilege of soap and whatnot... But what does it matter here? As far as you know, for this monster, pussy is pussy regardless of it being shaved or bush-heavy, "perfumed" or au naturel.

And a soaked, needy hole is hard for a lonesome monster to ignore.

He looms closer to your womanhood, watching closely, gargling a string of vocalizations you still can't interpret, until another tentacle slithers into scene and slaps against your cunt.

No, literally.

The thing whips from mound to the bottom of your entrance, swiping up and down in a pace that has you seeing stars every time it flicks your clitoris and catches on a clenching entrance. To say your legs kick out occasionally from the intensity of the stimulus is no exaggeration, but he's quick to adapt his hold so you have no way of wiggling aside.

You don't know why it's doing that, but frankly, you don't care much, it just feels good. A racing heart and a heaving chest have you tipping your head back to moan against the thing stuffed in your mouth. You realize, a little belatedly, that he was probably mostly just trying to lube that appendage with your own arousal.

Your plump pussy still tingles when the assault stops on all sides, you strain to watch what he's doing, observing the monster evaluate the sheen now coating that wriggling extremity.

He's less careful than before now, a product of excitement no doubt, parking the somewhat thicker length at your entrance and pushing in tentatively for only a couple of moments before ramming a decent chunk of that tendril into your cunt.

Eyes bulging, you spit out a beastial sound that startles the monster, panting as you try to get used to the sudden stretch. He's reached a depth within you no one else has found before, and the pressure is such so that you've been robbed of the ability to speak.

He shouldn't be that far in you.

You may come from extremely distinct backgrounds, but some things are vastly universal, like the facial expression of pain. Which, credit where credit is due, he picks up on relatively fast. The moment the entity removes a good chunk of its length, you sigh and sag in momentous relief. That's a lot better. You still feel as if you're being stuffed to the brim, but there's no longer that stabbing pain.

He understands what he did wrong after a couple of still moments and some bizarre palping sensation from your insides.

Much like the previous tendril in your mouth, this one too starts to thrust back and forth, with more care now, experimenting with differing speeds and curling in various ways as he gets closer and closer to watch how you react.

You're no researcher, but maybe if the mounting pleasure wasn't swimming to your head and making it very very hard to think coherently right now, you'd be fascinated with the way this monster is being so thorough in his examination of you, wanting to learn what makes you tick in every way, what has you choking out noises and rolling your eyes.

So intense is the heat rushing through your body from his repeated, filthy motions that you hardly notice anything happening until his all-seeing eye is almost glued to your face. The tips of the tentacles that make up his rather disturbing head unfurl and appear to drip downwards, clinging to the sides of your face so he can fix it in place, observe every detail as soon as you part your mouth to moan and gasp and babble nonsense. Each noise you make is eagerly eaten up, he tries to mimic the same motions that make you squeal as if begging for more of them.

There's no time to warn or even shriek about it, your orgasm barrels its way down your body with the intensity of a bullet, curving you in its tentacles, a breathless "oh" being all you can offer as your abdominal muscles contract and you squeeze the life out of the tendril inside you, making a mess that drips to the ground between you two.

It may not have been easy to spot in that pleasured trance, but the monster halted to watch it all unfold, mesmerized. Retracting to test the nature of the new slick now grossly painting you.

By the time you're done riding the high of your climax, you've been shifted again, this time a little lower, and you find the entity staring down to the spot where your core meets something that wasn't there before.

You'll admit you didn't have the time to properly process the full extent of his appearance when he first appeared before your stunned self. Now you're unsure if this monster had some kind of pelvic pouch, or if he merely unfolded two more tendrils out of his mass where one would expect a dick to be.

The two appendages wriggle and roll impatiently, seeking each other before parting in search of heat, of wetness, slapping against your belly and thighs. They may not look like it, but you can only guess those are his cocks. And he's considering something quietly.

It's hard to tell what he's thinking right now, the communication barrier doesn't help. Maybe he worries that the length of them will hurt you. Perhaps he wonders if he can impregnate you this way. It could just be that he thinks perhaps mating with a strange human is not a good idea, but the way those things are spreading a coat of thick precum on your skin says otherwise.

Instead of letting his stall further, a small hand reaches down to feather over the tip of one of those members, immediately getting captured and pulled at in the process. His figure rattles, hips offering a useless piston before his head snaps back up to watch you.

" ... Try putting one in. "

You murmur, knowing damn well it can't understand a single word.

He looks back down, peels back to spread your cuntlips invitingly, then seems to make up his mind, allowing the very tips of both squirming cocks to connect with your entrance. They've found warmth and they're desperate to worm in, stretching and flirting with your walls.

You grin incredulously, already trying to guess what it'll feel like, gasping as soon as he leans forward and allows more exploration. The first hint of a burn arrives as he rumbles in delight-

But a branch snaps in the distance.

And the moment is ruined because he halts immediately, your cry of frustration ignored entirely.

His body twists in an unnatural way so he can glance behind, inhuman eye seeing through greenery and undoubtedly spotting something off.

In the tense quiet that has now settled, even you pick up on the faraway mumbles of what must be people.

Eyes widening, snapping out of this episode, you begin to squirm earnestly now, wanting to see them, to find a way back, to go home!

Finally, people came looking for you!

The monster snaps back around, making you realize how truly fucked you are in these circumstances. Something flashes in that gaze, a hint of contempt, of hurt maybe.

Something too human to fall upon such a nightmarish face.

You can only scream as more tendrils dart in lightening speeds to cocoon you inside them. That single noise being all that escapes before you're forcibly gagged and physically thrown over the monster's shoulder.

His molding body swings from tree to tree in a blur of movement, taking you God knows where...

And leaving your saviors in the dust.

[toastsnaffler]

getting home from work and playing 5 straight hours of elden ring.... crops watered etc

[ltbunny]

Blind date with ex-husband price. It was like 4 peoples doing. It was your coworkers' yoga instructors, then the yoga instructors' supermarket bag boy and then his girlfriends who set up the date. How did we even get there?

Anyway, your dressed up, all pretty, excited to meet someone new. It's been a while since you've been on a date, a blind one at that, alot of guys take one look and either get too 'excited' or extremely deflated, both of them are horrible, but it's been a while since you've been on the scene after you finally got over your husband...

Annnndd, it's your ex. Fuck he looks good, fresh trim and his shoulders look so broad, he's wearing his 'going out, need to impress shirt'.. damn, he really wanted to appeal whoever his blind date was... maybe it's not to late to leave, he hasnt even no- oh.. his hand is on your lower back

"Sweetheart!" He smiles in a way that doesn't reach his eyes,

"John..." you acknowledge, looking up at him, "dont call me sweetheart."

"Sorry, love, bad habit."

You roll your eyes, but don't correct him. Is he doing it on purpose?

"Well, red bag," He smiles.

"Red tie," you respond

"So we're with each others company for the night then," He grins and looks at you, sheepishly, "well, that's if you want to continue the blind date?" He sounds hopeful...

He leads you to the table. Obviously, he pulls the chair out for you and gives you a bouquet of flowers, its only the gentlemanly thing to do, he says.

It starts off strained but you find yourself picking up the little things he does that you used to love, pointing out your favourite foods in the menu, listening intently to everything you say, stupidly lovey-dovey puppy eyes as he nods along, his hand on yours, stroking his thumb on the back of your hand, he even said some stupid line about 'me n u' and says soap put him up to it, fuck, you missed his laugh. You find yourself asking about the boys, work, it feels like you and price are just on a date night, like you two used to do before the divorce.

He walks you home at the end of the night, he started with hand holding, and now his arm is somehow around your waist, and he's closer than any ex-husband should be, really. When you get up to your apartment, he looks a little nervous,

"I'm not inviting you over for a nightcap, John."

"I know, love," he says smoothly, "just wondering... if it would be appropriate to end the night with a kiss,"

You feel a faint heat in your cheeks, unsure of what to do... after a few seconds, you nod, looking up at him. You feel his hand tentatively reach out for the back of your head, cradling it while he kisses you, you missed this, the tickle of his beard, his big hands on you, soft lips, soft kisses.

You can feel him actively try to hold back tongue, but the way you open your mouth slightly in the kiss makes him go for it immediately. You feel yourself melt. It's so desperate and carnal, but still so soft, like he doesn't want to push it, but it goes on longer than expected, neither of you really wanting to pull away, eventually you pull back, lips sore, heated faces, you wonder if you should withdraw the nightcap thing and just let him in.

"I had a lovely night, sweetheart, I... would really love to see you again." He says with a flushed face, his hand on your lower back again, going in circles.

"Me too, John."

"Text me, okay? We can go to that tex-mex place you really like, or somewhere fancier," he smiles softly, "I wanna see my woman happy."

"Not your woman, John."

"Yet." He says with a grin, leaning down and kissing you softly again, "thank you for giving this a chance, love, ill see you tomorrow, hopefully?"

You nod, and he walks home with a smile. Can't believe you had such a nice date with your ex-husband, thanks coworkers, yoga intructors, bag boys girlfriend...

(You probably wouldn't think it's so sweet if earlier you saw gaz in the back alley with bloody knuckles, after beating up the guy that was meant to be your date, texting price

'all done, sir.'

'Knew I could count on you, garrick.')

[reidmania]

ILL ALWAYS COME GET YOU | SPENCER REID

description ;

Drinking your feelings after a bad day isn’t always a great idea, good thing your boyfriend, Spencer will always come get you.

Warnings ;

Fluff, slight angst but nothing crazy I dont think there is any gender mentioned, but let me know if there is, Mentions alcohol consumption, bad day at work, crying, basically spencer just comforting the fuck out of drunk reader. I think thats it.

a/n ;

i need spencer reid to comfort me when im drunk. NOT MY GIF!!

There was heavy blows of cold air that passed through the streets, the ones which were only being lit by the half broken street lights on every corner.

You could hear the faint sound of the music playing inside the bar that you had just stumbled out of, mixed with the cars driving past on the street. After maybe 5 drinks too many, everything was a little bit blurry, everything sort of sounded the same all at once.

Shaky hands reached for the phone that was buried somewhere in your big jacket pockets. The jacket was big and warm — not enough to shield you from the cold air.

Was it a smart decision to go to the bar and drink your body weight in alcohol — no, but emotional and stressed, you weren’t completely thinking straight when leaving work at merely 5pm, it had been hours, nearing 11.

It was meant to just be a couple of drinks to take the pressure off, then when the bartender asked you if you were okay, and the tear-flood started, every drink after that was a no brainer, soon enough you had enough to no longer worry about the damage the amount of alcohol you were consuming would do to your bank account.

Your hands fumbled with your phone, grateful for face ID since you doubted you would be coordinated enough to type your password without messing it up countless times and ending up locking yourself out of it.

It was a slight struggle trying to press on your contacts, when a few — probably just as drunk people, walked out of the bar behind you, reminding you that you were still stood in the doorway. After you shuffled over slightly, now out of the way. Your eyes stared at Spencer’s contact through blurry vision, considering whether or not it was worth calling — He was still working when you last spoke, maybe he was still at the office, busy, or better yet in bed asleep.

After a small sigh left your lips, the warm air from your mouth contradicting the cold air on the streets, a stem of steam followed your breath, which you found fascinating in your drunken state for a moment, before your attention was pulled back to your phone by the ringing sound.

Seeing Spencer’s contact light up your phone brought a small smile to your sad face, you were quick to answer, yet it took a minute to realise you had to put your phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You heard Spencers voice, softening a piece of your chest slightly. You assumed maybe he had been saying hello for the few seconds it had taken for you to pull your phone to your ear.

“Hi” You muttered back, drunk feet shuffling slightly as your words slurred. There were a few people still wandering around, going in and out of the bar, talking to each other or giving you strange looks which would’ve made you a little more insecure if the alcohol didn’t influence that part of your mind.

“Hey angel.” Spencer said, letting out a soft sigh of relief hearing your voice. “Where are you? You aren’t home” He said, voice itching with slight concern.

Your lips parted as you realised he had come home and you weren’t there — which would’ve been confusing because he knew you finished work hours ago, maybe you should have told him beforehand that you were planning on drinking your feelings in tequila shots.

“Im drunk” You said, not quite processing the question you had been asked.

You could hear Spencer chuckle on the other side of the phone, “I can tell baby, Where are you?” He asked, his voice was so soft and gentle, it almost made you emotional.

“Um” You hummed, spinning on your heels which only caused you to stumble slightly over your phone feet as you looked at the bar, which had its name written across the top, only that was a bit harder to read within your blurry vision.

“I dont know.” You pouted slightly, “That one bar” You muttered, hoping maybe he would know the exact one you were talking about. You assumed he would — it was the closest bar to your shared home, and the one you two went most often.

“Yeah?” He muttered, you nodded. Yet he couldn’t see that. There was a sound of slight shuffling on the other side of the phone, before you heard a door open and shut.

“I don’t think I can drive” You frowned as you looked around to try and find where your car was parked, you had come straight after work.

Spencer chuckled again. The sound was so comforting to you in your drunken state. Maybe it was silly how it made your downturned lips shift upwards into almost a smile.

“Im gonna pick you up, Angel. Just stay where you are for me okay?” He said. You heard another door open and close, which you assumed was his own car door. You hummed softly in agreement.

For the course of the next few minutes there was no conversation had between the two of you, you sat silently watching the cars on the street, while Spencer drove the few minutes down the road to the bar.

Soon the call ended, leaving you to frown as you stared at the phone, seeing it go back to where it was before you answered the call — on his contact. Before you even got the chance to call him back and cry about how rude it was for him to hang up on you like that, you heard your name being called.

Your head turned to the sound of his voice. He was standing there — still in his work clothes, making your frown only deepen, he hadn’t even had the chance to relax or change before he had to come pick you up.

“Hey baby” He cooed, taking your face in his hands as stood in front of you, taking in your puffy eyes and flushed cheeks. His thumb rubbed soothingly over the soft skin on your face.

You subconsciously leaned into the touch of his warm hands as you looked up at him, “You’re here” You said, sighing softly as you relished the warmth his body radiated.

He nodded, “Of course Im here. You wanna get home? You’re freezing.” He said, shaking his head softly, moving his hands from your face to your hands — which were seemingly colder.

You nodded wordlessly, he took that and wrapped his arm gently around your waist, leading you to his car. You tried not to stumble but it wasn’t working, without Spencer there holding your body tightly against his own you probably would’ve already fallen flat on your face. If he noticed your stumbling — he didn’t say anything.

He helped you into the passenger seat, before leaning over you slightly to pull your seatbelt on, despite your best efforts to do it yourself.

“But my car—” You muttered, sitting up a bit straighter as the realisation dawned on you that your car would be left here, your head turned slightly as the passenger seat door closed, Spencer didn’t say anything, before walking over to the drivers seat.

He got in. He must of noticed your distressed eyes staring at him when he looked over at you, pulling his own seatbelt on. “Your car is fine honey, we can come get it in the morning.”

You chewed at your lip as you looked down, nodding wordlessly at his solution. He drove without saying anything, but his hand sat warmly ontop of your thigh, thumb rubbing up and down gently as your head laid back against the head rest.

When you arrived outside your shared home, Spencer was quick by your side helping you out of the car and into the house, where he sat you down on the couch. The house was warm, which lead you to believe he had turned the heater on when he got home — or before he left to pick you up.

He returned to the living room with a large glass of water. “Drink” He hummed, handing you the glass. His hand stayed holding it till he was sure you had it tight in your grasp.

You nodded, taking a few small sips of it, before lowering it slightly. He shook his head dismissively, “All of it, Honey.” He said, two of his fingers brushing under the glass, encouraging it back up towards your lips.

You sighed, before obeying. Taking a few larger sips of water before the glass grew empty. Spencer hummed approvingly, taking the glass from your hands; standing up.

“Where are you going?” You pouted, looking up at him with a small hitch in your eyebrows. You could feel the heat blowing down from the ceilings, onto your bare legs.

Spencer paused in his movements, giving you a soft smile as he noticed your concern — as if you believed maybe he was leaving. “Getting you more water” He said.

“Spence.” Your tone was warning, dismissive of the idea of having to drink another large glass of water. He just continued walking to the kitchen. You heard the tap turn on and off before he returned, placing the glass on the coffee table in front of you rather than in your hands.

“You don’t have to drink this one all in one, you can just sip it” He said, before taking a seat next to you again, watching your head nod up and down softly.

You chewed at your lip, avoiding his gaze as even in your drunken state, your mind couldn’t seem to stop working over time — which was what got you in this position in the first place.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked softly, his body turning more towards your own. You looked up at him for a moment. It was a dangerous question he was asking, especially in your current state.

“I don’t know” You shrugged. It was the best you could muster up without spilling every little doubt in your mind. You didn’t know. You guessed that drinking your emotions automatically meant you weren’t okay, but it wasn’t like you were dying, or anything you wouldn’t get over.

Spencer sighed, a frown tugging at his lips as he watched you in your own world, living in your head. He knew you did this — overthought everything, worked yourself up.

“Why did you drink?” He asked, realising this may get more of an answer out of you to what was actually the matter — what the cause of your drunken state was.

You leant into his shoulder slightly, head resting on his chest, under his chin. His arm wasted no time wrapping around you shoulder, only pulling you in closer.

Your voice was quiet, words still slight slurred as you spoke — but they had been the whole time. “Work sucked” Your voice was barley audible — Your boyfriend would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been paying you his full attention.

That was a rare occasion anyways.

“Why didn’t you call me baby?” He asked, hand rubbing soothingly over your clothed arm. You were quiet for a moment as you felt the tears reoccur in the back of your eyes. It seemed they had been there all day.

You shrugged, only making his frown deepen. He realised quickly — talking about it was not what you needed right now, what you did need in this moment — he was unsure of.

So he asked; “What do you need honey?”

You felt a hot tear against your cheek at the question. You were quick to wipe it away, a shaky breath leaving your lips.

“Can you just hold me?” You asked, he could hear the sadness in your voice, the need and desperation for some sort of comfort.

He places a gentle kiss to the top of your head, humming in response. “Course I can. Do you want to go change? Get into bed?” He asked softly, pulling you slightly away from his chest to look at your face, his own falling slightly as he noticed the big wet tears on your cheeks.

You nodded as a soft sob rippled from your throat, making his frown deepen. His thumb was instantly wiping your eyes softly. “Oh sweetheart” He cooed at your sad eyes. “Come on, lets go to bed”

Before you could even move to stand, his arms were around your waist, lifting you up gently. His hands holding you close to his chest as he walked to your shared bed room.

The entire way he was muttering sweet nothings into your ear, reminding you that everything was okay, that he loved you.

He placed you gently on the bed as he walked towards the wardrobe, He changed himself quickly into his pyjamas, any other time you would’ve cooed and adored the way he looked.

“Your clothes or mine?” He asked. It wasn’t an uncommon question, sometimes after showing together he would ask you if you wanted to wear his clothes or your own. It was a cute nothing.

“Yours.” You muttered, hand pulling to brush strands of hair out of your face as you watched him nod, grabbing out a pair of your own sweatpants, his t-shirt, and your favourite hoodie of his.

It was funny at first when you discovered he actually owned hoodies.

He was by your side moments later, gently pulling the big coat off your shoulders, before undressing you from the business attire you had been wearing all day, helping you into the clothes he had brought out for you.

Only minutes later your head was resting against his chest — the tears had officially stopped, his arms wrapped around you as your legs intertwined with his.

“Take the day off tomorrow” He whispered softly into your hair. You could feel the alcohol slowly processing away, not enough to be sober but enough to be a little more there.

You would’ve argued any other time, but you just nodded against his chest, before leaning away slightly, reaching over to grab your phone from where Spencer had plugged it in on your beside table.

He chuckled, grabbing your arm, “Tomorrow baby, not now.” He said softly.

You again didn’t argue, returning to your position before, hand scrunching into the fabric of Spencer’s pyjama top gently. “Thank you for coming to get me” You muttered tiredly as your eyes closed, breathing in his scent that only soothed every muscle in your body.

“I’ll always come get you.”