#so my doctor put me back on a stimulant (just a different one than before) and I can focus now when it’s not like this

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I went five days without my adhd medication (I was waking up waaaay too late to take something that could maybe negatively impact my sleep. I already struggle with insomnia. I’m not giving my sleep meds any disadvantage) but today I woke up earlier (by comparison) and I’m vibrating. It will be normal again tomorrow, but I hate when I first take it after missing at least a day. My body decides that I need to speed run my day before it gets normal about it

Me, once again, having missed a few doses before this one, experiencing this:

[brownheadedcowbird]

weird thing happened last night

For those of you who don’t know, I’m a third year vet student. I work in my school’s ICU, and have been in emergency and critical care for about six years now. Vets are a superstitious bunch in general, and I’m not really an exception-- not that I believe in jinxes or anything, but I think that our little rituals and traditions help us make sense of an unpredictable and heartbreaking job.

Emergency and critical care sees a lot of death, and I make a lot of paws: clay, ink, foam, anything. It’s something we do to help the pet’s family remember them. One of my superstitions is that I don’t make memorial paw prints while an animal is still alive. It feels wrong to me, borderline disrespectful to focus on their impending death instead of honoring their last moments with us. But last night, I made an exception.

“Chili” presented to our emergency department for prolonged seizures of unknown origin. A one-year old border collie, she had no history of epilepsy, and owners were unaware of any trauma or exposure to neurotoxins. I got to work right when she arrived, so I was involved in her initial intake. We’d stopped the seizures, but she was hyperthermic and tremoring, her lactate through the roof and her oxygen saturation in the basement. We intubated, and blood began trickling out of the endotracheal tube.

I was assigned to one-on-one care, monitoring vitals and helping doctors with treatment. Coworkers drifted in and out, commenting on the case. We’re used to seeing things like this, but it’s always sobering to see a young dog in such rough shape. We speculated on what could have put her in this condition-- rat bait, heat stroke, blunt trauma-- and we prognosticated, saying it would take a miracle for her to come out of this. “I’ve heard of ‘good things,’” I joked. “Would love to see one happen someday.” A few more jokes were tossed around about how nothing good happens in the ICU. No miracles in vet med, just euthasol and clay paws.

The resident on duty that night brought the owners back after a few hours of care with no improvement. Chili was obtunded, cardiovascularly unstable, and now hypothermic, with no further clues as to why. The owners cried for a while and eventually elected to euthanize. The resident nodded to me, and I went off to get some clay for a paw print.

When I returned with the clay, the owners were gone. Chili was on the table, taking the same fast and shallow breaths as she had been for hours at that point. Her people had decided not to stay for the euthanasia: it made no difference to Chili, in her comatose state, and they couldn’t bear to see their puppy like this. Understandable. The resident told me that they would like to take her paw print home with them. 

I wanted to wait, of course. I don’t like making paw prints while my patients are still alive. But, knowing that the owners were waiting, I nodded and molded the clay into a flat circle. I took Chili’s left front paw and pressed the metacarpal pad into the circle, then digit II. Digit III. Digit IV twitched before I could make an impression in the clay, and then the whole paw was being yanked out of my hand. Her whole leg jerked back. 

I looked up, immediately worried that I’d inflicted some deep pain, stimulating a reflex that only the worst neurologic depression could have suppressed. Instead, I saw two dark eyes looking back at me. Her head was raised. Her tail thumped. I called for the doctor. Chili lurched to her feet, and licked my nose.

I still don’t understand what happened. The resident ran to get the owners, and when they walked in, they saw their dog-- comatose just minutes before, seconds from lethal injection-- standing on the table like nothing had happened. I think we all cried a little, but nobody more than Chili’s mom.

I texted my coworker for an update after day shift today, and she let me know that Chili is doing great. No further seizures, eating and drinking well, pulmonary effusion resolving. Hopefully she can be weaned off of supplemental oxygen soon and go home to her parents. I’ve never seen a patient bounce up from the brink of death like that, and probably won’t see it again for a very long time. 

What if I hadn’t pressed her paw into the clay? Would she have continued to sleep, obtunded, rigid and tremoring, as the injections, white then pink, diffused through her circulatory system, stopping her heart? I can’t stop thinking about it. Did she feel us beginning to mourn, and realize she wasn’t ready to go? 

Did someone hear us deriding miracles and decide to show us something good?

I think that’s what I’m going with. I’m not religious, but I like the idea of a higher power saying that, just this once, the little dog gets to live a bit longer.

[darkthingshappen]

Three Days - Chapter 14

This is a collab with @quietly-by-myself for @the-whumpers-soiree. It features Faolan from their Mercury and Time series (link here) and my original whumper, Finlay Iver.

This story will contain elements of explicit noncon, references to past violent events, including noncon, torture, among other adult/dark themes. Reader discretion is advised. It’s much darker than what I normally post. Minors DNI.

Tags: @oddsconvert, @sparrowsage

CW: discussions of past noncon, PTSD, trauma recovery, whumper taunting caretaker

Another night went by with Atticus negotiating with Faolan to eat again. The doctor at the hospital had kept the majority of what Faolan had told the staff private, but as Faolan’s medical proxy, Atticus knew the rough details of it all. Faolan hadn’t just been roughed up; he’d been utterly traumatized.

It almost felt like the two of them were back at the beginning, in those horrible months just after the war had ended. Sometimes, Atticus was left with an eerie feeling of déjà vu each time they sat down for a meal. He remembered all too well those days when he spent most of the day in flashbacks and had to teach Faolan not to eat eggs off the floor.

Faolan was avoiding anything acidic now. Atticus didn’t ask. He was also strangely defensive of his stomach medications. Again, it was unusual, but Atticus didn’t ask. If anything, Faolan had always been scared to take medicine, not scared to have medicine taken from him.

He never pushed Faolan on why he always begged for the lights off or why he sometimes wound up in Atticus’ bedroom. It all had happened before.

Atticus was most concerned with the eating. He’d offered to take Faolan to the doctor for an appetite stimulant, but Faolan had refused. It was fine. He couldn’t help someone who didn’t want help. Regardless, food had been used against Faolan so many times that he didn’t blame the man for having a chaotic relationship with mealtimes.

One night, Faolan finally said something about the entire ordeal.

Faolan neatly put his utensils down, having taken only three bites of his dinner.

“H-he.”

Faolan was struggling to get the words out. Atticus forced himself to hide his anticipation.

“He tube fed me as a punishment.” Faolan seemed distant. That was okay. Atticus remembered that time before prazosin and venlafaxine when he was, too. “I’m sorry. I left for my perch.”

That was a new term, but Atticus could guess what Faolan was talking about. “That’s okay, Faolan. Keep going. You’re safe here. He can’t reach you.”

Faolan nodded. He knew. That was the difference between then and now - Faolan knew he was safe. “O-one day, the second day, he fed me my medicine in microwaved eggs and lemonade.” Faolan chuckled a bit to himself. “It doesn’t sound that bad when I say it to you.”

Atticus had to try to keep the horror off his face. He didn’t want to startle Faolan by making Faolan think that Atticus was upset with him. 

“No, it’s awful. I understand why it bothers you.”

Faolan went quiet for a bit. “I lashed out because I was scared of what he was doing afterwards.”

Atticus, when Faolan didn’t elaborate, gave him a little signal with his hand that told Faolan “everything’s okay.”

“T-the wound in my side. He cut out William’s brand and put his own.”

Atticus was the only one Faolan ever said William’s name around. Maybe it was because Atticus had been the one to kill William all those years ago. He was Faolan’s ultimate protector and he knew it well.

“I’m so sorry, Faolan.” Atticus moved around the table, slowly, crutch in hand, and pulled Faolan into a hug. Suddenly, Faolan broke down sobbing harder than he’d seen him in a long time. Faolan’s psychologist was on break and he immediately decided to make the call to the answering service to ensure that he would get an appointment with the psychologist in the office. Maybe they’d set up an appointment with their psychiatrist.

Forgetting about the dinner he’d worked so hard to cook - one of Faolan’s favorites - Atticus moved with Faolan to the couch and hugged him tight, letting him cry until, eventually, Faolan had fallen off to sleep.

Slowly, carefully, Atticus helped Faolan move to his bedroom. He tucked Faolan in gently and gave his hand a squeeze. Just before he left completely to place his call to the answering service, Faolan muttered something to him.

“Sometimes, he was kind. It’s confusing, because he wasn’t like William. He was kind sometimes.”

Atticus swallowed the lump in his throat. His anger at Finlay was bubbling to the surface again. “That doesn’t justify what he did, Faolan. Just rest for tonight. We can talk more in the morning. Is it okay if I call Dr. Ackehurst? I know she’s on break, but you need to see someone before she comes back.”

Faolan nodded. “Tell the office that I told them it was okay. I thought I signed that paper a few months ago.”

“You did. You have a right to consent to me calling her office, though.”

That was the last Atticus heard of Faolan as his friend drifted off into a deep, probably horrible sleep.

When Atticus got to his office to call Dr. Ackehurst, the phone was already ringing to his surprise. He picked up the phone, knowing it was far too late for any legitimate calls.

“My car is past warranty. My credit cards are all fine. I can’t apply for social security disability. I have a veteran’s pension. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

There was a slight giggle from the other end of the line.  “Good evening, Atticus.  I was just calling to check on how my little pet is doing?  Did you bed him well when you got him home?  I made sure he’d be loose for you.”  Finlay smiled, knowing it would be easy to rile the old war vet.  

“Finlay you fucking bastard!” Atticus had to try his hardest to not scream into the phone. Faolan didn’t need to know that he’d even called, much less know how upset Atticus was over the whole ordeal. He took a deep breath. “He’s doing fine. Thank you for asking. Now give me one good reason I shouldn’t just hang up and change my phone number so you never find it again.”

“Change your phone number and I may have to come find my wayward little pet in person.  He really is an intriguing little creature.  You should have seen the way he bent to my whim.  All I had to do was cuddle with him at the end of the night.  No wonder you keep him around.  He’s a pretty good little cock-sucker too.  I mean, I had to gag him to make sure he wouldn’t bite.  But did you know that just before you so rudely barged in he was begging to suck me off?  I may have to find him one day and let him do it.  You can’t be with him all the time.  And I can be patient.  Or who knows.  Maybe I’ll find another toy and move on from yours.  I just wanted you to know that he behaved wonderfully and was absolutely perfect for me.  I thoroughly enjoyed my time with him and only wished it could have been longer”

“Well, even if you do find him, I assure you that Faolan isn’t just skilled with what you say that he is. He’s an incredibly talented marksman. I assure you, either him or I will shoot you in the back of the head before you get a chance.”

“Hmm.  That’s cute.  One last thing before I go.  I did him the favor of removing his previous owner’s brand.  I was very surprised, given how highly he regards you, that you hadn’t done it for him years ago.  It was very satisfying to peel it away and throw it in the fire.  And it was even more satisfying to put my own in its place.  I know you won’t lift a finger to have the new one removed, since you didn’t with the last one.  So I thought it could go somewhere just a bit more visible.”  Finlay smiled at his taunt as he hung up the phone.  

“I gave him the option years ago. He didn’t want to do it. You’re a bastard for thinking that I would’ve made that choice for him and you’re a bastard because you made that choice for him. Faolan is his own person. If he wants yours removed, I won’t stop him. I think it could look rather nice with a big ‘fuck you’ tattooed over it.”

It took Atticus a moment in the heat of it all to realize that Finlay had already hung up by the time he’d gone on his little rant. All the satisfaction of being able to say that was gone as he slammed down the phone and held his head in his hands.

Atticus couldn’t help but feel like a total, utter failure. As he held his head in his hands, thinking over everything he should’ve and could’ve done, he found himself in tears. He should’ve done better by Faolan. He should’ve fought harder for him. 

As he cried, he tried to tell himself that it would be okay. They got over William together and he’d been with William for many years. They would get over this together, too. It would just be a matter of time, is all. 

That somehow, didn’t reassure Atticus at all. At least Faolan was safe, at home with him. That was the biggest relief of all.

Atticus focused on finishing what he needed to. The next morning, he’d give Faolan the biggest hug he’d ever given him before. He couldn’t risk losing the man again. In fact, as long as he was alive, Faolan would live a free life without worries of men like Finlay.

*!*!*!*!*

The next morning, Atticus decided to start them off on the right foot. The call with the on-call physician was surprisingly helpful. She’d gently reminded Atticus that the two already had a strong relationship, whether Atticus felt secure in it or not. She’d also reminded Atticus that Faolan needed the reassurance just as much as he did. They struggled with a lot of the same insecurities. 

Well, she’d never actually said that. It was something that Atticus knew well from his time with Faolan. What worked for him often worked for his traumatized friend. After all, they were two gay men with no living relatives living in a house together because they were too insecure to find anyone else to live with. It wasn’t exactly a common set of characteristics to find in a person; dead family, war experience, and a life-threatening encounter with some horrific bug. Even if they all happened a world apart, they were more alike than Atticus often remembered.

So, Atticus focused everything into making a good breakfast. Faolan was a traditional artist. Atticus considered himself a food artist. Ever since those early days where cooking took his mind off of his guilt and self-hatred, Atticus had invested more and more time into learning to cook. Especially with those two hours before the sun he had every morning to do as he pleased.

By the end of the two hours, he’d made sausages up from scratch, baked some pastries, chopped fresh fruit, and somehow found time to make hash.

Faolan came down the stairs of their house and saw the sprawling meal in front of him. A mix of emotions washed over his face - first shock, then anxiety, then relief, and lastly, something Atticus hadn’t expected, happiness. 

“Morning sleepyhead. How’d you sleep?”

For the first time in a while, Faolan actually smiled. “You always used to greet me like that.”

“I guess I just expected everyone to get up at the ass crack of dawn like I do,” Atticus added a little sarcastically. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

Again, another first - Faolan smiled and nodded, walking over to the table.

Faolan started to speak after he’d taken a few bites of the food. “Remember that time I broke a plate of tomatoes and panicked? You thought I’d cut myself on the plate and was bleeding.”

Atticus didn’t have a clue as to why that memory had come to Faolan then, but he played along. Maybe it’s the strawberries?

“Yeah, I do. I was so worried about you.”

Faolan chuckled a bit. “I was really scared of you hurting me for breaking that plate. Today, when I brought my plate over from the kitchen, I wasn’t scared of dropping it. I’d forgotten that I was scared of that for a while.”

“You were with William for a while, Faolan. It’s understandable.”

Faolan hummed a little, like he always did when he was thinking about something deeper than he could handle.

“Faolan, I want to apologize.”

That familiar panic washed over Faolan’s face. “F-for what? Is something wrong? What’s happening?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. I just…” Atticus didn’t know how to phrase it. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t find you sooner. I should’ve gone with you to that party. I should’ve contacted the police or something. I was just so worried that someone would screw it up that I took it into my own hands to find you. I should’ve done better by you, Faolan. I hope you can forgive me.”

Faolan was quiet for a very long time. “I have to learn to live on my own.” His voice held that wavering conviction Atticus had come to know. “I know I struggle with that sometimes, but…” 

Faolan waved in the air, clearly feeling very guilty for what had happened. Atticus almost felt bad for saying anything at all. “How many people go to parties without being kidnapped like that?”

Atticus soon realized that Faolan couldn’t be more right. He was protective over Faolan as though they’d fought in the same squad at war all those years ago. That commander that hated feeling responsible for the deaths of his soldiers was always there, parroting about his failure to protect people under his command. Sometimes, he forgot that everyone was their own person, and that sometimes, the only person at fault would never see justice.

“I should’ve never gone to that party in the first place. I should’ve done better… as…” Faolan had tears in his eyes that he was holding back. Their breakfast was starting to get cold, but, again, Atticus couldn’t care less.

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.”

Atticus paused at the rebuttal. He was proud of Faolan for saying it to him so easily. Everything’s going to be okay.

“You’re right. It’s that bastard Finlay’s fault.”

They could agree on that.

In fact, that seemed to end the conversation right then and there. They were on the same page, as they always were. Faolan came back over to Atticus for a hug to calm his tears, before he ate his first meal without having a panic attack. Afterwards, Faolan helped him clean up. 

Maybe Faolan didn’t speak of what happened with Finlay today, but Atticus was confident he would eventually. After all, they had the same heartbeat. 

One day, Faolan would talk about it. Today wasn’t that day. Tomorrow wouldn’t be either. However, when the day did come, Atticus would be ready to help him put the pieces down and figure out how to put them back together.

That comforted Atticus. Undoubtedly, Faolan also found it comforting.

*!*!*!*!*

Atticus often described those moments where his body went back to the past as a lightswitch flicking on. He assumed it was much the same for Faolan; they were similar in so many other ways - why not this one? Atticus just never expected it to be so… literal.

Faolan had been sleeping with his door open since he came home from the hospital. It was an unexpected request to say the least. Atticus couldn’t sleep unless he knew his door was shut and locked, along with all his windows. He never opened them to sleep, not even in the dog days of summer. For some reason, he assumed that Faolan would want the security of nobody being able to enter or leave without him knowing.

Though, Atticus presumed, Faolan had probably been a prisoner longer than a soldier. Maybe the open door was comforting.

When Atticus flicked that lightswitch on in the hall, he heard a panicked gasp from Faolan’s room. It wasn’t the first time that Faolan had woken up with a start. Maybe the lights had triggered something with a nightmare? Atticus didn’t know.

Everything seemed “normal” until he heard the panicked whimpers and breaths coming from Faolan’s room.

Atticus peaked his head in. “Faolan, are you okay?”

Clearly, he wasn’t. He was kneeling on the floor with tears streaming down his cheeks. “I-I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t mean to wake up so late. Please don’t shock me. I’m very tired, Master.”

“Faolan?”

It clicked. This is probably how Finlay made Faolan greet him in the morning. 

Faolan had burns from the shock collar when he arrived in the hospital. It took an enormous amount of restraint to not show his anger. Atticus had long since learned to control his anger during Faolan’s flashbacks. No matter how upset he was about what had happened, it was about Faolan, not him. Faolan needed his support, not his ire.

Atticus pulled out the packet of chewing gum he always kept in his pocket.

He approached Faolan carefully, taking his hand and pressing a piece of the chewing gum into it. “Faolan, it’s okay. You’re with me right now.”

Faolan’s eyes darted to the piece of gum, then back to Atticus. His face broke as Atticus could see his heart shatter through his eyes. Those tears from a bleeding, broken heart came rushing out as Faolan began to sob heavy, hard tears of a man who’d been shattered into more pieces than he could put back together.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Atticus.”

Atticus brought Faolan into a warm embrace. “It’s okay. You know I would never be mad at you for something like this.”

Atticus rubbed Faolan’s back as he cried. He whispered those small words of comfort until his hip couldn’t take the odd positioning anymore.

“Faolan,” Atticus pushed him back so he could watch his face, “I need to sit for my hip. Are you okay with sitting on the bed together? It wouldn’t be triggering, right?”

Faolan shook his head. Atticus could see the honesty in his face.

“He didn’t… neither of them… never on my bed. They never hurt me on my bed.”

Looking at those fresh, but distant tears in Faolan’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. Of course, Atticus already knew that both Finlay and William had raped Faolan. Hearing Faolan speak about it was always different, though.

“Okay,” was all Atticus could manage. Faolan was the first to stand, offering his hand to Atticus and helping him with his crutch. 

Together, the two moved to the bed. That moment with the crying had long since passed. Faolan’s eyes were growing dry as that numbness set in. 

“With William… it was all bad.” 

At first, Atticus didn’t quite know why Faolan was saying such a thing, but he let Faolan speak regardless. He knew it was important. He knew the amount of trust it took for Faolan to be able to tell him anything.

“Finlay… he was kind sometimes.”

Silence hung between them for a very long time. It was only broken when Faolan teared up and began to speak again. 

“He would hug me and bathe me when he was done. Sometimes, I feel crazy for preferring that life. It’s just… I feel lost all the time. That life, even if it’s bad, is familiar.”

Atticus had a million things to say and no words to say them with. Before he had time to say anything, though, Faolan broke down crying completely again. Atticus pulled him into a tight hug and squeezed as Faolan clung to his shirt.

“Will therapy ever fix that? The pills don’t help. I just want something to take the pain away.”

Again, Atticus knew not what to say, even if he had a thousand ideas. Perhaps it was just better to let Faolan talk, regardless.

“I feel so broken. Maybe it’s better to live that life. I’m too broken to fix.”

To that, Atticus knew what to say.

“One day, Faolan, you’ll realize that nobody ever broke you. Something in you never gave up on life, all those years you were with William. Even if you felt like you wanted to die, you’ve endured so much more than I ever could. It’s okay to feel lost. It’s okay to feel like things aren’t going to get better. Maybe… maybe it’s okay for you to not follow the beaten path. You just need to give things a chance. Hell, I’m a two-time med school drop-out.”

Atticus let out a self-deprecating chuckle. 

“We’ll figure it all out, Faolan. Life will be okay again, like it was before. After what we did to Finlay, he won’t be coming back to you.”

Faolan smiled a little as Atticus gave him another hug. Why Faolan smiled that time, Atticus didn’t really know. Perhaps Faolan didn’t know either.

“Let’s eat out. I don’t want to have to clean.”

With a teary, gargled voice, Faolan gave one of his little quips. “Just so long as it isn’t the marina again.”

Atticus couldn’t have been happier to hear Faolan say that. He’ll be okay.

“Of course. We’ll go to the patisserie instead,” Atticus added sarcastically.

Faolan groaned a little. Atticus smiled.

Things were going to be okay.

[uniquehere1]

Nanosnore

Nano Snore is a nose clip with a magnet. It is one of the easy to use and small devices to solve snoring problems. So this tool consists of soft silicone rings. The user puts this ring in the nose and the therapeutic magnetics work. According to Tibetan medicine, built-in therapeutic magnets are very helpful in treating snoring problems. So how does this magnet work? It helps stimulate the sensory nerves of your nose and prevents it from falling out.

Snoring is a serious problem affecting your material life and health. So what, does your partner snore? Does your husband snore while sleeping? If so, you may be affecting their health and your relationship. Do you know that many partners end their relationships because of these snoring problems? If you want to save your bond with them, you can look for different ways to deal with it. Indeed, snoring can lead to various health problems and solving it is the best way. If you're looking for the right way to reduce your snoring patterns, you've come to the right place.

Today we are going to discuss the NanoSnore tool and you might have heard a lot about it on the internet. It is a silicon-based tool and is small in size. It is easy to use the thing for dealing with snoring sounds. So all you need to do is push the soft silicone ring into your nose.

If you do not have sleep apnea and are still snoring, your doctor may suggest positional therapy. "The worst position is on your back," Carleton said. "When you sleep on your back, it actually compresses your respiratory system more and you're more likely to have those gasping or snoring sounds."

Technically, the Smart Nora won't flip you onto your side, but it will move your head slightly when it catches you snoring, which in practice often results in you moving from your back to your side. To achieve this, the system includes a wireless device equipped with a microphone that can sit next to the bed or be attached to the wall and detect snoring. Once it does, the Smart Nora communicates with a base station under the bed, which pumps air through a tube into the liner that lives inside your pillow.

Sometimes the gentle movement of the pillow would wake me up, causing me to change positions. Controls on the base station allow you to adjust the level of pillow rise, so you're less likely to wake up if all you need is a little nudge. The microphone also has an adjustable sensitivity if your room is noisy or you just find that your pillow inflates more often than you'd like. After we first published this article, I took a break from using the device (or any other anti-snoring device) for a while before returning to it for a follow-up. It continues to work just as well for me as it did when I first tested it.

It may sound bizarre, but the Smart Nora was the most effective device I tried, cutting my overall snoring in half according to my SnoreLab sleep score.

I tested five other, less expensive options, though none of them worked as well for me. However, this does not mean that they will not help you.

[caxxiopeia]

Feel free to ignore this

Tw: suicide, Tw: hospitalization

I just need to write this down somewhere and I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. I was hospitalized last March for overdosing on my anti-anxiety meds to try and kill myself. Not really important why, basically I was just extremely stressed about school and executive dysfunction and depression was kicking my ass. So they held me in the psych ward for two weeks and one of the psychiatrists suggested trying ADHD meds. I’ve suspected that I have ADHD for a while but I’ve never told anyone because I don’t have any of the stereotypical symptoms and I thought no one would take me seriously. I’m not hyperactive at all, my thoughts typically don’t run at superspeed, coffee gives me energy and more than two cups a day makes me anxious when I’ve heard it settles people with ADHD, I don’t lose or forget things that often, I can keep pretty good track of the time, I read lots so it’s clear I can focus if I want to, I didn’t have too much trouble focusing in school (unless the teacher was just plain lecturing and I didn’t have anything to do or look at). That last one might be a point towards ADHD now that I think about it. I’m extremely shy and quiet and do things meticulously instead of fast. The main thing I do have is wicked executive dysfunction to the point I’m bedridden sometimes, but that’s not exclusive to ADHD. Also little things like I can talk wayy too fast, boredom is physically painful, I have horrible time management, I get sidetracked with little tasks that I’ll spend way too long doing (ie. cleaning the dried paint off the lids of my paint bottles for a few hours instead of going to bed because my brain decided that needed to get done right that moment).

Anyway the psychiatrist put me on a stimulant like Adderall. Dextroamphetamine or something. At first it made my heart beat a bit faster and I felt anxiety without actually feeling anxious if that makes sense. Since I was in the psych ward there weren’t a lot of things to distract me in the first place (phone, netflix) but I found doing schoolwork easier. That psychiatrist was replaced and the new one (still not my current one) didn’t prescribe it which I only found out after I was released and went to the pharmacy to pick it up. However I got a text like a week after that saying it had been prescribed and it was ready to pick up. So not sure what happened there, if the old psychiatrist talked to the new one or what. I’ve been on it since then. The physical effects went away and it seemed to help for a while especially with the executive dysfunction. Something else happened and I ended up back in the psych ward in June where they increased the dose of my anti-depressant and added a new anti-anxiety medication for sleep. They kept the stimulant the same. But now my appetite has been shot to shit. It started June 15 (I remember cause it was my birthday) and it hasn’t picked up to before-hospital levels since. Most days I’m eating maybe 500 calories. I’ve lost 10 pounds and my period is late when it’s usually scarily regular. I try to eat and it’s like every part of my body is rejecting the food. Even drinking is hard sometimes. I’d almost compare it to my mom when she was on chemo, it’s that bad. I talked to my family doctor, a nurse and doctor on my province’s medical help line, and my psychiatrist. All of them say it’s from a different medication. My family doctor couldn’t do much of anything since she didn’t prescribe it and I’d need to get my psychiatrist to transfer my care over to her before she can. The nurse said it was likely the medication they increased and I could tell she was researching the medications while I was talking to her. She was the most help and she thought I might have had mild to moderate dehydration as well since I wasn’t drinking much of anything either. She set me up with a doctor who said it was the medication they introduced for sleep instead. And basically that I should try eating. As if I was just choosing not to. My psychiatrist told me it was unlikely to be the anti-depressant they increased even though it’s one of the first and most common side effects you see for it online.

But there seems to be a consensus that if I had to go off a medication it would have to be the stimulant. I tried that for a few days and my energy was so low I had to stay in the car while my sister went grocery shopping. I couldn’t do anything. My appetite did get a bit better but I’d rather starve than feel like that. Here’s the problem though. Does that mean I’m addicted? It’s basically speed right? And aren’t ADHD meds supposed to calm you down and focus you rather than give you energy? And neurotypicals use Adderall recreationally for energy, so isn’t that what I’m doing? But if it gets me out of bed and able to care for myself does it matter? I don’t want to bring this up to anyone because I’m afraid they’ll say “nope that’s not how people with ADHD react to this medication so we’re not prescribing it” and not give me another method for handling The Symptoms. And I don’t wanna make a big deal out of my appetite thing for the same reason. It’s easier for a psychiatrist or doctor to remove a medication rather than switch up another one or change the dose. Should I stick to my guns and insist I have ADHD even when I’m not sure myself? Could my low energy and executive dysfunction be from depression even if none of the treatments and therapy I’ve had for that changes anything? What if they’re working off of the stereotypical hyperactive pre-teen boy image as the default patient? Because when you compare me to that I definitely don’t have ADHD.

[thebibliosphere]

I had a question.

So, just an hour or two ago, I was going through some sort of “manic high”, sorta like how somebody with bipolar disorder would have (I don’t have BPD). It felt like a bullet train at max speed and completely derailing, and it was incredibly draining. It also got me wondering.

Do people with severe enough ADHD deal with ADHD episodes like this? My search attempts are often futile because all of it is just talking about how to differentiate between BPD and ADHD and BPD manic episodes, but nobody ever mentions ADHD episodes; the only time I’ve seen it mentioned ever was when somebody made a clip of crankgameplays to show what an ADHD episode looked like.

Do they even exist? I’ve got no idea, so I was just wondering if you knew.

Hey! Sorry, I saw your other ask a while ago, but I wanted to talk to my ADHD specialist before I answered because I’d never heard of the term “episode” being used to describe ADHD. I’m also going to splice both questions together here and answer them in segments in the hope it helps :)

So like I said, I’d never heard of the term “episode” with ADHD, and neither has my specialist. Part of ADHD is having a natural ebb and flow between inattention and hyperactivity, sometimes skewed toward one or the other, depending on your ADHD type. (What are the different types of ADHD?)

Your type of ADHD may also fluctuate because of other factors, such as stress, changes in medication, hormonal fluctuations, lack of sleep, overstimulation, or even under-stimulation, to name a few. Another overlooked part of ADHD is emotional dysregulation, which may cause rapid cycling emotions that may look like an “episode” to someone unfamiliar with what that actually qualifies. The way my therapist explained it and using your example of bipolar disorder, “episode” is used in diagnostic criteria to categorize manic or depressive episodes that last X amount of time, are usually severe, potentially requiring hospitalization, and are accompanied by other symptoms not found in ADHD.

Our “bursts” of energy or lack thereof typically don’t last long enough to be considered episodes. This isn’t to say they are not severe or debilitating, especially if you suffer from things like anxiety or depression that ADHD can feed into. Merely that “episode” is not used as part of the language used to discuss ADHD, which is likely why you’re not finding anything.

So, do ADHDers experience intense bursts of energy that are draining afterward? Yeah, we can do, especially if we lean more toward hyperactive than inattentive. (And again, it's normal to fluctuate and also for things to be affected or worsened by secondary factors.)

And I'm going to put the rest under the cut because this is hella long.

I’ve seen some people think that all hyperactivity has to come with fixation, but that’s not how ADHD works. It’s true if something gets us excited or gives us a dopamine boost, we might be more prone to becoming hyperfixated and burn all our energy up on that. But you don’t need something to fixate on to experience hyperactivity. Some of us are just wired to the moon sometimes, and yes, it can be very draining when it ends. Some people find medication helpful in regulating their hyperactivity/preventing it from coming in such big swings and dips.

Speaking personally, when I'm hyper and nothing is grabbing my attention, the world and people around me can feel painfully slow. It's like I'm going a mile a minute doing everything but achieving nothing. The crash that comes after can also be particularly bad, as I also have dysthymia, which can tip over into a major depressive episode depending on other factors in my life at that time. For years I was misdiagnosed as having "probably Bipolar Type II" by a doctor who didn't believe teenage girls could "get" ADHD* and convinced my parents I needed psychoactive drugs. The drugs I was on didn't help, in fact, they made me worse so I was taken off them.

It wasn't until I found an ADHD specialist as an adult a few years ago that I made any real progress. And I'll be honest, I was shocked when she diagnosed me with ADHD, I really didn't think I had it. Right up until we started doing the work and slowly but surely my mental health began to improve and my understanding of myself with it.

Sometimes there are days when I will be wired to the moon and it will derail my entire day because I can't focus on a single thing/I'll focus too much on a single thing. Other times, like when I am closer to my menstrual cycle, I'll crash into inattentiveness and depression because of how my hormones affect my various different conditions, including my ADHD. Medication would likely help with this, but due to medical reasons, that's currently not an option for me so I do the best I can.

That said, if you’re experiencing something more than hyperactivity but it's not mania, you may be experiencing a form of hypomania and you should talk to a doctor about your concerns.

Hypomania typically occurs in Bipolar Type II disorder, which is less severe than the manic episodes in Bipolar I. I’ve experienced both manic and hypomanic episodes in my life due to medication interactions, and they felt very different from ADHD hyperactivity. It's not just derailing mile-a-minute thoughts, it's something usually completely mood-altering and out of control feeling followed by devastating crashes.

If you're on any medications and are worried you are experiencing something like this, you need to talk to your doctor. You might just need a dosage tweak, or you might be better off on a different medication altogether. Also, make a thorough check of any and all medications you are taking to check for any interactions.

I'm on a cocktail of meds for my MCAS, which if I were to combine them with the SSRI one of my doctors wants me to try, would result in serotonin syndrome. The doctor didn't notice this, but the pharmacist sure as shit did!

Some people (ask me how I know) even develop mild hypomania from overusing the sunlamps used to treat SAD (link), which is why brands like Verilux now include warnings in their leaflets about not using the lamps for more than X amount of time a day. Thankfully it goes away once you stop overusing the lamps.

Which actually brings me to something you asked last time about being unable to sleep at night. Insomnia and delayed sleep phase cycles are not uncommon in ADHD. This is likely because our circadian rhythm is thought to be out of whack (link).

You also mentioned having racing thoughts at night too, which is not uncommon either with hyperactivity. I find if I get overstimulated before trying to sleep, I’ll end up lying there awake with what I like to call “radio ADHD” playing in my head. It can range from snippets of songs stuck on repeat, conversations, things I’ve watched on TV, arguments, or if something is happening the next day, fixating on not being late for it. Hence, I end up getting no sleep because you can’t accidentally sleep in if you don’t sleep. *jazz hands of despair.*

Sometimes I find Radio ADHD soothing if it’s fixating on something chill, but it can get annoying fast and even distressing if I’m tired and can’t “change the station.” (I’d say “shut it off,” but as of yet, I’ve never been able to do that. Medication helps some people with this, as can looking into “sleep hygiene” if you haven’t already.) Conversely, if I’m bored or something is too stressful, I will 100% fall asleep because my brain would literally rather just turn off than do something I don’t want to do or is a low dopamine reward task.

Brains are fun.

Anyway, I uh, I am not sure if any of this is useful to you, but I hope it helps. Mostly I'm just repeating back what my specialist said when I asked her about it lol. Good luck, and I hope you figure things out.

----

*NB: It's important to note that ADHD and Bipolar Disorder can be comorbid. It's not a one or the other situation. I’m just throwing it out there in case hearing that helps someone else pursue the proper diagnosis!

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Note: I know I haven’t been very active lately, but until my next fic, have this :).

Therapy

Pairing: Ethan Winters x F!Reader.

Warnings: smut, blow job, cheating, masturbation.

Ethan was laying in the psychiatrist’s office on the same couch he has been sitting for the past few months. The last years on his life were hell. He didn’t get out in one piece after the Duvley incident, both physically and mentally. The constant moving, the military training, it was all too much for him to handle. His life took an upside down turn. Too add more to his suffering, his relationship with Mia became more and more distant. He constantly had a feeling that she was hiding something for him, but she won’t open up about it, facing a rough rejection whenever he tried to open the subject. Certain thoughts pushed him to seek help.

The psychiatrist finally showed up, pulling him out of his small meditation, and greeted him with her cheerful demeanor. A wide, bright, smile that captured his attention from the first session. Her kindness didn’t come unnoticed by the attention starved man. Session after session, he moved his attention to other parts of her body. He took an interest in her hands. Delicate fingers wrapped in rings, alongside with colorful manicure, He couldn’t remember when Mia was this feminine.

Despite his efforts, he finally let his gaze to fall on “forbidden” parts, specifically her cleavage. He would blush like a schoolgirl whenever his eyes would meet her perky breasts that were sticking out her blouse.

Maybe it was in his head, but after some time it followed the shy touches that invaded more and more his persona space. Ethan was pretty sure he didn’t need therapy, since the discussions broke the barrier of professionalism long ago, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to know if there were subtle hints, or just his imagination.

Ethan would go home then and continue his life. He would talk normally to Mia, eat, read, and do whatever he had scheduled, then take a shower and go to bed. The only thing that is different usually happens before closed door, behind the curtains of the shower. Hot steam and the sound of running water hides the moans of Ethan as he runs his calloused hand over his erect shaft, picturing his psychiatrist in action. His mind replace his own hand with the delicate touch of his doctor, her fingers going up and down squeezing every inch of his length. In that fog he tries to picture her in front of him, the water dripping slowly between her breasts, down her belly button, everywhere where he dreams to touch. He supports himself with one hand and the other increases the speed, his fantasies washing away as he release the tension.

It’s not like he was very sexually active before, so Mia didn’t notice the lack of attention from him. The meds she was taking didn’t make Mia more talkative. Ethan had to face the truth, his wife died in Louisiana. He would cast away these thoughts, and began to think of his doctor as a way to cope. Mia didn’t even care when he would jack off next to her some nights.

Since the therapy started to do more harm than good lately, he decided it was time for a break. Doctor y/n made her entrance as usual, with a confident posture, wide, bright smile, and her floral perfume that invaded the room. Ethan relaxed, as usual, every part of his soul just craving the sweet, sweet touch of his doctor one last time before he would call off their meetings.

“What’s wrong Ethan?” She noticed something was wearing him.

“It’s...Mia.” The doctor sat next to him, and slowly progressed closer and closer, making sure not to alert him.

“What happened, did you two fight again?” He didn’t noticed how close she was to him now, touching his leg with hers, feeling the warmth of her body.

He didn’t know what to say. Ethan knew he was lying, but it was too hard to break up with someone who he didn’t even date.

“Look at me.” She moved two delicate fingers to cup his chin so she can pull his face closer to her. It was in that moment he realized how closer they were, and he instantly panicked pulling away immediately.

“This, this is wrong.”

“Why is that?” She said as she was descending down on her knees, spreading his legs to make some space for her body.

With a shocked expression he watched as the woman who was now between his legs begged with her eyes for his consent. He allowed her to unzip him and unbuckle his belt, releasing his half erect shaft already, holding it in her hand. Ethan nodded.

“Chris told me to take care of you.” She moved her head forward, not breaking eyes contact, and took his wet tip between her lips. She swirled her tongue around the tip, tasting the man’s precum, and slowly she made her way down his length. His cock was getting harder in her mouth, exciting her more. Ethan was in the point he wasn’t able to form words anymore, and was struggling to hold his moans with on hand. The sight of his psychiatrist between his legs was something he never dreamed of happened in reality.

The doctor stopped her actions and slapped Ethan’s hand away from his mouth.

“I want to hear you sweetie. There is no one left except the two of us. Why do you think I placed out meetings so late.”

She went back at worshiping his cock, and Ethan was slowly building confidence. He suppressed his moans, being stuck in his throat, but the doctor had her ways. She decided to go a little harsh on him, so she suddenly took all his length in her mouth. When the tip hit the back of her throat, Ethan finally released the moans that the doctor was so desperate to hear.

She rested one hand on his lower abdomen, playing with his happy trail, while the other was worshiping his balls. A mix of saliva and cum started to drip down his shaft as she moved her mouth up and down,making it easier to play with his cock. Her hand cupped, squeezed and toyed with his balls while his cock was coating her throat with its salty leakage. Feeling his member throb, she pulled out, with saliva dripping down her chin.

“How bad do you want to cum, Mister Winters.” She said while her wide tongue was making its way to the tip. Silence.

“Our session ended long ago. I can let you leave and go back to your wife.” Another lick. Beads of precum appear as she moved her tongue to lick underneath the tip, not too fast, but enough to stimulate him.

“I-I want you...” It’s all he could said with his shaky voice.

She went to the couch and kneeled on the place next to him, while lifting her skirt to expose her cunt covered in black thongs and a pair of fragile pantyhose.

“Please Ethan...” She could’ve taken the lead, but she wanted to see if he had any dominant side.

He didn’t know what to do. It was the first time after a long period that a woman showed this much interest in him. Unsure, he pressed his thumbs over the wet spot, rubbed, but he wasn’t consistent with his movements.

“Just ripe them off already.” And she pushed backwards her hips a little to give the man some courage. Ethan tore the thin fabric with his fingers, then pulled her panties aside to see her core. It was perfect, dripping wet, swollen, all ready for him. His fingers got in with ease, and finally all her “come on Ethan” whispers stopped and were replaced with shy moans.

“Who’s shy now? C’mon, let me hear you.” He pressed his big thumb over her puffy clit and rubbed in circular motions, which made her very vocal. Meanwhile, knuckle deep inside, his fingers were making scissor like motions.

Ethan’s confidence increased with every moan. When she felt her walls contracting around his fingers, he pulled out and placed his cock at her entrance, which slipped in with ease. With a quick thrust he filled her up and began to pump in her without wasting a second. Wet sounds and claps filled the room whenever his ballsack would hit her cunt. She dig her nails into the couch as he was thrusting with his full length. Feeling her around him made Ethan realize how much he missed it. He was ecstatic, he allowed the pleasure to flow through his body. He tried his best to make it last longer, but his balls kept tightening, the pressure on his abdomen became unbearable, and with a moan he released his load deep inside her.

“I’m-“

“It’s alright Ethan.” The doctor raised to face Ethan, feeling his fresh, hot cum dripping down her thighs. He took his arms and placed them around her waist. After, she put her head on his shoulder, letting all her weight in his embrace. “Hold me like that.”

Ethan was dazed. He knew he had to go home, but he allowed himself to stay in that position a few more minutes.

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[criminalmindzjunkie]

Reassurance

masterlist

part one

Summary: Spencer feels insecure, and Reader puts his worries to rest. 

A/N: I got several requests to write a follow-up to Avoidance , and after writing almost the whole entire thing, only to scrap it all because it was literal trash, here we are! I initially planned to go a different route with this, but it didn’t flow right and I ended up changing the entire plot line somewhere along the way. I really like how this turned out, and I hope you guys enjoy it, too!

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom!Reader

Content warnings: cursing, Spencer being insecure, hand job, oral sex (male receiving), anal fingering, pegging, light degradation, Spencer experiencing sub-drop

Word Count: 6k

           Spencer’s lips drag against mine at a slow, deliberate pace as I sit perched on his lap, my hands tugging lightly at where his hair curls at the nape of his neck. One particularly harsh tug has Spencer gasping into my mouth and tightening his grip on my hips, pulling me down until I’m fully sat on his lap. The bulge tenting his slacks comes in full contact with my clothed core and I hum appreciatively against his lips.

           “Getting excited there, baby?”

           Spencer lets out a whine of protest when I pull away, leaning forward in an attempt to reunite our lips. I press my hand flat against his chest and push him back until he rests against the couch cushions.

           “I thought you wanted to watch a movie tonight?” I ask him, my lips curled up into a knowing smile. Spencer’s thumbs begin to rub soothing circles into my hips as he fixes me with a shy smile.

           “Maybe later,” he replies, sheepish. He looks breathtaking - bathed in the soft glow of the lamp light, shadows dancing across every perfectly chiseled inch of his face. Faint purple bruises dot the underside of his jaw line, remnants of the last time we had been afforded enough time to get tangled up under the bedsheets. I press my thumb to one of them, applying just enough pressure to cause Spencer’s breath to hitch. In another day or two, the purple and yellow discoloration would be gone, leaving no trace of our time together.

           I release my hold on his jaw and make a mental note to see to it that he has another set of pretty marks before the weekend is over.

           “Later?” I lift the hand that was splayed across his chest until I’m able to fiddle with the top button on his dress shirt. “You talk as if you have something else you’d like to do first. Care to share?”            Spencer squirms underneath my gaze, eyes flitting between my lips and where I’m pressed firmly against his erection. I watch him flounder to come up with a response before deciding to forgo words completely and rut himself against me, eyelids fluttering closed as he lets out a low whine.

           I click my tongue at him and raise up until my center hovers over him, torturously close but not quite close enough to touch.

           “What’s the matter, Doctor? It’s not like you to be at a loss for words,” I taunt as I pop open the last three buttons of his shirt. Now that the milky white skin of his chest is on full display, I waste no time in dragging my fingernails from his collarbone down to his navel, light and teasing. The action elicits a shiver from Spencer, who looks up at me with glossy eyes and blown pupils.

           “P-Please,” he stutters out.

           “Please, what?” I prod, cocking my head to the side. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

           Spencer’s tongue pokes out to run across his bottom lip.

           “I want you,” he breathes out, low and sultry. “Now. Don’t wanna wait.”

           I let out a pleased sigh as I lean forward to capture Spencer’s lips in a heated kiss. Spencer’s quick to reciprocate, eagerly licking into my mouth as soon as my lips brush against his.

           It’s not long until I feel the hands on my waist begin to tug me back down onto his lap, eliciting a giggle from me.

           “Such a needy little thing,” I murmur against his lips.

           Usually, a comment like this would be met by some sort of mumbled affirmation. But this time, as soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel Spencer’s whole body tense up beneath me.

           “Does… Does that bother you?”

           I pull away and give Spencer an inquisitive look.

           “Does what bother me?”

           Spencer averts his eyes, “That I’m so submissive.” He spits the word out like it burns his mouth – like it’s something to be ashamed of – and I can’t suppress my frown.

           “Why would that ever bother me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble shrug of his shoulders, still refusing to pull his gaze from where it rests on the floor.

           “I read an article in Psychology Today that discussed a survey in which 172 German adults completed a personality questionnaire and then measured their own preference for a dominant partner. Not only was the general consensus that both genders prefer dominant partners, the participants also agreed with statements like ‘a very nice partner is often boring’ and ‘I feel attracted to assertive partners.’ So, it’s only natural that you might get tired of me always being such a pushover and search for a more exciting partner than can keep you stimulated-”

           I clamp my hand down on Spencer’s mouth, effectively ending his self-deprecating rant and forcing him to look up from where his eyes were burning a hole into the floor. When I know he isn’t going to try and continue down that particularly awful train of thought, I remove my hand.

           “First of all, you are not a pushover. Insinuating that you are a pushover would also be insinuating that I’m taking advantage of you. Do you feel like I’m taking advantage of you?” Spencer’s eyes grow wide and he frantically shakes his head.

           “Absolutely not. I… I love what you do to me – with me. What we do together. I-I just want to be sure that you like it to. That you’re not just humoring me until someone who can actually give you what you want comes around.”

           I feel my mouth fall open from shock somewhere during the middle of his spiel. He can’t actually be so oblivious to the fact that I enjoy the hell out of our sex life, can he?

           Apparently, he can and he is, because Spencer takes my silence as affirmation.

           “I could try? To d-dom you, that is. I’ve been reading up on it and-”

           “Spencer, where on earth did this come from?”

           Spencer blinks hard, “I told you – I read it in Psychology Today.”

           I shake my head at him and slip off of his lap and onto the couch cushion beside him.

           “No, that’s not what I meant. What made you think that I’m not happy with our sex life?”

           “N-Nothing in particular,” Spencer stammers. “I just know that I’m not exactly the most masculine guy, and I want to make sure that you’re, you know… happy. With me.”

           And there it is.

           I reach for Spencer’s hand and link our fingers together.

           “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that comment Derek made this morning, would it?” Spencer doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes drop to his lap tells me everything I need to know. I tighten my grip on his hand. “You know he was just messing with you, right? As out of line as it was, he was just being… Derek.”

           “He wasn’t wrong, though. I am extremely docile – along with a litany of other very passive traits. I’m not strong or assertive or confident like Derek; I’m basically the complete opposite of the ideal male partner. All I’m good for is spouting out information that’s only sometimes useful. No wonder you don’t want to-” Spencer clamps his mouth shut and his cheeks burn red. “Forget it. C-Can we pretend this conversation never happened?”

           “No wonder I don’t want to what?” I prod, brows furrowed in confusion. But still, Spencer refuses to meet my eyes. “And as far as all the other stuff goes, it doesn’t matter if you’re assertive or strong. I prefer my sweet, gentle boy over guys like Derek Morgan, any day. My ideal male partner just so happens to be pretty boys with curly brown hair and massive IQs, not aggressive alpha males with overinflated egos.” I bring Spencer’s hand up to my lips and place a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “I’m being serious, Spence. There’s a lot to love about you.”

           Spencer’s next words are hushed, so quiet that I almost don’t hear him when he says, “Then why haven’t you told anyone about us yet?”

           In the two months since our first time together, neither of us had been brave enough to broach the subject of what exactly we were doing. With neither of us quite sure how to go about defining the relationship, we’d fallen into a sort of routine. Whenever it came time to pair off for the night and retreat to our hotel rooms, Spencer and I always made sure that we were paired together. Hotch never seemed to care – he was just happy that we weren’t walking on eggshells around each other anymore - and the others were kind enough to keep their suspicions to themselves. On the weekends, or really any time that we weren’t working a case, time off was spent in each other’s company, be it at Spencer’s place or mine. Days full of impromptu adventures to farmer’s markets and niche antique shops devolved into passionate nights spent learning every inch of each other’s skin until no stone was left unturned. It was the perfect arrangement.

           Or at least it would’ve been, if Spencer and I hadn’t managed to fall half way in love somewhere along the way. It was glaringly obvious early on that it was way more than just sexual chemistry that kept us both coming back for more, but owning up to that fact was a whole other issue that neither of us was ready to deal with.

           Until now, apparently.

           “I-I mean, we haven’t talked about what exactly this is, so I wasn’t quite sure how to go about that,” I stammer. “But now that you’ve brought it up…”

           Spencer finally looks up and his eyes are filled to the brim with equal parts fear and hope.

           “I-I really want there to be an us,” he whispers. “I kind of thought that much was obvious.”

           “And I thought the fact that I have absolutely zero complaints in the bedroom was obvious, but here we are,” I tease, and Spencer lets out an involuntary giggle when I poke at his side. “I want there to be an us, too. And for what it’s worth, I like you just the way you are, Spencer Reid - just so we’re clear.”

           “Really?” Spencer persists. From anyone else, it would seem like they were fishing for compliments, but from Spencer? I knew my sweet, darling boy just needed some reassurance.

           I lean forward and capture his lips in a long, languid kiss.

           “Really really,” I mumble when I pull away. “Have I done a thorough enough job drilling that into your head, or do you need some more convincing?”

           “More convincing,” Spencer replies as he ducks in for another kiss. “Lots and lots of convincing.”

           I smile against his lips, “That’s good to hear, because I sorta had a little something special planned for you.”

           “Something special?”

           I slide my hand from its place on his knee until my fingers glide across the tip of his clothed cock.

           “Remember that thing we talked about last week?”

           I can feel the way Spencer’s cock twitches under my hand and I have to bite back a smile.

           “Y-Yeah?”

           I give his bulge a light squeeze that has Spencer moaning low in his throat.

           “Only if you want to. There’s no pressure at all. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’d be perfectly fine if you just wanna watch that movie and cuddle a bit - you know that right?”

           “Yes, but I still want to,” Spencer chokes out. “Very, very much.” And then he’s bringing a hand up to cup my face before slotting our lips together again.

           The kiss is sloppy, seeing as we’re both much too excited to worry about being precise. Spencer spends time exploring my body with his free hand, starting at my hips and then dipping underneath my t-shirt. Spencer’s hand is just shy of skimming over my bra when I pull back and he lets out a frustrated whine when I pull his hands off of me.

           “I wanna ask you a few things before we do this, okay, baby?” Spencer flushes a deep crimson as he nods. “Have you ever experimented with any sort of anal play before?”

           “N-No, I haven’t. Is that okay?”

           Spencer Reid, you are going to be the death of me.

           “That’s perfectly fine, sweet boy,” I coo. “I’m just trying to get a feel for what’s going to be the most comfortable for you. We’ll start small and work our way up, okay?” Spencer nods, prompting me to tack on an, “Assuming that you want to, that is. This is all on your terms, and I need to make sure that you know that nothing’s going to happen that you don’t expressly consent to first.”

           Spencer’s lips pull up into a sweet smile.

           “I know, and I trust you,” he says. “And I consent to it. To all of it.”

           “You’re gonna have to be a little bit more specific than that,” I chuckle. “What exactly are you consenting to?”

           Spencer shifts in his seat, “Y-You know.”

           “Yes, but I want to hear you say it, baby.”

           Spencer gulps hard, “I-I want you to fuck me. Please.”

           I let out a satisfied hum and remove my hand from Spencer’s lap.

           “I want you to go to the bedroom and take off all your clothes. Then I want you to lie in the center of the bed and if I walk in and see you touching yourself, I’ll walk right back out and I won’t touch you for a month. Are we clear?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss.”

--

           I spend much longer than necessary in the living room, sitting on the couch and scrolling through my phone for nearly ten minutes before getting up and making my way to the bedroom. The anticipation is half of the fun, in my opinion, and I take great pleasure in imagining Spencer squirming against the sheets, desperate for me to walk through that door.

           I rid myself of my skirt and blouse as I make my way down the hallway, leaving me in only my panties and bralette. I can hear Spencer’s heavy breathing before I even reach the bedroom, and it makes my stomach flip excitedly as I push open the door.

           Spencer lays in the middle of the bed, hands grabbing at the sheets as he rolls his hips in vain. His cock stands painfully hard, leaking precum and bobbing up and down with every motion of his hips. Spencer doesn’t see or hear me when I come in – his eyes are closed tight and his bottom lip is nestled between his teeth, blissfully oblivious as he ruts up into nothing.

           “It seems like my poor, needy boy has worked himself up into quite a state.”

           The sound of my voice startles him and he immediately halts the movement of his hips. Spencer’s eyes watch on and I walk over to the night stand, taking my time as I remove a bottle of lube, my harness, and the newly purchased dildo bought especially for my sweet boy.

           Spencer’s eyes linger on the silicone member, wide and curious as I set the items on the bed and crawl in between his legs. He spreads his legs without being prompted, leaving him completely exposed to me, and the action makes my heart swell with pride. My good boy has learned so much in the past two months.

           “M’gonna suck that pretty cock of yours now, and I want you to keep your hips still. Can you do that for me, baby?”

           Spencer nods frantically, “Y-Yes, Miss. Please – I need your mouth. I’ll be still, I promise.”

           I let out a pleased hum as I take him into my hand, dragging my fist up and down, spreading precum across the entirety of his length.

           “I know you will, baby. You’re always so good for me. So eager to please.”

           I lean down and begin placing kisses to the sensitive skin of his thighs, all while continuing to work my hand against him. I nip lightly at the skin above his right hip and Spencer sucks in a ragged breath when I suck a pretty purple bruise in the very same spot. It contrasts starkly with his porcelain skin, and I enjoy the way it looks so much that I continue until a plethora of love bites litter his inner thighs. When I finally sit back and admire my work, Spencer’s writhing so pitifully against the mattress that I decide to put him out of his misery.

           Spencer devolves into a whimpering mess the moment I take his tip into my mouth, his head thrashing wildly against the mattress when I swirl my tongue around him. I take my time with him, not at all rushing my descent onto his cock, choosing instead to tease him with a slow, steady pace. If Spencer minded my slower than usual pace, he didn’t say so. He was too busy choking out an unrelenting string of the most wanton moans I’d ever heard as he watched himself disappear into my mouth.

           I decide now is as good a time as any to up the ante and I pull my mouth away from him.

           “W-Why did you stop?” Spencer stutters, chest heaving up and down.

           I raise an eyebrow at him, “Are you being ungrateful, Doctor? Because if you are, I could always just leave you here like this - cock hard and leaky with no way to get off other than your own hand. That wouldn’t be nearly as fun as having me fuck that pretty little ass of yours.”

           “No, please! I’m so sorry,” Spencer mewls. “I’ll be good, just please don’t leave!”

            I loosely grasp Spencer’s cock in my hand and run my thumb across his slit.

           “You sound so pretty when you beg, baby. I can’t wait to hear how pretty you are when you’re begging for me to fuck you harder.”

           Spencer’s eyes roll back into his head and his mouth hangs open, panting hard.

           “I want it so bad. Please, please, please, Miss.”

           I use my free hand to reach up and push two fingers into Spencer’s mouth, “Suck. I want them real nice and wet so that I can use them to get you ready for me.”

           Spencer moans around my fingers, laving his tongue around the them as he hollows his cheeks. When I retract my fingers from his mouth they’re practically dripping and I reward his effort by tightening my grip on his cock.

           “Good job, baby. Are you ready for me to finger that tight little hole of yours?” I ask him as I release his cock and grab the bottle of lube. I drizzle a healthy amount onto my fingers before dragging one across his puckered hole, eliciting a high-pitched cry from Spencer.

           “Yes!” Spencer gasps as he attempts to wiggle closer. “So ready for you, Miss. Use your f-fingers on me, please!”

           I start by slowly pressing one in, so as not to overwhelm him, and to my endless delight, it glides in almost effortlessly.

           “Already so ready for my fingers, Doctor. You sure you haven’t touched yourself here before?” I ask as I begin to work my finger in and out in slow thrusts.

           “N-Never. O-Only you,” Spencer stutters out between moans. “C-Can you add another, Miss?”

           I pull my finger out, only to add another and resume my efforts at a slightly faster pace. Spencer’s back arches up off the bed when my fingers brush against his prostate and he lets out a half startled, half delighted yelp.

           “Oh fuck!” Spencer moans as he grinds down onto my fingers. “Again, please, Miss!”

I comply, and with every press of my fingers against the fleshy bundle of tissue, Spencer’s body jolts from the sensation.

           “S’that feel good, baby? Do you like how my fingers feel?”

           “Oh, God, yes! F-Feels so good. Never felt like this b-before,” Spencer sobs. “I-I’m getting close, Miss.”

           “I didn’t say that you can cum, baby. I wanna save that for when I’ve got my cock buried inside you. How’s that sound?”

           “Y-Yes, Iwantitsobad,” Spencer slurs, his words running together as he draws nearer and near to the end. “Want you to fuck me, Miss! Please, I’ll do anything-”

           I take pity on him and withdraw my fingers, which makes Spencer keen in protest.

           “Calm down, greedy boy. Just gotta get ready so I can give you what you want.”

           I crawl off of the bed and step into the harness, fastening it in place and making sure that the dildo is secure before I crawl in between his legs. Spencer watches on with rapt fascination as I pour lube into my palm and work it over the silicone cock until every inch of it glistens.

           “What’s your color, baby?” I ask as rub the tip of the cock over his hole.

           Spencer’s breath catches in his throat and his whole-body tenses with anticipation.

           “So green, Miss. So fucking green,” Spencer whimpers.

           I raise a hand up to his hip and begin to rub soothing circles into the skin there.

           “Gonna need you to relax for me, sweetheart. Can you do that?”            Spencer bites his lip and nods his head. I watch as the tension begins to melt away, and when I see him relax back into the mattress, I bring up my hand to stroke his cock. I keep my touch light, barely applying pressure – I knew if I applied too much, Spencer wouldn’t be able to hold out longer than a few thrusts. He was already teetering on the edge as it was.

           Mine and Spencer’s eyes meet and he smiles up at me, dopey and drunk from pleasure, and it’s all the permission I need. I press into him slowly, and I’m left in awe as I watch Spencer Reid completely unravel beneath me.

           “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Spencer curses, head flying back and hitting the pillows. It never ceases to amaze me at how fucking responsive he is, and tonight is no exception. It’s like his body is a live wire, trembling beautifully as I press in further and further and further. I stop just shy of being fully sheathed inside him, trying to allow him a moment to adjust, but Spencer seems to have other plans.

           “Keep going, Miss, don’t stop, please! I want all of it, please give it to me! I can take it, please let me show you!”

           He looks up at me and those beautiful brown eyes are so wild, so positively feral that I can’t even entertain the idea of denying him any longer.

           Spencer looks positively ruined by the time I bottom out inside him. His hair sticks to the sheen of sweat that gathers on his forehead, and his lips look positively abused from the way he’s been biting down on them. His eyelids flutter closed every few seconds, and every time he blinks them back open, I’m able to see that his pupils are so blown that his eyes look almost black.

           I pull back until all that’s left inside him is the very tip of the cock, and just as he opens that bratty little mouth to beg for more, I give particularly harsh thrust of my hips until I’m fully sheathed inside him. Spencer lets out a surprised cry as I set an unforgiving pace, all the while still loosely jerking him off as I bury myself inside him again and again and again.

           “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Spencer chants loudly, face contorted beautifully in an expression of pure ecstasy. I spare a brief thought to Spencer’s poor neighbors and make mental note to invest in a ball gag.

           “S’that feel good, baby? You look so pretty taking my cock like the good boy you are. My pretty little cock slut. Such a shame nobody’s fucked you like this before,” I hum as I focus my attention on the head of his cock, thumbing lightly at where he leaks for me.

           “D-Don’t want anyone else, just wanna be good for y-you. Wanna m-make you proud,” Spencer whines, tripping over his words as he struggles to form a coherent sentence. The sentiment sends a jolt of heat down to my already soaking core, but I do my best to ignore the slickness running down my thighs for the time being. Right now, my only focus is the boy chanting my name, praying for a type of salvation that only I can give him.

           I smile down at him and my hand drifts lower to where I’m steadily thrusting in and out of him. Spencer’s body jolts as the pad of my thumb brushes against the sensitive skin of his hole.

           “Of course, I’m proud of you. Look at how well you’re taking me, baby. It’s like you were made to take my cock,” I praise him.

           My words, mixed with the way I’m working both Spencer’s cock and his tight little ass, seem to be getting the better of him, because Spencer doesn’t even try to formulate a response. He just continues to let out strangled moans that almost sound like sobs as his hands grasp at the sheets until his knuckles turn white.

           It doesn’t take long until I feel the muscles in Spencer’s stomach and thighs begin to tense, and when his cock twitches in my hand I can tell Spencer won’t last much longer.

           “Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” I ask him as I grind my hips against his, and Spencer’s reply comes in the form of an incoherent, garbled moan.

           “What’s the matter, baby? Have I fucked you so stupid that you can’t answer me anymore?” I taunt him. I use the leverage I have from the hand placed on his hip to propel myself deeper. “Is my poor dumb baby incapable of replying?”

           Spencer makes a feeble attempt at a reply, “P-Please let me – f-fuck – cum! Oh, God, m’socloseMiss. Harder, please!”

           I take a minute to bask in the way he’s completely fallen apart at my hands - relishing in the way his eyes are glossy and dark with lust, in the way that his chest is flushed a deep red, and in the way that precum beads at the tip of his cock, aching for a release. He looks beautiful like this, whining and squirming, hips grinding down in search of more, more, more. I’d never imagined in a million years that I’d be so lucky as to see the illustrious Spencer Reid fucked absolutely senseless, but here he was, waiting for my permission to throw himself off the edge and into the best kind of oblivion.

           “Cum for me, pretty boy,” I say in the softest voice imaginable. “Show me how good you are.”

           The tension that had been steadily building since the first press of my lips against his snaps in an instant, and copious amounts of cum spurt out from his cock, painting his chest in thick, white ropes. Spencer chants out muddled thank yous as I fuck him through his release, pushing in and out of him in shallow strokes as slowly comes back down from the high.

           When his breathing slows down to a normal rate, I pull out of him, quickly freeing myself from the harness and tossing it aside to be dealt with later. I crawl up until I’m at eye level and begin pressing soft, sweet kisses to Spencer’s face.

           “You did so well, Spence,” I murmur against his skin. “You’re amazing, baby. Thank you so much for trusting me to be with you like that.”

           Spencer lifts a shaky hand to my hair and pulls me down into a heated kiss. I indulge him and pour every ounce of passion I have into my efforts, hoping to express my gratitude with every swipe of my lips against his. And when I pull away, my pretty boy smiles up at me, sated and full of adoration, and it’s beautiful.

           “D’you think you can handle taking a shower with me?” I ask as I pull away, and Spencer gives a shy nod in response. He sits up in the bed and swings his legs until his feet hit the floor. I’m just about to stand when his hand comes down on my wrist to stop me.

           “What about you? You didn’t . . .”

           “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Tonight was all about you.”

           I move off of the bed and help him to his feet, holding him steady when his legs begin to shake. “Might be a little sore for a while, but it should go away within a day or so.”

           I help him to the bathroom and turn on the shower, and when it’s warm enough I rid myself of my bra and panties and motion for him to join me. I urge Spencer to step under the spray first, but his arms snake around me and pull me with him.

           Spencer nuzzles his nose into the crook of my neck and he lets out a deep sigh.

           “You okay, bubs?” I ask him as I tangle my arms around his torso and begin to rub soothing circles into his back.

           “I just feel a little… down? I-Is this a sub drop? I read a little bit about them, but I don’t k-know…” he trails off, sniffling pitifully against my neck. “I-I just know that I want to hold you. Is that o-okay?”

           My heart lurches painfully in my chest as his voice wavers, and I pull back just enough that I can look into his weary eyes.

           “Baby, that’s more than okay. Sub drops are a perfectly normal thing to experience, and I’ll be right here to hold you for as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

           Spencer’s eyes fill with tears and he makes no attempt to hold them back, choosing to let them fall freely and mix in with the water pouring from the shower head.

           “T-Tell me you want me,” Spencer begs, lip wobbling pitifully. “I-I just feel like I’m not good enough for you, and I know it’s all in my head, and I know how you feel about me, but I just think it would help if you just… s-said it. Please?”

           I feel my heart break for the man that stood before me. The implication his words carry - that this wonderful, kind-hearted, extraordinarily gifted man could ever think so little of himself – was enough to bring tears to my own eyes. I swallow down the lump that forms in my throat and, with all the sincerity I can possibly muster, I reply.

           “I want you, Spencer Reid. I don’t want anyone else – only you,” I tell him, never once breaking eye contact. “For as long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

           Spencer chokes out a weak laugh, “And if I want you forever?”

           I nudge his nose with my own, and the act feels almost more intimate than everything that preceded it.

           “Then forever, it is,” I murmur. I press a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away and reaching for the shampoo. “Now, turn around, pretty boy. Let me pamper you.”

--

           “Y/N!” Penelope calls out, sauntering over to me in a flash of hot pink taffeta. I’m in the middle of throwing my satchel over my shoulder when she runs up to me, excited smile on her face. “Me, you, JJ, Elle, and a bottle of tequila. You in?”

           On a normal day, the answer would have been a resounding hell yes. But today? I let my eyes wander over to where Spencer lingers near the glass doors, trying to look like he isn’t listening in. Very subtle.

           “I’m gonna have to pass on this one, Penelope.”

           Penelope’s smile transforms into a pout.

           “This is the third weekend in a row you’ve ditched us!” she whines, stomping her kitten heeled foot like a petulant child. “Either you’re avoiding us or you’ve got some secret lover we don’t know about. And if that’s the case, then we have a whole other problem, because that’s the kind of thing I expect to be told about immediately.”

           The giddy smile that stretches across my face gives me away before I even have the chance to open my mouth, sending Penelope into an absolute frenzy.

           “Oh my God, I cannot believe this. We’ll talk about how angry I am about being kept in the dark later because right now, I need details,” Penelope gushes. “Who is he? Where did you two meet? Is he hot?” Penelope barely gets the words out before she’s shaking her head. “Wait, that’s a dumb question. Of course, he’s hot - just look at you. Do I know him? When do I get to meet him?”

           I can’t help but laugh at Penelope’s enthusiasm.

           “Slow down, Pen,” I chuckle. “I didn’t tell you about it because it’s still relatively new, and it wasn’t until this past weekend that we finally decided to put a label on it.”

           “A label? Does that mean this guy is your boyfriend? Oh my God, I thought this day would never come,” Penelope sighs dreamily. But the far-away look in her eye quickly fades and Penelope begins to grill me with renewed fervor. “Y/N, you have to tell me who it is. It’s like, practically a crime that I’m only just now hearing about this, so you owe me this much. And I’ll be needing his first and last name, along with a DOB so that I can run a full back ground check ASAP. Don’t even try to talk me out of it – we deal with enough freakiness during our day jobs, and I insist on making sure the freakiness ends there.”

           I can feel a flush spread over my cheeks and I fiddle with the strap of my bag.

           “I, uh, don’t think a background check is going to be necessary. You know this guy pretty well already.”

           If Penelope had been worked up before, she was practically vibrating with excitement now.

           “I know him? Oh my God, this is so huge. Is it Brendon from down in sex crimes? Or maybe James from counter-terrorism?” Penelope muses aloud, before her eyes go almost comically wide. “Holy hell, it’s Anderson, isn’t it?”

           “It definitely isn’t Anderson, or any of the others, for that matter,” I laugh. “Do you want a hint?”

           “What I really want is for you to just tell me, but if you insist on dragging this out then yes, I would very much like a hint!”

           I cut my eyes over to where Spencer stands, and it’s impossible to miss the giddy grin on his face. So much for trying to remain subtle, Doctor Reid.

           I fake like I’m looking around for anyone within earshot before motioning for Penelope to lean in. She’s quick to comply, and I do one last exaggerated sweep of the room.

           “Alright then, here’s your hint,” I whisper into her ear. “He’s got an IQ of 187, and he’s a pretty kickass magician.”

           I lean back and adjust the strap of my bag, sparing one last, parting glance at Penelope, whose jaw is practically on the floor.

           “See you on Monday, Pen.”

           “W-Wait, are you serious?” Penelope calls out after me. “Reid is your mystery man?! Y/N, get back here right now and explain yourself! Derek, did you hear that?!”

           By the time I reach Spencer, Penelope’s voice fades into background noise as I focus all my attention on the way he smiles down at me. I link my hand with his and I’m vaguely aware of an increase in volume coming from Penelope’s direction, but I ignore in favor of smiling back at him.

           “You ready to get out of here, boyfriend?”

           Spencer squeezes my hand in his and he nods.

           “Ready when you are, girlfriend.”

-

-

-

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[letarasstuff]

Showing the Bird

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you have fun reading it!

Summary: Spencer's daughter always is quick to pick things up she shoudn't do, this includes a certain gesture with her hand and middle fínger.

Warnings: A kid showing her middle finger

Wordcount: 1.6k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

Spencer is a technophobe. That’s why (Y/N) has limited access to any kind of electronics, which is a good thing for a three year old. The only sort she is allowed to use is the TV in the living room and even there her choices are limited to the several DVDs the little family owns and cable TV. Emily is in the process of persuading him to get a subscription to a streaming service for (Y/N)’s sake.

“Ok, Sweetheart. One hour of TV today before eating dinner and getting ready for bed, like we negotiated”, Spencer reminds his daughter before turning it on a kid’s channel. She nods, already engrossed by Peppa Pig hanging up on that sheep for being able to whistle.

Earlier the two Reids made a deal: If (Y/N) got all the states and their capitals right, she is allowed one hour of television. This may sound like he forced her to learn this information, but it’s really just a way to stimulate her brain and the toddler is eager to learn. Spencer only has to make it look like she has a gain in it.

The young doctor doesn’t like to leave his kid alone while watching TV. It’s not because he can’t leave her on her own for a few minutes. Spencer wants full control over what (Y/N) sees and what not. Especially he can tell what effects something has on a child and he doesn’t want her exposed to things she shouldn’t be subjected to at her age.

“Daddy, why are the animals talking to each other? I know they are translating all languages to us, but a pig speaks not sheep language.” Spencer is slightly baffled at her question. It’s mostly cute that she explains most things to herself in such a plausible way.

“Uhm, well Sweetheart. You have to-” Saved by the bell. Or more like the ring of his cellphone. Still he hesitates to get it. It’s Morgan, who probably calls because the team needs help with the case.

Spencer had to stay behind for this one, because he planned on taking his vacation days with (Y/N) to fly up to Las Vegas to visit her grandma. But Diana spontaneously took the opportunity to go on a trip with the sanctorium. Now the two do all the things they don’t have the time for in their regular day.

They already were at the aquarium, visited three different museums and even went to the movies once to watch the latest disney movie. Spencer really had to keep himself from pointing out the inaccuracies to not spoil (Y/N)’s fun.

Now the father debates taking the call. He doesn’t want to leave his daughter alone while the TV is on, but also doesn’t want to talk about a case right in front of her. The option of turning the TV off is also from the table, because this would be just plain mean.

So he answers it, afraid that the voicemail will turn on. “Hey Morgan, wait a second, I’ll have to leave the room”, then he puts his hand over the speaker and turns to the toddler. “Sweetheart, I have to talk to your Uncle Derek real quick. I’ll be right back.” She nods and goes back to her cartoon.

But while her father is in the room next door, the audio gets awfully quiet. Frustrated, because she isn’t able to understand properly what they are saying, (Y/N) looks for the remote. And there it is, waiting patiently for her and her little toddler hands.

But instead of turning the volume up, she accidentally changes the channel to an old cop movie. Curious about what is happening on the screen, the girl leaves it on for a few seconds. Upon entering a room, another man greets him with his middle finger raised. (Y/N) looks at her own and tries to copy that movement. On the third try she kind of gets it.

Getting bored of not knowing what the plot of the movie is, she turns it back on the cartoon she watched earlier and settles back down on her little chair next to the table full of books (Spencer put it there to avoid her sitting too close to the TV and straining her eyes while watching her shows, the distance is perfectly measured).

Just as (Y/N) sits down Spencer re-enters the living room, feeling relieved because he was able to help his team. “Hey Sweetie, is everything alright?” Happily she nods, showing him the bird.

Spencer’s face? Just imagine the shook Pikachu. “(Y/N)! You don’t do that! This is really mean!” He tells her in a stern voice. Where did she learn that from? He doesn’t know it, but the genius is almost a 100% sure she saw someone on the street doing it, (Y/N) always was quick to pick things like these up.

The toddler looks at him with a sad face, close to tears. “I-i-i didn’t know. I’m sor-sorry”, she says, beginning to cry. Oh no, this is not what Spencer was aiming for. “No no no, don’t cry. It’s alright. I’m not mad at you. You just don’t do this, people can get really hurt by your gesture.”

After calming her down, he thinks of something they can do outside of their apartment, to forget the little incident. “Do you wanna go to the office with me? All your aunts and uncles are going to get there soon and maybe we can go eat dinner with them?” Excited by the thought of seeing her family, (Y/N) nods and jumps up to get her own little go bag.

It’s a bright pre-packed backpack with small coloring books, normal books, pencils and other knick knacks she might need when she goes out with her father. The only thing that they have to put in is her favorite stuffed animal of the day. They call it like Spencer’s work bag, because the toddler once overheard the word at the office and refused to call it something different than his.

“Hey, look at who decided to give us a little visit!” Penelope exclaims as soon as the team leaves the elevator. (Y/N) tries to keep up with her preppy step, desperately holding onto her hand to not lose her.

As they finally come to a halt in front of everybody, the little girl smiles sweetly at them. “Hi”, she says in the most adorable voice. But instead of doing her usual wave, she raises her small hand with her middle finger standing out.

You just hear a faint “NOO!” and a crashing noise before Spencer comes along in a jog. He scoops his daughter up, looking her into the eyes. He takes a few steps away from where the team is standing.

“(Y/N), what did we say about this gesture”, he asks her in a serious tone. Instantly tears start to form in her eyes again, but Spencer knows he has to be strong now. “(Y/N), you have to stop doing it. It can really hurt people. Do you remember when Jason made fun of the braids Auntie Penelope put your hair in?” She nods.

Meanwhile the team stands awkwardly in the background, not knowing what to do. They never really witnessed the genius reprimanding his daughter in front of them. Though it’s not directly in front them.

“You were hurt by his words. The same is with the gesture you just made. We don’t do this to people, we don’t want to make them feel bad. Now, I don’t want to punish you, because you didn’t really know the meaning. Just apologize to your Aunties and Uncles. Next time you do it, there will be a hard no on TV for a week.”

Quickly wiping her eyes, the toddler mutters a small “Ok Daddy.” Spencer’s heart hurts a little at that, but he needed to be stern in this one.

She wiggles out of his grasp and slowly makes her way over to the others. (Y/N) gives each of them a hug, apologizing individually to them.

“So, who wants to see the new pictures of Sergio I got on my desk?” Emily asks in a cheerful tone to break the awkward tension. Immediately the girl takes upon that offer and bounces off to the desk with her godmother in tow.

Spencer still stands near the elevator, watching the interaction going down through the glass doors. Hotch pats him on the shoulder. “I know it’s difficult to be mad at them or strict even, but you did the right thing”, he reassures him briefly before making his way to his office. The genius smiles, as a parent you seldom get encouraging words about how you raise your child. It kind of feels like walking down a path with closed eyes. But on both sides are deep rivers with piranhas in them.

Derek takes a place beside his best friend. “You know, as serious as this is, it’s also as funny. I mean how she just smiled sweetly as a cupcake and deadass pulled her middle finger up like nobody’s business? My man, in your case I would keep a close eye on her during (Y/N)’s teen years.” Both laugh at the bizarre situation.

But luckily the toddler learned her lesson from this and stopped showing people the bird as a greeting. This is until she learns the next inappropriate thing, she should rather not do.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[nightingaelic]

Not a good idea, maybe, but still... NV Followers' reaction to how the Courier tells the follower that sometimes all their adventures seem like a kind of deathbed dream to them (a bullet in the head after all...)

Just know, anon, that I am strongly resisting the urge to go full Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara with every single one of these reactions.

"Maybe this is all just... me." The courier waved their hand through the scorching air, tracing the shimmering line of the horizon that sang false promises of water. "A mirage. An oasis in the desert that I can't quite reach, but my eyes keep telling me is there if I just walk far enough."

Their hand went to the scar on their forehead. "I don't know. The things I've seen, since Goodsprings... if I told them to half the people in the Mojave, they'd toss me in the same shack as No-bark. HELIOS One? The Burned Man, in the crispy flesh? Jason Bright and his followers? Hell, the Sierra Madre? How do I know I didn't actually bite the dust in that graveyard, and all of this is the work of the bullet Benny put in my noggin?"

Arcade Gannon: "I guess there isn't a very convincing way I can answer that question," Arcade admitted. "But the fact that I know exactly how close you came to dying could be some evidence to the contrary. I doubt you were walking around with much medical knowledge about cranial vulnus sclopetarium prior to encountering it firsthand."

The courier looked somewhat interested, so the researcher continued hesitantly. "Did that doctor who checked you out not explain what happened to your brain? It's honestly a miracle that you're still walking around."

"I might've been a little preoccupied with the shock of being awake," the courier admitted. "Here, show me."

They guided Arcade's hand to the wound site, which he felt gingerly, trying not to awaken any pain. "Okay, close, very close range, left side... trajectory was too high, so it missed the speech center... probably sustained the most damage in the frontal and parietal lobes... well that tracks, that would affect problem-solving skills and spatial relationships..."

"Arcade?"

"Mm-hm?"

The courier grinned. "Just keep talking to me in Latin and I'll stop caring whether I'm dead or not. It sounds nice."

Arcade blushed.

Craig Boone: "Mmm." Boone pondered the thought, but immediately felt the shadow of guilt fall over his shoulders. Had any of his targets felt that way as they lay dying? Had Carla? He tried to shake the feeling off before it reached his face.

The courier, for their part, didn't notice, or at least knew enough to pretend not to notice. "That snake Benny was using a handgun, too, and who knows what caliber," they said, looking off into the distance.

"Low," Boone offered.

"Come again?"

"The bullet," Boone clarified. "It's still in your head. Slow and small caliber, if you're not already dead from it."

"But I could already be dead from it."

"Nah."

The courier looked as though they wanted to probe further, but Boone straightened his sunglasses and walked past them, signaling that the conversation was over. Headshot wounds, hypotheticals, they weren't his strong suit, but he did know one thing: The orders he had followed and the lives he had ended were far too real to be the figment of some Mojave wastelander's imagination.

Lily Bowen: "Come now, dearie, you're giving your imagination too much credit." Lily patted the courier lightly on the shoulder. Well, as lightly as a nightkin could. "Grandma's seen many strange things too, ever since she left the vault behind."

The courier smiled. "Stranger than the ones I've seen? Like what?"

Lily made an ugly face. "I saw many things when working for the Master. Golden geckos in Klamath. Ghosts in Baja. The Master himself, with his brain in the computers and the computers in his brain."

"Eugh." The courier mimicked the face Lily was making. "One of those, huh? Always seemed unsanitary to me."

"Good things too," Lily went on wistfully. "I saw Marcus' first city, when it was big and full of people. Humans, but also super mutants, ghouls. How I would have liked to take Becky and Jimmy there."

Her voice faltered a little, remembering the grandchildren that had been lost, left behind long ago. The courier reached out and took her hand. "I'm here, Lily."

After the memory passed, Lily returned to her smiling self. "You are, pumpkin. We're here together."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "I know how you feel, boss." Raul sighed. "There are plenty of things in my past that I can't help but question the authenticity of. All I can say is that after a while, you stop asking and just go along for the ride."

"Right." The courier crossed their arms. "I suppose it's not that different a mindset from becoming a ghoul. Time stretching on in front of you, no clear end in sight, no expectation there will ever be one."

"Eh." Raul shrugged. "That might just be a mindset of mine. I stopped worrying about dying a long time ago. Or maybe I was looking for it, but never managed to find it. Either way, time doesn't bother me the way it used to."

"But it still does?"

"Sí. Now I worry more that I'll forget the crazy things I've seen altogether, or that they don't mean anything."

The young courier looked like they weren't quite ready to ponder that possibility. They stood together in silence for a while, watching the horizon's haze.

"Should we keep going?" the courier finally asked, shouldering their pack.

"Desde luego."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Sometimes I wonder the same thing," Cass replied with a nod. "Well, not the exact same thing, but somethin' similar. Plenty of times in my life, I've woken up in someone else's bed or on the floor of a bar and wondered if I actually survived the fight I was in the night before, or if I finally drank enough to make my heart stop. It's a strange feeling, but then someone douses me in water or slaps me too hard on the ass and the pain of the wakin' world creeps back in, little by little."

"Do you slap them back?" the courier joked, chuckling.

"Them and the world," Cass confirmed. "I always figured if I'd actually died in my sleep, why bother makin' up some desert full of sadness and sunburns to fill my time? Had enough of that in life, so I can't see my mind keepin' it around. Much rather conjure up a house by the beach somewhere, with a basement full of caps and enough booze to last me 'til the bombs fall again."

The courier eyed her mischievously. "Maybe you're in hell."

Cass held her canteen up. "Well then. To bein' stuck in hell with a true friend."

She drank, long and deep, and the courier retrieved their canteen to do the same.

Veronica Santangelo: "Oh, Six." Veronica's face filled with sympathy. "Is that really what you think about, when you're trying to sleep at night in the casino and Cass is snoring in the bed next to you?"

The courier blinked. "Cass snores?"

"How have you not noticed?" Veronica pulled her power fist off and flexed her fingers, re-stimulating her circulation as best she could. "Arcade said he wanted to trade with me, after Boone had his second night terror incident, but he changed his mind again after one night of her racket. At this point, I'm used to it. When she's not around, I have trouble sleeping, can you believe that? Brotherhood bunks really prepared me for the Lucky 38."

"No, I hadn't noticed." The courier sat down on a nearby rock and stretched their legs out. "I guess I haven't been there much, lately."

Veronica sat down next to them. "You know, the more often you're gone having adventures around the desert, the more crazy things you're going to see. People who rest on their laurels and stick to the Strip don't lie awake wondering if they actually died back when they choked on those buffalo gourd seeds at The Gourmand."

"Touché."

ED-E: The eyebot let out a few beeps of disagreement and rolled from side to side in mid-air, indicating as best it could that in its experience, being shot in the dome was a good method for scrambling circuitry but was actually terrible for fusing new connections. The courier laughed and reached out to rub the robot's side. "Thanks, buddy. Maybe I'm right, or maybe reality is just a weird place."

ED-E beeped its satisfaction and bounced forward as if chasing the mirage. The courier trailed after the eyebot, their giggles blowing out with the wind into the desert for all to hear.

Rex: The old cyberdog whined and licked its companion's hand, uncertain what they were asking. Any dreams the canine had were good ones, long runs over grassy plains and prey that was always a hair too slow. Life with the courier was good too, but full of many more dangers than a savannah dotted with rabbits and deer. The courier scratched the dog on his ruff affectionately, before continuing over the hot sand toward their destination. Rex followed behind, happy and panting.

[shorkbrian]

(Needles (aphrodisiacs!), blood, and medical paraphernalia ahead. No outright NSFW, but implied at the end)

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

Latex gloves snapped as they stretched over the man’s hands.

You were nervous.

“Sign here. It’s a consent form for the vaccines you’re receiving today.” His voice was level, almost monotone as he placed a clipboard and pen onto the counter next to your chair.

Three vaccines, routine injections.

You’d been putting them off, wary of needles, wary of people having to touch your body. You knew it would be an all-around unpleasant experience, but you had to get it done sometime, no matter how much you tried to avoid it. 

Originally it had just been two shots, but the Doctor, Chisaki Kai, had called back informing you that a third injection would be necessary.

A quick scribble with the pen before the masked man was whisking the clipboard away, confirming you’d signed the papers with a quick glance. He had pretty eyes, you noted - golden iris’s visible above the surgical face mask covering his mouth and nose.

Those pretty eyes snapped to yours, the man looking significantly bored. “All’s in order.” You watched him begin assembling the injections on the counter, needles by bottles, alcohol wipes and bandaids nearby.

“The first will go in your left arm, the second in your right, and the third in your left again. It will hurt.” His bedside manner left something to be desired.

He worked quickly and efficiently, plunging the first needle into a bottle, drawing back the plunger to fill it full of liquid before removing it from the bottle. “Please roll up your sleeves.”

Then he was stepping close, needle in one gloved hand, sterile alcohol swab in the other. You were watching him like a hawk, trying your best not to flinch when the cold wipe came into contact with your exposed upper arm.

A quick glance at your flinch, the slight bit of air hissing through your teeth at nothing but the coldness of the wipe had the man cocking his head, but he said nothing.

“Uhm, can you please-uhm, tell me when you’re about to do it?” You gulp, wide eyes trained on the far wall. Just don’t look at the needle, you’ll be fine.

“You prefer to know when to expect the pain?” It was less a question, more a statement, but you nodded nonetheless. “I’ll count to three.”

“One.” A gloved hand lightly touched your arm.

“Two.” Pointer finger and thumb smoothed over your skin, keeping it taut.

“Three.” There was a pinch, immediately followed by deep burning, stinging pain that had you gritting your teeth and wincing.

-----

The scent of bitter, sterile alcohol filled your nose, harshly jerking you to consciousness. Everything smelled like chemicals, latex and bleach and ammonia - not the most pleasant thing to wake up to.

Opening your eyes was easy, lifting your head not so much. You were slumped in your seat, head resting against the counter at your side, feet planted on the ground.

The doctor was crouched in front of you, a small wipe pinched between his fingers, held up to your nose. Golden eyes studied you closely, and upon seeing your eyes open, lashes fluttering, the doctor withdrew the wipe, subsequently taking away the chemical smell.

“You fainted.”

A blink as you gained your bearings, feeling disoriented and weak. You were still in the exam room, a tiny cramped space with barely enough room for a chair beside the exam table.

You swallowed, throat feeling dry, head fuzzy. God, did you hate needles.

“Have you had this reaction to injections before? It’s not uncommon in patients.”

“I.....no? I don’t-uhm-don’t think so...” It felt funny talking, as if you weren’t inside your body.

The doctor stood abruptly, quickly discarding the ammonia wipe into the trash, stripping his gloves off as well before donning a new pair.

“Stay there while you recover. Are you up for the other two shots today, or would you like to schedule an appointment for them at a different time?”

Why the hell didn’t he just give you the shots while you were unconscious?

“I wanna do it today please.” You sighed, reaching to feel the bandaid on your left arm. “I would hate to have to come back and do this again, know what I mean?”

Nothing else was said, just a brief nod from the man before he disappeared from the room. You shuffled your feet, closing your eyes as you leaned back in the chair. 

“(Y/N)? Do you feel ready to stand?” He was back, standing in the doorway and looking at you.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” You rocked up to your feet, rolling down your sleeve as the doctor stepped froward towards the counter. He gathered up the remaining syringes, bottles, and other supplies before stepping around you and back towards the door.

Again, you did your best to not shy away when he passed you, not wanting to make contact. Your skin was so sensitive, you hated touching people, or feeling their clothes brush against your skin. The man didn’t seem to notice, but that was alright. You were used to dodging threatening sensations in your life.

He guided you through the clinic, towards the back where a small office was situated, a comfortable-looking couch against one of the walls. His name wasn’t on the door - you remember now, Doctor Chisaki. 

Or was he a nurse? You didn’t know.

But his name wasn’t on the door. Was it okay to be in this office? Don’t they usually make you wait in the exam room?

“Have a seat, make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back shortly.” 

The door clicked shut behind him.

Today was your day off, the entire day devoted to getting your shots done, to overcoming this obstacle, handling the immense stress that came with it. It didn’t bother you to spend it sitting down and playing word searches on your phone. 

But still....

“Don’t patients usually wait in the exam room? Or in the waiting room?” You asked the man as soon as he re-entered the room, stack of paperwork in one hand as he shut the door with the other.

He gave you a once-over, body tucked into the corner of the couch, before he spoke. “Usually, but I want to make sure you don’t pass out where I can’t see you. That’d make me a bad doctor. This isn’t common procedure, sure, but I didn’t expect your body to be so-” weak “-easily indisposed.”

The tone of his voice kept completely level, hardly any emotions showing on his face, but still you felt... chilled by this man. There was no reassurance from him, no compassion or empathy.

“I’ll administer your remaining shots in 45 minute increments, that should give you enough time to recover between each one. You’ll have to lay down for them though, that’s why you’re sitting on that couch.” 

Polite, but it still felt like you were getting talked-down-to. He was patronizing you.

You gave him a curt nod to show you understood, before fumbling your phone out of your pocket to begin passing the time.

Doctor Chisaki sat down behind the empty desk, neatly placing his stack of papers on the wood before taking a sheet off the top and clicking his pen. From where he was sitting, you were in his direct line of sight, and you could feel him glancing at you occasionally as the scribble of his pen and the tapping of your fingers filled the silence.

45 minutes passed quickly, too quickly for your liking. You weren’t looking forward to the next shot.

Same instructions as before - roll up your sleeve, he’d count to three.

But the doctor paused after swabbing your arm clean. “You keep flinching. Am I  hurting you?”

“No, I mean, not really.” You shrugged. “I don’t like it when people touch me I guess, feels funny.”

“Well, try to relax.”

Easy for him to say, hard for you to do.

This time, with you laying down, the shot went much smoother. The doctor counted the three, you hissed in pain at the burning slice of the needle, but retained consciousness. Which frankly, was a success.

“That really hurts.” You breathed as soon as the needle slipped free from your arm. Even thinking about the thin point being in your muscles made you feel queasy. At least you didn’t have to look at it.

“That’s a common side effect. Muscle soreness because the needle is essentially causing a small injury to the fibers, and there are other reasons, but they're more complicated. You want ice?”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. I’ll just deal with it.”

The man blinked. “You have an interesting reaction to pain.”

“Uhhh...” You scrunched up your eyebrows as you glanced up at him, sitting up as you did so. “Thanks?”

“You’re extremely sensitive to tactile stimulation, like to know when you’ll be experiencing pain, but you don’t particularly care about relieving it. Have you ever given blood?”

The question caught you off guard, especially after realizing the man had been analyzing you more closely than you had expected.

“Nah. Does that matter?”

“Not particularly, I’m just curious I guess.” Doctor Chisaki admitted, once again stripping off his gloves and disposing of them before sliding on another pair.

He went back to his paperwork, and you to your phone, but his frequent glances weighed you down. Did you have something on your face? Was your hair messy?

“Could you point me to the bathroom please?” You rose to your feet slowly, making sure you weren’t going to faint as you stood up.

“It’d be better if you stayed seated.” Was his curt reply.

With a frown, you sat back down. Why couldn’t you use the bathroom? Maybe it affected..... something? With the vaccines? You didn’t know enough about how these things worked to really question it. Doctors were professionals, and they had their reasons.

Still, you’d feel a bit more comfortable if the man wasn’t watching you so closely.

45 more minutes of squirming until your next shot.

-----

Lay down.

Roll up your sleeve.

Try to relax.

Deep breathe.

“You smell.”

“What?” Your head snapped to the side, confused. You smelled?

“It’s not bad. What scent is it?”

Blinking back surprise, you relayed the scent on your shampoo and conditioner.  This doctor was a bit... unconventional. But his sudden question did take your mind off of the countdown, off of the pain. Smart.

“My nose is sensitive, most scents are overwhelming and while I like cleanliness I cannot stand the smell of bleach or most cleaning products. I chose the wrong profession for that, didn’t I?”

His version of a joke made you almost chuckle, a lazy grin stretching across your face instead. “You certainly did. You ever try Pine Sol though? That’s what I use for like, everything.”

The doctor shook his head, and you chattered on about the unoffensive-smelling cleaner, where you bought the bottle you have under your sink, how you use it. He listened intently as he plastered another bandaid over your arm.

“Alright, I can go now?” You asked, sitting up for the last time.

“No.”

“No?”

“Vasovagal syncope can still occur, I’d prefer you not faint and bash your head open on the ground. There’d be such a mess.”

Mouth snapping shut at the fancy medical term, you couldn’t help but sigh as you slumped back against the couch. 

“Bored?”

“I’ve been here for almost four hours. You don’t have other patients to get to?” You didn’t think to check the accusatory tone in your voice.

The doctor put aside his pen, folding his hands on the desk as he stared at you with golden eyes. “They’ve been transferred to different doctors. My current patient has taken precedence. I don’t half-ass things like some people, I see my  projects to completion.”

You were a bit taken aback at the vehemence in his voice, the way his eyes dropped to slits, narrowing fiercely at you.

“That’s what it means to be in this profession. I’m here to cure people. I make sure that sickness doesn’t spread between humans like fire in a barn full of hay. What I do is important and deserving of respect, I’m ensuring the survival of humanity, am I not?”

The intense tension in the air built, the doctor staring you down. “I’m close to becoming a renowned doctor. Just one, one breakthrough will finally get the world to see me. ”

He cocked his head, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled beneath the mask. “I thank your efforts in being a volunteer towards my latest project. It’s been a bit difficult to find someone who readily accepted an unknown injection.”

Unknown.. injection?

“What are you talking about?” 

“The second injection isn’t a vaccine, more like a... pet project of mine. I can’t wait to see what it does.”

“You can’t-this is malpractice, I didn’t consent to this-” Your fists clenched as you stood.

“You signed the consent papers. They’ll hold up in court. Most people receive the vaccines you got today when they’re still teenagers, and under their parents care. Lucky for me, you’re afraid of needles it seems, so you’ve been a bit neglectful. Hard to get a parent to sign over their child as a test subject, easy to get a fearful individual to listen to their doctor.”

A twinkle in his eye made you want to punch his lights out. “What the hell dude, you call yourself a doctor? What did you inject me with?”

The man rose from behind the desk, moving until he stood in front of you. “You’ll see soon enough. I’m pleased that you’re so concerned with hygiene, that makes this easier for both of us.”

“What??”

“And you can forget about calling for help, not that you’ll want to. But everyone’s left for the day-” He checked his wrist, where a nice watch gleamed at you mockingly. “45 minutes ago. So feel free to disclose your symptoms as they pop up as loud as you’d like.”

The man sat down on the couch, easily sinking into the plush material looking up at you with a malicious gleam in his eyes. He had been playing you since you’d walked into the clinic. Was this some sort of prank?

“You’re messing with me.”

“I’ve told you, I see my projects to completion. This is the testing stage, and it might be a while before it’s over. Why would I waste time messing with someone else’s dumb little life?’

Your mouth felt dry, face warm. Why did your legs feel all pleasantly tingly? There was a slowly-building heat simmering low in your core, and if you weren’t standing directly in front of Chisaki, you’d rub your legs together. What did he do to you?

“Now, sit down, and tell your doctor what's bothering you.”

[buckyownsmylife]

sunlight sunset - andy barber smut

The one where Andy throws you a baby shower and you thank him after.

Warnings: smut (p in v), masturbation (f), dirty talk, probably a little bit of daddy kink, pregnancy, the misconstruct of gender that I tried to avoid by referring to biological sex only, curse words, dirty talk

A/N: this was requested by 🤰 anon and it turned out to be much fluffier than any smut I’d ever written previously. Also, I ended up changing the idea of the reader’s “thank you”, I don’t really know why,  but I just figured Andy would be in really soft mindset after a baby shower 🤷‍♀️ Also, this is sort of a part two to this fic

Andy’s P.O.V.

“Shh, everyone! I think I hear her!” All around me, the sound of conversation suddenly dulled, people trying to make themselves smaller to fit behind furniture or walls and I had to cough to hide a laugh, but truly, it was just sweet. There weren’t many people in my apartment, Y/N didn’t have a lot of friends she cared enough to let them be a part of her pregnancy, and I still hadn’t managed to get her father to accept the idea of his baby girl having a baby, but at least her mom was here and Jacob was too.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” My son asked me, fingers absentmindedly playing with a blue balloon while his eyes remained trained on the door, waiting for her to burst through. I knew he was hoping for a little boy, someone he could help shape and not worry about, but I was rooting for a baby girl despite not having the guts to admit it to my girlfriend. I could just perfectly see it, me and her, raising this little version of her together, and she’d be loud and opinionated and the best parts of both of us and I just loved her already. 

I knew it was a girl. I just knew it. I felt it deep in my gut, every night when I talked to Y/N’s still barely-there belly. But I let her and Jacob believe it was a boy. That was just something I kept to myself and my unborn child, the secret that would come out tonight.

“I sure hope so,” I muttered, trying to look unworried but probably failing. It’s just, Y/N had been having such a hard time lately, between telling her parents about the pregnancy, moving in with me, telling Jacob and her friends and it was just a whirlwind of emotions for us both, but of course, it hit her harder than me. She was the one dealing with the body changes and the misconceptions that people had about the nature of our relationship. I just wanted this one experience to show her how this pregnancy wasn’t all stress and tears.

But of course, I should have known better.

“Surprise!” Everyone shouted when the door opened, a surprised Y/N covering her mouth as she took in the balloons, her friends, the cake and me. And then, as if on cue, she burst into tears.

I shouldn’t have expected any different, really. After the first initial shock wore off, I found myself chuckling as I beckoned my sobbing girlfriend into my arms, delighted to have her warm body to squeeze again.

“Baby, don’t cry… This is supposed to be a nice thing!” It only made her cry harder, clutching at my shirt as I couldn’t control my amusement, trying to get her to separate from me just enough so I could cradle her face.

“It is nice! It’s so nice… I don’t deserve you, Andy.” The thought was so absurd to me that a fucking snort came out as I grazed her cheekbones with my thumbs. God, she was beautiful. And mine. All mine.

“Oh, please, sweetheart. If anything, I’m the one who’s unworthy of you.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The utter stupidity of the statement had me gasping, and then promptly slapping one of the arms with which he was holding me. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re too intelligent for that.” That earned me one of those hearty laughters that started from the depths of his chest and that warmed me to my very core, leaving my face burning. God, how I loved this man. And how I loved to be the reason for his laughter.

“C’mon, princess. Let’s open that envelope. I’m dying to know what we’re expecting.” Oh, right. As if on cue, my hands started sweating and my heartbeat picked up, the anxiety about knowing our child’s biological sex finally hitting. I was hoping for a boy, but I knew he wanted a girl. As much as he tried to hide it, I could just read right through his expectant face.

With shaky hands, I reached into my purse and pulled out the little red envelope that the doctor had given me. At first, I thought it was weird that Andy had decided to skip this one appointment, since he was so enthusiastic about being a part of everything, but now, as I stared at the balloon and the familiar faces of my friends, it made sense.

“Can I open it?” He asked, almost too quietly, large palm turned up as he waited for my reaction. I didn’t need to think about it, immediately dropping the paper in his hand, almost laughing at how ridiculously small it looked with him holding it. “Here we go.”

I knew all around us, everyone was waiting to hear the single word contained in that note, excitement barely concealed as the air around us felt electrified with it. But I couldn’t even care. At the most, I noticed my mom and Jacob holding hands not that far from where I stood with Andy, and the image made me smile right as my boyfriend’s face lit up like a christmas tree when he processed the doctor’s ruling.

“A girl. It’s a girl. We’re having a girl!” He darted into my arms and behind me, I felt as someone else - most likely Jacob - hugged me too. They were followed by each and every person in the room, until there was no one else to congratulate me on the news. We ate cake, talked and then, one by one, everyone left, and it was only Andy and me.

When I turned to look at him, after seeing the last visitor out, it was only to find his darkened, lust-filled eyes staring right at me as he sized me up, his hands in his pockets and the sweetest cockiest smirk on his lips.

“Come here, baby.” There was no hesitation, I didn’t even think before I moved in his direction. As I approached, he sat on the couch behind him, hands beckoning me closer and closer, until I was just close enough that he could easily pull me to straddle his legs.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispered as he nuzzled his bearded face against my neck, tickling me while making my pussy throb at the same time. A shiver of pure desire ran up my spine, right as I started to unconsciously grind my crotch over his, already desperate for a release.

“I-I’m thinking…” I tried, only to stop in a gasp as Andy suddenly seized my waist, forcing my movements to gather some speed. The friction was nothing like what I truly wanted, but it was just enough to make me whimper for my boyfriend’s wonderful touch.

Andy’s P.O.V.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” I urged, knowing that I was teasing her and knowing that she knew, especially since I couldn’t keep the smirk off of my face. “If you tell me what you want, I might give it to you.”

It was an offer she couldn’t resist, I knew even before I whispered it in her ear, but as I kept stimulating her body and she didn’t find a way to stop me, instead of finally confessing what was going through her mind, what I got was an exasperated, “Stop doing that! I don’t wanna cum yet!”

It made me laugh and decide that I definitely wouldn’t be stopping any time soon, so I opted to suck on one of her earlobes, appreciating the little shiver that she tried to hide before asking, “Why not?”

She hesitated for a second, but I couldn’t tell if it was because she wanted to hide it or if she simply still couldn’t gather her thoughts enough to voice them, although the way her fingers were buried in my shoulders made me think the last option was more probable. At last, she admitted right right before throwing her head back and whining, “Because I want to be the one pleasing you.”

She was heaving now, delicious breasts bouncing before me and just begging to have my mouth wrapped around one nipple, but her confession felt so silly I ended up laughing and capturing one of them between my fingers, instead.

“Can’t you feel what seeing you like this does to me?” I asked, making sure to raise my hips so there was no denying the hard line of my cock against her cunt. “I’m sorry you don’t feel like cumming, princess, because that’s exactly what you’re going to do. So just relax and accept it.”

It didn’t take long for her to cum after that, and I took in every beautiful second of the perfect image as her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her hips seemed to take a rhythm of their own.

“That’s my girl,” I cooed softly as I watched her slowly come back to me, eyes blinking lazily to look up at me from under her eyelashes with an expression that was simply sinful. “Can you open this for me, baby girl?” I asked as my hands remained occupied with holding her up, gesturing towards my own crotch, but it felt unnecessary when her hands immediately flew down to rub the boner I’d been sporting for quite a while.

“Yes, princess. Can you get my cock out, please? I really need to be inside of you now,” I confessed, nose rubbing over the soft skin of her neck as her small hands expertly unzipped my pants and I raised my hips up just enough so she could wrap her fist around my member and pull it from its confines.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Nothing felt quite as good as having my hand wrapped around Andy’s cock, knowing it would be inside of me, making me whole in just a few seconds. And knowing that he was giving me the control to grab it and put it in me myself just had me excited like nothing else.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” I noted, raising myself just enough to rub the head of his member against my lower lips. The action had him grunting before groaning in frustration, grip in my ass tightening in a sort of warning.

“No, I figured it’d be easier this way. Didn’t anticipate you being such a tease, though.” The grumpy tone of his voice made me giggle, and I slowly lowered myself down on his hard cock, moaning out loud and holding my own breasts as he hissed to the feeling of my pussy squeezing him.

“You feel so fucking good.” Just the hoarseness of his voice had me whining, even before he used the grip on my ass to make me start riding him. “You make me feel so good, baby girl. No one can make me feel as good as you do.”

Only this man could have me simultaneously melting from his sweetness while cumming on his dick while he pounded me from the bottom. “I wish I could keep you right here, sweetheart. Right here, sitting on my dick, all day, everyday.”

I saw the way his eyes never left my bouncing breasts, and when he licked his lips with an expression of pure hunger, I came, knowing I was bringing him with me when he let out a high-pitched moan and picked up his pace.

“Fuck, I’m yours, princess. I’m yours. Thank you for giving me our little family. I love you.” Grabbing his hand to give a kiss to his knuckles, I took a second to appreciate just how incredible this man was. Despite how hard this could be, I knew I’d never regret having him beside me.

[adhdeancas]

Dean gets screened for ADHD

“I don’t really buy into the whole ‘shrink’ thing,” he blurted out as soon as he got in the door. The woman in the white coat raised an eyebrow at him, not unkindly. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a shrink, then.”

Dean floundered at that. He nodded and sat awkwardly in the chair across from the psychiatrist, perched on the edge, just in case. His fingertips bounced nervously against his leg. “Okay, yeah, sure, but- you know, the whole-” another indiscriminate arm wave, another soft smile. 

“Mental health?”

“My brother thought I should come.” he confirmed, sighing and resigning himself to his fate finally. He settled back further into the chair. “Well and my- my buddy.” he looked down, his heartbeat picking up a little. 

“I am going to have to ask you some questions, though.”

“Hm? Uh, yeah, go ahead, whatever you gotta do.”

Dr. Pearson took out her clipboard, an action which stopped Dean in his tracks. He was starting to feel a little boxed in. “So, first off, what are you here for? I mean, besides placating your brother.”

Dean grinned at her, the knot in his chest loosening a little. “Yeah, uh… so my brother and my… friend, they think I’ve got ADHD”

“Do you think you have ADHD?”

Dean blinked at her. “I- I dunno, I mean, I’m a little old for that, ain’t I?”

The doctor shrugged. “ADHD doesn’t have an age limit. And you’re never too old to improve your life.”

Dean held his hands up in defense. He didn’t want her to think he was just flat out dismissing it, but… “Don’t get me wrong, I’m fucked up in a thousand different ways, but for once… my life kinda feels… good. I got a good thing going. Don’t know how much I wanna change.” It felt like way too much to mess with, what if he messed it up? 

The psychiatrist nodded, interested. “Tell me about that. Your life now. It’s a recent change?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. Me and my family, we got past some pretty big stuff not too long ago, and uh… I got into a relationship, a good one,” he cleared his throat and wiped his palms off on his pants. “I moved and everything, and I kind of have a kid. And I have a job, a real job, for the first time in my goddamn life.” He looked up and beamed, so proud of his bar. His bar. He swore, everytime he talked about his life it sounded like a fever dream. 

The psychiatrist returned his smile, which made him feel like a third grader. “Those sound like some pretty big changes. Congratulations. And you said you had different circumstances before? Would you characterize any of your past life events as traumatic?”

Dean laughed, actually cackled then. “Uh, all of them?” From the patronizing smile the doc was wearing, he guessed she didn’t believe him. “I- I was a soldier, kinda. For a while. Seen a lot of bad shit.” The doctor nodded; she started scribbling something down on her paperwork. “I’m not, like, traumatized or anything, though.”

A genuine smile pulled at Dr. Pearson’s lips as she wrote, and Dean leaned forward, eager to see what kinda joke she thought he was pitching. “You know, in all my years of being a psychiatrist, almost no one has wanted to admit they have trauma.” She looked at him and shrugged. “Most people, at least, most people who come to see me, have trauma.”

Dean crossed his arms, knowing it made him look cartoonishly uncomfortable and not being able to stop himself anyway. “Okay, can we move past this part of the- whatever? Exam?”

She nodded, surprising Dean. “We can do the ADHD screening now.”

“What, so all the rest of that was for shits and giggles?”

“Background.” She was unfazed. “Okay, now I’m going to ask you some questions about your attention and work habits and how your day to day functions, they’re called executive dysfunctions, how they work and how they present in your mind. It’s going to be a lot of questions. You don’t have to worry about any right answers, there aren’t any. And if you want to expand more on an answer, please feel free. All information helps me get a more accurate picture of your mindspace.”

Dean blinked. Once. Twice. He didn���t mean to zone out, he really didn’t, but his brain just kinda glazed over the words, like they went in one ear and out the other without translating into English. The doctor waited patiently, and he nodded his go-ahead, hoping it was the right answer. “Yeah, sure.”

She cleared her throat and flipped the page on her clipboard, looking down at a list of questions she apparently had. There were a lot of questions, some of them confused Dean, and he had to think about them a lot. He’d never thought about thinking so much in his life. His brain just worked, what the hell was he supposed to say about it? 

“Are you organized?”

“Yeah, totally. Except when, y’know, if I’m going through a rough few days, then… nobody wants to do laundry when they feel like shit.”

“So your ability to maintain your cleanliness relies on your mental state?”

“Yeah, doesn’t everyone’s?”

“So, what goes through your mind if you’re having a rough day, or week, and you see laundry on the floor. Or dishes in the sink. What do you think, what do you do?”

“Well, I think I should clean it up, obviously.”

“And you do?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “It’s a lot of work.” He shakes his head. “No it’s not, I know that stuff would take me like three minutes but… I gotta get up first.”

“Do you find it hard to concentrate on work?”

“Yeah. I mean, sometimes. Research, fuck yeah. I swear to- I swear, I can’t read more than three pages before I-” He waved a hand in front of his eyes. She seemed to get it. “But if it’s like- cars, then I can work for hours and just - zone the fuck out.”

“What about watching tv? Can you sit on the couch and relax?”

“Yeah!” Dean started confidently, but then wavered. “Well, unless, I’ve like- I dunno, sometimes I just need to do something with my hands, y’know? Or some days, my car is my couch. All I need is my Baby, the open road, some music… But I can watch a good marathon, don’t get me wrong. One time I watched John Wayne’s entire life’s work in one sitting.”

“Do you lose things often?”

“All the fucking time. It’s why I try to be organized. My keys, my guns, my wallet, I know where that stuff is, I always put it in the same place.”

“Like a cubby or a bedside table?”

“Uh…” He scratched his head. Maybe he was batshit. Every answer he said made him sound crazier and crazier. “No. So, I put my keys on this one shelf of the bar while I’m there, my hus- Cas got this cutesy little key holder from a garage sale, so that’s where I keep ‘em at home. Wallet on this one ledge in the kitchen, and I’ve got a gun in basically every room.” He was hoping she wouldn’t fixate on the gun thing. Luckily, she didn’t. 

“But other than those things, you lose?”

“Yeah. I- I found this one ring I lost years ago in my trunk a few months ago, and I’ve been wearing it every day. But I took it off because-” He coughed. He took it off because he and Cas were fucking on their living room couch while Jack was with Sam for the weekend and he hadn’t wanted any… roughness to his fingers. “I took it off and set it down, and I knew where I set it down, right? But then I was afraid of losing it again, so I didn’t look for it, even though I know I knew where it was. So like four days later I finally look for it, and it’s not there.” He sighed heavily, and looked up just in time to see Dr. Pearson looking at him like he was a mummy who’d come back to life and started talking about the intricacies of hieroglyphics. Okay, so he had ADHD, apparently. That was ADHD. 

Dean left with a prescription for a when-needed stimulant and a weirdly light feeling in his chest. It took him five weeks to find his ring, right where Cas had put it in his bathroom drawer. He had laughed at Dean when he yelled at him, which brought Dean back down to a self-deprecating laugh. Later, Dean forwarded him an article about ADHD and object impermanence, and Cas started immediately giving Dean things he found if he thought he’d lost them. Which. Was A Solution.

[skinsharpenedteeth]

RNM After Dark, Day 2!

Today's story is... different. Medical kink, lab sex, milking machines, barebacking, comeplay... it's a real mixed bag. Definitely rated Explicit. 6883 Words.

Here's a link to the story on AO3!

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"Compromised by a Foreign Body"

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Alex knew the way they were going about it was wrong. No matter how many times his father told him the aliens were nothing more than violent, seditious predators from another world, it never sat right. But, when it was time to do his duty, Alex had stepped into line. He’d even managed to pull his best friend, Liz Ortecho, into working in the biomedical lab for Project Shepherd. Being a Manes meant that even in what should be a strict, military hierarchy, Alex was a prince. So he made his own job, helped out where he wanted, and tried to not think about the things he’d done or seen when he went home at night.

“Alex, can you help me with the specimen extraction this week? I’m really behind on some notations from last week’s experiments. It would be a great help to me,” Liz said one afternoon. He’d been aimless all day, simply walking around the base to look busy but without an actual task. His stomach clenched, however, at the request. Specimen extraction brought him into very close contact with aliens, and there was one whose eyes never seemed to stay on the ground where they belonged. There was one whose eyes followed him, seeming to see through his fatigues and tracing every line of his body underneath.

“The females and males?” Alex asked, clearing his throat to get rid of his nerves. Liz gave him a curious look at the show of anxiety. She knew him well. She could tell this wasn’t something he wanted to do.

“Just the males. I just need a semen specimen. We’re seeing what happens if we crossbreed them with human female eggs and how that effects the DNA and RNA structures of any resulting hybrids. Just grab the three youngest and put them in the collection rooms. One sample from each should be plenty,” Liz went on, already returning to her microscope slides and file notations. Alex made sure to keep his face neutral as she glanced up to studied him while giving her instructions. He nodded shortly and left the lab, already mentally listing the tasks he’d need to perform in order to do a collection.

Alex had been given basic medical training when he’d been taken on at Project Shepherd. It was explained that at any point, one of their captives might have to be taken down with an injection if brute force was inadvisable. He’d also received extensive hand-to-hand combat training. Alex had found it interesting that de-escalation techniques hadn’t been taught as part of his training before coming onto the base. So far he’d only had to use the bare minimum of force to get his job done. He’d turned into something of a Jack-of-all-trades, however, when it came to medical or scientific technical procedures.

First, he stopped by the captive holding area and signaled his brother Flint over from the guard station. Flint gave him an annoyed scowl, but came over to where Alex was waiting.

“What’s up?” Flint asked, always informal to Alex by way of blood. If their father had seen, Flint would’ve been disciplined. Alex, though younger, outranked Flint and therefore should always be treated with the respect of a superior officer. Alex didn’t care as much. Flint was a stooge and would never be more than a glorified prison guard. His pantomimed respect wasn’t needed for Alex to know he was above him. But Alex knew if their father saw Flint being too familiar at work, he’d chastise him with a fist.

“I need male captives Max, Michael, and Noah to specimen collection,” Alex informed Flint formally. Flint gave him a speculative grin, but didn’t say anything. He nodded and went back to the guard desk to inform the other two soldiers on duty. Alex saw them share a glance and chuckle as Alex started towards the pharmacy. His next task was to pick up some Tri-Mix injection and then to make sure a few rooms were set up with the correct equipment for the procedure.

Alex tried to keep his mind on the business at hand. The laughing of the other soldiers needled at him in the back of his mind. He’d done this job a few times, but he didn’t take any pleasure from it. If the other guys could see what was involved in the process, maybe they’d realize that it wasn’t as sexy a scenario as they imagined. Maybe if Alex wasn’t gay, it wouldn’t have been an issue at all. Maybe if the aliens looked more… well… alien and not just like humans, it could’ve just been an abstract curiosity, a shitty work detail. They would’ve just commiserated with him for drawing the short straw. But he was gay, and they didn’t understand what happened behind the closed doors of the extraction rooms and these three aliens in particular were very attractive by human standards. He shuddered to imagine what deprived fantasies they’d built around him and the aliens. This only happened, of course, when he had to work with the males.

He made his way to the long hallway of rooms they used for technical procedures. Alex looked through the monitors over the tech’s shoulder at the monitoring station. Only one room was in use currently, and it looked like an autopsy was taking place. Alex grimaced inwardly to think they’d lost another alien to the ravages of time.

“Anything scheduled in rooms 5, 7, or 9 for the next hour?” Alex asked the monitor tech quietly. The soldier blinked up at him, as if just now aware someone else was in the small room with him. He cleared his throat and picked up the scheduling clipboard from the corner of his desk. Alex’s eyes strayed back to the occupied room, and he watched with sick fascination as things were taken out of the alien’s abdomen and loaded into bowls.

“Uh, looks like they’re free. Need to book ‘em, sir?” the young soldier asked, remembering protocol at the last moment.

“Yeah. Captain Alex Manes. Max, Michael, and Noah are being brought in for specimen extraction,” Alex told the soldier for his notes. He nodded and wrote down the details on his paper copy of the schedule. He’d type it into the online schedule later as well as any observational notes. With a last glance towards the wall of screens, Alex left the room and went to get the equipment cases out of storage.

Each case held a milking machine which included a cylinder with a latex liner, a connector hose, and a suction machine. Alex placed one in each room and plugged in the power supply to the suction machine so it could start warming up. He rifled through the cabinets that lined each room’s walls and found the lubricant, prostate stimulation equipment, and massage wands. He’d never needed to use the extras, but something about their presence made him feel like he was actually there to do a job. The machines would do most of the work. He was really just there to monitor and make sure the samples were collected and labeled correctly for Liz.

As he was just double-checking all his equipment, Dr. Valenti walked into the room he was in. Alex turned and eyed his ex-best friend warily. Kyle had been making strides towards repairing their friendship, but Alex was still skeptical.

“Hey man. Liz said you were doing a collection. I brought you the Tri-Mix injections. Mind if I help out?” Kyle asked, showing him the preloaded injection pens.

“Sure, I guess. There’s not much to do. Just inject them, sleeve them, turn on the milkers, and go get a cup of coffee until the sensors go off,” Alex said flippantly.

“You don’t do any manual or electrical stimulation before you sleeve them?” Kyle asked, sounding a bit shocked. Alex tried to shrug nonchalantly. He didn’t want to admit that manual and electrical stimulation felt like he was crossing a line somehow. He logically knew these were not humans with human feelings or cultural constructs about consent, but in his own mind it was a step too far. The injection made it medical, but if he actually started probing and touching… then it might just be what those soldiers at the containment area thought it was. Kyle must’ve read his thoughts, because he clapped Alex on the shoulder and gave him a patronizing grin.

“You get better samples if you stim them. I can show you on one if you like? Just so you can see it’s not what you think it is,” Kyle offered, squeezing Alex’s shoulder affectionately. Alex absolutely did not want to see… except that he did. He was going to hell for it, but he was curious. In fact, he was fucking fascinated, and he hated himself for it.

“I mean, if you’ve got the time?” Alex said, trying to give Kyle an out.

“Hey, what’s the joke about doctors and always being busy except they’re really golfing? Think of this as my golf break. I’m getting out of the clinic and getting to do something fun for a little while,” Kyle said with a laugh.

As if on cue, the sound of wheels in the hallway alerted them that the captives had arrived. Alex turned to see two men rolling in Max, the largest physically of their aliens, already naked and strapped to a gurney, gag in his mouth (to protect him from biting his tongue while coming off any medications used during the procedure). Alex felt a quick flash of rage that they hadn’t left him clothed or thrown a blanket over him. The guards placed his gurney in the middle of the room, locked the wheels, saluted to Alex and Kyle before they left. Alex watched Kyle’s eyes rove up and down Max’s body covetously. Max had been gagged and given a mild, but quickly dissipating sedative. Alex could tell that he was relatively aware of where he was, but couldn’t fight the bonds. He hardly did, even when the sedative wore off.

“Here, let’s reposition him a little. If we’re going to stim him, I need to have better access to his body. Did the guards flush their systems before they brought them up?” Kyle asked, already unstrapping one of Max’s legs. He reached under the gurney and pulled out a heel stirrup that he gently placed Max’s foot in before re-securing him for safety. He did the same with Max’s other leg, spreading him wide.

“Uh….,” Alex started, completely out of his depth. He looked up at Max who met his eyes and nodded, color infusing his cheeks like a blush. Kyle was finishing with the other foot when Alex finally answered. “Yeah. They did.”

“Good. That means I don’t have to,” Kyle replied with a laugh. He was transforming the gurney from a long bed into practically a chair in front of Alex’s eyes. Alex had no idea the gurneys had so many bells and whistles on them. With his legs spread wide, hips strapped down to the table, and naked, Max looked utterly exposed to them. Kyle was leaning over Max’s upper body, using a pen light to check his responses. “God, the meds they have now are remarkable. He’s already becoming cognizant again!”

“Yeah, they come to pretty quick,” Alex remarked dryly while he watched Kyle do a quick examination, checking reflexes.

"Let's get some gloves on and I'll show you what I mean about the manual stimulation. If he doesn't react, we can always give him the Tri-Mix, but this can sometimes remove the need to even use it," Kyle explained, moving over to the instrument cart and pulling out two pairs of non-latex gloves. He and Alex snapped them on and Kyle rolled the instrument cart over to beside the table. He grabbed a rolling stool that had been left in the corner of the room from another procedure and sat himself down between Max's spread legs. Alex could see Max's confusion as he lifted his head to try and see what Kyle was doing.

"Okay so," Kyle started, drawing Alex's attention back from Max's dark eyes to where he was covering two fingers in a copious amount of lubricant. Alex watched as he used the non-lubricated hand to spread Max's ass cheeks and expose his dusky, puckered hole. Max's leg muscles flexed against their restraints at the feeling. "Just like with human males, these guys have got something like a prostate. You'd stim it the same way you would for a human."

"I usually like my partners to be hard before I go sticking things into their asses," Alex mumbled, trying for a joking tone. Kyle beamed up at him.

"That would be preferable. But if that's the problem, you can stimulate the prostate first and the penis should start getting erect after. Have you worked with these captives before? Do you know if this one is able to get hard without the injection?" Kyle asked. He still held Max's cheeks open, exposing him as he carried on his conversation with Alex. Alex risked a glance up to see that Max was staring resolutely at the ceiling, flushed but stoic to his treatment. Alex wished they were allowed to speak with the captives and that they didn't have to stay gagged when out of confinement. He'd just ask Max if getting hard was an issue, or if it was just the degradation of being used as a lab rat that kept him flaccid.

"I don't know. Like I said, I've never tried to stim them before suctioning. Max has never come in already hard, but his body responds well to the Tri-Fix," Alex replied, trying to ignore the fine tremors he could see in Max's stomach muscles. Kyle was rubbing a thumb in contemplative circles over Max’s hole, spreading the lube from his fingers and almost seeming unaware of what he was doing as he and Alex talked.

"I bet he can! He's a hell of a specimen. Before we try the prostate, let's see if he responds to some other stimulation," Kyle said with an excited clap. He stood up abruptly and walked to the side of the table. Alex stood on the other side, promising himself he would be polite and watch but wouldn't participate. Kyle took his time looking over Max's physique. In a familiar gesture, he set his hands high on Max's chest.

"Hey handsome," Kyle crooned. He slowly rubbed his hands up and down Max's chest, trailing his fingers lightly over the skin. Max darted his eyes to Alex in obvious confusion and alarm. Kyle followed his gaze. "Ignore him. I'm going to take care of you today."

Alex let his eyes slip away and back down to Kyle's hands. They smoothed over Max's skin, down over his ribs and stomach, then back up so his thumbs could tease lightly over Max's dark pink nipples. Max shifted under Kyle's attention.

"You've got to convince the blood to come up to the surface of the skin," Kyle murmured to Alex while he kept eye contact with Max. Kyle started to rub over Max's nipples more firmly, stroking over the tightening nubs. Pleased with their erectness, he hummed thoughtfully before trailing his hands down to rest on Max’s hipbones. Alex noticed the uptick in Kyle’s breathing and dilation in his eyes as he moved one hand to cup Max’s cock. He rocked the heel of his hand gently before circling his thumb and first finger around the shaft and stroking. Max’s body started to respond to the attention, his cock plumping up in Kyle’s grip as he kept stroking over him smoothly.

“That’s it,” Kyle cooed encouragingly. Max shifted under him as much as he could, head pressed back against the gurney and staring resolutely towards the ceiling. His face was flushed and the red stain seemed to be moving down towards his chest the harder he got. Alex jumped when a hand came into his view suddenly. “Put some more lube on my fingers.”

Alex obeyed Kyle’s order and watched him push one slick finger into Max’s hole, making the alien jump in surprise. Expertly, Kyle crooked his finger and within a few searching thrusts was able to locate Max’s prostate. Alex glanced up to check Max’s cock and was surprised to find him almost painfully engorged. Kyle followed his line of sight and smiled, turning to look at Alex triumphantly.

“Told you man, nothing to it. Hand me the suction canister and we’ll get him hooked up and pumping.” Alex shuddered at the excitement in Kyle’s voice, the eagerness, but he did was he was asked. As soon as the canister was lowered over Max’s cock, cool plastic resting against his belly, Kyle flipped a switch to began low suction. Max’s cock jerked in response to the tight pressure build and release of the machine, and Alex heard a low groan escape from behind his gag. Kyle had managed to work two fingers into his hole while Alex had watched the machine begin its work and was thrusting them in time with the machine. A glance further down and Alex could see the solid outline of Kyle’s own cock straining against his scrub pants.

“Uh, I’m going to go get started on one of the other captives,” Alex spoke up, feeling awkward at continuing to stand by the scene in front of him. Kyle gave him a friendly smile, fingers and wrist still working away.

“Sure, go do Michael. Noah, from what I understand, is a tougher case and I’d like to commit my full attention to him. After this, we can go do lunch if you want?” Kyle offered easily. Alex nodded and made a non-committal sound before turning and quickly exiting the room. He wasn’t fast enough to not hear Kyle murmuring softly to Max before he left. “You’re doing so good, Max. Look at these balls, man. You’re going to give up a big load for us today, huh?”

Alex wished he could bleach his brain.

He quickly closed the door behind him and moved towards the room he knew Michael to be in. He’d seen Michael around the compound. He was hard to miss with his curls, sharp smile, and sad eyes. Alex had tried to ignore him, but he found himself more and more aware of him each time they crossed paths. When he entered the exam room to find him naked and conscious, strapped and gagged the same as Max on the gurney, he flushed hot with a mix of embarrassment and want. He shut the door quietly behind him.

“Hey Michael,” Alex greeted him quietly. Michael’s eyes roved up and down his body, undressing him, challenging him despite his position. Feeling exposed, Alex moved towards the gurney slowly. The closer he got, the more of Michael’s body he could see. His cock was nestled serenely against his balls, a short, dark thatch of hair surrounding his groin and leading up his stomach and over his chest. Alex wanted to run his fingers through the hair, tangle himself in it, bury his face against it… but he knew that was inappropriate. No matter how attractive he found him, the alien was not in any position to consent to anything, and Alex knew it. He was still tempted, however.

To try to hide the awkwardness he was feeling, Alex busied himself with positioning the cart next to the gurney. He gloved up and reached for the lube, immediately dropping it when Michael cleared his throat next to him. The bottle clattered loudly on the metal cart, knocking the milking canister onto the ground. Alex fumbled to try to catch it before it rolled too far away. A knock sounded at the door and one of the guard’s voices came through.

“You okay, sir?”

“I’m fine!” Alex called back, face flaming in embarrassment. He looked at Michael who gave him a smug and superior grin around the obstruction in his mouth. Alex set the canister back on the table and bent over Michael to hiss at him. “Don’t be a dick!”

Michael gave him a raised eyebrow in response as if to say ‘who, me?’

“Yes, you,” Alex snapped. He moved back over to the table and picked up the lube again. Again, Michael pointedly cleared his throat. Alex abruptly turned to look at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?!”

Michael just looked at him for a moment, waiting for him to catch up. With a huff, Alex moved to block the view of the camera and loosened the gag enough to slide it out of Michael’s mouth. He watched Michael moved his jaw around and swallow convulsively a few times, resisting the urge to get him some water, while he waited for Michael to speak.

“What do you want, Michael?” Alex asked, trying to put steel into his voice to cow Michael’s nonchalant, almost playful attitude.

“I was going to say, you could at least buy me dinner before you start sticking probes into me,” Michael replied, his voice rough but steady. Alex stared at him incredulously.

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” he asked, unable to stop himself. Shock was an adequate description for how he was feeling about this turn of events.

“No. I am flirting with you, private,” Michael replied, giving Alex another once over before continuing. “How am I doing?”

“This is the least sexy situation I could possibly imagine being flirted with in,” Alex answered flatly.

“Well, you refuse to come visit me in my cell, so this is what I’ve got to work with. Besides, you’re about to have to get me hard enough to spurt for science. Maybe you should work on your bedside manner.” Alex stared down at Michael on the table. His eyes moved down to his exposed cock, still flaccid, and then over to the milking machine on the table. His ears felt warm and he was sure he was blushing.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. After all, I could always just inject you with Tri-Fix if you don’t want to get hard naturally,” Alex countered, trying not to let how flustered he was feeling show through in his voice. Michael gave him a frankly filthy grin in response.

“With the right stimulation, I’ve never had a problem getting hard naturally. Besides, have you ever had one of those tubes on your dick before?” Michael whistled low in apparent appreciation. “Science is wonderful. I’m all for science.”

“No, I’ve never--” Alex started, affronted at the mere idea that he would use government property for his own pleasure that way.

“Maybe you should climb up here and give it a try….” Michael suggested in a conspiratorial tone.

“There’s no way. There are cameras in here,” Alex protested, wondering why he wasn’t shoving the gag back in Michael’s mouth and getting on with the sample collection.

“I can fix that, ya know. These drugs they have us on dull my powers quite a bit, but I’m still pretty good at shorting out electronics when I need to,” Michael countered. He rushed on as Alex opened his mouth to respond. “You can keep me tied down. You can, uh… manually… collect your sample for the lab from me and take a spin on the suck tube at the same time.”

“I could never…” Alex protested weakly. He hated that he was even considering it. He didn’t know what Michael’s plan was, but he was pretty sure getting his dick sucked by a robot was not acceptable protocol under any circumstances.

“You can gag me again if you want to keep me quiet,” Michael said, voice almost a purr. Alex contemplated the idea, eyes straying from Michael to the milking canister and then surreptitiously up towards where the cameras were. Curiosity was getting the best of him. Curiosity and hormones. This close he could smell the petrichor and salt scent of Michael’s skin and make out the green flecks hidden amongst the amber of his eyes.

“If you can take out the cameras…” Alex started, but before he could finish he heard a faint cry of dismay from the observation room. Panicking, Alex shoved the gag back into Michael’s mouth and hoped to God it hadn’t been visibly out on the video. A second later, one of the monitor techs came into the room looking thunderous.

“Everything okay?” Alex asked the tech who had grabbed a chair and angrily shoved it into a corner. He started to climb up onto the seat, his eyes trained on the small dome on the ceiling that held the camera.

“This fucking piece of shit. Always shorts out on me. Goddamnit,” he cursed, removing the protective dome to look at the wiring beneath. He cursed again and hopped down, coming over to stand in front of Alex. “I’m going to have to replace the whole thing. Something major burned up. Do you want to postpone this procedure or--”

“No!” Alex cut in, his voice sharply cutting off the tech. The tech gave him a wide-eyed look. “I just… I’m not going to have time later. Look, he’s secured down. There are guards outside the door. I’ll be fine. He’s not going to cause me any trouble, will you?”

Alex directed the last question at Guerin who looked between him and the tech and lolled his head as if he were still slightly dopey. The tech squinted at him, but seemed to take the act at face value.

“Fine. Just give me a heads-up when you’re done so I can get in here. And don’t fucking undo any of those straps, got it? They’re there for your protection!” Alex gave him a grave nod and the tech turned and strode out of the room. As soon as the door snicked shut behind him, Alex turned and stared wide-eyed at an obviously unrepentant Michael. Alex removed his gag again, bending close to his ear before speaking.

"If you tell anyone about this, I will have you thrown into solitary for a week," Alex threatened in a low voice. It felt empty because he knew if Michael told anyone, his father would find him and put him in a hole in the ground. There was something about Michael's offer though… a feeling between them that made Alex sure the risk would pay out.

"I won't tell," Michael replied quietly. There was a sadness in his voice that pierced Alex's heart and he moved to be able to see Michael's eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment, each searching for something needed but fragile and better left silent between them. Alex ended their silent back and forth by bending down and pressing their lips together. It was sweet and chaste, a seal for their understanding, and when he pulled back he felt like their bargain was solidly struck. Quietly, Alex moved the extra chair from the corner under the broken camera and wedged it under the doorknob. When he turned back to face Michael, he immediately began to unbutton his shirt enough to pull it and his undershirt off over his head. He leaned against the table to tackle his boots, pants, and prosthesis. With an embarrassing lack of grace, Alex proceeded to climb onto the gurney and straddle Michael's thighs.

Michael's eyes were wide and darkened with lust as they scanned over Alex’s naked body. He looked hungry in a way Alex was all too familiar with. Alex noted to his smug relief that Michael’s cock had gotten half hard at his striptease and was growing firmer beneath him. Without a word, Alex reached over and grabbed the lube bottle, squeezing some into his palm before slicking Michael's cock with it. The friction made Michael groan quietly, his eyes fluttering shut as Alex stroked him with a firm hand and brought him to full hardness. Alex’s own cock was beginning to throb and ache with neglect, but he didn't want to touch himself too soon. The risk of the situation was turning him on almost as much as Michael beneath him, his hips flexing into Alex’s grip in aborted thrusts.

Alex let go of Michael and lifted onto his knees. Keeping eye contact with Michael, he took his still slick hand and reached behind himself to push two fingers into his hole. It was almost too much too soon, but Alex liked the burn and needed this part to go quick. He didn’t realize his eyes had slipped shut, unable to concentrate on anything but the stretch and pressure of his digits as he rocked his hips back and twisted his fingers to make the stretch go faster.

"Oh shit," Michael breathes out beneath him. Alex opened his eyes and pinned Michael with a hard stare before swooping down to kiss him again. This kiss wasn't sweet. It wasn't chaste or simple. Alex licked at the seam of Michael's mouth once and barely gaves the other man time to accept him before he was pushing his way in. If Michael was hungry, Alex was fucking starving. Not that he’d gotten a taste, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

Michael moaned into their kisses, his body shifting restlessly, claiming as much movement as he could against the restraints.

"Shhhh," Alex warned, breaking their kiss. He shuffled forward enough to be able to reach behind himself and grasp Michael's cock. Goosebumps broke out over his skin as he pressed the blunt tip to his wet hole. Biting his lip, Alex forced his body to relax and accept Michael's generous girth. It was almost too much and after a few slow drags where he only managed to shove a few inches at a time into himself, Alex pulled off and added more lube. The next time he pushed down, it was like his body just accepted Michael and made room accordingly. Both he and Michael let out harsh, gutted breathes when Alex managed to fully sheath Michael inside him.

"Fucking christ," Alex groaned, trying to stay quiet but already feeling his body scream for him to start fucking himself stupid on the perfect cock stuffed in him. Beneath him, eyes squeezed shut, Michael nodded and Alex watched as his hands and fingers flexed in an echo of Alex's own need to move. Slowly, Alex began to rock his hips and get his first exquisite taste of the pull and push of Michael's cock lighting up his insides. Wrapping a hand around his cock, Alex noted how wet and messy his shaft was from the leaking precum drooling out of the tip. He used that wetness to ease the way as he stroked himself lightly in time with the undulations of his hips.

"Please," Michael gasped out beneath him. "Oh fuck, please."

Alex knew what he wanted, wanted it himself, but also knew they made a plan. Carefully, he reached over to the instrument table and picked up the plastic cylinder end of the milking machine. Inside it was a PVC sleeve that molded itself around the recipient's penis once the suction was started. Then, according to the dials on the machine, the sleeve would go taut and relax with a rhythmic click and hiss, effectually sucking off the wearer until he blew his load and the sample collection sensor went off. The load would then be scraped from the inside of the sleeve and collected into a tube to be given to the lab. Alex knew all of that, had the technical knowledge down pat in his brain, but was unprepared for the foreign feeling of sliding his own cock into the smooth, cool fabric of the milker cylinder. With a barely trembling hand, he pressed the ‘on’ switch and waited for the first pull.

He didn't know what he’d been led to expect, but it wasn't the vice-like, fluid pressure that made his hips hitch forward instinctively to get more of that tight clutching feeling. Alex felt a moan get dragged past his lips, echoed by Michael as he began to fuck forward against the milker and then back onto Michael's cock.

"Oh god," Alex moaned brokenly, curling forward over the cylinder in helpless abandon. The angle pressed Michael's cock hard against his prostate, and Alex indulged himself in a few shallow thrusts that brushed the head of Michael's cock against that spot over and over. His body felt like it was getting expertly rung out, and he now understood why there wasn't more of a revolt against the collection process by the alien captives. They were getting an expert blow job by a robot on the government's dime.

When Alex could drag his eyes open, he looked down and saw his own helpless pleasure echoed on Michael's face. His lips were parted in an "oh" of surprise, eyebrows drawn together like he wasn't sure if he was in pain or in ecstasy, and sweat beaded his hairline and neck. He looked like a ravaged Greek demigod laid bare at Alex's whim. The sight made Alex’s body shudder with a wave of lust for the alien beneath him. He didn’t know if it was because he was alien or because Alex was in the midst of intense pleasure, but he wanted to never leave in that instant.

"Fuck, look at you," Alex couldn't help saying. He pushed back, arching and reaching until he could brace his hands on Michael's legs to grind back down in his prick. The cylinder jut from his groin obscenely between them, position change not effecting its mechanical precision. Michael opened his eyes and stared up at Alex, a look if wonder on his face.

"I wanna touch you," he said, voice quiet enough to almost get lost under the hum of the machine. Alex smirked down at him, feeling fuck drunk and bold at his naked worship.

"Where do you wanna touch me? Tell me," Alex demanded, voice breathy.

"I want to touch your neck. I want to twist my hands in your hair and put you where I want you," Michael said, voice serious like he was in a confessional booth telling his sins. Alex hummed in response, sitting up straight and moving his hands up his chest to his neck and then into his hair.

"Like this?" Alex asked, smiling at the covetous, feral look on Michael's face as Alex acted out his words. He let his eyes slip shut so he could imagine that instead of restrained, Michael was simply dictating his desires to him.

"Yeah. Like that," he agreed. His eyes trailed lower and he began talking again. "I want to rake my nails down your chest. I want to pinch and suck your nipples, abuse your tits until you're begging for me to stop."

Alex let his hands fall from his hair down to his chest. He raked his fingers down the front of his pecs and stomach, not stopping until he was almost at his pubes. He slid his fingers back up to his nipples and plucked at them with savage, twisting, pinching fingers. The zings of pain shot down to his groin, where his balls were drawing up tight to his body, the finish line in sight for him. The rhythm of the machine picked up and Alex opened his eyes in time to see Michael looking intently at the knots that controlled speed and intensity.

"Where else?" Alex gasped, the increased setting of the machine making him tip forward to brace himself with his hands on Michael’s chest, so he could fuck himself harder onto Michael's cock in time. He could see in Michael's face he was getting close too, trying to hold out until Alex busted.

"After I come in your ass, I want you to sit on my face and let me eat you out. I want to taste you and me on my tongue. I wanna watch you squirm, oversensitive and mewling as I tongue fuck you into a second orgasm," Michael managed to say through a gasping, pained groan. His hips were flexing minutely under Alex, trying impotently to reciprocate the harsh pounding he was getting as Alex rode him.

"Fuck!" Alex almost yelled, his body starting to seize at the thought, thrusts going erratic as he rode through his orgasm on with his body on automatic pilot. A beeping sensor on the machine went off and the machine automatically shut itself off. Gingerly, he broke the suction around the base of his cock and slid the cylinder from his body. Feeling wrecked and still impossible full of cock, Alex looked down at Michael who was breathing hard and looking pained at the full stop of their activities. Alex gave him an evil smile when their eyes met.

"Your turn, cowboy," he said. Michael looked at him in momentarily confusion until Alex pulled off his cock with groan. He felt so empty without Michael inside him. He felt like his ass was gaping where his legs were still spread on either side of Michael’s hips. He twisted around and slid the used cylinder over Michael's hard-as-nails prick. Machine in place, Alex reached over and flipped on the machine again, overriding the collection sensor and making sure to turn up the speed to bring Michael off swiftly. He turned back to Michael's face, watching him go from shock to stricken within seconds. Alex bent low, resting some of his body weight on top of Michael’s chest, and mouthing at his jaw and neck. He felt the vibrations of whimpers and quiet moans against his cheek as he nibbled at Michael's ear.

"Once you cum in the cylinder, I'm going to make sure you get a taste of us before I dump the sample due to compromise by a foreign body. That means we'll have to do this again tomorrow. And tomorrow? I'm going to fuck your throat while the machine gets a clean sample from you," Alex whispered into his ear. Michael made an unmistakable noise of release, a tight, gasping sob as his cock was milked dry. The selection alarm chimed again and Alex turned off the machine with an easy flick of his wrist.

Good to his word, Alex twisted and broke the suction of the cylinder. Because of the double load, when he moved it off Michael's cock, he could see their combined spunk coating Michael's length in a pearlescent sheen. Inspired, Alex bent down and dragged his tongue down the length of Michael's softening cock. He turned back to Michael, dumping the cylinder haphazardly onto the instrument cart before sealing his lips over Michael's. Michael opened his mouth hungrily, tongue tangling against Alex's and greedily stealing all traces of their combined flavor for himself. When they broke apart, Alex smiled down at Michael for a moment, giving him one last kiss, before moving off of him and the gurney.

He once again leaned against the side of the gurney and put himself back together. By the time he was completely re-outfitted in his fatigues, his mind was once again on business. He turned and pushed the gag back into Michael's mouth before he could say anything. Michael stared at him in confusion until Alex grabbed a hand towel and laid it over Michael's lap to cover his nudity. He gave Michael a sad smile before he went and removed the chair from in front of the door and stuck his head out into the corridor.

"Captive is ready for transport back to the pen," he called to the guards on duty. He backed away when they came back in the room and unlocked the wheels of Michael's gurney. Michael stared at him in something like betrayal as he was wheeled away. After he was gone, Alex washed out the cylinders sleeve and wrote a note on Michael's chart to schedule him for a second collection the following day.

Alex wasn't sure how he felt about what had just happened. Now, in the quiet of the empty collection room, he wondered if it had been an elaborate dream. He wondered if he'd wake up soon in his own bed, tired and disoriented and dreading another day of work at Caulfield. He also couldn't deny that what had just happened definitely wasn't a dream if the ache in his muscles and the slick feeling between his ass cheeks were to be trusted. He felt guilty for judging Kyle’s lasciviousness when he couldn’t stop himself from riding his captive like a rodeo bull. Was he as bad as the other guards thought, or was it just Michael? Alex couldn’t imagine doing anything that had just happened to another captive or man that he knew.

One thing was for certain, he was already in too deep to want to stop. He hadn’t come that hard since he’d learned where his prostate was. He just didn’t know how he was going to schedule in more time for him and Michael to see each other after tomorrow. With a sigh, he left the room and went back to his office to think through his actions. A flask of bourbon waited in his desk drawer to help him find the answers.

[shuadotcom]

Don’t Leave Me | KSJ

➤ Summary: Whether it was something small like a scraped knee or something bigger like the death of someone close, Seokjin made sure he was always there to hold your hand and be your shield. He’d done just that throughout your marriage up until that day. You had asked him to do the simplest of things, and he refused.

➤ Pairing: Seokjin x Female!Reader

➤ Rating & Genre: PG-15, angst, fluff (at the end), established relationship au, idolverse

➤ Warnings: A few curse words, mention of a car accident, mention of a coma

➤ Word Count: 1.8k

➤ A/N: This is for the wonderful, lovely, amazing @aroseforyoongi​! Happy birthday, Eva!!! 🎉 I hope you enjoy some angsty husband Jin you magnificent human! ❤️❤️

Nothing was out of the ordinary that morning. It was early spring, so the weather was nice out. The windows were open in the apartment, letting the warm breeze inside. The radio was turned on low on the coffee table as a ballad played. You were sitting on the couch surrounded by schoolwork as you graded papers your class had turned in that week.

Seokjin was curled up next to you, his eyes skimming over a script for a new drama he was going to start filming soon. Days like these were his favorite. He had no interviews to film, no dance routines to learn, and no one to impress except the woman sitting next to him.

"Jinnie, I want coffee." You whined suddenly, pulling Seokjin away from his reading. He raises his eyebrow at the cutesy tone in your voice that told him you wanted something.

"Well, go into the kitchen and make yourself some." 

"We don't have anymore. Wanna walk with me to the cafe down the street and get some?" 

He should've said yes to you. He should've gotten off of the couch, slipped on his shoes, and gone with you. It wasn't that far from your apartment, so it wouldn't have been too much trouble. Yet, he was feeling exceptionally lazy and didn't have the desire to move. So instead, he said no. Even when you pouted and widened your beautiful eyes at him, Seokjin still held onto his unwillingness and denied you.

"It's not that far; you’ll be fine by yourself," he said. Stupid. He had been so stupid. He sent you off with a quick kiss on the lips and a request for you to bring him back a latte. He hadn't even told you that he loved you.

You had always said that Seokjin made you feel safe. That was something that you put in your vows, which you had written yourself. He promised you, when you wed two years ago, that he'd always keep you safe no matter what. He said he would protect you against anything that'd try and hurt you.

Whether it was something small like a scraped knee or something bigger like the death of someone close, Seokjin made sure he was always there to hold your hand and be your shield. He’d done just that throughout your marriage up until that day. You had asked him to do the simplest of things, and he refused.

Seokjin knew something was wrong when almost an hour went by, and you weren’t home. You only lived within ten minutes from the cafe, so the walk shouldn't have taken that long. When he got the call from the hospital, he knew his worrying wasn't for nothing.

A car had blown out a tire and skidded off of the road, careening towards the sidewalk and hitting you on your way home. You’ve been in a coma for a week now, and there are no words to describe how Seokjin feels. He failed you, and this was his fault. He can’t lose you. You’re his reason for being, and if it wasn't for you, he knows he wouldn't be anywhere near as happy.

"Hey, are you going to eat?" Yoongi asks, stopping to check on his friend once again. Seokjin shakes his head, his hand still curled around your limp one. He stares at the book in his other hand, his eyes read the words, but his brain doesn’t process them.

Yoongi sighs before leaving the room. He'll bring Seokjin something anyway. It's what he's been doing the entire time you’ve been in the hospital to make sure the other man didn't pass out from starvation.

With a sigh, Seokjin puts down the book he’s been staring at and looks at the face of his wife. "Hey, honey. The doctors say even though you’re still in a coma, your vitals are looking good. You should be back to nagging me in no time,” he jokes. Seokjin could swear the corner of your mouth twitched just the slightest bit at his words.

"They also say that talking to you will help you wake up. Voices of loved ones are supposed to help stimulate your brain or something. I don't know. I mean, I told them you're already a genius, so there wouldn’t be much I could do. You'll probably wake up on your own without my help at all. You’ve always been the smarter one between the two of us." Seokjin's eyes glance towards the various machines connected to tubes in your arms, and he feels his stomach churn.

"I still can't believe...I can't believe I did this to you." His grip on your hand tightens. "All I had to do was leave the damn house, and I couldn't even do that for you. What kind of selfish bastard does that?" Seokjin's voice cracks, and he takes his bottom lip into his mouth, gnawing on it to hold back tears. "If I could, I would go back. I would go in your place to the cafe, so this wouldn't have happened. You don't deserve to be lying in this hospital bed right now." He lets out a sob then, unable to fight back the tears that began to blur his vision.

“Y/n, I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I'm so, so sorry. I promise I'll be better, and I'll protect you better. I'll get you coffee every day, whether it be from down the street or across town. Hell, I'd fly to France to get you French coffee on a whim if you wanted. I’ll get you whatever you want. I just, I can’t do this without you. You’re my voice of reason. You’re the one who leads me where I need to go in this world. I don’t know where I’d be without you, Y/n. Please, please come back." Seokjin drops his head onto the side of the bed and loses his ability to speak. He’s relieved that Yoongi had shut the door when he left the room so no one can hear him weep into the scratchy hospital sheets.

Eventually, he falls asleep in that position, his hand clutching yours and his head lying on the edge of the bed. Sleep hasn’t been easy on him and tonight is no exception. He stirs throughout the night, images both positive and negative in his head. He dreams of you finally waking up and smiling at him and telling him that you love him. 

He also dreams of you lying in that hospital bed for seven more days, then seven more months, and eventually seven more years. It’s not the first time he’s dreamt something like that. He always wakes up gasping and clutching his head after those dreams, which are more like nightmares.

Seokjin jolts awake at nearly three in the morning after a harrowing dream. The room is dark and quiet, save for the small lights and sounds coming from the medical equipment. Deciding that he needs a drink of water for his scratchy throat, he begrudgingly lets go of your hand and raises himself from the uncomfortable plastic chair he had become one with.

He’s only gone for five minutes, if even that. As soon as he rounds the corner with his bottle of water in hand and sees the pair of nurses flocking towards your room, he doesn’t have to think twice before he’s hauling ass and sprinting down the hallway. 

Seokjin expects the worse in those five seconds it takes him to reach your room. He expects the machine to be displaying a flat line or for you to be having a complication of some sort. Anything could be waiting for him in that room.

The last thing he expects was for you to be awake and looking around. 

He’s frozen in the doorway as he watches the nurses ask you questions and check the machines around you. A doctor lightly pushes past him and does the same thing the nurses did. Eventually, they all file out of the room, decreeing that your vitals all seem well and that they’re happy to see you awake. Even when the two of you are alone and given your privacy, Seokjin still stands frozen at the door.

"So, are you going to just stand there and stare at me without saying hi?" You croak, adjusting your position in bed. Seokjin is next to you in a flash, fluffing the pillow behind your back and helping you get comfortable.

"I'm so sorry," he blurts out. "I am so, so sorry. Before I hug or kiss you or tell you how crazy I have been going, I just want to say that I'm sorry."

Your face frowns in confusion as you look up at him. "Sorry for what?"

"For putting you here! For letting you go by yourself and letting this happen to you! I’ve been trying for the past week to figure out something to say to you when you woke, so you'll forgive me and not think I'm a shit husband. This is my fault, and I'm sorry, and I don't know what else to say." Seokjin waits for you to yell at him or tell him how much his apologies weren't going to work this time. Instead, you roll your eyes at him and sigh.

"Seokjin, please tell me you have not been sitting here wallowing in self-pity this whole time. The fact that you think this is your fault is stupid." Seokjin opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off with a raised hand. "You can't be everywhere with me all of the time. We both lead different lives, and no matter how hard you try, you can't be a superhero. Accidents happen, and that's just the way life is. I love the fact that you want to protect me and all, but what happened is not your fault."

"But I-"

"But nothing."

"Y/n, just-"

"Seokjin. The only thing I want to hear is how much you missed me. I don't want you saying anything bad about yourself, and I don’t want any more apologizes."

"But baby-"

"No buts!" 

The two of you have a brief stare down until Seokjin acts. He leans forward, cradling your face in his hands, and brings his lips to yours. The kiss isn’t intense or too long, but it’s more than enough. It’s enough for him to let you know how much he’s missed you and how much he loves you. It’s soft and light and drawn out and just right. 

In his head, he’s still blaming himself, and he probably will for the foreseeable future, but he keeps it to himself as he celebrates the fact that he gets to kiss his wife again and that you’re okay. He’ll make sure he’s always there to watch over you and kiss you as much as he wants. Whether you like it or not, he’s going to keep you close to him no matter what it takes if it means you’ll be with him forever.

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

In Session

This one is a doozy. Warnings: m/f sex, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, voyeurism, male masturbation, cum eating, use of mutant abilities in a sexual situation. 18+ please!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The three of you have been home for a couple of weeks now and, unfortunately for poor Bucky, the pixie dust has worn off. All Steve has to do is breathe near you and you go off. He has apologized and apologized but you refuse to let it go. Steve tries to be patient with you. He accepts that what he said gutted you. He is trying to make it up to you but you rebuke all of his attempts.

Quite frankly the whole thing gives Bucky anxiety. As soon as he hears “You know what, Steve?” He reaches for the antacids. In two weeks he was leaving for a semi long trip with Sam and Nat. He needed to set you on the path to healing before he left you two alone. That’s why he hijacked you both and brought you to his therapist.

Dr. Coleman is far more gentle than his VA therapist. She specializes in PTSD and has worked with many first responders and members of law enforcement. She also helps couples to reacclimate following traumatic experiences. Bucky thought that, with the amount of trauma the three of you had suffered, she would be perfect to help.

Neither of you were pleased to be there. The doctor spoke ok Bucky’s behalf at the start of the session. “Steve, Y/N. I’m so glad you’re here. This is an important first step on the path to healing. You are here for each other as much as you are here for yourselves. What we know is the three of you love each other very much. I would like you to keep that in the front of your minds as we go through this journey. I do have a few ground rules. First, we will not raise our voices or become physical here or at home. Second, we will not resort to name calling. Third, we will not shut down when confronted. We will speak on our feelings. Can I gain your agreement on those rules?” You all nodded. “Wonderful. I just need the two of you to sign some consent forms and we’ll be on our way.”

You hated therapists of any kind. You never had a good experience. Grant it, your only experiences were forty something years ago. You were sure there were advances. Still, you were wary of this woman. She does seem to help Bucky. If this is what he needed, you’d do it for him. When she asked Steve to speak first you nearly gagged.

“Steve, tell me why you think we’re all here today.”

He sighed loudly and spoke in a monotone voice like he was in trouble in the principal’s office. “We’re here because our bickering is upsetting Buck.”

“Ok. Can you tell me why you and Y/N have been bickering so much lately?”

“Because he’s impossible to live with.” You said not so under your breath. Steve was quick to react but Dr. Coleman stopped him.

“Y/N, you will have your turn to speak. Please give Steve the courtesy of having his time uninterrupted.” Steve smirked at you. You wanted to reach over and slap him in his smug face but Bucky rested his hand over yours.

“We’re bickering because I said a horrible thing to Y/N and she refuses to forgive me.”

“Right. And what did you say?” Fuck it was like pulling teeth.

“I told her in the heat of an argument that I didn’t want a whore for a wife. But I said I didn’t mean it and that I was sorry. She refuses to move on.”

Dr. Coleman listened to both of your sides and gave you some short term and long term goals. She asked you to open the door for better communication. She understood why you were so upset, especially since his admission was premeditated. She tasked Steve with finding a way to come to terms with what you do. Now that he knows why he feels the way he does, it is time to confront those feelings as his own and stop projecting them onto you. She also suggested that, while Bucky was gone, the two of you should do couple things. Your love was not linked exclusively through Bucky.

The three of you left feeling a little lighter. You made promises to each other and you intended to keep them. The couple of weeks leading up to Bucky’s trip were fine. There was something hanging in the air that made Bucky nervous. Like you two were just waiting for him to leave so you could unload on each other. Steve promised he wouldn’t make faces when you left for your appointments. You promised not to snap at him over every little thing. He didn’t believe either of you.

The night before he left, Steve fell asleep on the couch. You were already in bed half asleep yourself. It was rare when you had alone time. When they were in deep Avengers mode, you cherished your privacy. Maybe it was time to start thinking of getting a bigger place.

Bucky came out of the shower still warm and a little damp. He smelled like cedar and fresh rain. He dropped his towel and slipped under the covers. Compared to him your skin felt cool when you pressed your bare ass against him. “You’re so warm, daddy.”

“I needed that hot shower after the training session Steve and I had. I wore him out.”

“Mmmm. I bet you did. Did you fuck in the gym again?”

His laugh rumbled against your back. “Not this time. Should I go wake him?”

“No. We haven’t had a moment alone since he moved in. This is gonna sound disgusting but I kind of like it when you’re sweet with me.” You didn’t have to say anymore. He slid his hands under your arms to palm your breasts and pressed gentle kisses along your neck and spine. With his knee he parted your legs so he could stroke your warmth. You whined in his mouth when he ran your slick over your clit. He took his time pumping his fingers inside of you coaxing tiny whimpers and moans out of your body. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

You had never called him Jamie during sex until you told him you loved him. His name falling from your lips became his favorite sound. You invoked him like you were invoking God praying for peace. Your cunt fluttered and squeezed his cock bringing you both to your end. “I love you, Jamie.”

“Oh my…I love you too, baby. I’m gonna miss you so much.” He stayed inside of you keeping his spend deep inside of your channel and fell asleep. Sam would be there early.

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Your calendar was pretty full the first week Bucky was gone. Most of your appointments were during the day. Steve was back and forth between the apartment and compound. You settled into a pleasant routine like a normal couple with typical careers and predictable schedules. You even got through a meeting when a realtor without a single clenched jaw.

“Do you have time for lunch?” He was so hopeful. You promised Bucky.

“Yeah. I think so.” He took your hand and held it all the way to a cute little spot down the street. “I like this neighborhood. Not far from the subway. Walkable.”

“I like it too. I’ve seen a ton of kids out and about.” That made you want to cringe but you held it in. None of you have had the cliche conversation about your futures. Since you were the only one who could bear children, you figured you should speak up.

“Do you want kids?” You kept your eyes on your salad.

“Yeah. I really do. Have you um, been checked out? Can you have children?” God this was awkward.

“I can. I wonder if Hydra has successfully bred a serum baby. Like, it altered our DNA. I wonder what would happen.” His brow furrowed. He really hadn’t thought about that.

“I will have to look into it. That’s something we need to know I guess. Why do we feel so weird around each other?”

“Right?!” You were so glad he felt it too.

“Are you ever going to forgive me?” He asked so quiet and quickly that you almost didn’t hear.

“Before I answer that question can I ask a question?” He nodded. “Why are you ok with me having your babies but not being your wife? I know in therapy you said it scared you and you didn’t care for my clients. I get all of that. Those are valid things. I can’t help but think you don’t like the optics.” That was the million dollar question. Could Captain America be out as polyamorous? You felt like Steve might be a closet Republican. Most of the republicans that were your clients were the biggest freaks.

“There’s nothing our media team can’t spin. I’m not embarrassed by you and Buck. My reasons for disliking your job are exactly what I said. I feel like being out about our relationship puts a target on your back.”

“But that’s not what you said, Steve. You said ‘I don’t want a whore for a wife’. That implies something completely different. I like what I do. Those rich assholes and politicians put money in my purse. A lot of my clients are like us. Freaks of nature. They can’t have normal relationships. I help them. I don’t judge their abilities or physical mutations. We just fuck and they feel normal for a while. Like the guy I’m seeing tonight. He just wants to feel normal.”

Steve was quiet for the rest of lunch. You gave him a lot to think about. He had no idea you saw yourself as a freak of nature or that you saw him that way. Everyone celebrated what Steve was but essentially threw you away. The people on your client list who he saw as villains have been tossed out by the society he swore to protect. He guessed he jumped the shark a bit by even bringing up marriage. Not like you were there yet.

You and Bucky seemed to have a don’t ask don’t tell policy regarding your situation. That was not Steve. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew without a doubt that you were safe. Tonight he will follow you. If he ever wanted to move passed his own feelings, he had to know.

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Tonight you were seeing Erik Lensherr which meant you had to be prepared for anything. He never beat you like other idiots did. He wasn’t stupid. Why hit you when it doesn’t hurt? He liked to really bring you to the brink of pain with pleasure. Sometimes he edged you for hours. He loved when you were a drooling sobbing mess begging for relief. That’s what turned him on. After sessions with him, you always took the following day off.

You and Steve had dinner together. You were both much more relaxed. He sat in the bathroom while you got ready. You picked a dress and made sure to have lots of mascara on. Mascara tears were Erik’s favorite. While you put on your jewelry, he stood behind you and kissed your shoulders. You missed his touch. You leaned in and let him put his hands on you.

“You look beautiful, honey.” he said against the back of your neck.

“Thank you. Why don’t you take the day off tomorrow? We can stay in bed all day.”

He smiled that beautiful sunshine smile at you that made your insides liquid. “Really? Does that mean you forgive me?”

You giggled, “No. It means I want to get reacquainted. Forgiveness is not so easy for me. Maybe if you ever put a ring on it, I’ll forgive you.”

“I’ll take it. Will you be out late?” He kissed his way down your neck.

“I’m not really sure. If I know I won’t be coming home I’ll text you. I wouldn’t wait up.” You allowed him to really kiss you. My lord Steve Rogers is an amazing kisser. He is confident and strong in his movements. He kisses with his whole body. Hands roam your back and and shoulders while he presses your body into his. His eyes barely close, making his lashes flutter on the tops of his cheeks. And he softly moans which drives you crazy. Well, at least Erik won’t have to warm you up.

“I love you. Be safe. Call me if absolutely anything is off. Promise.”

“Yes, sir. I love you, too.”

He gave you a thirty second head start before he followed you on his bike. You met Erik at a beautiful brownstone. He held the door for you and kissed both of your cheeks. Steve saw him pour you a drink and direct you to the sofa by the small of your back. You looked comfortable enough. It was clear the two of you were friends. Then, he sat next to you. His movements became predatory. He always kept his hands on you.

Soon he was taking your drink and leading you up the stairs. It was the moment of truth. He could walk away satisfied that you were safe or climb the fire escape to watch. The thought of seeing you in flagrante was turning him on way more than he should have been. Option B it was.

He climbed to the second story where he sat stock still in a darkened corner. The window was cracked a bit so he could hear everything.

The two of you kissed passionately. Erik’s hands found your zipper and made quick work of shedding your dress. He pushed you to the bed which was decorated by an ornate metal head and footboard. He raised his hand and part of the bed broke off bending around your wrists to bind you.

“Too tight, Princess?”

“No, sir.” Next he attached a spreader bar to your ankles springing your legs open wide. “Color?”

“Green.” Your voice was steady but your breath was heaving in your chest. Steve wondered if it was nerves or excitement.

Erik knelt beside you and stroked your face. “How many times shall I make my Princess cum tonight hmm? Shall we try for six?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He produced a string of metal balls from his pocket and popped them one by one into your mouth. His lips were on yours again. His tongue moved the balls around your mouth clacking them on your teeth. When he was satisfied with their saturation he pried your mouth open with his thumb and removed them. He parted your folds and sunk the balls into your dripping hole one by one. His fingers danced swirling the orbs inside of your cunt. Your back arched off the bed. “Does that feel good, Princess?”

“Yes , sir. So good.”

“Excellent. Princess, I want you to count out loud each time you come. I will edge you for one hour if I don’t hear you.”

“Ah! Yes, sir.” The coil in your belly was building. Erik smiled down on your writhing body. You tried to bring your thighs together but the bar was made of steel. Unless you focused you couldn’t break it.

“Look at you. I bet if I touched you even a little you would cum.” He ran his index finger lightly over your clit and you fell apart.

“One! Oh my…one.” You moaned and that beautiful sound went right to Steve’s cock. He stroked himself outside of his pants at first. He wanted to last as long as you. It would be difficult.

“Good girl. That’s my good, Princess. Doing so well.”

He kept the balls swirling while he licked a stripe up your cunt. His lips closed over your clit. Your hips bucked wildly against his face. You threw your head back against the bed and screamed, “Fuck! Two!”

He pressed the pads of his fingers over your clit and rubbed furiously. “Three” you whimpered.

He smacked your pussy hard. “Didn’t hear you, love.”

“Three, sir.”

“You getting tired on me? You have three more. Color, darling.”

“Green, sir.”

“Oooh. She’s being a warrior tonight. Give me one more in my mouth and I’ll take two on my cock.”

“Yes, sir.”

He went back to licking your snatch. You were sonsensitive. His big hands held you still while he licked and nibbled. Steve leaned on the railing panting. He couldn’t take it anymore. He unsheathed his throbbing member and wrapped it tight in his fist.

You got to four and tears started streaking your face. Erik pulled out the balls and tossed them aside. You mewled at the emptiness in your pussy. Erik undressed. When his cock was free he ran the leaking tip around the hole pushing in ever so slightly. The stretch made you cry out.

“So wet for me. You’re leaking and I haven’t even pushed all the way in. Do you want more?” You nodded so he pulled away. “Use your words or you won’t get to cum.”

“More please, sir. I need it.” He slammed into you letting his pelvis hit your clit hard.

“Was that five, my darling?”

“N…no, sir. M’so close.”

“Give it to me.” His hips pumped faster and faster. You screamed and nearly arched yourself in half.

“Fiiiiive. Yellow, sir.”

“Oh you feel so good around my cock. One more and then I’ll paint your belly and tits.”

Steve pumped his fist in time with Erik’s hips. When you came the sixth time, so did he. Hot ropes of cum dribbled onto his hand. He kept stroking while Erik finished.

“Think you can go for seven? It would make me so proud.” You were much too sensitive.

“Red! Red red red.” Erik pulled out immediately and jerked himself all over your belly and breasts. Out of breath he fell over onto the bed next to you. You looked wrecked. With a wave of his hand your wrists were free. He undid the spreader and kissed you deeply.

“Water, Princess?”

“Yes, please.” He brought you a glass and held it to your lips. He tossed you your dress. You didn’t clean yourself up. That was part of the scene. You went home still sticky with his cum. Steve was feral at the thought of licking another man’s seed off of you. He made it down and onto his bike before you got to the door.

You took your payment and kissed Erik goodbye.

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Steve made it into the house moments before you. He changed his clothes and acted like he had been home all night. His heart thumped loud in his ears when he heard your keys in the door.

“Hey, honey. Didn’t expect you so early.” You patted him on the head as you limped into the bathroom.

“Need a shower.”

“Can I join you?” The thought of cumming again nearly made you cry.

“Yes, but only to shower.” He jumped up and followed you. You shook out your hair and went to unzip your dress but his hands were there already.

“You look so pretty right now. All fucked out. You were such a good girl tonight.” Every nerve in your body prickled. He kissed down your neck and the top of your spine.

“Steve, did you follow me?” Your voice was low. Your expression unreadable.

“Are you mad? I just wanted peace of mind. I got a lot more than that. I’m not saying I’ll be ok every time. But, if I’m honest, I’ve been thinking about licking that cum off of you.” Your whole body went warm. A smirk pulled at the corner of your lips as you edged down your dress.

“Did you like what you saw, sweet boy?”

“Mmm. Very much.”

“Did you make yourself cum watching us?”

“I did.” He ground his hard cock into your ass cheek.

“I’m so sticky. Clean me up before we shower.” He knelt in front of you and licked all of the dried cum off of your belly. “Mmm. Good boy.”

“I need to be inside of you so bad. Please can I fuck you?”

“Please fuck me, Steve.”’ He brought you into the shower and soaped you up. After the two of you were clean he kissed you fiercely. He lifted your hips and drove into you. “I can’t wait until Jamie gets home so I can tie you to the chair while he fucks my brains out. Wanna watch Jamie fuck me, sweet boy?” He moaned loudly.

“Yes, ma’am. Wanna watch him pound this pretty pussy.” It wasn’t long before you both lost it.

You got into bed and stretched out on his chest. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I had no idea I would like that.”

You giggled, “We learn something new about ourselves every day.” You both completely passed out.

The next morning Bucky got home early. He was shocked that Steve wasn’t already up. He found the two of you sleeping soundly. He nearly cried at how content you were. Steve opened his eyes and pressed his finger to his lips. Bucky got undressed and crawled in behind you. He pressed a kiss onto your shoulder and laid an arm across your back. He and Steve laced their fingers together.

“Did you make up?” He whispered.

“Something like that. It’s a long story.” You stirred a little.

“Jamie?”

“I’m home, baby doll. Go back to sleep.” He kissed you again and pulled the covers over you.

“K. Steve’s a kinky freak.” You buried your face into Steve to shield you from the sun streaming in from the curtains.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and smiled. Steve kept his eyes closed. “What the fuck happened?”

“Get some sleep. I promise we’ll show you later.” He kissed the back of Bucky’s hand and fell back to sleep. Bucky forced himself to close his eyes. He couldn’t imagine what was going to happen but he couldn’t wait to find out.