#the way i want to reach put to certain mutuals but am way to fucking embarrassed to even think about trying

[outcast-thingz]

Ahsvdv this is so not my style of drawing ah hah-hah-haaa... but i wanted to post something for valentines day

[rshmra]

PRETTY BOY!

plot: niki swears he met the girl of his dreams at the convenience store late one night- however, his discovery proves to be misguided. the "girl" he likes is actually just a really pretty boy, and he's the main vocalist of the new and wildly popular boy group of four, X_CAPE.

written: 0.7k words

<- prev. masterlist. next. ->

bonus chapter: suck on deezpatch

"y'know, we're kind of giving ourselves away right now."

yn brings up a fair point, glancing at riki from behind the gigantic black cat squishmallow he's clutching tight to his chest as they finally tear themselves from the claw machines.

the two have spent a whopping combined amount of at least 150,000 won (not including the past arcade "hangouts" they went on) and are each holding a humongous stuffed plush- riki having secured the dark feline for yn, and yn winning him a chicken plushie in competitive spirit.

"psh, what makes you say that?" ni-ki scoffs, slinging the enormous chick upon his shoulder.

"oh i don't know, maybe the fact that we're lugging stuffies of our respective animals around everywhere? not exactly our slickest move."

"i haven't a clue what you're talking about. last time i checked i was holding a chick, not a puma."

"nah, you're such duck material."

"i am a PUMA, yn."

"okay, riki." yn muffles a quiet snicker behind his squishmallow, riki casting a small smile down at him.

it's far from the duo's first time going out. despite both being busy idols with exhausting schedules, they've managed to make time for the other, whether it's going shopping, walking to a café or just facetiming. it's a breath of fresh air, really. they somehow find a way to make each other feel like normal teens, just hanging out like normal friends would... except neither would exactly refer to it as mere friendship.

it's more than that, really. best friends would also undermine the bond they have, but it's the closest they'll get. the comfort yn gets from riki's company is too much to risk to ask anything regarding their relationship, and vice versa. clearly there's a mutual desire to be with one another, yet no certain label quite fits their situation, so they'll stick to the whole "unspoken best friends" thing for a while.

so maybe it's a bit more complicated than it should be, but back to the current moment.

yn unloops his used mask from behind his ears as they depart, discarding it in the bin by the exit with a sigh. he reaches casually into riki's hoodie pocket to retrieve a new one, but hesitates to put it on when he catches a gaggle of girls staring into their souls from across the street.

curious, ni-ki follows his gaze to the gaping group, gently touching the small of yn's back to guide him in the other direction. "they're probably just distracted or something."

"no, no, they definitely knew..." a thought strikes, and ni-ki can practically feel yhe warmth of the lightbulb that just lit up over yn's head. the frown that had so quickly wrought itself upon his mouth is quick to vanish, replaced by a cunning lilt of the lips. "...the focus was mostly on you, since they could see more of your face."

"what are you scheming?" riki deadpans, too accustomed to knowing when yn has a plan.

"hey, i'm not scheming. i just have an idea!"

with a defeated exhale, ni-ki allows yn to drag him by the hand into a nearby bookstore to give him the rundown.

"oh, that is a stupid idea. even by my standards, that is really stupid."

"it'll be so worth it, i promise!"

any urge to argue further dies in riki's throat as he makes eye contact with the other boy. fuck, it's so hard to say no when yn's looking up at him beneath long lashes, mischief barely contained behind them. bravely, he musters a few words.

"...hybe's gonna want to monitor us twenty-four-seven."

"they don't care about their idols being 'close friends' though, do they?" riki wants to question the use of air quotation marks around "close friends", but before he can say anything yn intertwines his ringed fingers with his and tugs him out of the store.

"when we get in deep shit i'm blaming you!"

"we'll play everyone like pawns, trust me!"

notes: this was supposed to come out yesterday,,, but unfortunately due to certain circumstances it got pushed back. (note to self: SAVE YOUR WRITING EVERY TIME.) so sorry for any mistakes pls ignore those, i made this a "bonus chapter" cus it isnt super important but still ties into the story. THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS BTW !! this is so super late but thank u all ❤

taglist: @silkentides @nikikids @totoroblop @winter-world @phantom-butterfly @simsoobean @byu @noredplz @sh0uj0-r3i @onementally-unstabel-kid @thepeachyhub @enhypen-reblog @ao5riki @bearseulgs @le0-0nidas @gothhyucks @to-toad @ddeonubaby @nootnootpinguuu

bold can't be tagged!

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[flightlessangelwings]

The Favorite

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Comandante Veracruz

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY!), sex worker reader (we respect sex workers here!), mutual pining, oral (m receiving x2), hinted bisexuality, multiple orgasms, overstim, rough sex, fingering, unprotected sex, protective!Javier, cheeky Veracruz, no use of y/n (I think I got everything, please let me know if I missed something!)

Notes: I am SO EXCITED to share this one with y'all cause this was a blast to write!!! So I hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it!! And a big thank you to @bendro-pascarnes for giving me ideas and encouragement for this fic!!! Enjoy!!! Reblogs and follows are very much appreciated!!

To stay up to date on when I post, also follow my update blog and turn on post notifs @flightlessangelwings-updates

Javier Peña was exhausted. Physically, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a decent night’s sleep. Mentally, he was frustrated that a certain arms dealer he had been after for months slipped past his grip once again. Emotionally, he needed a release. 

And that was what led him to your door time and time again. 

Javier sighed to himself as he stared at the familiar doorway and knocked three times. He knew every little crack in the plain door to your apartment, and he could tell you were on the other side by the familiar rustling and step pattern. You were a comfort to Javier, and there was something about you that drew him back over and over again.

He kept that to himself, though. It was just sex, just a release. He didn’t want to complicate things by bringing emotions and feelings into your relationship. And he certainly never wanted to put you in any danger by getting more involved with you. What if the wrong person found out who you were and tried to use you against him? Javier couldn’t live with himself if you were ever hurt and it was his fault.

All his thoughts were pushed out though when you finally opened the door and Javier looked deep into your eyes. 

“Hey querida,” he breathed as he immediately cupped your face and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“Javi…” you moaned as you welcomed the warmth and comfort his large hands brought you. You reached out and gripped onto his jacket as he gently guided you inside.

The moment he crossed the threshold, Javier closed the door behind him and locked it all without ever breaking away from you. It secretly made his heart skip a beat the way you put all your trust in him, even for something so small. And the need within him grew exponentially as he tasted you on his tongue. 

But as quickly as you got lost within him, you had to gather yourself, “Javi,” you repeated his name in a firmer voice as you gently pushed him away, “This isn’t a good time…” your eyes drifted into your apartment where another man sat on your couch.

“Hola, Agente Peña,” a smooth yet familiar voice greeted him, “This is quite unexpected,” the man rose to his feet and looked him in the eye with a challenge in his eyes.

“Comandante Veracruz!” Javier immediately pushed you behind him and raised his gun, “Stay behind me, querida,” he told you softly before he turned back to the other man, “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“It looks like for the same reason you are, Agente,” Veracruz smirked, “It appears you and I have similar tastes in women, no?”

It was then that Javier noticed that the Comandante’s shirt was completely open, revealing a soft, smooth chest underneath. He swallowed hard as he thought about you with him and what he interrupted by showing up at your place unannounced. But his jaw clenched and he looked at Veracruz with a dangerous look in his eye as he clicked his gun, “You stay the fuck away from her, hijo de puta!”

Veracruz did not have a weapon on him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to back down. He took a step closer to Javier with a challenge in his eyes, “Go ahead, shoot me, Agente.”

The two men stayed locked in their standoff, the tension in the air so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

“Ok enough!” you shouted as you darted out from behind Javier and placed yourself between the two men, “No one is shooting anyone in my apartment, got it,” you raised your hands in front of each of them, both their chests close enough that you felt the heat from each man.

You stared at Javier until he lowered his weapon and then turned to Veracruz and waited for him to raise his hands in defeat. You heard both men grumble curses to themselves as they glared daggers at the other. The tension in the room was palpable, and you knew you had to be quick to diffuse the situation. 

“Javi,” you turned to him, “Can you come back later? V was here first.” You figured the best way for them to not kill each other in your apartment was to get one of them to leave.

Javier breathed your name in exasperation, “Do you know who this man is? What he’s done?!”

Clearly, your initial plan was going to fail, “Yes Javi, he tells me about every detail of his life,” you deadpanned. You and Javier stared at each other while Veracruz snickered softly behind you, “He’s just another client, Javi,” you softened when he clearly didn’t appreciate your sarcasm, “It’s ok, I’m ok,” you reassured him.

Javier’s jaw clenched and you saw the muscles in his face tense, “I don’t like leaving you alone with him, querida,” there was a tenderness in his voice, but you also heard something else underlying his words that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

The tension in the room only grew as the three of you stayed in a stare-off. Neither man seemed to be willing to step away, and you didn’t want anything to escalate inside. For once, you had no idea what to do next. 

Veracruz stepped up behind you and placed his hand on your hip while he nuzzled into your ear, “Do not worry, Agente,” his eyes locked onto Javier’s as he caressed your body, “I would never harm her,” he made a show of kissing and nibbling your ear, and you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips, “She is too delicious to mar.”

Every muscle in Javier’s body tensed as he watched the display in front of him. He wasn’t sure if the fact that you seemed to enjoy the Comandante’s touch comforted him or made him angrier. But, at the very least he was convinced, for now, that he truly would not hurt you. So, with a reluctant sigh, Javier put away his gun and dropped his shoulders as he relaxed slightly. However, he made no attempt to move.

“I have an idea,” you snapped out of the trance that Veracruz put you in and reached out for his arm, “Stay.”

“Perdoneme?!” Both men echoed as their eyes went wide.

“I only have time for one today,” you explained, “Why don’t you both stay?” you let out a soft, short laugh, “I’ll even let you share the price of your time.”

Javier and Veracruz stared at each other, and you could tell that they both thought over your offer. There seemed to be a lot on the table for the two men, and you easily deduced that Veracruz was one of the many that Javier chased after at his job. It was an unusual place to be in for sure, but the thought of both of these very attractive men at the same time sent a rush of excitement through your veins. 

Veracruz eyed Javier up and down before he broke the silence, “I am willing to give this a try,” he smirked, “Besides, I do have to admit you are a handsome man, Agente,” he added with a quip.

Clearly Javier did not expect that, and you saw his composure stumble slightly. But, as he looked between you and Veracruz you noticed the bulge in his pants. 

“Ok.” It was just a whisper, but both you and Veracruz heard it loud and clear. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you felt a rush of wetness between your legs, “Ok,” you repeated, “But my apartment is neutral territory, got it,” your voice was firmer, “No killing each other while you’re here.”

“Agreed,” Veracruz’s tone dropped as he wrapped his arms around you once more.

“Agreed,” Javier echoed as he stepped closer to you and reached out for you.

“Ok,” you smiled as you leaned into the embraces of both men and savored the feelings of being in between them. Oh, you were going to enjoy this, you just knew it. 

Veracruz nuzzled his nose against the shell of your ear again as he maintained sharp eye contact with Javier, “Since I was here first,” he purred, “I am going to fuck her first.”

Javier’s jaw clenched as you moaned against the other man. Veracruz ripped you from his grip as he led you back towards your couch. The Comandante nibbled along the muscle in your neck as his hands roamed all over your body, quickly stripping you of what little you wore on the way. Javier swallowed hard as heat quickly rose in his own body as he watched Veracruz ravage you.

You let out a soft yelp as Veracruz pushed you onto the couch. Immediately, you spread your legs and you looked up at both men with a glazed over expression in your eyes. Both of them groaned as they looked down at you and studied every inch of your figure. The tension still remained though, even as they both shed their jackets at the same time, their arms brushing against the other as they did so.

Javier and Veracruz glared at each other for a moment before the whimper you let out called their attention again. Veracruz spared Javier another quick glance and a devilish smirk before he lunged forward and took your lips with his own. He swallowed the moan you let out as he devoured you completely.

“You know the way I like you, muñeca,” Veracruz groaned against your lips.

“Yes, Comandante,” you moaned back in a tone that made Javier’s cock twitch.

Javier watched as you positioned yourself on your hands and knees on your couch while Veracruz slipped his pants off with haste. Javier couldn’t help but eye the Comandante up and down when he stood fully nude behind you, and it only made his skin burn hotter.

He noticed of course, and as he lined himself up with your entrance behind you, Veracruz smirked, “Like what you see, Agente?”

Javier muttered to himself something that neither you nor Veracruz could decipher as his eyes darted down to the floor. His eyes only snapped back up when Veracruz landed a hard smack on your ass and you cried out in pleasure. Javier watched with darkened eyes as Veracruz caressed your ass for a moment before he smacked your pussy hard and you screamed even louder. 

“She likes this,” Veracruz’s eyes flashed up to Javier, “Have you tried it?” he smacked your pussy again and again you screamed in bliss, “Her screams are delicious,” he purred. 

“Fuck…” Javier muttered as he palmed his cock through his jeans.

“But even more delicious,” Veracruz groaned as he stroked his cock a few times before lining himself up with your entrance, “Is when you enter her for the first time…”

With that, Veracruz thrust into you in one swift motion, fully burying himself inside you. The scream you let out echoed in the room and it made both men growl lowly. Veracruz wasted no time, though, and immediately pounded into you at a fast and harsh pace. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he gritted his teeth while he rocked into you over and over again.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you surrendered to the roughness that was Veracruz. You knew to expect that from him, and if you were honest, you craved it just as much as he did. He always left you a trembling mess by the time he was done, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. But, as Veracruz pounded into you, another sound made you open your eyes. 

While Veracruz fucked you, Javier opened the zipper of his jeans and stroked himself in rhythm with the Comadnante’s thrusts. And when he groaned, your eyes shot open and you whimpered when you were met with the sight of the agent with his thick cock in his large hand.

“Oh fuck,” you cried out as your mind swam in pleasure.

Veracruz growled as he tightened his grip on you and gave his hips a long, slow, strong thrust. Your eyes fluttered shut as he buried his cock as deep inside you as he possibly could. Veracruz dragged his length out of you slowly until only the tip was still inside you and he muttered an incoherent curse when he looked down and saw the way your pussy lips wrapped around him.

“I hope you are watching, Agente,” Veracruz glanced up at the other man for a moment before he slammed himself back into you again. 

This time, however, Veracruz didn’t move right away and he stayed with his cock deep inside you for several moments. He groaned as he opened his eyes and met Javier’s once more. Vaguely, you were aware of the tension that still remained between the two men, and you knew that they were both going to lose themselves in a fight for power in the situation. But, you were also too lost in the bliss that was Veracruz’ cock to care. 

“Cuidado, Veracruz,” Javier warmed as his eyes narrowed.

“I am always careful, Agente,” Veracruz thrust into you once and held himself still again for another moment. 

When you cried out in pleasure, the Comandante lost his control, and he quickly picked up his pace and rocked into you with his usual fast pace once more. You dropped your head down for a moment as his thick cock dragged along your inner walls, making you see stars, but when you heard Javier jerking himself off again, you lifted yourself and met his eyes.

The fire that burned behind Javier’s eyes made you whimper and your mouth watered, “Come here, Javi,” you cooed as you reached for him with a trembling hand.

Javier moved as if he was in a trance, and perhaps he was. Guided by your voice, he stepped closer until he was within your reach. When he was, you immediately tugged at his pants and yanked them down, all with your mouth wide open in a silent invitation.

It was one that Javier eagerly accepted, and after he helped you shed his jeans, he placed his cock on the tip of your tongue. Without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his cock and swallowed as much of it as you could, making Javier groan loudly. He couldn’t help it, and his hands landed on your scalp as he thrust himself in and out of your mouth right away. Your mouth always felt so good, but something was different about this time.

Veracruz watched the whole thing with dark amusement. Lust grew within him like a weed as he watched Javier fuck your face in time with his own thrusts. Not wanting to share too much of your attention, Veracruz smacked your ass hard. But all of you moaned at the same time as your own sounds were muffled by Javier’s cock in your mouth.

Heat rose in the room as both Javier and Veracruz fucked you, filling you from either end. Their dueling shows of dominance only made them fuck you harder, but that was a win in your book. And soon enough, you felt the tingle of your climax quickly creeping up. You weren’t about to let go of Javier’s cock, though, and you moaned around him as you worked him with your tongue still.

“She’s about to cum,” Veracruz groaned, “I can feel her clenching around me,” he sped up his thrusts and reached around to rub at your clit, determined to make you cum harder than you ever had before, “I am about to cum too, muñeca…”

And it didn't take much longer for Veracruz to get what he wanted. But, he also wanted to hear you scream when you came, so he grabbed your waist and reeled you up so that your back was flush against his chest. You whined when you were forced off Javier’s cock, but the action drove Veracruz deeper into you, hitting that spot that drove you wild. The instant you were against Veracruz’s strong body, you came hard, screaming his name as your body shook against his.

Veracruz’s pace became erratic as your orgasm triggered his own. He growled as he maintained eye contact with Jaiver as long as he could until he too surrendered to the pleasure. He bit down on your neck hard as he rode out both your climaxes.

Javier watched with wide eyes, and he wondered if you looked that beautiful when you came on his cock too. But, when you started to fall forward, he broke out of his thoughts and immediately caught you before you hit the couch. Ignoring Veracruz, he caressed your body tenderly as you came down from your high.

“You alright, querida?” Javier whispered in your ear.

“Mmmhmm,” you didn’t trust your voice just yet.

Javier glanced up at Veracruz before he turned his attention to you, “I’ve got you, hang on.”

He helped you up and guided you back towards your bedroom, where he preferred to fuck you. He heard the footsteps of Veracruz behind him, and he knew the Comandante followed close behind. Javier gently laid you down onto your bed, and his breath caught in his throat when you looked up at him with a look he couldn’t quite discern.

“Javi…” you reached up and cupped his face, pulling him close to yours before you whispered, “Your turn.”

You closed the gap between your face with a heated kiss. Javier immediately deepened it and dove his tongue into your mouth, exploring where his cock just was. He groaned when he tasted the saltiness on your tongue, and it only made his cock strain against your bodies.

Veracruz watched the exchange with a look of pure lust in his eyes. Where he fucked you hard and fast, Javier was slower and more deliberate. Veracruz watched as Javier cupped your breasts while he devoured your lips and the way you reacted to his touch. Veracruz watched as his hands ran down the sides of your body, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Veracruz watched as he palmed your pussy, his thumb brushing against your clit.

“Smack her pussy, Agente,” Veracruz growed: an order, not a request.

“I know how to fuck her, Comandante,” Javier snapped back as he broke away from your kiss for the first time.

Veracruz grinned from where he settled himself on the side of your bed, his cock in his hand already hardened again from watching Javier pleasure you. But, the smile was wiped from his face when Javier dipped two fingers into your pussy and wiped away the evidence of his own release that still lingered on your body. Javier looked at the other man with a challenge in his eye: the same challenge Veracruz himself had earlier.

But, it only made Veracruz amused, “Well played, Agente Peña.” He couldn’t deny that he wouldn’t have done the same thing had roles been reversed.

Javier then did something that caught him off guard: he smacked your pussy. Hard. You threw your head back and screamed even louder as he smacked your pussy a second time. Still sensitive from how hard Veracruz fucked you, every touch felt like it was dialed up to 100. And Javier was rougher than Veracruz thought he would be.

Just as his roughness bubbled to the surface, it disappeared as Javier caressed your cunt gently. He rubbed at your clit as you cried out in pleasure before he dove two fingers into you. You clawed at your bedsheets as Veracruz watched with an inferno behind his eyes. 

“Impressed?” Javier cocked a grin at Veracruz as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

“I am,” Veracruz quipped back as he palmed his cock, “Now let he watch and see if you fuck her better than I do.”

Javier growled as he pulled his fingers out of you quicker than he meant to. Lost in the bliss, you barely registered the banter between the two men; all you cared about was your next climax on Javi’s cock. And luckily for you, he didn’t leave you much time to lament about the loss of his fingers before the tip of his cock already poked at your swollen entrance.

“You ready, querida?” Javier asked in a low tone as he hovered over you.

“Fuck me, Javi,” you whispered as you opened your eyes and met his.

Javier didn’t need to be told twice, and he thrust into you just as harshly as Veracruz did. You screamed as you felt yourself filled to the brim once again. Javier stilled himself for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his cock like he always did when he fucked you. 

“Move,” Veracruz growled as he watched you fall apart under the other man.

Javier shot Veracruz a glare before he moved his hips. His pace was different from the Comandante’s; where Veracruz was harsh and fast and rough, Javier was slower, more precise, but still just as hard. Already, you could tell the difference between the two men, although they both satisfied you more than anyone else.

“Fuck… Javi…” you moaned as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and dug your nails into his skin.

“You feel so good, querida,” Javier murmured into your ear so only you could hear his praise.

His hips snapped against yours as he thrust his cock deep into you over and over again. Tears filled the corners of your eyes from how overwhelmed you felt, but you never wanted this to stop. You clung to Javier as if your life depended on it, and in the back of your mind you knew that if it came down to it, you would trust him with your life. 

Veracruz watched the show with amusement, but he was also quickly getting hard again from watching the way you reacted to the agent. He wrapped his hand around his cock and pumped it in time with Javier’s thrusts as his eyes never left your bodies. Hearing your moans always spurred him on, and even when he wasn’t the cause of them this time, Veracruz still was more turned on than he had ever been before.

For several moments, Javier was too lost in you to notice the other man in the room right next to you. From the moment he buried his cock inside you, Javier’s world was nothing else. “So warm, querida,” he couldn’t help but spill praises from his lips, “Always so good for me, querida. Que bonita.”

Veracruz couldn’t help the crooked smile as he watched Javier lose himself in your pussy. But, he also wasn’t about to allow him to have you all to himself right now, so he cupped your face and turned you to face him.

“He fuck you good, muñeca?” he asked you with a teasing pout.

“Yes,” you breathed.

Javier growled as he gave Veracruz a sharp look, but he didn’t slow down. If Veracruz wanted to distract you from him, he would have to earn it. 

“Open,” Veracruz commanded.

Without hesitation, you parted your lips for him.

“So good for me,” Veracruz mocked Javier, and his eyes darted up to make sure he knew it.

But, any retort Javier had was lost when the comandante smacked your face with his cock. The sound of skin slapping made Javier’s cock twitch inside you, and he groaned when Veracruz’s own cock soon disappeared in your mouth. Immediately, you wrapped your lips around his length and took in as much as you could.

Veracruz let out a low groan as he momentarily lost himself in you as well. He felt your tongue swirl around the head before you gagged on as much of him as you could take. He gripped the base of your head harshly and gave you a tug, yanking you more against his body.

Javier felt conflicted: to watch you be manhandled like that turned him on, but also wanted to make sure you weren’t actually hurt at all. But, his body acted before his mind could and he sped up his thrusts before he even realized it. Though your moans were muffled, Javier still heard the way you whimpered around Veracruz’ cock as he rocked his hips against you.

Sweat lined the brows of both men as they found a new rhythm. Between them, your body was reduced to a trembling pile of limbs, wonderfully helpless as they both used your holes and fucked you so well. 

It didn’t take long for another climax to build up quickly, and when Javier groaned as you clenched around him, Veracruz gave him a knowing look.

“It’s nice when she squeezes your cock like that, huh Agente?” He tried to keep his own composure, but he was also quickly barreling towards the edge as well.

“Shut up, Veracruz,” Javier panted as he turned all his attention towards you. Suddenly, one-upping him didn’t matter at all, and all Javier wanted was to make you cum. In the back of his mind, though, he couldn’t deny that Veracruz wasn’t wrong at all.

Your breasts swung as Javier pounded into you, and you screamed around Veracruz’s cock when you felt Javier’s rough finger rub at your clit. Although you tried to pull away, Veracruz refused to release his grip on your scalp, pinning you against his body.

“No, muñeca,” Veracruz tisked, “Not when I’m this close…”

Javier grumbled; he knew what Veracruz was doing. He didn’t want Javier to have the satisfaction of hearing you scream as you came on his cock. It didn’t matter though, Javier was determined to make you cum harder, so he pounded into you while he rubbed at your clit with expert precision until he felt your body shake.

With a muffled scream, you fell apart under the two men’s touches for a second time. You felt like you could float away if it weren’t for them pinning you down, and it was a bliss unlike anything you ever felt before. And even though Veracruz’ cock stayed securely in your mouth, your scream still echoed in the room.

“Fuck…” matching curses came out of both their mouths.

Javier and Veracruz came almost simultaneously, each spilling themselves in your body without warning. Groans and grunts flowed from their lips as they rode out their climaxes on your body as you trembled from the aftershocks of your own powerful orgasm.

With a final grunt, Veracruz pulled himself out of your mouth and breathed heavily as he watched Javier collapse on top of you. A gasp escaped your lips as you took in a full breath for the first time, only to have it pushed out of your body by Javier’s weight over you. He quickly mumbled a soft apology as he carefully pulled out of you and laid down next to you, inviting you into his arms without hesitation.

Exhausted, you collapsed right into Javier’s arms. You exhaled deeply as you laid your head on his chest and listened to the soothing sound of his pounding heartbeat. “That…” you sighed, “Was fucking amazing.”

Javier chuckled softly as he caressed your body tenderly, “You were amazing, querida,” he whispered into your ear before he looked up and watched as Veracruz already rose and slipped on his pants that he grabbed from your couch.

His expression dropped as he watched the other man gather his things and drape his shirt over his shoulders. It also didn’t escape Javier that the Comandante’s gun was nearby this whole time, and Veracruz made direct eye contact with him as he picked it up.

“Veracruz,” Javier said his name in a warning. But, just as he was about to get up, you nuzzled yourself more into his chest and let out a soft snore. All the air felt like it was pushed out of his lungs as he watched you sleep for several moments, safe and secure in his arms.

“It appears as though you are incapacitated, Agente,” Veracruz smirked as he buttoned his shirt up except for the top few buttons, “I will take my leave then,” there was a darkness in his eyes, but Javier wasn’t sure it was meat as a threat, “We should do this again sometime, Agente. Perhaps a contest as to who can eat her sweet pussy better.”

Javier frowned as his eyes landed on a pack of cigarettes on your bedside table, something that you always left there just for him. Veracruz’s gaze followed, and when you mumbled something in your sleep, it stirred something within him. Veracruz crossed the room and picked up the pack, “Do not ever say I did nothing for you, Agente,” his tone was low as he handed them over.

Dumbfounded, Javier looked up at the other man with his mouth open. As Veracruz turned to leave, Javier called out his name again, “Veracruz!”

The Comandante turned and watched you sleep in Javier’s arms for a moment. It was at that moment that he knew that what Javier felt for you was more, and that you returned those feelings. He had the feeling that all this remained unspoken, though, and for once he chose not to comment on it.

“The hunt is back on, Agente,” Veracruz said, “Good luck.”

“Wait,” Jaiver’s voice was stern enough that it made Veracruz turn back around, “She stays out of this, understand. This is between you and me. She is not to be hurt or involved at all.”

Veracruz saw the emotions in Javier’s eyes as he spoke, and he stepped towards your sleeping figure and brushed his fingertips along the side of your face. He stared at your for a moment before he straightened himself and looked at Javier again, “Agreed, Agente,” his tone was genuine, “I would never want to hurt mi muñeca favorita,” Veracruz added with a smirk, “Until next time, Agente Peña,” he paused, “And thank you for paying the bill.” 

Javier grumbled to himself as he watched the Comandante leave your apartment. While he did not trust the Comadnante at all, Javier did believe his words. He stared at the door long after it clicked shut as he mind raced. He had the Comandante right in front of him, and yet again he slipped away. The circumstances were very different, but the result was the same, and it pissed Javier off to no end.

But, a heavy sigh from you broke Javier out of his thoughts, and he dropped his gaze down to watch you sleep soundly in his arms. Something stirred within Javier, and he felt his chest tightened as he thought about just how much you actually meant to him. He wondered if you felt the same about him, or if it was Comandante Veracruz that held your heart.

Either way, Javier was determined to protect you, even if he couldn’t share his true feelings just yet. “Sleep querida,” he whispered to you as he kissed the top of your head, “I promise nothing will ever happen to you… Ever…” he stared at you as one last thought stayed on the tip of his tongue.

It wasn’t time to say those words yet, though. 

[w33nies]

Qué Maravilla - CH.9

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Miguel O'hara x SpiderReader rating: E for Everyone bby warnings: none? lots of angst tbh and bad words summary: you and miguel talk out your differences because you love eachother art is from the movie !!

----------------- Ch.9 - Warts and All ---------------------

Not a word was spoken between you and Miguel as you leaped through the streets of Brooklyn - 42. You were currently giving him the silent treatment for the condescending spiel he gave you at Uncle Aaron's hideout. Ever since you found yourself on opposite sides of this ‘canon events’ issue, your patience for him was wearing thin (though you were certain the feeling was mutual). 

You pause to anchor yourself on the side of some office building to gauge your position. Fisk tower began to distinguish itself over the horizon. It would only take a few minutes to reach, and if you were lucky you would find Miles there. How you would get him home without Miguel interfering well… that was yet to be determined. 

“Hey.” 

His deep voice from above cuts through the air like a knife. You hadn’t heard him land. You turned to see him standing on the ledge of the building looking down at you.

“Can we talk? Just for a second.” 

You furrow your brows at his request. Really you wanted to say no. The gall on this man to pull a ‘can we talk’ on you at a time like this, as a young boy was essentially stranded in an alternate dimension while his family was at stake. The anger rising in you compels you to tell him off, ‘but this will probably give Gwen and the others a chance to catch up to Miles,’ you eventually reason. An irritated ‘tsk’ escapes from your mouth. 

“Sure,” you replied curtly.

You begrudgingly climb to meet him on the roof. Miguel sits down with a pained groan, his hand propped on the ground for support. A wave of worry washes over you watching him like this, however you quickly discard the feeling. 

“What is it?” Your attitude is terse; you rip your mask off to face him before placing your hands on your hips. 

Miguel gently pats the ground beside him. His dangling feet are swinging hastily under his growing nerves. You sigh as you sit down next to him with crossed arms and legs.

The hi-tech fabric that made up his suit receded enough just to reveal his face. He sat picking invisible dirt from his talons, feigning interest in them under your scrutinizing gaze. “What I said back there…,” he began nervously, “I…I didn’t mean it.” 

You look him up and down unconvinced. “You didn’t mean it?” 

“Well, I mean, I did but-“ 

“-You didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

“No-I…” he pauses under your raised brow before relenting “...Yeah… I’m sorry.” He shrinks into himself (though impossible given his large stature). With a groan he pinches his aching temples. 

“I was just really upset and,you know, the withdrawals on top of everything isn't helping. Not that it’s an excuse or anything-”

“-It’s whatever.” You dismiss him with a shake of your head. 

 “Cariño. Please…” 

“...What?” 

“I really am sorry.” 

“I said whatever. It’s fine.” 

“If we talk it out then maybe-”

“-It’s fine Miguel.” 

Miguel sighed as his hand pulled down on the front of his face. ‘Things were definitely not fine.’ 

“I just…”  Miguel picks up a small rock and fiddles with it in his fingers  “...didn’t expect things to snowball into a fucking civil war.” He then throws a pebble into the abyss below, sending his right mind with it it seems.

“And whose fault is that?” you rebuke instantly. Flushed with anger you unintentionally began to raise your voice,“Were you ever gonna tell me?” 

Miguel’s chest rises as he takes in a breath to speak, but when he opens his mouth he finds that no words come out. “I only found out because you embarrassed that poor boy in front of everyone. You put him in serious danger-”

 “He was not in danger-”

“-Yeah, you only ripped off his day pass while he was in a foreign dimension then body slammed him into the side of the train headed straight for the fucking moon.”

“You think I do all this because I want to?” Miguel flails his arms exasperatedly, “Someone has to be the one to keep everyone in line and I am the only one holding everything together.” 

“Wow. Okay.” You scoff,  “So me and the thousands of other spider men and women you work with are what? Dead weight?” 

“No, I- You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah…I do…” 

The quiet that ensued was agonizing, especially for Miguel. And to think things between you guys were going so well until day. He didn’t mean to lie to you, but was the only way he knew how to ‘save’ you. But then again, ‘save’ was a funny word. What could he possibly save you from? The two of you simply being together is what got you and millions of innocent people killed the last time. Sometimes he feels that things would’ve been better if he had never got involved with you. That the first time was an omen of the trouble that came with when he tried so desperately to entangle his life with yours. An indicator that some things work in theory but not in practice. That maybe you two were just never meant to be…

Miguel believed the multiverse had a path set out for him just like everyone else. His job was just to make sure everyone focused on connecting the dots. Those who freehand or doodle in the margins risked ruining the bigger picture until it was all just unintelligible scribbles or worse, until the canvas was so vandalized it became completely blank, meaningless, nothing. Maybe your picture was never meant to include him in it…

Though where everyone else had merely dots, you had stars. And even if his and your stars would never share a constellation he would still run to see you each night with a telescope in hand, creating stories and myths about the most wondrous heavenly body to grace the sky. Tales that would outlast time and transcend space, much like his love for you…

Any sane person would deduce that it is debilitating work to continue chasing something that could be destined to fail so miserably. However this is what set Miguel O’Hara apart. Such work was not work to him, not if it was for you. 

He remembered a story he read about religious fables from alternate universes. What was the one they told about the man, the woman, and a bite of a forbidden fruit? Maybe it wasn’t the fruit that they bit…

“Mira.” Miguel spoke softly as he unceremoniously tried to shift himself to be closer to you. “I feel for you. I do. If I could give my life to keep Miles' father and your niece alive, you could bet I would. In a heartbeat. But that's not how things work around here. As awful as it sounds… If everyone got the justice they deserved it would upset the delicate balance of things. The whole idea just sounds like a pipe dream. It’s unrealistic…”

You refuse to give Miguel your eyes, instead bringing your focus on the tower in the distance. The others were likely well inside by now. You wanted to believe you were still sitting here talking to Miguel simply to buy them time,but deep down you knew that wasn’t the case.

 “How can you say that and still call yourself a good guy?” 

Miguel rubs his hands down the front of his face. “What did you expect me to do?” He wailed a tone of vulnerability that almost threw you off your righteous demeanor. “How did you expect me to tell you that your niece was gonna die and that there is nothing you can do about it?” 

Frustrated, you smack your tongue against your teeth, “Well you sure found a way to explain it to everyone else-”

“-I didn’t tell Pavitir-”

“-Doesn’t make it any better,” you snapped back.  “I deserve to know the truth even if it hurts my feelings. That’s for me to decide.” 

The man scrunches his face with confusion, “If it hurts your feelings?” 

“No. If there’s nothing I can do about it.”  

Miguel sighs, “But you can’t.”  Your chest rises and your mouth drops, ready for immediate retort. Miguel raises his palms pleadingly, silently asking you to pause so he can continue. 

“We can’t control everything. No matter how hard we try. But you know what? That’s okay. Canon events like these, it’s the one thing that keeps us connected. The good and the bad.” He places his hands dangerously close to yours, fingertips brushing against one another. “It’s beautiful in a way. Isn’t it? Our stories, similar yet so unique. Different yet the same…”

“Then why are you?”

“Why am I what?”

“Trying to control everything.” You look up to meet his gaze, expecting to find irritability but instead find his head cocked to the side in confusion. “Let him live his life the way he wants. Let him decide how his story goes.”

He sighed, turning to face you fully.  “Ay dios mío, it's not up to me. I’ll be the first to say that everything happening right now, it sucks. Truly. But my hands are tied.” he hesitantly moves to hold your hand despite himself.

 “I’m sorry cariño. It’s just the lesser of two evils.” 

You rub your thumb along his knuckles. “I think our universes are all connected, but not in the way you believe. I think it’s deeper than the trauma we do or don’t share with each other. ”

“You’re right. But I’ve learned from experience that we can’t cherry pick the parts we like. It’s either all or nothing. We have to take it in stride, warts and all.”  He grips your hand tighter while he takes a few slow, steadying breaths with closed eyes. Almost as if he was asthmatic and your touch alone was his inhaler. 

 “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he murmured, “I thought I was… protecting you.” He avoids your stare, instead messaging the palm of your hand, tracing his fingers along the creases as if he were about to read you your fortune. 

You looked for clues of deceit in his eyes but all you found was remorse. You felt his hurt just as you knew he felt yours. You didn’t want to hurt each other but you were essentially on opposite sides of a serious cultural war. And was there any room for compromise when there were lives on the line? 

You decided no. You needed Miles to succeed. Because if he could do it maybe you could too. Because what kind of cruel joke would it be to live a story you couldn’t even write yourself?

There was just one more thing you had to ask…

“What if it was Gabi? Your Gabi? You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same if it was her.”

Miguel's eyes momentarily widened with shock before then instantly looked downward with shame. “To be honest I…” he gives you one final squeeze before shamefully letting it go.

“...I don’t know. I would do anything for her, but… It hurts to think about. To think about the things I should’ve done. The things I could’ve done. Even if I could go back in time with everything I know now I’m worried I would’ve just made different mistakes.”  

He heaves a deep sigh, running his fingers through his wavy locks “I don’t think it's quite the same but… I can see myself doing the same for Gabi.” And he would most definitely do the same for you. 

. “I’m sorry.” he mumbled “That’s the best I can do-”

“-Thank you.”

He lets out a bewildered chuckle. “Uhhh. For what?”

“...For trying to understand I guess.” 

Despite your nerves, you move to rest your head on his shoulder. He hesitantly hover his cheek above your head before giving into temptation and allowing it to rest on top of it. “I know it's hard. I just wanna say… I get it too. Whatever happens, let’s try to forgive each other. You finally look up to meet his crimson eyes.  

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He said in a low whisper. You hold each other's gaze for just a moment, any longer and you fear you’d melt.

“Welp.” You straighten your back and slap your comically thighs with your hands. “I guess this is the part where we pinky promise.” You playfully extend out your hand for him to take, “Or maybe we can shake on it-”

Before you can finish yourself, his body is pressed up against you and you find yourself engulfed in the scent of his sweat and shampoo (musky, woody, sweet).  A soft warmth crashing against your lips and a strong, calloused hand moved to cup your jaw. It takes you a second to process what is going on…

You were being kissed. Miguel O’hara was kissing you. 

Once you overcome the shock you lean into it. The hand you previously extended for him to shake is now pressed firmly against his chest. The feel of his quickening heartbeat emboldens you to embrace him with your free arm around his back. Miguel’s moves to pull you closer by your waist. You finally break the kiss after having to come up for some much needed air. You rest your foreheads against one another as you both regain your breath.

“How does that work?” he asks in a low husky whisper.

“It works,” you laugh through huffs and puffs. 

You both stay like that for what felt like a minute, though no amount of time would’ve been enough. Miguel is the first to break the embrace, clearing his throat as stands at his feet.

“...We should go.”

“Yeah.” You rise to your feet as well. 

He watches you as you pull on your mask, taking in your features before they’re covered completely. Only then does he cover his face. You both nod and then jump off the building to resume your travels.

The euphoric feeling didn’t last long. The closer and closer you swung to the more dread boiled in your gut.  There was no delaying the inevitable any longer. Though you both had agreed to disagree, you knew that sentiment would be tested once you both reached the tower. How would he react when face to face with the rest of the crew? Would he be able to keep his cool once seeing Peter or Gwen? Nothing you do could quell the nervous fire brewing in your psyche.

At least there was one thing you and Miguel could for sure agree on…

…Shit was was about to hit the fan.

[thetriumphantpanda]

hi charlie! 

to say the vibes have been off lately would be an understatement, wouldn’t it? because there has been a lot of negativity, too much for a place that is supposed to be about finding an outlet for your creativity and people to share your interests.

i know it has been difficult, draining to be around here and face all the discourse cankering the fandom. 

because of all this negativity, i believe it is important to try and balance it out with some kindness. so here i am, doing a little check-up on you <3

so first, how are you, really?

everything you feel regarding what is happening is valid and you deserve to feel happy and safe around here. so please, make sure you take the time you need from posting, from sharing fics, even just from being on the platform. i want you to know it’s okay and i support whatever you decide, for whatever reason.

i also want you to know that you have your place here, as much as the rest of us. you’re loved and wanted and i can assure you the fandom is a far better place with you in it.

i hope you’re taking care of yourself outside of tumblr as well. please remember to stay hydrated and to eat something 🫶🏼

now i would like you to sit back and enjoy the perfect, quiet night in with joel <3

do not hesitate to reach out if you need to talk, i’m here for you! sending you all my love and so many hugs 🫂

anna 💗

Ahhh Anna, this is so sweet of you - thank you for taking the time to try and combat so much of the negativity on here by spreading some love - it's so important!

I have had so many thoughts about what's been going on lately, some of which I'll share here, but I'll put under a read-more so if you're not wanting to read discourse, you don't have to!

I'm going to go and enjoy my quiet night in with Joel, because that would absolutely fix me right now and thank you for sharing that with me. He's making me a cup of tea right now and is going to bring it to me, we'll watch TV and I will continue crocheting a blanket for us to snuggle up under!

Take care of yourself Anna, and thank you for always being kind and wonderful on here!

If you've been around here a while, you'll know that I rarely, if ever, get involved and wade into the discourse that floats around often. It's not because I don't care, it's because this blog has, and always will be, my way to escape the pressure of my real life. I have enough personal drama to contend with outside of the internet, and I very rarely want to allow it to bleed into the one space I have where I can escape for some peace.

That being said, it has become harder and harder for me to ignore the absolute storm of shit that has been swirling these past weeks. My friends and mutuals having their works blatantly stolen and then receiving hate when calling this out. People I look up to and whose writing I enjoy being attacked for presenting certain kinks. The insane rise in anon hate being spouted not just here, but across other sites as well. It's all too much and it all has to stop.

The people on this site create fic because they enjoy it. They graciously and selflessly write thousands of words for your enjoyment, for free might I add, without asking for very much in return. They write often around full-time jobs, school work and through personal and health issues. They agonise over making sure their work is as good as they can make it. They don't owe you anything, we don't owe you anything. We do this because we enjoy it, but the current climate on this absolute hellsite is making the enjoyment really fucking hard to find these days.

Be kind to each other. Stop hiding behind the cloak of anonymity to spew hate and be mean. Stop stealing other people's work. If you come across a fic that has warnings or themes that aren't your cup of tea, stop reading and walk away. Take a step back and think about what will happen if writers are continuously driven off this site.

[noforkingclue]

Hey girl how are you? How is everything at work

If it's okay I'd like to share a 13th doctor x reader x Dhawan!master x reader idea with you.

The doctor and the master need to work together to defeat a mutual enemy. The reader draws the short straw and has to go to a party undercover with the master (the master is wearing the suit sacha dhawan wore at the great premiere (season 2)) they do this while the doctor is hacking and going into the enemies base.

Won't lie, work has been better. A lot of my colleagues are leaving and I'm going to get a lot more work put my way. Also, another colleague is very work shy and keeps dumping his stuff on me. Unfortunately, he is mates with the head of the department so there's nothing I can do...

Oh well, enough ranting! I hope you like the fic :D

Title: Talking and Dancing

Doctor Who tag list: @v4n1r, @queerconfusionthings, @yourneighbourhoodclown, @love-of-fandoms, @emilythezeldafan, @fabulous-jj-style, @theseeker945, @pleadingeyes, @kjaneway1, @truthbehindthemysteries, @im-a-muggleborn, @startrekkingaroundasgard, @mythandmagik, @geocookie21, @zerocanonlywriteshit, @thewinterpoet2, @anteroom-of-death, @night467, @clarasoswaldd, @sessa23, @mxacegrey

Dhawan!Master tag list: @agentmalfoy24601, @b-bae-27, @praxeus-13

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

“Why did I agree to this again?”

“Because you’re the only one who can do this. That,” here the Doctor sounded slightly guilty, “And you drew the short straw.”

The Doctor’s voice was faint and slightly scratchy in your ear. Of course the ear pieces weren’t ideal but they were better than nothing. It also meant that that you weren’t completely alone with-

“Long straw in my case,” the Master practically purred, “You lovely as always, y/n.”

“Stop that,” the Doctor said through gritted teeth, “You’re only here because we need you.”

“And what’ll happen when you don’t need me?” asked the Master, “Hand me over to the Nazis again?”

“What?” you asked, certain that this was just another of the Master’s lies

“Nothing.” The Doctor said quickly

“Oh didn’t she tell you?” the Master sounded amused, “What a small minded view you have of your dear friend. Let me-“

“No,” you interrupted him, “No, now is not the time. We have a job to do.”

“Quiet right,” the Master plucked two drinks off of a tray of a passing waiter and handed one to you, “This is a conversation for another time when all of this is over. When we are both free.”

“I am free.”

“Free from her.”

You didn’t grace that with an answer and just shot the Master another glare. The Master grinned at you as he looked around the ballroom. He adjusted his bowtie and you quickly looked away. Damn those… those idiots for making you and the Doctor work with the Master. Damn the Doctor for making you work directly with the Master. Damn the Master for looking so good in a suit.

At your last thought the Master smirked at you. Fuck. You had forgotten that timelords could read minds.

“Only when I want to, pet,” the Master said, “Yours is particularly fascinating.”

He reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You swallowed thickly at the intimate action. You knew you should step away, to break free from his gaze. You could tell that he wasn’t hypnotising you. You had been hypnotised before and you didn’t have the clouded mind that you previously had.

“Y/n,” hissed the Doctor, “Snap out of it. You need to be blending in.”

“Blending in,” the Master said, “What a, oh what was the word you used to us, brilliant idea!”

You drink was plucked from your grasp as the Master dragged you onto the dance floor. You felt your cheeks get hot as the Master wrapped an arm and your waist and pulled you closer against him. He led you around the dance floor, humming the tune they were playing.

“What are you doing?” you whispered

“Blending in,” he replied, “You are my date, are you not?”

“Only through necessity.”

“There’ll be plenty of time to get to know each other later.”

“I’m in!” cried the Doctor

You groaned and pressed your forehead against the Master’s chest.

“You didn’t seriously say ‘I’m in’,” you muttered, “She did. She just did.”

“That’s what everyone says,” insisted the Doctor, “So hurry up!”

“Don’t worry,” the Master said as he grabbed your hand and practically dragged you off the dance floor, “There’ll be time to continue our dance later.”

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[48787]

I've learned just how much I appreciate "Decentralization" Not the shitty fucking crypto bro "Yooo dude if we just do the fetishization of capital harder it'll surely be decentralized, surely we just need to do it harder bro" kinda shit But the idea that like, even if the systems that maintain the standards that maintain social power/value of certain things we care about goes under (Whether through bankruptcy, lack of resources, lack of userbase, etc) I will still be able to maintain the personal value I find or have already found through relying on those systems. So it would be better if those systems were more easily able to be opted out of to make that transition smoother if/when it happens and so I can maintain my own personal standards!! (Not fetishizing individualism, just saying that I am an individual person who wants to be able to force my own standards to be applicable to my own life. This very much is in support of giving power to the workers forced to use these systems the power to more easily destroy the systems they work within if they need to and force their own social standards to become the new system. All my posts are attempts at corrupting your mind with commie brain washing, you must understand this because once you do you might begin to accept this as well)

I've been thinking about swapping from Discord over to Matrix for a little while now for this exact reason but didn't know just how far reaching it applied. It contextualizes why I wanted to swap over to firefox much more aptly rather than just doing it because I simply hated chromium. I wanted more. It also makes be better appreciate tumblr, and why I felt so able to actually commit to a social meda for once. It's because the blog is my own and I always have the export button right in front of me. If I don't like my blog, I can make a new one. If I don't like tumblr I can leave tumblr and still have my blog (just without the value of being able to reach a wider audience... which I didn't even want to begin with!!! I just wanted an audience and I already have that with my friends and current mutuals!!! I don't care about audience growth, I'd rather deeper entrench the social investments I already have made in the social entities I enjoy). And since I'm no longer worried about this being my entire being (No longer fetishizing social media), I am no longer worried about this being my own shot at having a blog, I can take more risks!!

I can see posts my wife sends me where she's like "I don't know if I can reblog this or not" and say "No you totally can if you want, in fact I want to so I'm going to reblog it right now" and it pushes both me and her to be more honestly depraved with each other, which is lovely!! It lets me show off that honest depravity with people who are okay with seeing it more easily too!! It's just super liberating and I would only be able to feel this way if escape was possible and I have a safety net insuring I can make sure that net continues to exist and continues to widen. Sure, it requires a certain amount of tech literacy, a certain amount of economic literacy, a metric shit ton of political and class literacy, and at least one other person willing to help me, but hey I have all those things so I know my net will work for me!! Anyway, this was just more agency-posting. If you are empathizing, sympathizing, or are envious I'd recommend starting by figuring out what you want your safety net to capture, why you want that to be able to be captured, what happens if you're wrong (not if you're wrong, just what would happen first), and then whether or not your current net actually does or doesn't already capture what you want it to so you know where to put your focus into!!

And if you want advice for where to start on that I highly recommend at least skimming Das Kapital (Or just Capital or Capital: A Critique of Political Economy or whatever you know it as, labels are meaningless beyond the meaning we want them to have, as long as you know that I'm talking about Marx's economic analysis book that's fine) and coming to an understanding of what value is and what money is and how they are not linked. That's what allowed me to get this far, and I think if more people were able to not only unlink their personal value from money but also take steps to limit their own desires and pursuing of capital to better focus on their "real" value more and more people would be able to be "this far" as well!

[thavampress]

A Court of Flame

Aemond Targaryen x OC!femTargaryen

Masterlist

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chapter Three

~Aemond~

Aegon sat across from Aemond, his feet up on the table between them. He swirled the goblet of wine he held, sniffing in discontent.

The room was quiet, as it was just Aemond and Aegon. They were in Aegon’s chambers, meeting as they’d grown accustomed too. A strange byproduct of the war was a reconciliation between Aemond and his older brother. After so much loss over something neither of them completely supported, they’d learned they shared a mutual understanding of one another.

Aemond nursed his own wine as Aegon drained a third cup. “What do you make of your betrothed?” Aegon asked. “She has grown quite attractive, has she not?”

Aemond laughed through his nose. “She is quite something.”

“Oh please, I am sure you look forward to your wedding night,” Aegon chuckled, pouring himself another cup.

“Tsk tsk, brother,” Aemond replied, taking a deep drink for himself. “She has a certain fire about her, I suppose.”

“Well that’s very Targaryen of her.”

“I find myself strangely…drawn to her,” Aemond said hesitantly. “Not just in wanting to bed her. I feel we are the same, in a way.”

“Very poetic as usual, brother,” Aegon smiled, reaching across the table to snatch a grape of out a bowl between them.

Aemond hummed. “She said she would not hold her brother’s death against me.”

“Well, your future wife is very forgiving then,” Aegon replied.

“No, not forgiving,” Aemond corrected. “Something else entirely.”

“Like what?” Aegon asked, popping another grape in his mouth.

“That,” Aemond said, reaching for the wine pitcher to refill his own goblet, “remains to be seen, dear brother.”

“Are you looking forward to your party?” Aegon was mocking now, knowing full well Aemond preferred to avoid feasts and fancy where he could.

Aemond rolled his eye in response. “I only hope it improves everyone’s shit mood.”

“I for one, shall indeed enjoy the festivities all in your honor,” Aegon said, lifting his cup. “For there’s no better place for a drink and a fuck than a feast.”

“You may wish to consider sobering up then, brother,” Aemond suggested, standing from the table. “Your big moment in is less than eight hours.”

Aemond left his goblet half full on the table, taking his leave of Aegon’s chambers.

~Saesha~

Saesha awoke that morning with dread pooling in her stomach. She had loathed feasts and parties when her own family hosted them, let alone the snakes of the Red Keep.

This evening’s event was the first of the three-night celebrations leading up to her wedding to Aemond. She could hardly believe that it was actually happening. But something had shifted, she could tell. Ever since Aemond’s appearance in her chambers, she noticed him lingering.

Whenever she was with Alicent putting anything together for the wedding, he’d suddenly appear to check on his mother. When she sat with some ladies in the garden yesterday afternoon (not by choice, but in decorum), Aemond happened to be taking a stroll himself.

She even caught him looking at her differently. His air of disinterest seemed to have holes poked in it. His gaze was too intent. She found herself drawn to Aemond as well, and even though she swore not to feel guilty for the marriage she’d been shoved into, she couldn’t help but feel wrong for it.

Saesha opted to stay in bed that morning. When the servants came in to bathe and dress her she groaned, burying her face in the pillows.

“Princess, you must bathe,” one servant pleaded. “We will need sufficient time to prepare you for this evening.”

“Hours to twist my hair into knots, you mean?” Saesha replied, sitting up in bed with a huff. She didn’t mean to be so snippy, but there was something about being forced to attend this feast like prized horse that made the all-to-familiar anger bubble under her skin.

Alicent had been nice enough, but Saesha wasn’t quick to forget, and she certainly wasn’t handing out forgiveness.

After a bit more gentle encouraging, the servants finally got her into the hot bath tub, steaming with oils of mint and lemon. Saesha sighed as she sank into the tub, the hot water spreading chill bumps over skin. One of the servants washed her long silver hair until it shone like metal and smelled like fresh mint leaves. Saesha liked the cool scent, for some reason it reminded her of Dragonstone.

When she was scrubbed clean, the servants dried her and dressed her in a flowing silk robe that was a deep red. It was a beautiful thing, she had to admit. She sat at her vanity once again as the maids braided her hair into an elaborate net that seemed to cover the back of her head. The rest of her hair hung in loose curls down her shoulders.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen,” the guard at the door announced suddenly.

Aemond strode in, a long box in his hands. He bowed, and Saesha rolled her eyes. “I bring a gift,” he said.

“Leave us,” Saesha sighed. The staff shuffled out quickly.

Aemond set the box down on the little circular table beside him. “So sorry to bother, princess,” he said sarcastically.

“What it is?” Saesha asked, ignoring him and instead focusing on the box.

“Open it,” he said, smiling. “Though if I’m honest, I cannot take credit. It is truly from my mother.”

Saesha stood from the vanity and crossed the room to the table and Aemond standing beside it. She did her very best to seem entirely interested in the box.

She refused to be guilty, but she also refused to give him the satisfaction.

Saesha plucked the lid from the box, revealing a folded up gown in the most stunning, deep emerald green. She hesitated before lifting it out. It had beading along the bodice that almost looked like flames licking up the dress.

“It is beautiful,” she commented softly. When she looked up at Aemond, she caught him taking in the red silk robe she was wearing.

“Indeed,” Aemond said, forcing himself to look at the dress in her hands. “My mother thought you could wear it in honor of my dearly departed sister.”

Ah, yes, Saesha remembered. Her parents had launched a plot to murder Aegon’s children in retribution for Lucerys’ death. Aemond’s sister, Helaena, had thrown herself from the highest tower of the Keep as a result of the loss of her children.

Saesha clenched her jaw. “Why would she want me to honor her, of all people?”

Aemond’s face was hard now. “I do not know.”

There was a moment of stillness, and Aemond did not look away from her.

“It is a lovely gown,” Saesha said finally. “And I am sorry, for what happened to your sister. It was not right.”

Aemond did not respond, but his features softened a bit.

“Why did you bring it to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you bring me the dress? Why not have a servant bring it?” Saesha asked, laying the dress back in the box.

Aemond pondered, that familiar hum resonating from him. “I suppose I wished to see you before the feast tonight,” he answered. “I am not completely sure why.”

Saesha had to smile. “Well I am glad you came. I suppose I should wish you good luck.”

“And to you, princess,” Aemond said with a bow of his head. He turned to leave then.

“Aemond,” Saesha called, halting him at the door, “perhaps we can meet in the training yard tomorrow morning? I promise no hidden daggers.”

“You wish to train with me again?” He seemed incredulous.

“As I said, why should I have to be miserable? Why should either of us? We are to be married in three days, I ought to be able to manage a sparring session.”

“Deal, princess,” he said, a handsome smirk arching his lips. “Though I will fetch you from your chambers, like a damned gentleman.”

She laughed as he exited with a dramatic slam of her door.

+

Saesha stood outside of the throne room doors, flanked by kingsguard. Her emerald gown fit her perfectly, and was modest enough for Alicent’s taste. She fussed with the sleeve, rich lace flowing down her arms. She could hear the commotion of the crowd inside. She knew Aemond was already seated at the head table, all them were. She was to enter last, to be presented to the court officially as Aemond’s betrothed.

Finally, three loud booms thumped from inside, and she heard Aegon addressing the crowd.

“I am happy to present…” The heavy doors open, and every noble eye is upon her. “…Princess Saesha Targaryen, true born daughter to Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen.”

Aemond stood beside his brother at the head table.

“Let us toast to my brothers soon to be bride, and finally uniting House Targaryen after so much strife.”

The room erupting into a cheer, everyone raising their cups to her and the King. Saesha was honestly impressed that Aegon made the speech. He was generally disinterested in any kingly act outside of drinking and fucking whatever he pleased with impunity. Perhaps he did it for his brother.

Aemond smiled down at her as she approached the table, admiring her pretty green dress. He walked around it, meeting her at the bottom of the stone steps leading up to the throne. He took her hand and lead her back to their seats, as was customary.

Aegon leaned forward, capturing both her and Aemond’s attention once they were both seated. “Do I have permission to enjoy myself now, brother?”

Aemond scoffed, “You are the king.”

Aegon grinned, standing from his seat again. He raised his goblet, “To my brother, you bastard. And to Saesha, his lovely bride, perhaps you could bring him some joy. Though what he could truly use is thorough fuck-“

“Thank you for the sentiments, Aegon,” Aemond interrupted.

Aegon only laughed, trotting down the steps and disappearing into the crowd occupying the dance floor. Aemond rolled his eye with a chuckle, taking a deep drunk from his cup.

Saesha filled her own goblet. Aemond eyed her with a slight smile.

“Are you accustomed to drinking, princess?” He asked.

She rolled her violet eyes, lifting her cup to her lips and tipping it back slowing, gulping down the entirety of it. She set the goblet down firmly in front of her, licking her lips before grinning up at Aemond.

“It’s our feast, princeling,” she announced, reaching for the pitcher to refill her cup, “we must celebrate as adequately as everyone else.”

~Aemond~

Aemond stared at her, smiling. Truly smiling. He felt a slight buzz from the wine he’d had prior to the feast, on top of the cup he’d consumed at the table.

Saesha Targaryen was a vision tonight. Her dress left all to the imagination, as his mother ensured, yet it still accentuated everything perfectly. Her silver hair was braided elegantly in their ancestral fashion. She was a worthy bride, and Aemond felt grateful for that. Everyone else ranked beneath her.

He watched her take another deep drink of wine as a tiny droplet escaped the corner of her mouth. Aemond found himself fight the urge to swipe it away. Saesha reached a ring-clad hand up, wiping it away herself with her middle finger.

“Pardon me,” she smiled.

Aemond found suddenly that the wine was going to his head, because he felt urged to lean down and kiss her. He didn’t think she’d appreciate that very much. Though she had teased him that day in her chambers, and she’d been consistent in saying she planned on attempting to enjoy their marriage.

Without really knowing what he was doing, Aemond stood. Saesha gazed up at him, eyebrows raised in surprise as Aemond held out his hand.

“Dance with me, princess.”

She grinned, taking another swig from her cup and taking him firmly by the hand. Some of guests clapped as the walked onto the dance floor. Saesha ignored them, he noticed, only ever looking right at him.

The musicians started an upbeat song, and the line of lords and ladies ensued in a dance. Aemond watched her as they stepped forward and spun and did it again. On the third turn, Aemond saw that wicked grin appear on her face. Her steps became more bouncy, until she was jumping around in circles, dramatically motioning the steps of the dance.

Aemond couldn’t help but laugh. She took both his hands then, and began spinning them both around. She looked utterly free—face flushed and cracked with a genuine smile.

They halted with the song, and Aemond noticed some of the court eyeing them with questioning glares. He couldn’t care less. Even before the Dance, he never concerned himself with the chatters and opinions of the castle—or otherwise.

The crowd resumed around them as another tune began. Saesha led the way back toward the table. It was empty now.

“Do you want to eat?” Aemond asked.

She shook her head.

“You really should eat, princess.”

“Oh would you stop calling me princess,” she sighed, suddenly very close to him.

“You should eat something so you’re not ill on the morrow, Saesha,” he corrected.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. Her eyes were red and glassy from the wine.

“I think I’d like to leave,” she said in quiet Valyrian.

“Where would you like to be instead?” He replied in the same tongue.

She was quiet for a moment, thinking.

“Somewhere quiet,” she decided.

Aemond scanned the room, looking for his mother. He didn’t find her. Otto Hightower stood at the far end of the room observing the dance floor while speaking to some Lord Lannister.

He took her by the arm, leading her up the stairs to the throne, passing the mass of swords and out the door looming behind it. It was immediately dark, and so much quieter. He let go if her arm, but quickly felt her hand grabbing at his. He smiled to himself in the darkness.

He led the way until they came out the other end and into torch light. The corridor that stretched to either side of them was empty, and a wide balcony overlooking the sea was in front of them. Saesha took the lead now, walking out into the moonlight. Aemond followed.

She took a deep breath, pointing her face to the sky with her eyes gently closed.

Ethereal.

Aemond didn’t know what was happening to him. Never had he been so captured by any woman, never had he been so distracted. It felt strange the she was truly to be his wife.

“How do you really feel about all this?” Aemond blurted.

She opened her eyes, looking at him with a hint of curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” he replied. “How does it make you feel to be marrying me in two days? To live here in King’s Landing?”

She looked out at the dark sea, shrugging. “I suppose I feel indifferent, now. I used to be very angry, but it’s exhausting to be so angry all the time.”

“Do you miss Dragonstone?” He ventured a bit further.

She nodded, a sad smile on her lips. “I do. I enjoyed flying over those bluffs. I like the castle as well, and the land was good for exploring.”

There was a comfortable pause, the distant sound of waves crashing far below. “We could go and be at Dragonstone, if that’s what you wanted? There’s no one there to claim it, and it’s ours—yours by right. I’m the second-son, there’s no reason to stay.”

He didn’t really know why he was offering this. Aemond didn’t want to live at Dragonstone, he’d prefer to remain in King’s Landing with remnants of his family. But maybe it would make Saesha happy. It’s not like he couldn’t just fly back if he needed to.

Saesha looked at him with what looked like genuine endearment. Her eyes were glossy and she held her clasped hands up to her chest. She took a few steps forward, closing the gap between them.

Aemond breathed slowly, trying to remain calm at their sudden proximity. She gazed up at him, and Aemond felt the last bits of his restraint beginning to tear. Much to his relief—and enormous surprise—it was Saesha who leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

Her lips were as soft as he’d anticipated, and the way they moved against his had him suppressing a growl. He cupped her cheeks with both hands, angling her face toward his. She sighed happily into his mouth, standing on her tip-toes in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Aemond gave in only for a moment, indulging himself, before forcing himself to pull away.

Her lips were swollen, and her face was flushed. She looked up at him with confusion, and a little bit of disappointment. “I shall wait to explore you until after our wedding,” he said.

Saesha groaned, rolling her pretty violet eyes. “You seriously want to be traditional? After everything that led us here?”

“If you think about it,” he said, smirking, “we’re being about as traditional as we could get. We’re marrying each other in the custom of our House, and in a more Westerosi manner, we’ve been arranged together for political gain.”

Saesha’s annoyance cracked with a smile. They remained on the balcony for a long while, talking, catching up, learning what the war had made of each other.

Aemond walked her to her chambers, bidding her a good night before retiring himself. He went to bed that night relieved, and feeling capable handling tomorrows tourney.

-TAGLIST-

@hopebaker

@snh96

@kaelatargaryen

[toh-proship-positivity]

My apologies, but looking at the list, it seems incredibly biased. I could point out quite a few people on there that 100% aren't antis or even anti-affiliated. Despite saying the list isn't for harassment, it feels like you just put certain people on there so they'd be pushed out of the fandom, and from what I hear you won't even let people plead their case. Lists like these never end well regardless of what the original intent is in the first place, but this just seems like it's, at least partially, personal bias.

It's to warn people, and it's not biased, several people on this list have stalked and harassed (and still might be stalking me) for a YEAR, they literally bullied a friend of social media ENTIRELY, they're gone. I have no way of reaching them, no way of knowing how they are doing. Me and several others have been slandered by these people, am I supposed to keep silent and not do anything to warn others? they've done it once, they'll do it again once they found their next target. I've lost people who I thought were my friends, but only because decided they to believe the words over someone who's popular. Others have been brought to my attention by other people and I do look at profiles to see. And if it's true then they are added to the list, in some cases it's personal experience such as one of these people trying to get a mutual harassed for posting "pedo shit" and then they threw a temper tantrum when I called them out on their behaviour. Funny you should mention pleading cases, the only person who did that also pretty much guilt tripped me because "it was giving them anxiety" Yeah and me being stalked isn't anxiety indusing? And that person is also friends with someone who's an anti and BOTH basically went on a massive "woe is us" spree and badmouthing me when my twitter got exposed by no doubt several people on this list. Oh the person who tried to plead their case also TRIED to start shit in a discord server I was in. And their anti friend literally tried to guilt me when I said I was fed up with their bs and just didn't want to talk to them anymore over voice chat. And yes it has been pointed out some of these people are 'secretly proship' but here's the thing anon, you don't throw other people under the buss just to save your own skin, if you are proship but still pretend to be an anti and attack others who are proship just to stay face then you might as well be an anti. The point of being proship is that you don't harass people over fiction, if you harass others over fiction or sit on the sidelines and watch someone be attacked rather than telling your anti friends to knock it the fuck off then you are not proship. But if that makes me biased in your opinion, I don't care. I also want to point out you're literally hiding behind anonimity I know DAMN well that if I turned off anon asks you wouldn't have send me this at all. Have a good day.

[hazbincalifornia]

(I’m pretty sure the way I type is recognizable but I need to like pretend at anonymity bc I feel. Remarkably silly about this)

I wanted to like idk rant to someone in the HB fandom who isn’t balls deep in the “anti proship” sphere bc like, I’ve been struggling w guilt over enjoying a certain ship that everyone hates and considers problematic (I think Loona and Octavia is rlly cute!) and I’d like to make content for it but I also rlly fear being seen as like a pedophile. Do u ever worry abt that kind of thing? And is there anyway ur able to get over it if u do? I don’t like getting into anti/anti anti discourse bc I feel like it’s a very reductive way to view and interpret media but I still have a crazy amount of worry/guilt

First off, it is still ridiculous to me that this is even a problem in this fandom. This is an adult show about characters in Hell, and the main characters are, respectively, assassins and the eclectic cast of the Hotel which includes a cannibal serial killer. (I am eternally both amused and completely baffled that like half the awful puritanical takes I see are from Val icons. Buddy. Pal. The fucked up fiction is coming from inside the house.) I saw waaaaay more fucked up shit on Zim nsfw twitter than I see on Hellaverse twitter and that show was Y7. Up your game, guys.

Personally, I don't really see Loona and Via as siblings/sisters as much as I think a lot of others do, more just friends (and honestly I think canon moved much too quickly to give them such a heartfelt scene together, they hadn't even met officially before that point?) so it's really only the age thing and even then, the plot of HB has seemed to imply that a fair amount of time has passed since the series started, probably around a year- so Via would be 18 or older by the time anything actually started anyway, especially if they became friends first. Setting aside the 'justification' though... they're not real. They're cute together, I agree, and I think you should be perfectly fine enjoying them just in the lens of 'they're similar, I like how they'd interact, and I think they're cute together'!

I was pretty much forged in my opinions about this from Invader Zim stuff, where people insisted that liking two characters that I'd liked together since I was thirteen made you a pedophile. Obviously, I could tell that wasn't true, because it had never been the case in all those years up to people starting to be bitchy about it in 2019. (Before that, it was that it was bad because it was enemies to lovers and, more importantly, gay. Great hater throne to inherit, guys!)

Unfortunately... as stupid as it is, this fandom is way more puritanical than it should be, so it wouldn't be wrong to engage through anonymity to protect yourself. Find the people in the tag who are using 'proship/proship interact' or something along those lines (I've seen a few, although some tend to lean more on hard/dead dove content), post on ao3 into the anonymous collection which removes your name, make a tumblr sideblog that doesn't connect to your main, find fellow shippers and interact with them specifically. Do whatever you need to do to keep yourself safe from people who can't understand that thinking something is cute or interesting to explore in fiction is automatically bad just because they don't like it. The more stuff that's put out there about the ship, the more likely you are to find kindred spirits, that's honestly part of how I gathered my mpreg weirdos to me in both this fandom and the last.

I'm pretty sure that the callout I got for Sunny was why several mutuals who were a friend group unfollowed (and likely muted) me on twitter. Unfortunately, it left me worrying that the other shoe was going to drop any day for about a week because it got just enough notes to make me worry but not enough to get to anyone with any real reach to spread and get it 'over with'.

At this point, I've sort of reached a state of 'fuck it', because if it happens, it happens. I know that I'm fine, and the people I genuinely care about know that too. I know that what I'm making is entirely separate from my morals as a person, if not from how dumb the IZ stuff was than from the fact that I was an English major. Literature is full of stuff that authors don't make as a 1:1 with their real-life morals! And the one you're thinking about isn't 'bad' comparatively at all.

I think the fandom is starting to see that being a dick about fictional content is bad through the backlash to Poison and 'hey, maybe telling somebody that they need to detail their trauma to the public to make fiction is bad?', but it seems to mostly be centered on dub/noncon, so I wouldn't necessarily hold my breath.

At the end of the day though, remember this: You, as a person, are completely fine, no matter what others might think. Octavia and Loona would probably be seen as a totally normal ship like ten years ago (except for people who'd be dicks about them being gay) and there is no judgement to be made on your character in any reasonable way for thinking they're a good ship. You're not a pedophile for thinking a fictional owl and hellhound look cute together, any more than I was for smacking together two Nicktoon characters, and frankly the IZ argument held slightly more water than 'the almost-18-year-old and the 22-year-old' because Zim's age was so ambigious. Try explaining this 'people think the young adult animals holding hands are bad' to any adult who isn't sucked into fandom discourse and they'd probably be baffled that it's a problem.

I know that the guilty feelings aren't always rational and it took a bit of time for me to unwind how I felt about creating certain stuff too, but try to remember that above all else- exploring things in fiction has been a thing people have done for a very, very long time. What matters is your actions towards other real people, not what you do with fictional dolls.

If nothing else, if you want you can always send me a dm and chat that way, I'd be happy to talk.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[davidkarofskyindie]

godofstrife (Holden/Connor)

@godofstrife​ continued from (x)

godofstrife​:

muse: Connor o Maoilriain (29 years of)age rather than 23)

Connor rolled his eyes at the other’s words, he tended to make such comments to him and Connor was not always certain how to interpret them. Let’s say that it wasn’t the first time he had been rather excited whilst spotting the other. Connor wasn’t openly homosexual, hell he even had a girlfriend (who he truly didn’t like much if he’d be perfectly honest) and pretended he was straight. The second comment made him glance down, did he want this? Did he want to potentially ruin this friendship he had? Fuck it, Connor decided, Holden was inciting it so it must be a mutual feeling. The gym was mostly empty, luckily for them, and the old people on the treadmills didn’t matter all too much to Connor. He was a professional in disappointing elderly (notably his father) and wouldn’t care if they found out he was gay. “I am straight, remember.” they had had this conversation many times before and the other did make Connor’s knees weak each time. He knew almost for certain that Holden had suspicions concerning his sexuality not being as straight as he often pointed out. “A top sounds inviting though.” he added the comment quietly, before helping the bar back onto the rack.

When the bar was put back on the rack, Holden slowly sat and turned so he was fully facing Connor. He’d heard the man say ‘I’m straight’ more times than he dared to count, mostly cos Holden was a notorious flirt who loved just playfully teasing his friend. Of course Holden didn’t believe it, he’d been around Connor enough to see the glances and little weird reactions to guess the man was probably closeted and Holden had no problem trying to help him out of that closet. He spread his legs as much as he could just looking up to Connor “Oh I remember, I’ve seen the girlfriend.... and I reckon I got you harder doing a few lifts than you’ve been in a while” he said, eyes pointedly going down to Connor’s crotch and then back up “I’d hope it sounds inviting, I am a very good top after all... enough that one time with me will have you removing the word straight from that vocabulary of yours” he grinned a little, reaching down to adjust his shorts just a little. He moved them just enough so that his cock slipped out the leg hole in a way that could only be seen by him and Connor “Just saying, offers there... think of it as the most fun cardio you’ll ever do” 

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

TW: SA, alcohol.

Sorry for the long ask ❤️

It happened two weeks ago. It was his birthday. He threw a house party. Let's call him Z. He and I had started getting to know each other. We were hanging out, spending time. The most we had done was hold hands. He invited me to his party where he got too drunk. I decided to go with him to drop him in his room. He gave me a hug and I hugged him back. That's when the trouble started. Things got inappropriate way too quickly ( I remember what he did, I just don't want to write it out) and I had to tell him a few time to stop before I just shook him off me and left.

I proceeded to drink heavily throughout the night thinking it would help the situation, but it obviously didn't.

He didn't reach out to me at all the next day. But the day after when I met him he held my held hand with a certain kind of ownership I am not too comfortable with and confessed to remembering everything he did that night. I quickly said it was okay, because I didn't want to process it at all.

It hit me like a train the next day that I had just forgiven him for potential SA. I avoided him successful for a fortnight until last night. Since that night I'm a lot more confident and outgoing and I thought I would use this opportunity to call him out.

I sat him down and told exactly what I thought and how I was not okay. He stayed silent the whole time. I asked him if he had nothing to say. He asked me a few questions like if I wanted us to never talk and maintain distance. I said I don't know. I asked him what he wanted he said that he wanted us to go back to how things were before, all cute and brimming with the chance of romance. I told him it's not possible. He stood up and left.

He's friends with all my friends and I have no intention of telling them any of this.

I think why I ignored him for two weeks and wanted to give him an explanation is because he's the first man who's ever given me attention. I grew up in a very sheltered atmosphere where I hadn't even looked at or spoken to a boy till I was about 20. Z was the first man to show any kind of interest in me. And now he first traumatized me and then also made sure that I would be craving his attention back because of his mind games. I want him to apologize. I want him to say sorry like he fucking means it. I want him to know that he's hurt me and broken my trust and things can never ever be okay again. But he told our mutuals that he's already found a new girl he's interested in and that I am sort of old news.

I am sorry for the really long post. Idk if I want answers or opinions or just a listening open ear. I am ready to listen to any take anybody might have on this.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what happened to you.

I understand why you want Z to apologize, and I believe that it would be the right thing to do, but I think that sometimes the hard pill to swallow is that your abuser may never apologize, and you may have to learn how to cope with that. In my situation, my abuser did apologize, but it wasn't genuine. Something that helped me to hear was that the person who broke you would be the last person to put you back together. You can't rely on the person who hurt you to do anything other than that. I would ask yourself what an apology from Z would do for you. Either way, it doesn't erase or excuse the fact that he hurt you, and you may still be hurting even after he apologized.

Some find it helpful to do an exercise where you write out the apology you wish your abuser had given you, and sign your own name at the end. From there you can recognize that this came from yourself, and that this is an apology you could accept.

It sucks that our abusers cannot truly give us closure, but we don't really need them. We can give closure to ourselves. We can create our own answers to burning questions. We can wipe our own tears and help ourselves back to our feet. There is strength and pride in doing these things independently.

That being said, healing takes time. Digesting and processing this is at your own pace, however long that may be. I'm not sure if you've considered or are in therapy, but if you can access or afford it, I recommend looking into it. Therapy can definitely help you navigate these experiences and explore them in a healthy and safe way with the assistance of a professional.

Please know that there is no need to apologize for the length of this ask, there have been far longer asks I've answered in the past and even they have nothing to apologize for.

I hope I could help. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[booksanstime]

Bigolas Dickolas and the Time War

The other day I was feeling rather out of it, so I decided to pick some media to immerse myself in. Some media to make me feel something sharp and intense, to get catharsis. I landed around reading a few books, all I will get to talking about in due time, but I surprisingly started with the book I didn’t initially plan on reading. This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone. I will start with giving a short review on the book that is spoiler free and then go more into detail on my actual feelings. Spoiler Free Review- Nothing. I really can’t say much. It made me cry, it made me look up quite a few things, and after I was done reading it I was blown away, but I truly feel no information is the best way to go in. For those who want some idea of what you’re getting yourself into, I will say to just read the synopsis on the back of the book, but not the reviews, and be prepared for a possibly challenging read(it can be verbose). The back of the book reads: “In the ashes of a dying world, Red finds a letter marked “Burn before reading”       So begins an unlikely correspondence between two rival agents in a war that stretched through the vast reaches of time and space.       Red belongs to the Agency, a post-singularity technotopia. Blue belongs to Garden, a single vast consciousness embedded in all organic matter. Their pasts are bloody and their futures mutually exclusive. They have nothing in common--save that they’re the best, and they’re alone.       Now what began as a battlefield boast grows into a dangerous game, one both Red and Blue are determined to win. Because winning’s what you do in war. Isn’t it?       A tour de force collaboration from two powerhouse writers that spans the whole time and space.” One other thing. I don’t want to say too much, but it is also a good read if ya want something remotely queer for pride month, and it’s only 198 pages long. Now, onto not caring about spoilers, ---warning!! spoilers ahead and some unfiltered thoughts--- This book fucking took me by the throat and made me look directly into it’s eyes on every fucking page. I swear, the moment I started reading I did not stop once until I had read it all. I had to take a moment to sip some water, perform some standard body maintenance, but outside of that, I didn’t put the book down until I was done. And then when I was done, I laid down for a moment, and then reread certain lines and paragraphs and phrases again. The next day I was still going back to it, so much so I decided to reread the first bit (while not emotionally prepared to reread the whole book yet) and it had me losing my mind and recommending it to everybody I know. This Is How You Lose the Time War fucking hit like a school bus on a college campus. It’s everything my friends and I joke that we need, would be a pain to actually live through, but I’m sure half of us would not complain to have. Reading this book was, in a way, exhausting. The journey the authors took us through, the tragedy, the love, the longing, it wore on me. It was incredibly engaging and profound, yes.. but it still was a trip, a roller-coaster of emotions, and I don’t do well with heights. It may take me many more days before I feel like I can read it again, but rest assured I will, because I am absolutely certain it is worth at least another read. Like a video game where each play around you unlock new things, new aspects of the story that can lead you to the true end you couldn’t get the first go around. But I guess it’s slightly different than that. This book is more so a Möbius strip, as the last letter from Blue reads. This book is about a war and a love that, “stretches through the vast reaches of time and space.” Everything happening from the beginning of the book is happening later in the book as well, but I digress, I should go into more specifics. This books is about two people on opposing sides of a war. Red and Blue, code-names (though we don’t learn their actual names). They have a fierce and intense rivalry, while having respect for one another at the same time. They both weave and manipulate the past to try to make their respective futures possible, to make their very existences possible. They may just be the grunts for their respective futuristic matriarchs, but they are the best in their field and constantly at each others throats, while never outright sabotaging one another. And while constantly communicating through an effort akin to growing strawberries for a loved one (a painstaking thing to grow), the two rivals painstakingly weave time to leave messages for one another. Taunting each other. Blue saying they’ll turn Red to their side, to Garden. Both enjoying the company at some point of simply each other’s messages in their memories, as both Garden and the Agency keep close tabs on them and they could not simply keep a message, a letter, around. And at some point, from the intellectual back and forth from two people on opposite sides of a war, they fall in love. Blue takes a heavy wound when Garden sends her to kill a younger version of Red, a wound she will carry in every form she takes. Red is taken aback and professes she no longer sees Blue as the enemy, that she wishes to talk to her more. Blue and Red weave messages through time, in bee stings and dragonflies. In seeds and teas and then.. Red confesses her love. Blue dies at the hands of Red and the Agency, and then Red tears through time and space to bring her back. To Be Continued... >>

[tiamojai]

I’m learning that men and the maternal relationships I have are where most of my issues source from. Never have I ever had the issues I’ve had until I noticed the interaction with my maternal side and those that stem from it and the specific relationships I’ve had with certain men, particularily one which makes me want to make note of this interaction. Most of my romantic relationships were bred in love and joy and experiencing new things without animosity and atrocious interactions. Simply put, these men were loving, affectionate, caring, family oriented, ambitious, sensitive, effective communicators, leaders, protectors, men who treat me as my biological father does, many more things as you see I would love to go on about….. but I’m interacting with a peculiar shift as of late in this very putrid relation. the events that have transpired seem to be quite ridiculous and of a malicious fashion, under these circumstances I have aged between the ages of 22-27 I have also not reproduced as of yet, by choice and please be mindful I am very sensitive about a topic as such, but today I have reached my point of understanding that there is a mass group of people who I simply wish would just evaporate and I understand the twist of narrative shift I have made with this depiction, but I have developed the understanding reinforced with repetitive and when I say repetitive reinforcement of proof of events that it is okay to let go of people who share characteristics with you, even as small; I’ll be careful when I say this, but as love. When I experience these events from my perspective and mental categorization, I understand there are people who you stay away from, which seems so impractical to me, because humans have depicted a world and live in another. These people who feel like they can tell you things and push you around and then say it’s your fault and then wrong you for just retaliation, no wonder people think life is a big game. Now let’s layman’s terms this. To every motherfucker that feels like people have to fucking function like their heads are fucking ticking off of syncopated fuckery that you ingest and think you can fucking take people for fucking granted and fucking skeeze your fucking way into people’s life by mutual association, fuck off and fuck off now, because I promise you and I will leave this as fucking reference, I don’t give a fuck who you think I should be but be very fucking worried when I think who the fuck you should be. bitch.

[ecoamerica]

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[kurosukii]

𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥

pairing: matsukawa issei x f!reader

summary: you’re so glad that you married a loving and doting man who cares for your child as if she’s his own flesh and blood; you just didn’t expect that his son would take a certain liking to you as well...

genre: smut, stepcest au

warnings: 18+. noncon/dubcon, pseudoincest (stepcest), somnophilia, dubcon cheating, milf reader, use of ‘mommy’ (not in the femdom way), creepy and possessive issei, slight voyeurism and exhibitionism, body image issues, corruption, manipulation, panty sniffing, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, spitting, degradation, praise, size kink, breeding kink, biting, nipple play, oral (f receiving), humping, cockwarming, cumplay, creampie, overstimulation, mating press, doggy style

word count: 6.4k

author’s note: for @karasunosimp‘s it’s raining milk collab! thank you for letting me join! hehe so it’s another stepcest au,,, also i’ve already written for 3/4 of the seijoh four EEK (let me know if i missed any warnings!) (MINORS DNI)

° thank you to @meiansmistress @ssrated1volleyballplayer @bokuroskitten @anime-nymph for beta-reading and editing! <33

[11:53 AM]

“have fun at the amusement park! stay safe and always listen to your dad, okay?” you say sweetly to your jumping daughter.

you giggle at her excitement, your heart and cheeks warming when you see her eyes twinkling with unbridled joy as she holds her stepdad’s finger with her entire hand.

“bye mommy! i’ll see you later when we get back! have fun with nii-chan!” she answers loudly, squealing when your husband picks her up and twirls her around as they walk down the path to the car.

you wave them off, returning inside and closing the door with a click. you wince at the sound, louder now that your daughter’s giggles and squeals are gone.

meanwhile, issei leans against the wall with his thick arms crossed as he shamelessly looks you over from head to toe. he slowly licks his bottom lip, clearly liking what he sees.

you’re now hyper aware of your bare nipples brushing against the fabric of your shirt, and paired with the flimsy linen shorts you’re wearing, the room definitely feels hotter with the sexual tension that’s permeating the air

sexual tension that you’ve been blatantly ignoring ever since you married into the matsukawa household.

“why are you always so nervous around me, mommy?” issei asks, feigning innocence. his eyes twinkle and lips stretch into a smirk when he sees your breath hitch.

you don’t bother to grace him with an answer, heavy lump forming in your throat as you speed walk past him and into the kitchen.

he chuckles at your reaction and pushes himself off the wall, following you as his eyes watch your swaying hips. issei is hungry and it has more to do with the woman in front of him rather than the steaming plate of food on the table.

after you’re done fixing up the table and finally take a seat, you pray to any higher being within earshot to ask for strength in dealing with your wayward stepson.

you really don’t like being alone with him and it’s not because you don’t want to be around him. it’s because you’re afraid of what he might do to you.

you weren’t born yesterday and you’ve lived a long enough life to know when a man is looking at you like he wants to spread your legs and pound you until you’re a writhing mess underneath him.

because that’s how issei looks at you and he’s not ashamed about it either. it genuinely shocks you because his father—your husband—can be in the room and issei will still undress you with his eyes.

you thought you were being delusional at first, ashamed at how you secretly accused your husband’s son of leering at and having inappropriate thoughts about you.

it turned out that you weren’t wrong, however, because you came home one afternoon to get something you left, expecting that no one would be there so imagine your shock when you passed by issei’s slightly opened door and heard him pleasuring himself.

you were about to run back downstairs until you heard him groan your name as he was stroking his cock. you choked out a gasp as you stood by his door. he was naked, tanned body glistening with sweat as he fucked his hand.

you couldn’t help but gape at his thick and long cock—bigger than your husband’s, as much as you were ashamed to admit—and you watched him for a few minutes, panties drenched with how much slick and pre-cum was leaking out of issei’s, for lack of a better word, horsecock.

your face burned when his hips jerked and he sprayed his cum all over himself, moaning your name long and hard as his body twitched from the stimulation.

needless to say, you went back to work with soiled panties and a hot face, not knowing that watching issei masturbate to the thought of you would be the turning point that led to the taboo relationship with your stepson.

the sound of utensils falling and clanging break you from your memories; your face burns at being caught red handed and you squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

issei apologizes for the disturbance and continues eating, never failing to wink every time you glance at him. he knows the effect he has on you and he relishes in it, teasing his stepmom endlessly.

he can’t wait to expose you for the little whore you actually are, and what better than to seize the opportunity of the both of you having the house all to yourselves?

“your little one and my dad are out bonding in the amusement park and i know for sure that they’ll be there all the way into the night,” he says, setting down his utensils and wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

the movement of his hands causes the many rings on his fingers to reflect against the light and he looks at you from under his thick lashes, brown eyes smoldering with shameless desire.

“so why don’t we do some bonding too?” he asks and chuckles when you choke on your food. he reaches for your cup of water and hands it to you, thick and ring-clad fingers brushing against yours as you take it from him.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you, mommy?” he whispers, his voice raspy and deep. you shiver at his sensual tone, fingers gripping the cup hard. you clear your throat loudly after swallowing, willing yourself to ignore his advances and innuendos.

“i’m tired, issei. i’m going to take a nap after eating,” you say sternly, glaring when he seems not to take you seriously. he laughs lowly, letting out an okay, whatever you say, before standing up and stretching.

your cheeks warm when he groans, similar to the one you heard before, and you jump out of your chair and begin to gather all the plates and leftover food.

“let me clean up, hmm? you did all the cooking and prepping. ” issei stops you with a large hand on your forearm. his skin is hot to the touch but his rings feel cool, the juxtaposition making you lightheaded.

he’s breathing down on you, large body covering yours while his intoxicating scent invades your senses. you shake your head and mumble out a garbled ‘thank you’ before you leave the kitchen and issei, practically sprinting up the stairs and towards the room you share with your husband.

you close the door once you’re inside, breathing heavily as you hear your heartbeat in your ears. damn him, you growl in your head. you ought to give him an earful about personal spaces and appropriate manners.

you sigh loudly as you walk to the dresser, intent on changing into your silky nightgown for your midday nap. you wear the garment to help you feel attractive, despite your age and changed body. you remove your shirt over your head and shiver when you see how hard and pebbled your nipples are.

even though your mind refuses to succumb to issei, your body is a whole different story. you wince when you remove your shorts and feel the dampness in your panties, making shame and guilt course through you as you put on your nightgown.

of all the people in the world, only your husband should make you feel this way. no one else, and certainly not his son. what would he think of you? what would your daughter think of you?

fuck, why are you even allowing yourself to think like this?

you know that if you ask issei to stop acting inappropriately towards you, he would listen—wouldn’t he?

you know the reason why you allowed this whole forbidden staring and teasing to go on for so long was because you felt lonely. which angers you, because you have a loving husband and you couldn’t ask for anything more.

but he didn’t exactly make you feel desired. sure, you’ve been intimate with him but he didn’t look at you the way you want to be looked at—like you’re the sexiest woman he’s ever seen. you feel ashamed, as if all the attention and love your husband gives means nothing to you.

as someone who has gone through major bodily changes, the ugly face  of insecurity easily rears its head when you look at yourself in the mirror—but that doesn’t mean you regret having your daughter, not at all.

it’s just one of those things that has been ingrained in you and you find it hard to escape. which is why whenever issei looks at you with hungry eyes, you can’t help but feel wanted, desired.

it’s as if he doesn’t care about the extra weight you put on or the stretch marks on your body—no, he doesn’t care about any of that. you wouldn’t have believed it if it weren’t for his incessant teasing and the fact that he masturbates to the thought of you.

but you know it’s wrong, that it can never be. you sigh dejectedly as you lie down on the soft and cold bed, staring up at the ceiling. you have to talk to issei about this whole game and tell him to stop it before his father finds out.

and issei’s molten brown eyes are the last thing you think of before you finally close your eyes.

issei hums as he wipes his hands on the towel, looking in the direction you ran off. he smirks to himself as he puts back on his rings, body brimming with excitement and desire. time to pay you a visit.

he walks up the stairs, footsteps loud in the quiet house. he finds himself right in front of your door and leans his ear on the wood. he’s met with silence as he slowly turns the knob and enters the dimly lit room.

his eyes immediately find your sleeping form and he feels his cock stir in his pants, making the fabric tighten around his crotch.

fuck, you’re so god-damn beautiful.

long legs carry him over to you. he puts one knee on the bed, making it dip as his long fingers caress your cheek. his rings complement your complexion, his thumb and index finger lightly squeezing your parted lips.

he watches in fascination as your eyelashes flutter against your cheek and his cock twitches again when he hears your little whimper as he plays with your slightly damp lips.

his fingers continue their ministrations as his sharp eyes travel down your form, smirking when he sees your nipples poking through the silky fabric. to his delight, he notices your nightgown riding up your body, revealing the frilly white cloth of your panties.

he groans softly as his cock hardens and the bed dips even more as he puts his whole weight on it. he stops his movements on your face and maneuvers himself until his large body is over you.

his eyes burn holes through your panties and his breathing becomes heavier. god, he knows it’s wrong to touch and feel you up while you’re sleeping, but you’re so fucking breathtaking and he can’t help himself. after all, he’s been waiting for an opportunity like this to happen.

there’s a slight tremor in his hands as they hover over the exposed skin of your thighs. he lays them gently on your skin and he groans lowly in his throat. fuck, you’re so smooth and soft.

he squeezes them a few times before he gently pries your legs open, watching your reaction carefully in case you wake up. your breaths are still even and he takes that as a signal to spread your legs wider, raising them until your feet are planted on the bed.

he bites his lower lip to stifle his groan once he sees the wet patch on the center of your frilly panties. you’re such a fucking whore and he knows that it’s for him and only him.

he positions his body until he’s lying on his stomach, slightly rutting the bed to relieve the tension in  his cock. his head moves between your legs, directly in front of your heated and covered pussy.

you stir slightly when you feel a breeze on your exposed skin, making issei stiffen. you settle down and he sighs in relief, thinking fuck it before he inhales the scent of your arousal.

he growls lowly in his throat at your smell, sticking out his tongue and licking a long and wet stripe up your covered slit. you moan softly, but that doesn’t deter issei from groaning into your cunt.

he raises his body and sits up on his haunches, hooking his fingers in  the waistband of your panties. he slowly pulls them down and his eyes practically glow as he sees your bare pussy for the first time.

his throbbing cock twitches when he sees a string of slick connecting your cunt to your panties. he gently lifts your hips and stretches your legs so he can remove the soiled underwear, watching your sleeping face carefully before positioning your legs again.

he knows he’s a disgusting man, but what can he do when you’re offering yourself up so sweetly to him?

he bunches the fabric in his hand, ringed fingers making an indent on the cotton as he brings it up to his nose, closing his eyes as he inhales deeply.

he growls at your fresh scent, his body tensing at the new wave of arousal that drenched your panties. he watches as you squirm and move around, rubbing your thighs together as you whimper quietly in your sleep.

his eyes flash. is his naughty stepmom having a wet dream? that explains why your panties feel wetter in his hand...

well, issei is nothing but a man who makes women’s dreams come true, and it just so happens that you’ve captured his attention—and quite frankly, his dick.

he throws your panties to the floor after a few more sniffs and quickly dives back between your legs. he’s up close to your naked pussy, pupils blown wide as he stares at your hole that’s clenching around nothing.

you’re wet but not wet enough by his standards, so he gathers all the saliva he has in his mouth and parts your folds with two thick fingers. he spits on your cunt, the  little sound coursing through the quiet room.

he watches intently as the globule of spit slides down your lower lips and you shiver, moaning at the cold feeling between your legs. you squirm more as your mind gets filled with a certain haziness, unable to distinguish what’s real and what’s a dream.

throwing caution out the window, issei wastes no time and finds your clit, suckling it into the damp heat of his mouth. he groans at the taste of your pussy, his hips rutting the bed once more.

the vibrations from his lips make you moan loudly and arch into issei’s mouth. your eyes are squeezed tightly as you thrash around the bed, making you instinctively close your legs, squeezing issei’s head between them.

his hands grab your thighs, the cold rings on his fingers digging into your skin as he pries them open. he shakes his head with your clit in his mouth, making you cry out and tremble.

god, your dream feels so fucking real. you’ve never felt pleasure like this before and you love it. your fingers grip the sheets as you involuntarily roll your hips, following the motions of issei’s tongue and lips.

his chin is drenched with his saliva and your juices as the bed creaks from the rutting of his hips. frankly, he doesn’t care how loud and sloppy he’s being if it means you’re this responsive.

issei lets go of one thigh and moves his arm under him while his mouth continues to suck and lick your clit. he watches through his lashes as your chest rises and falls quickly, cute moans falling from your mouth.

the silk of your nightgown is dark with how heated your body is, your sweat dampening the fabric. your nipples are so hard that they’re poking through the garment.

his tongue flicks against your puffy clit as he slowly inserts two fingers—the ones that aren’t adorned with rings—into your leaking cunt.

the feeling of his long fingers inside your pussy makes you cry out and your toes curl from the full feeling. the new stimulation and volume of your pleasured sounds awakens you, your foggy eyes wide and confused.

you’re still groggy when you sit up and lean on your hands, your mind processing what’s happening when you realize that it wasn’t a dream at all.

no, it’s real and issei’s really between your legs, lapping away and fingering your aching pussy. your mind clears and you choke out a gasp in between your moans as you watch him in shock.

issei watches the emotions cross your face the whole time and his chest puffs out, his ego rising knowing that he’s the one doing this to you.

your frantic eyes meet his and he winks slyly. you tug at his hair ready to pull his head and mouth off of you because this is so wrong, but he beats you to it. his tongue swirls and flicks faster at your pulsing bud, his fingers increasing their thrusting.

now that you’re awake, he doesn’t have to care about his volume anymore so he lets out loud groans and grunts, the vibrations reverberating through you and making your pussy tingle.

“issei, t-this is wrong! s-top! stop!” you beg, voice immediately turning into a loud moan when he ignores you and bobs his head faster.

he moans to himself, knowing that your body is betraying you because although you’re begging him to stop, your hand is tugging his hair as you desperately fuck his face and fingers.

you taste so good that he can’t stop even if he wanted to.

“i-i mean it! get off—oh my god!” you scream when he gives your clit a hard suck. coupled with the squelching sounds and speed of his thrusting fingers, you cum all over his mouth.

you breathe heavily, face flushed and blissed out as you watch issei kiss your inner thighs before rising between your legs.

his mouth and chin are glistening with your cum and his pink tongue darts out to lick his lips clean of your juices, groaning as he meets your eyes.

you notice the dark patch on his crotch and your cheeks flame when you realize that he came the same time as you, but that doesn’t ease your worries because his cock is still hard and twitching.

once you regain some of your bearings, you realize what exactly just occurred and you let out a little scream as you try to scramble away from issei, shame filling your body.

he doesn’t let you get away from him, however, because he immediately pushes you on your back and crashes his swollen lips to yours.

you yelp at the sudden movement and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, grinding his hard cock on your wet and leaking pussy, further drenching the fabric of his pants.

you taste your essence as he massages his tongue with yours. you moan, tugging at his messy curly hair, trying and failing to pull him off you.

his hands find purchase on your thighs and he squeezes them, making you shiver at his cold rings. you whimper when he wraps your legs around his waist, grinding into you with a force harder than before.

your saliva mixes with his as the lewd clicking sounds of your mouths fill your ears. issei grinds on you one last time before he lifts his head from yours, lips separating with a trail of spit connecting them.

satisfied with kissing you, he stares at your face, gaze smoldering. you try to push him off you, but to no avail. he only tightens your legs around his waist as you struggle against him.

you suck in a breath as you feel the heat of his cock directly on your naked pussy. issei smirks lazily at you, tutting at you as if you’re inconveniencing him. your hands tug at his hair more, desperately trying to anchor yourself.

“if i had known your pussy tastes that sweet, my face would stay buried between your legs for the rest of my days,” he says suavely, his tongue darting out and licking his lips as he looks at yours.

you moan softly at his words and you’re now keenly aware of your nightgown sticking to your skin, making you uncomfortable as your nipples brush against the sweaty fabric. issei notices your discomfort and clicks his tongue.

“i think you’ve been hiding your pretty tits from me for far too long,” he whispers, his hot breath caressing your face. his hands move from your thighs and his fingers hook under the straps of your nightgown.

you shiver underneath him as his hands remove the sweaty fabric from your body, ring-clad fingers ghosting the sensitive skin of your arms.

you whine in distress as issei discards your nightgown somewhere behind him. you’ve never felt so exposed, your bare and glistening body being scrutinised by his dark eyes.

your insecurities start to get the better of you and you move your arms to cover your breasts and mound. issei stops you, large hands putting your arms back to your side.

“don’t hide from me, baby,” he whispers, his head dipping as he kisses the crook of your neck. his hands go to your chest and he palms both of your aching tits, squeezing and kneadingthe soft skin.

you moan, arching into the warm and cool feeling of his fingers. issei continues sucking and leaving marks on the skin of your neck as he whispers his thoughts.

“i know my dad doesn’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked,” he claims, making you squirm under his body that’s still clothed.

shame momentarily disappearing, you claw at his shirt and pants. he chuckles at your impatience and his hands leave your breasts for a moment, removing his shirt in record time.

he gets off the bed and makes quick work of his pants, kicking them off and quickly returning to the bed—to you. he didn’t give you the chance to look at his hard cock—not that you needed to anyway, because you already know what it looks like.

you yelp when issei puts his arms around you and settles you down on his lap, giving you a clear view of his cock that’s bobbing against his defined abdomen.

you gulp, nervousness filling your body as you stare at his large cock. seeing it up close is absolutely different—it’s longer and thicker than any other dick you’ve ever seen.

issei’s ego rises as he watches you. he’s always been proud of his size but seeing you? the object of his and his dick’s affections sitting on his lap? well, that’s enough to boost any man’s ego.

“see what you do to me?” he asks, guiding your hand to his throbbing cock. you whimper when you hold his shaft, your hand barely wrapping around him. issei hisses at the feeling of your soft hand touching his sensitive skin.

“you’re so fucking sexy and i can’t stop thinking about how you’d look like bouncing on my cock,” he admits, urging you to stroke his dick faster.

you slowly pump his shaft and moan when you feel his fingers—the same ones from before—find your swollen clit, slowly circling the pulsing bud. your free hand squeezes his shoulder as his fingers move faster.

you squeal when he inserts two fingers inside your cunt, making your hand squeeze his cock. he groans in at the stimulation, making his abs clench.

“i-ssei!” you whine, head thrown back as he pumps his fingers into you faster. the squelching sounds of his fingers scissoring your insides causes a knot to slowly form at the pit of your stomach.

“gotta prep this pussy more, baby,” he says breathlessly, watching your slack-jawed face as you stroke and twist his cock.

“still so fucking tight, can’t wait to sink into you,” he grunts, moving your body so he can get a better angle at your g-spot.

“bet i can fuck you better than my dad ever will, mommy,” he growls, curling his fingers inside of you as he ends his sentence. you lurch forward and cry out, eyes fluttering at the pleasure.

“see? you want my cock—shit—so badly, huh? look at how your hand is squeezing and s-stroking me, fuck,” he stutters, feeling his orgasm approach. his free hand squeezes your hip, keeping your balance.

you shake your head frantically at his statement, still not admitting that you want this, want him.

“stop fighting it. i know you want me as much as i want you,” he grates, curling his fingers again and making you wail at the pleasure. your fingers twist and pump his cock, pre-cum leak from the tip. your hand feels warm and slick as you continue to jerk issei’s shaft.

“gonna cum baby, cum with me,” he whispers into your skin, breaths heavy as the slick sounds of your fluids fill the room.

your body is trembling and you know you’re nearing your orgasm once more. you bury your face in the crook of his neck, moans and whimpers falling from your lips.

“c-cumming, issei!” you scream when his thumb circles your clit just as he curls his fingers again inside your tight pussy, hitting your g-spot perfectly.

he follows after you, hot spurts of his cum staining your hand and arm. he groans and throws his head back as he feels the heat of his essence coat his abs and thighs.

he removes his fingers from your cunt and gently pushes you back on the bed. you yelp when issei grabs the back of your thighs and pushes them to your chest, folding your body in half.

“i’m going to fuck you until all you and i can hear in this house are your cute and sexy moans,” he growls, spreading your legs and baring your clenching hole to his dark eyes.

his cock bobs as he moves forward and he takes hold of his shaft, one long vein on the underside. he taps it a few times on your clit, making you whine and close your eyes.

you take a deep breath as he inserts the tip, body shaking as his large cock goes inside of you, inch by inch.

you open your eyes and claw at his arms when the stretch starts to become uncomfortable. you look down and gasp, eyes wide as you have a clear view of his fat cock splitting you.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls, squeezing your thighs as he slowly bottoms out.

“you’re so big, issei,” you moan, leaning your head back on the pillow as your eyes flutter at the feeling of his cock stretching your walls.

“mhmm, big enough to fuck you the way you want to be fucked, mommy,” he chuckles then groans when your cunt squeezes around him.

“fuck—do you like it when i call you mommy?” he growls when your tight walls clamp down on him again. you shake your head, a futile attempt in proving him wrong.

“who knew my mommy is so kinky,” he mocks you and before you can even reprimand him, his entire length bottoms out in one swift thrust.

“issei! fuck!” you scream, scratching his forearms as your back arches, toes curling at the sudden thrust.

you feel so fucking full. of all the cocks you’ve taken, issei’s definitely tops the list. you can feel every part of him, from the single vein to the throbbing of his length.

he groans loudly, squeezing your thighs so hard that his rings will definitely leave bruises later. he fights to controls himself, willing not to cum at the feeling of your pussy finally enveloping him.

he sucks in a breath and leans his forehead against yours, pulling out slowly, leaving only the tip of his cock inside your pussy. you whine at the loss, missing the way he stretches you.

he thrusts back in, bottoming out as his tip teases the entrance of your cervix. you cry out in both pain and pleasure, still trying to adjust to his size.

he stays still inside of you for a few seconds before he places his hands on the bed, your calves resting on his upper arms. he starts thrusting, moving in and out of your cunt.

you mumble incoherently, breasts bouncing with each thrust issei makes. you grab both of his wrists, squeezing them as the sounds of your skin meeting his fill your ears.

issei groans and hisses, panting heavily as he pounds your pussy, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. he leans down to your ear, licking the sensitive skin and making your shaking body tremble even more as you whine.

“bet you’re happy now, huh?” he whispers in between his groans, biting your earlobe.

“w-what do you—oh my god, issei!” you stutter, but then he fucks you harder and faster, making you keen and arch your back. he makes your body contort into positions you’ve never been in before—until now.

“do you think you’re quiet when you touch yourself during your late night showers?” he asks you in a condescending manner, smirking when you whine at his statement.

“i can fucking hear you when i go to the kitchen. you’re such a slut. moaning your stepson’s name, imagining that he’s the one who’s touching your pussy,” he growls as he buries his head in your neck, his hot breaths fanning your skin.

“but i guess i don’t have the right to talk, huh? i fuck my fist every night and imagine it’s your tight cunt wrapped around me,” he finishes, nipping away at your skin before his hands return the back of your sweaty thighs.

he slaps them, in sync with his thrusts, making you wince at the metal of his rings. your shaking arms reach for your ankles, setting everything on display for issei.

you’re loudly chanting his name like a prayer, pleasure running through every nerve in your body. for the first time in your life, you’re actually enjoying getting fucked silly—never mind that it’s your stepson who’s making you moan like a pornstar.

his thrusts are heavy and deep as he slowly toys with your clit and you jerk when his fingers draw circles on the aching bud. your body’s trembling harder than before, loud moans and whines falling from your open mouth as drool seeps from the corners.

“i-i’m gonna cum, issei!” you squeal as the sound of the headboard hitting the wall and the squelching noises coming from your pussy make the pit in your stomach slowly tip over.

“cum, baby. cum all over my fat cock,” he whines, throwing his head back as he jackhammers into you, his cock throbbing and his balls tightening as he prepares to empty himself inside of you.

“c-cumming i-issei! fuck!” you scream, your hands squeezing your ankles as your legs shake from your intense orgasm. your cunt is practically suffocating issei’s cock, making his hips jerk and stop.

his mouth falls open into a loud and heavy groan as he spills his hot and sticky cum inside of you. there’s so much cum that it leaks out of you and around his cock as it drips down to the drenched sheets below your bodies.

you finally set your shaking legs down as your trembling body aches from your folded position. issei falls on top of you, elbows on the bed as his sweaty face is smothered by your breasts.

his cock is still inside of you, twitching as more cum spills inside of your soiled pussy. your heavy breaths fill the cool air of the room as you recover, feeling disgusting at all sweat and cum on and in your body.

issei lifts himself off of you and pulls out of your cunt, making you both sigh and groan at the drag of his cock. your mixed fluids immediately trickle out of your pussy and you moan at the thick feeling.

issei furrows his brows as his fingers scoop his cum and quickly pushes it back. you whine as the tips of his fingers tease your hole, squirming away from him as your clit throbs from the overstimulation.

you’re kind of expecting him to roll over you and lie down but he shocks you—it’s evident with the way you yelp when flips your body over to your stomach, his large hands raising your hips until you’re kneeling on the sheets.

“i can’t fucking get enough of you, baby,”  he says breathlessly, chest still heaving at the previous round. but it’s true, he really can’t get enough of you—not when he knows the taste and feel of your pussy.

“i-issei, i-i can’t,” you whine when he holds his cock and hovers before your dripping cunt. he doesn’t pay any heed to your whimpers, mostly because he knows you still want more of this, more of him.

“you say that but your pussy is telling me a different story,” he smirks and you can hear the condescension in his voice as his thumb rubs the sweaty skin of your hips.

he doesn’t give you any time to reply because he quickly sinks into you, your mouth falling open into a loud moan as his fat cock stretches you open once more.

fuck, even if you’ve already taken him, the stretch and ache still feels the same. he’s so fucking big that you know you won’t ever get used to his size, no matter how many times he fucks you.

he doesn’t waste any time and starts rolling his hips, his thighs loudly slapping against your ass. he hisses as one of his hands lie flat on your back, pushing it down to form a deeper arch.

“i know you saw me jerking off. did you like the show i put on for you, mommy?” he growls, his other hand gripping the back of your neck and smothering your face on the sweat-stained sheets.

you moan into the fabric when you hear the mocking endearment, your drool mixing with all the other fluids. your fingers bunch the sheets between them  as the loud creaking and thumping of the bed fill your ears.

“i came so hard because i knew you were watching me work my cock,” he groans, thrusting hard and deep. your cunt squeezes his cock when you remember that afternoon. so all this time? he was shamelessly coaxing you towards him?

you huff, pride slightly damaged when you hear his admission. you’ll show him that he’s not the only one who can fuck like an animal.

you whimper when you spread your knees—which is a feat in itself because issei’s thrusts practically send your body flying forward. you moan when he hits your sweet spot, making tingles run down your spine.

you start meeting his thrusts, no longer letting him do all the pulling and jostling. his eyes flash when he realizes what you’re doing, which only encourages him to fuck you harder.

his hands palm your jiggling ass, leaving marks on your soft skin. you leave your head buried in the sheets, the sheets, stifling your moans and whines because if you don’t, —you’ll definitely make the walls shake with how loud you are.

“yeah that’s a good girl. fuck yourself on my cock, come on,” he coaxes you, deep voice raspy as his own body trembles at the pleasure of your walls clamping down on his cock.

“fuck—look at how your slutty cunt is taking me,” he growls when you roll your hips, the angle sending new waves of pleasure to the both of you.

“god, i wanna fuck you in front of my dad just so he knows that your pussy belongs to me,” he hisses, holding your hips as he takes control of the pace again.

his thrusts become sloppy and erratic, the loud slapping of skin a constant symphony as he maintains the fast pace. you turn your head to the side and breathe deeply, choking out a moan as he continuously hits your g-spot.

“want me to make you a mommy again? get your belly all swollen and round with my kid?” he says, voice shaking as his heavy balls slap against your skin. he’s close, he can feel it.

you’re close too, just a few more deep and hard thrusts and you’ll gush around his cock again. issei leans over your body, his chest covering the entire expanse of your sweaty back.

you squeal when your knees drop and you fall flat on the bed, your entire front rubbing against the sheets. you whimper shakily when your nipples brush against the soft fabric, the extra stimulation making your body jerk back against issei’s thrusting cock.

“issei! g-gonna c-cum a-again!” you squeal, voice shaking from how raw your throat feels. your moans increase in pitch and volume the nearer you get to your orgasm.

“fuck, your pussy feels like heaven!” issei groans, his own voice increasing in pitch and volume as well as he reaches his limit. you feel his cock swell and throb before thick and hot spurts of his cum coat your clenching walls.

“issei—oh my god!” you wail, cumming at the same time as him. your mouth stays open in a silent scream as you close your eyes tightly, cunt spasming as you drench his cock with your essence.

you wince when you feel the squelching of your mixed juices as issei rolls to his side, bringing you with him. both of you are quivering with pleasure and overstimulation, breathing heavy with your chests rising and falling rapidly.

his cock finally softens inside of you, clearly spent for the day. more cum falls out of your pussy, staining your sweaty bodies even more.

his parted lips find your neck, sucking and licking away at glistening skin. you whine, tilting your head, exposing more skin for him to mark.

you sigh tiredly, exhaustion finally catching up to you. you don’t really care that you’re dirty and soiled with sweat and cum—or the fact that issei’s dick is still inside of you. you just want to rest.

your eyes droop, ready to fall asleep enveloped in issei’s warm chest and arms, along with the wandering of his soft lips on your neck—until you hear a very familiar voice shout from downstairs, loud footsteps running up the stairs.

“honey! issei! we’re finally home!”

[3:47 PM]

@semisgroupie​ @kurinoot​ @rosesandtoshi​ @kinsurou​

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[criminalmindzjunkie]

Love Sick

Masterlist

Summary: A story about how Spencer’s worst decision ever somehow ends up being his best.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves! This fic is loosely based on a request I got about Spencer faking an illness to keep the reader from going on a date.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: swearing

Word Count: 4k

Spencer has done a terrible, awful thing.

He wants to argue that he doesn’t know what came over him, but that would be untrue and he’s already met today’s quota on little white lies. Spencer knows exactly what possessed him to call you up at seven thirty on a Saturday night, and it wasn’t so that the two of you could discuss the weather or the recent upward trend in the stock market. Spencer’s spontaneous (panicked) phone call to you was a brazen attempt to abate the green-eyed monster that had been whispering dreadful things in his ear for the better part of a week.

To put it simply; Spencer is jealous, and he’s dealing with it rather poorly.

So poorly that he’s resorted to sabotage.

As he sits on his couch and worries at a hole in the bottom of his designated lounging sweatshirt, Spencer attempts to justify his actions. His tiny fib won’t hurt anyone . . . except, perhaps, one annoyingly perfect and stupidly handsome veterinarian. But Spencer can live with that. Potentially scorning an animal care specialist isn’t the thing that has his stomach in knots. That, he can live with. Spencer doesn’t even have pets, so there’s no longterm consequences as far as the vet is concerned. The notion of lying to you, on the other hand? 

Spencer is positively sick with nerves.

He’s not sure why. Spencer’s gotten rather good at lying to you. Several months of pining for you from across the hallway of your shared apartment complex has turned him into quite the master of deceit, after all. He was a sucker from the moment he opened his door and lay his eyes on you, arms outstretched and wielding a plate of homemade sweets. The cookies were lovely, but the breathtaking smile on your face is what really did him in.

Since that first day, Spencer’s gone out of his way to ensure that he’s on the receiving end of that smile as often as possible. His efforts are never in vain; for reasons unbeknownst to him, you seem to enjoy spending time with him just as much as he did you. This mutual fondness results in most of Spencer’s off days being spent in your company. Spencer was certain that, with time, he would work up the nerve to ask you out on a date. He’s halfway to convincing himself that you might even say yes when your cat makes the unfortunate decision to steal a brownie from your plate and gulp the whole thing down.

Enter, aforementioned veterinarian.

The sound of your door opening from across the hall has Spencer breaking out into a cold sweat. His hand is halfway to his forehead, ready to wipe away the perspiration when he pauses. His body’s anxious reaction might just help him sell his story. Yes, Spencer thinks, this is a good thing. Authenticity, and all that.

Several soft footsteps are muffled by the door that separates him from you, and then his doorknob jiggles as you struggle to fit your key into the lock. A jolt of adrenaline surges through Spencer and in the blink of an eye he’s on his feet and sprinting to his bathroom in the name of authenticity. If he wants to keep up this ridiculous façade, and he really, really does, Spencer is prepared to fake it until he makes it. The alternative is far too mortifying. Failure is not an option.

Spencer cringes when he lifts his eyes to meet his reflection. He’s been told more than once that he’s an absolutely terrible liar, and the wide, guilty eyes that stare back at him confirm this. All it will take is one look at him and you’ll know something’s amiss. Perhaps it isn’t too late for Spencer to come clean. It would be embarrassing, yeah, but no less embarrassing than it would be an hour from now when you call him on his shit. But then again, there is always the possibility that you will get angry with him and leave, and Spencer isn’t willing to risk you walking away from him. Not tonight.

Spencer barely has the time to splash some cold water on his face and dive to the bathroom floor before you’re pushing open the door to his apartment and calling out his name. His brain, the part that isn’t rendered useless in his panicked state, reminds him of just how many germs can be found on the average bathroom floor. It’s enough to make him pause, but only for a moment. He takes a deep breath before slumping over against the toilet.

Showtime.

“M’ in here,” Spencer calls out in his croakiest voice. It comes out exactly as he intended, all rough and pitiful. Maybe he can pull this off, after all.

The soft pitter patter of your bare feet makes his heart rate increase exponentially. Spencer steels himself, recites a reassuring mantra in his head. I can do this; I can do this.

Spencer’s poor, overworked heart gets a much-needed rest when you step into the doorway. In fact, he’s almost certain it stops completely at the sight of you in a tiny red dress. A tiny red dress that leaves very little to the imagination. Spencer can’t even see past his mounting panic to enjoy the way you look. That damn red dress serves as a brutal reminder of why he’s sitting in his bathroom floor, clutching his toilet bowl and damn near drowning in a nervous sweat.

The thing is, Spencer hadn’t intended on sabotaging your date with the vet. He had every intention of staying in, wallowing in his sorrows and waiting up for you. Spencer even said this to Derek, who was kind enough to call him and remind him of how big of a jackass he was. Spencer didn’t need the reminder. He was well aware.

But then Derek said something that made Spencer’s blood run cold.

“And what exactly do you plan to do if she doesn’t come home?”

So, really, it’s Derek’s fault that Spencer promptly ended the call and dialed your number. It’s also Derek’s fault that Spencer is about to give the most convincing performance of his entire fucking life.

“I’m sorry I called you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just feel so awful.” And he does feel awful, just not in the way you think.

You’re quick to close the distance between the two of you, dropping to your knees and brushing stray pieces of hair away from Spencer’s clammy forehead. His skin sings where your hand grazes it. If he didn’t have a fever before, he will if you don’t stop touching him.

“Don’t ever apologize, Spence. I wish you’d have called me sooner,” you murmur. Warm, concerned eyes drag across Spencer’s bedraggled appearance. “How long have you been feeling sick?”

Spencer gulps. “A few hours, I guess. I ate my leftovers from last night for lunch. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.”Lies, lies, lies!

Your brow furrows. “That’s strange. I ate mine, too, and I feel fine.”

Spencer doesn’t really have an argument for that, so he fakes a pained groan and rests his head against his arm. He closes his eyes and prays the intro to theater class he took in high school will pay off.

You must deem his act convincing enough because you press a soft kiss to the top of his hair and stand. Spencer hears the sound of a cabinet opening, followed by the sound of running water.

The tender touch of your hand on his shoulder has him raising his head and looking up at you, inquisitive. You place a cold washrag to his forehead, and Spencer melts into the touch. It feels heavenly against his hot skin.

“Do you think you could manage to take a shower?” you prompt, earning a feeble nod from Spencer. He doesn’t even have to fake the way he trembles as you run the damp cloth down his neck. “I think I have some broccoli and cheddar soup at my apartment. I’ll go change and grab it while you shower.”

Elation spreads through Spencer, pouring from his heart until it reaches the very tips of his extremities. He can’t believe his scheme hasn’t blown up in his face already.

With the help of your outstretched hand, Spencer rises to his feet and braces himself against the shower door. You make no move to remove your hand from his, and that gives him the courage to ask his next question.

“What about your date?”

You shrug and an easy smile spreads across your face. Spencer feels faint. He blames it on his imaginary illness.  

“Don’t worry about that. The only thing I’m concerned with right now is taking care of you.”

Spencer bites down hard on the flesh of his cheek to keep a smug grin at bay. This is a victory he’ll have to celebrate at a later date.

--

Spencer enters his living room, freshly showered and donned in clean pajamas, to the sound of your voice speaking quietly into your cellphone. He halts just before he enters his kitchen, straining to catch a snippet of your conversation. As he leans closer to the sound of your voice, Spencer halfheartedly chastises himself. First, he deceives you, now he’s resorting to eavesdropping. Rock, meet bottom.

He’s just about to wrench himself away and retreat to the couch, when:

“I really am sorry about cancelling, especially on such short notice.” A short stretch of silence follows. “Next Saturday? Oh. Um, yeah, I’ll let you know, okay?”

Spencer is very much like a popped balloon; the earlier feelings of elation leave him in a harsh gust. Next Saturday? He barely managed to derail this Saturday’s date! No way he could get away with it a second time.

In the midst of his inner turmoil, Spencer misses you exchanging goodbyes with the vet before collecting Spencer’s bowl of soup. He’s still standing there, absolutely crestfallen, when you round the corner. You nearly collide with his chest, narrowly avoiding it by skidding to a halt in front of him. Your eyes run up his frame, assessing him, until they rest on his face.

“You scared me, Spence,” you chuckle. You cock your head to the side. Spencer imagines his expression is none dissimilar to that of a disgruntled frog. “You feeling okay? You’re not going to puke again, are you?”

Honestly, he might. The idea of you rescheduling your date with the vet is about as vomit inducing as it gets.

“I’m fine,” Spencer says on an exhale. Funnily, it’s probably the biggest lie he’s told all day. “The shower helped.”

His delivery is flat, but you don’t seem to mind. You smile up at him, relieved, and Spencer’s chest aches.

“I was thinking you and I could watch a movie?” you offer, and Spencer nods his assent. He can’t fathom turning you down. Not when you’re wearing an old sweatshirt you stole from his closet and a pair of fuzzy socks with little hearts on them. The ache intensifies.

“What are we watching?”

You plop down on the couch and look at him expectantly. He follows in suit, settling in beside you.

“I was thinking that you could choose,” you murmur as you place the bowl in his hands. Spencer shoots a teasing smile your way as he raises the spoon to his mouth.

“You mean, you’re actually going to let me pick the movie? I should get sick more often.”

His cheek earns him an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter. “You always pick the movie.” 

He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s gotten to pick the movie.

Spencer is about to launch into an impassioned rebuttal when the feeling of your fingers scratching against his scalp renders him speechless. His eyes dart to your face as you concentrate on scrolling through the TV guide, seemingly unaware of the effect the simple act has on him. Meanwhile, Spencer’s brain is short-circuiting.

You begin to read off a list of potential movies to him, but Spencer barely hears you. He’s practically purring as you twirl his curls around lithe fingers, his eyes threatening to flutter closed as an intense feeling of euphoria washes over him. Maybe it’s because he’s touch starved, or maybe it’s because it’s been so long since someone just looked after him. Whatever it is, Spencer embraces it wholeheartedly.

“-heard it’s pretty good. So, what do you say, Spence?”

Spencer pulls himself back to the present, blinking lazily at you. You’re looking at him, expectant, and Spencer’s eyes flit to the TV. His eyes skim its contents, reading briefly about a movie in which some family moves into a haunted house.

His face breaks out into a grin and he nods, because Spencer’s known you long enough to recognize that watching a horror movie usually results in you pressed tightly to his side and clinging to his hand. He also knows that nine times out of ten, you choose to watch a horror movie over anything else. No wonder he always lets you choose.

And sure enough, not even ten minutes in, Spencer is ditching his bowl of soup and pulling you into his arms. Once you’ve draped a blanket around the two of you settled in, you glance up at him.

“How are you feeling, Spence?”

Spencer responds by saying that he’s suddenly feeling much better. 

Spencer Reid - 1, Veterinarian – 0

--

Spencer’s not sure at which point he fell asleep. All he knows is that he certainly does not remember sprawling out across your body, nor does he remember tucking his head into the crook of your neck. But this is how he finds himself when the sun begins to pour in through his windows the next morning, and Spencer can’t bring himself to care about how he came to be there.

Spencer guesstimates that it’s no later than seven in the morning. You’re still fast asleep underneath him, your chest rising and falling rhythmically with every breath. It’s early, and it’s Sunday, and Spencer can’t think of a single reason to wake you. Instead, he snuggles in closer, because he’d be a fool not to enjoy this while it lasts.

Unfortunately, the shrill sound of Spencer’s ringing phone shatters the serenity. He prays that it won’t disturb you, that you’ll remain oblivious and continue to sleep, but that hope is shattered when you begin to shift underneath him. Spencer makes quick work of peeling himself off of you before dashing to his kitchen and snatching his phone off the table.

He’s prepared to verbally assault whoever has the audacity to defile the sanctity of lazy Sunday mornings when a quick peek into the living room finds you still fast asleep on his sofa. He smiles, soft and fond, before pressing the accept button and bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“I was beginning to wonder if you were still alive.” Spencer’s smile transforms into a grimace. Apparently, Derek Morgan doesn’t believe in lie-ins. “I was preparing myself for a rescue mission.”

“It’s seven in the morning. I was asleep.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Who pissed in your Cheerios, Pretty Boy?”

“You, when you decided that it was acceptable to ring me before eight,” Spencer whisper shouts. He knows that he’s being touchy, to say the least, but who can blame him? Five minutes ago, he was cuddling with the most beautiful girl he’s ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. Now, he’s shooting the breeze with a colleague. Obviously, Spencer would prefer the former to the latter.

“Jesus, kid. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that girl of yours didn’t make it home, after all. You okay?”

The guilty feeling returns and Spencer cringes. “Uh, define ‘okay.’”

Derek curses on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, kid. Try not to beat yourself up about it, okay? There’s plenty of fish in the sea, you’ve just gotta put yourself out there. How’s this; you and me will go out next weekend and bar hop. I’ll teach you some Derek Morgan tricks of the trade. Soon enough, you’ll have forgotten all about her.”

“I don’t know, that might be hard.” Spencer scratches the back of his neck. “She’s asleep on my couch right now.”

A long stretch of silence comes from the other end of the line, and Spencer thinks for a moment that the call dropped. Unfortunately, he isn’t that lucky. A booming laugh erupts from the speaker and makes him jump out of his skin.

“My man!” Derek laughs, incredulous. “I didn’t think you had it in you, I’ll be honest.”

“It’s not what you think-”

“How did you manage that? Did the Good Doctor make a grand romantic gesture? Damn, I really hate that I missed that.”

“No, there were no gestures. And it’s not-”

Derek cuts him off. Again. “How’d she take the news? I’m assuming she took it well, if she stayed the night.”

“I didn’t tell her anything!” Spencer spits out, frustrated. “I… I told her I was sick. She came over to take care of me, and we fell asleep on the couch.”

Spencer’s proclamation is met with another long silence.

“So, you sabotaged the date?”

Spencer winces. “I did not sabotage it. I just… manipulated the situation a little.”

“Oh, you certainly did,” Derek chuckles. “How did you pull that off? I’ve seen you try to lie. That shit is laughable.”

Spencer opens his mouth to defend himself, but the pitter patter of socked feet approaching him from behind has his mouth running dry.

“Yeah, Spencer. How did you pull that off?”

Spencer had been correct in his earlier assumptions. The inevitable moment in which you called him out on his shit has arrived, and it’s every bit as mortifying as he expected. So mortifying that he can practically feel the blood drain from his face. And the thing is that he knows he deserves whatever you’re about to throw his way… it’s just that the thought of you being angry with him kind of makes him want to cry. And that would only add to the mortification.

He turns around slowly, his body rigid, until he’s met with the adorably rumpled vision of you with your arms crossed and your hair sticking up in all directions.

Spencer’s never seen anything quite so mesmerizing, and it hurts because he knows he’s ruined everything. He’ll never get to watch another scary movie with you tucked neatly against his side, or wake up in your arms again. He’ll never get to kiss you.

And the worst of all; Spencer will never get to tell you how he really feels. It’s a crying shame, because he thinks he could have been really good at loving you.

“Hey, Derek, I gotta go.”

Spencer presses the end call button and immerses himself in what has to be the most awkward stand-off of all time. You stand there, arms crossed, head cocked to the side with one hip jutted out. Spencer isn’t sure how you manage to look intimidating and endearing at the same time. He supposes the fuzzy socks are to blame.

Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. Spencer is approximately three seconds away from dropping to his knees and groveling when you finally speak.

“You sabotaged my date.”

Spencer lets out a strangled laugh. Perhaps humor is the way to go? It couldn’t hurt to try. In his opinion, the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse. “I think sabotage is a strong word. I prefer the term obstruct.”

You let loose a laugh of your own, but this one holds no humor. “And I prefer keeping the company of people who don’t lie to me.” Okay, maybe it can get worse.

Spencer visibly deflates. It was a stupid idea. He’s never been a funny guy.

“I am so, so, so incredibly sorry.” Sorry for lying to you, that is. Spencer isn’t in the least bit apologetic for ruining your date. Given the chance, he’d do it again - in a more tactful way, of course. Preferably, in such a way that didn’t involve him laying in his bathroom floor. 

Spencer attempts to take a step forward, only to be rooted to the spot when you fix him with a look. He’s not funny but he is smart – smart enough to know better than to push it. 

“Why did you do it?”

Spencer was really hoping you wouldn’t ask that.

“I-I…”

Apparently, an eidetic memory doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to confrontations involving pretty girls. One quirk of an immaculately plucked eyebrow and Spencer loses the ability to recall a single word of the English language. It’s tragic, really.

“Spit it out, Spencer.”

“I didn’t want you to go on the date.” It’s like ripping off a band aid, the way the words tumble from his lips. It’s painless at first, but then the sting sets in when he realizes what he’s done. 

Your lack of reaction doesn’t help. Your face remains passive, as if he didn’t just offer himself to you on a silver platter. Spencer squirms uncomfortably.

“Why didn’t you want me to go on the date?”

God, this is excruciating. You’re clearly out for blood, and the twinkle in your eye shows just how much you’re enjoying this. Spencer would have never taken you for a sadist.

“Because…” Spencer trails off and allows his eyes to drift closed. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it his way. With his eyes closed, because he can’t bear the thought of looking you in the eye when you reject him. “B-Because I like you. A lot.”

Spencer hasn’t had a lot of practice at being wrong. In fact, he’s spent the majority of his life being right. It seems the universe is making up for that now, because he can’t seem to get a single goddamn thing right today.

You laugh at him. You actually laugh in his face. Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

“You like me.” It isn’t a question.

Spencer keeps his eyes shut tight.

“Y-Yeah.”

You know how they say if you take away one of a person’s senses, all of the others are heightened? Spencer couldn’t disagree more. In the midst of his despair, he’s completely unaware that you’ve crossed the room and are now standing directly in front of him until you speak again.

“Well, that’s rather unfortunate,” you sigh. Spencer inhales a sharp breath when he realizes you’re close enough to touch. Still, he keeps his eyes closed.

“Uh, why is that?”

Spencer nearly jumps out of his skin when your hand reaches up and caresses the side of his jaw.

“Because, Spencer,” you murmur, silky and sweet. “I was hoping you just might love me.”

Spencer’s eyes fly open and he’s greeted by a lazy, contented smile. It’s similar to the one that greeted him when he opened his front door on that very first day, but it’s better somehow. Later reflection will determine that it’s better because it’s the kind of smile reserved just for him. And that’s all he’s ever wanted, really.

“W-What?”

“You heard me.” You tilt your head up and rest your palm on Spencer’s chest. His heartbeat is erratic, thundering hard against his ribcage. He’d surely be embarrassed if he wasn’t about to faint from shock. “Do you love me, Spencer Reid?”

Spencer doesn’t even have to think twice.

“More than anything.”

“Good.” Your thumb brushes across the apple of his cheek, eliciting a full body shudder. “I was beginning to think you would never catch up.”

Spencer must be hallucinating. That, or this is all a dream and any second now his alarm is going to go off. He subtly pinches himself on the thigh to test the theory. You can imagine his surprise when nothing changes. He doesn’t wake up in a pile of his own drool, and now the skin on his thigh stings.

“You . . . You like me, too?”

You shake your head. “No, Spencer. I love you, too. Why do you think I bake you cookies and spend all of my free time in your apartment?”

“Because my couch is better than yours?” Spencer deadpans.

“I mean, that certainly doesn’t hurt. But it’s not the only reason.”

“What about the vet?” It must be his guilty conscious talking, because Spencer cannot conjure up any other reason he has for asking such a moronic question. He, personally, could not care less about the vet. Full offense intended.

“Cameron is a nice guy, sure,” you trail off. Spencer doesn’t miss the way your eyes drift down to his lips before returning to his eyes. “But he’s not really my type.”

“And what is your type, exactly?” A giddy grin finds its way to Spencer’s face. He’s notorious for being chronically clueless, but even the master of imperception himself can see where this is going. 

You snort, and it’s adorable. “Liars, apparently.”

It’s impossible to determine who moves first, but that doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the end result of Spencer’s lips colliding with yours. It’s earth-shatteringly lovely; slow and sweet and tentative. There’s no rushing, no frantic fumbling of hands. Just the reverent drag of your lips against his, warm and intoxicating. 

Spencer eventually regains the use of his limbs and when he does, he’s snaking one arm around your waist as the other entangles itself in your wonderfully unruly hair. 

You sigh a happy sigh against his lips and Spencer’s heart soars. In a completely unforeseen turn of events, the possibility of more lazy Sunday mornings is now back on the table. Thank God he’s better at lying than he gave himself credit for. 

God, and Derek Morgan’s meddling ass. 

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