#this almost definitely has something to do with me growing up convinced I'd be dead by 18 and then loosing my shit when I realized

[skiller0dani]

Old Prison Blues | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut | dom!spencer x bau!reader requests info w.c | 7.2k summary | when your husband Spencer gets released from Prison, he's much different then you remember.

I have it so bad for this man, enjoy! Also guys this piece made butterflies squirm in my belly lmao this one is so HOT it made me blush. Guys, it made me B L U S H. I need to go dunk myself in holy water to atone for this SIN. (just kidding lmao I'm agnostic).

you can see his bulge in this gif and I can't stop admiring looking at it.

When you were in college you'd been an undergraduate in Criminal Justice, so you were familiar with the effects Prison has on the psyche. In other words, you knew Spencer would come back different. No person could pass through Prison unscathed and frankly you'd be more concerned if he came back and nothing had changed at all. At home, he seemed to be relatively okay, and those 6 mandatory weeks of break had allowed him the rest he deserved. Nothing exciting had happened during those weeks, the only thing you did was curl up on the couch next to him and watch movies. You'd made up for all those weeks in Prison during the evenings when you would cling to him and cry out his name in ecstasy.

Spencer really did seem to be fine, until you returned to work. That's when you started to see all the ways Prison had hardened him.

At first, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. If you were someone who knew Spencer well then you knew that he wasn't a man who was confident in his looks. When you and Spencer first got married he was insecure, and would be discouraged when you hung out with other guys. You wouldn't say he was jealous because jealously in itself requires a certain amount of anger. But when Spencer saw you around other men he wasn't angry, he was sad. Absolutely convinced you were going to leave him any second, despite you telling him you married him because you love him. Deep down, he always thought somebody would steal you from him even though you consistently reminded him how much you love him. That's just the kind of guy Spencer is.

Or, was.

The darkness that brews in Prison, the violent hatred, the anger seems to have followed Spencer to freedom. It has made a home in his chest, and while you're not worried about Spencer flying off the deep end and shooting an innocent, the anger reveals itself in much more subtle ways. It's in the way he clenches his jaw when he can't figure something out, or the blanching of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel with a crushing force, it's the agitation in his eyes when he watches Alvez's knuckles brush against your lower back for the 3rd time since you two had arrived at the office this morning. The anger has adapted to civilian life like Spencer has, it's learned. It's subtle. Unfortunately you know Spencer almost better then he knows himself, you can tell when something is bothering him.

You slide your hands over his shoulders, and much to your surprise you feel him tense.

"You okay?" You know it's a stupid question, but you have to ask.

"Yeah, fine." Spencer's tone is clipped, shoulders rigid, back straight. Something is definitely bothering him. You squeeze his shoulders and begin to work at the tightened muscles, slowly easing them to relax. The tension flows out of him as he relaxes back in his desk chair, the frustration ebbing away slightly when his eyes catch your wedding ring. The object that binds you to him.

"Don't shut me out." You whisper, a soft plea in your voice. Spencer's heart wretches when he hears the fear in your tone, and one of his hands comes up to catch yours. He presses a chaste kiss to one of your knuckles before swiveling around to face you. You always find a way to soothe the violent, raging beast inside of him. Spencer's hands find your hips as he turns his gaze up to look at you.

"You're right I'm sorry. Just tense today." He says softly, and while there is a little lie to his words, his statement remains mostly the truth. He just leaves out the part where he pictures enacting varying forms of violence on Luke Alvez. The man who keeps unnecessarily touching his wife. You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, your head snapping up when Garcia calls from the conference room.

"Got a case folks, and it's an ugly one." Her nose scrunches up into a frown before she turns into the room. You pull away from Spencer, yanking him to his feet by his hand. Luke sends you a playful wink as he trots up the stairs, and while you don't necessarily react to it, it still puts Spencer on edge. Deep down Spencer always knew you were way out of his league, but that never became clearer then when you came to visit him in Prison.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

You were trembling as you lowered yourself into the chair. Dried tears were on your cheeks, and you haven't even seen Spencer yet. The last time you saw him was a few weeks prior after he first got back from Mexico. Seeing his wrists bound in those metal handcuffs had broken your heart in a way you never anticipated. You wrung your hands together, luckily when Penelope had made the visitation Chart she scheduled you as the first person to come see him. The plastic chair was uncomfortable, but what was worse was the plastic guard separating you from Spencer. The clock ticked loudly, it was clearly mocking you. Reminding you of the seconds you were losing with Spencer, reminding you of all the seconds he was spending in Prison.

When you hear the buzzer scream loudly, you nearly come out of your seat you're so excited to see him. You and Spencer got married back in 2005, and you've never been separated from him for longer then a week. It's been over a month now, and each day he's not with you leaves a bigger hole in your chest. You watch him follow the other prisoners out, and the handcuffs around his wrists breaks your heart. His eyes light up the second he sees you, he nearly shoves the other guy over to get to you faster. There are tears in your eyes as Spencer's wrists are released from the cuffs from the guard standing nearby.

"Hey baby." Spencer says softly as he takes his seat across from you. All you want is to reach across the stupid barrier and touch him, hold his hand, anything. But you know the guards will punish him if he does, but being this close to him without being able to hold him is absolutely killing you. You try to blink the tears out of your eyes so that Spencer won't see, but it's all too much. Seeing him in a jumpsuit, with cuff bruises around his wrists, having to sleep in the same building as murderers. The first tear falls and you immediately look away from him.

"Please don't cry." Spencer begs softly. "I'm okay, really."

You wipe your tears before you look back up at him, digging around in your bag for a gift from Henry. You smile when you see the happiness cross onto his face as you pull the piece of paper out.

"Henry drew this for you, it's from when you guys went to the park." You hold it up for him to see and you try to fight another onslaught of tears when you see his eyes misting.

"You know, when I get out of here we should have one." Spencer says it so casually, you almost miss it. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you carefully lower the drawing.

"You want to try for a baby?" You can't hide the smile, and you see Spencer's eyes shine for the first time since he's been in here.

"Yeah, I want to have a baby with you." You and Spencer had a brief conversation about kids a few years ago, and you knew Spencer wasn't ready for it back then. His Father ran out on him and Diana when Spencer was just a kid, it made Spencer insecure about the type of Father he would end up being. In Spencer's mind, a fatherless man would never make a good Father. But it seems he's changed his mind. You had no issues agreeing to wait before you had kids until he was ready, you always knew Spencer would be a fantastic Father.

Suddenly from Spencer's right you hear a low wolf whistle. The tenderness that was on Spencer's face is instantly wiped away. His expression tenses, his jaw clenching as he turns his gaze to a large burly looking man covered in tattoos. The man sitting across from him, the one who was visiting, looked similar. Both of the biker looking men were eyeing me hungrily, it made my skin crawl.

"Something I can help you with?" Spencer asks, his voice tense. The tension in the room grows tenfold, and you fight the instinct to try and scoot closer to Spencer. The Biker looks Spencer in the eyes, a taunting smile on his face.

"That your sister?"

"Wife." Spencer snaps instantly.

"Your wife?" The Biker says incrediously, Spencer raises a brow, daring him to continue. "There's no way a woman with an ass that tight would marry a man as scrawny as you."

You expected to see insecurity flash in Spencer's eyes, instead all you saw was rage. Unbridled, violent rage.

"Choose your next words carefully." Spencer's voice was low, and as sharp as the edge of a blade. You almost didn't recognize him. The Biker leaned forward, fueled only by the knowledge that he was getting under Spencer's skin.

"She as tight as she looks? If I wasn't locked up, I'd fuck her so good she wouldn't even remember what your little pecker feels like."

Spencer's jaw clenches, and his fists curl tightly. The Biker is about 2 words away from a broken nose.

"Baby just let it go." You plead, and normally you don't really use pet names in public but right now you needed to show him that you're his.

"I'll tell you what Klein, I'll fuck her for you and tell you how it felt." The other man says, the man visiting. Upon hearing the words come out of his mouth, Spencer is shoving up from the chair but almost instantly a guard is tightly gripping Spencer's shirt and shoving him back into the chair. Spencer is fuming, and there's nothing you can do to calm him down.

"If you so much as lay a finger on her, your friend here will be dead before you can have another visit." Spencer hisses, and the two large men chuckle.

Spencer instantly took you off the visitors list, and while that felt like a blow to your heart you understood why. You didn't want to stress him out by visiting him.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

So, yeah, Spencer knew you were out of his league and when Luke pulled your chair out for you at the table before he had the chance to, it made his blood boil. Why is Luke trying to take care of you? Doesn't he know that Spencer has been released from Prison? You don't need anybody else to take care of you, your husband is more than capable of doing it himself. When Spencer sat down in the chair next to you, he rested one hand on your thigh. You're only slightly surprised, normally Spencer isn't this 'handsy' in public, but in recent weeks he's been more assertive around other men.

"The body of 23 year old Cassandra Richardson was found 2 weeks ago in Lincoln, Nebraska. Her body was mutilated and showed signs of sexual assault. Yesterday another body, 20 year old Francesca Williams was found around the same warehouse district with similar wounds to the first victim." Penelope rushes the words out, almost as though saying them pains her. Various images show on the screen of the two victims, both bloodied and battered.

"Other than similar injuries, what makes the local police think it's the same unsub?" Luke asks, his eyes flickering towards you for the briefest second. While Spencer was locked away, Luke became a shoulder to cry on. Normally when you were upset and Spencer wasn't around, you'd talk to Derek. But since he's been gone you've felt more isolated then you normally do. Luke had found you crying one morning before you had taken off, and ever since he's had an "older brother" protection over you.

"A tattoo on both of the victims thighs, the words 'temerata virginem' which is Latin for 'desecrated virgin'." With the click of a button on her remote, Penelope pulls up a photo of the tattoos. The lines are shaky, although they stay mostly straight.

"It almost looks professional, except the lines aren't perfectly straight. A professional would make the line work perfect." JJ says, examining the photo closer in the folder each of you received. You turn your gaze to Spencer when you feel his hand leave your thigh to examine the photo closer. You could practically see the gears turning in that beautiful mind of his.

"It's possible an outside source is causing a tremble in the unsubs hands, if he is a professional tattoo artist." Spencer mumbles, almost to himself. Sometimes when he's in deep concentration, he nearly forgets other people are in the room with him.

"Could be drugs-" Luke starts but is sharply cut off.

"Actually it's more likely to be alcohol, withdraw from other drugs would be too severe to operate the tattoo machine." Spencer snaps, causing a few heads to turn and look at him. Maybe under other circumstances someone would say something to him, but since Spencer got released from Prison only a few weeks ago, nobody says anything. Luke's eyebrows furrow together as he shoots Spencer a confused look, one Spencer chooses to ignore as his hand returns to your thigh. Spencer knows he's acting like a jerk but he can't help it, Luke needs to know who you belong to. Spencer had everything taken from him in Prison, he won't let anyone take you from him too.

"We've been personally asked by the local police to assist, so wheels up in 30." Emily concludes, shooting one more look at Spencer before everybody rises.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

The tension on the jet is thick, you're absolutely sure everybody can feel it. Hardly anyone has interacted with Spencer, except to ask him a question about the case. You sit back against the couch, Luke sitting in one of the chairs at the table, and Spencer sitting on the arm of the chair next to you. In your hand was a nearly empty cup of coffee, and just as you move to refill, Luke rises with his own empty cup.

"Need a refill?" He asks, offering you a friendly smile.

"Yeah actually-"

"I got it." Spencer says abruptly, standing from where he was sitting. His eyes meet Luke's, silently challenging him. You try to be understanding, but you can't help but feel annoyed at Spencer. If he was acting like this to some random guy then that's one thing, but this is Luke. He's your friend, he's Spencer's friend. Luke, and the rest of the team, put everything on the line to free Spencer from Prison.

"It's cool man, I can do it-" Luke offers again, but Spencer isn't having it.

"I said I got it." Spencer reaches his hand out for your mug, which you instantly give to him. His eyes don't leave Luke's until he turns around and heads to the back of the jet to refill your coffee. Luke pauses for a few seconds, his eyes meeting yours and mirroring the same look of concern before he heads for the coffee pot as well. Luke isn't even upset by how Spencer is treating him, he- like everyone else, is worried about Spencer's psyche.

"What is going on with Spencer?" JJ whispers once she's sure Spencer is out of earshot. You shrug, your worried eyes landing on your husband. His posture is tense, almost defensive.

"Well can you blame him? In Prison, everything that's yours can and will be stolen by the other male inmates. Now that he's free, Spencer is being protective of his wife, someone that is his and can be taken by other men." Rossi says, always naturally a tad protective of Spencer.

"There isn't a man on this planet that would make me leave Spencer." You say defensively, although you know Rossi didn't mean anything by what he said.

"That might be obvious to you, but not to Spencer." JJ says, eyeing Spencer standing back near the coffee machine.

"Doing okay man?" Luke asks hesitantly as he moves to stand next to Spencer.

"Yep." Spencer says shortly, waiting for the pot to brew. Luke feels the tension rolling off Spencer in waves, and it's all being directed at him and he's not sure why.

"Look, if I've done something to upset you, just talk to me about it Reid." Luke's voice is gentle, understanding. Spencer's jaw clenches again as the pot finishes brewing and he refreshes your cup before reaching for the creamer.

"I'm fine Alvez. Really." Spencer says again, but Luke isn't willing to let this go yet.

"No Reid, you're not-"

"Stop flirting with my wife." Spencer's tone is firm, and the look in his eyes tells Luke just how on edge Spencer is.

"You got it." Luke agrees instantly, even though he was never flirting with you. But he knows that right now arguing with Spencer will only make things worse. Seemingly satisfied with Luke's answer, Spencer carries your cup back you, slinging an arm around you.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Spencer twists his wedding ring around his ring finger, something he does when he's stressed out or tense. You're currently sat in the interrogation room with the male suspect, a tattoo artist attending AA meetings, the tattoo on the first victim was the shakiest because he had just quit drinking. The other, more recent, victims tattoo's were more steady. The longer he stayed sober, the more his trembling faded. In Spencer's other palm is your wedding ring, you fit the physical preference of this killer perfectly, but he only went after single women. Emily thought sending somebody in fitting his victimology would throw him off enough to say something incriminating. In order for the rouse to work, you needed to appear single- meaning the wedding ring had to come off. The thought didn't settle well in Spencer's gut.

"You have to relax." JJ said suddenly from Spencer's right. He nearly ignored her but his frayed nerves were beginning to eat at him.

"I can't. Do you see the way he's looking at her?" Spencer was pacing back and forth in front of the one way glass like a caged animal, unable to take his eyes off of the train wreck happening in front of him.

"She can handle herself Spence." JJ insists gently, almost using a motherly tone to talk to him.

"She's mine!" And suddenly the crux of the issue comes to light, and Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose, releasing a heavy breath. JJ thinks about her words carefully, trying to find something to say that will calm him at least a little.

"Yeah, and nothing is going to change that Spencer. You need to relax, and you have to trust her. You're not in Prison anymore, nobody is going to take her from you." JJ says, looking him in the eyes. Suddenly the sound of metal screeching across a concrete floor sounds from behind Spencer and when he turns around, his blood boils hot in his veins. The suspect, Alan Baker, has shoved out of his chair and has started towards you.

"Spencer-" JJ's voice is distant, and comes too late. Spencer isn't listening to her anymore when his fist curls around the door handle and he nearly rips it off its hinges.

"You need to step back." Spencer snaps, reaching for his gun as Alan Baker backs you into the corner of the interrogation room. You weren't ever truly afraid, you could have handled Alan. Slowly, Alan backs away from you and Spencer instantly reaches for you. He leads you out of the room with a gentle but firm hand on your back. Once you're out of the interrogation room you turn to Spencer.

"What the hell? I could have dealt with him!" You insist, frustration laced in your tone. At this point JJ silently slips out of the room, giving you and Spencer some much needed privacy. Spencer crosses his arms as he leans back against the one way mirror.

"You didn't need to, I did." Spencer huffs and you seriously resist the urge to throw something at him.

"What is your problem today? You could have compromised my entire interrogation, he's never going to tell me anything now!" You snap, anger pinching at your features.

"Good! Now you have no reason to talk to him again." Spencer snaps back, can't you see that he's just protecting what's his?

"Spencer we're trying to save somebody! You're being selfish!" You say to him angrily, trying your best not to start yelling at him. Spencer's selfish possessiveness over you could have just ruined your entire investigation.

"This is why the Bureau was hesitant to reinstate you. They were scared you wouldn't be able to control yourself." You snap at him, crossing your arms.

"Are you saying they made a mistake?" Spencer asks incrediously, suddenly becoming defensive.

"Maybe they did. Because you're acting like an asshole right now. You've been a jerk to Luke the entire day when he busted his ass to help get you out of Prison and back to me! Since when have you not trusted me during an interrogation? What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to let him touch me? I thought you trusted me." You cry out, tears filling your eyes now. Spencer didn't say anything as you turned for the door, anger still laced in his features.

"This has nothing to do with me not trusting you-"

"If you don't trust me, then maybe you should just hold onto my wedding ring for a while. I don't want it." You snap quietly, and you regret the words the second they leave your lips. No matter how mad he makes you, you'd never leave Spencer. You watch Spencer's expression shift from anger to...hurt. He watches silently as you slam the door behind you. Prison has turned him into somebody he isn't, and Spencer doesn't know how to turn off this part of his brain. The part telling him that you belong to him, and that he needs to protect what's his.

Rossi catches the sight of your tear stained cheeks as you move back towards the kitchen in the precinct. You wipe your tears as he comes to stand beside you, and the look on his face tells you that he overheard your fight with Spencer. Rossi bumps you with his elbow gently, a small smile on his face.

"You don't look okay." He says softly and you let out a self-depreciating laugh.

"I'm not. I don't know how to help Spencer, he doesn't trust me." You say sadly, your heart breaking in your chest.

"It's not you he doesn't trust, it's other men." Rossi clarifies, although it does little to ease the pain. You reach up to brush your hair behind your ear when Rossi catches your hand, examining your ring finger.

"Where's your wedding ring?"

"Told Spencer I didn't want it." The words are laced with heavy regret, and when you remember the look on his face when you said it you almost start to cry again. Rossi wraps an arm around you, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

"Deep down, he knows you didn't mean it." He tries to reassure you.

"That's the problem, he probably thinks I meant it."

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Normally it only takes you and Spencer a few hours to smooth things over after a fight. But this time, it's been nearly 3 hours and you haven't spoken a word to each other. You're both working on searching through Alan Baker's financial records without speaking at all. Neither of you have said anything, and Spencer still has your wedding ring. You desperately want it back, but you don't know how to start that conversation. You're angry about how he's been treating everybody, and you feel like asking for your ring is accepting defeat. You're not ready to accept defeat. When Emily comes into the room, her eyes settle on the two of you.

"Okay, what's going on with you guys?" Her arms are crossed.

"Nothing." The word comes from both yours and Spencer's mouths at the same time, and you say it far too quickly. Emily raises one brow at the two of you before closing the door behind her.

"Alright I'm going to have to be a boss now. We are not going to lock this guy away if the two of you are fighting. We need everybody on their A-game. Fix it. Now, and I mean right now." She says, leaving the room but closing the door behind her. There's a suffocating silence that fills the room, both you and Spencer too stubborn to speak first. But you can't take it, you hate it when he's mad at you. You hate it when you guys fight, which isn't often but it does happen occasionally.

"I didn't mean it." You whisper, leaning on the table, facing away from him. Spencer doesn't say anything but you know he's listening.

"I didn't mean it Spencer, I want my ring." He'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved to hear you say that, his entire world crashed down around him the second you told him to keep the ring. The irrational part of his brain told him you were going to divorce him.

"Can I please have it back?" You ask, barely turning your head to look at him. With a huff Spencer pushes away from the table to move in front of you. His eyes are focused on your hand, he has yet to look at you. Spencer fishes around in his pocket before he finds your ring and gently slides it onto your ring finger.

"You have to stop glaring at any man that gets to close to me, especially Luke." You tell him, but he continues to look away from you. Spencer pushes past you to stand near the windows, his back facing you. The thing about Spencer is that he's stubborn, really stubborn. You take a few steps towards him, nibbling on your lower lip.

"I love you Spencer, I'm sorry. I was an ass, but you acted like an ass too." You tell him, but Spencer only turns his head further away from you. You move to stand in front of him, but his eyes turn to the ground and his arms are crossed tightly. Seriously?

"Please talk to me Spencer, tell me what's going on." You can see the frustration laced in his features, there's something on the tip of his tongue that he needs to say.

"Spencer."

"After you left from your visit, do you know why I didn't let you come back?" Spencer snaps, his hands finding your shoulders to yank your body against his. Your chest collides with his and suddenly you feel a dampness building between your legs. You instantly turn to putty in his hands.

"I didn't let you come back because that asshole told everybody about you. Told everybody what a tight little body you have. Soon the entire cell block was fantasizing about my 'sexy wife'. Do you have any idea what it's like to listen to men constantly talk about fucking your wife?" Spencer's voice is tense, but you can see it. The lust building behind his eyes, the frustration, and the fear of losing you simmering underneath it all.

"N-No." Your voice is breathy, and your eyes are lidded as Spencer's hands slide up your arms to your shoulders.

"It's fucking hell Y/N. Every time I see any man look at you I want to rip his eyes out, and I can't turn it off. I've tried, and the way that Alvez looks at you- it drives me fucking crazy." Spencer snaps, the anger building by the second. Your entire body begins to hum with an intense need, and Spencer can see it in your eyes. Spencer releases you then and he turns for the door, at first you're afraid he's going to leave but instead he locks the door. Luckily it's late, so the police station is more deserted then it is during the day. Turning back to you, Spencer reaches for the blinds next and you can't help but follow his every movement with your eyes.

"Get on your knees." Spencer says suddenly, and you freeze in shock. Did he just say...?

"Get. On. Your. Knees." Spencer says again through clenched teeth, leaning back against the table, heat simmering in his eyes. His hands grip the edge of the table and you feel a throb from between your legs. Quickly you scramble onto your knees in front of him, your hands reaching up to undo his belt. Once the belt is unfastened, you're quickly unbuttoning his dress slacks, your eagerness making your hands a bit clumsy. Spencer has never been this dominant during sex, but you have no complaints. He has your knees weak and he hasn't even touched you. You quickly dip your hand into his boxers to pull his hardening cock out. As soon as his cock is freed, your lips are wrapping around the head. Spencer's head tosses back in ecstasy.

"Your lips look so pretty stretched around my cock. Those bastards could only imagine having you on your knees for them." Spencer snaps, his hand weaving into the hair at the back of your head. You moan softly around him at his crude words, slowly sliding down his cock. Spencer groans when he feels your tongue laving the underside of his cock, along the vein that runs from base to tip. Apparently feeling impatient, Spencer pushes your head further down his cock. He feels his tip right at the entrance of your throat, and with one gentle thrust he breaches your throat and his cock slides all the way into your mouth.

"Fuck," Spencer hisses, and Spencer does not curse often. So the fact that you have been able to draw curses from his mouth is nothing short of a miracle. Spencer's chest heaves slightly as you gag lightly around him, drawing another deep groan from his chest. You feel nearly desperate to please him, you need to make him cum. You want him to fucking pound you, you want him to use your body for his pleasure. You want him to release all of his frustration out on you, you want to be sore when he's done.

"You're mine. This is my body to touch and admire, my tight pussy to stretch open, mine." Spencer growls, thrusting gently to meet your hasty movements. You whimper around his cock, gagging slightly again as spit dribbles down your chin. Your eyes are wide and watery as you look up at him, and the sight of you nearly causes him to blow his load. You just look so fucking beautiful on your knees in front of him, drool on your chin and your mouth full of cock. It's a sight he will never forget. You move your head faster, keeping your eyes locked on his. Spencer squeezes the edge of the table, his head tossing back when his orgasm hits him. You feel his cum shooting in spurts to the back of your throat and you swallow every drop. Once you pull off him, Spencer is grabbing your elbows to pull you to stand.

Spencer's hands are reaching for the button of your dress slacks as his mouth presses messily to yours. Spencer's tongue pushes into your mouth, his hands pushing your pants down and you kick them off. Instantly, Spencer's fingers are sliding into your panties and through your slick folds. You whine loudly against his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as his palm roughly cradles the back of your head.

"Need to make sure you know who you belong to." Spencer snaps as he pulls away from you, quickly pushing two long fingers into your dripping hole. You cry out before Spencer is slapping a hand over your mouth, your back pressed against the wall. Spencer's slender frame is leaning against you, effectively trapping you against the wall and his body. Your eyes are rolling when Spencer's finger crook inside of you while roughly thrusting into you.

"Gotta be quiet, wouldn't want Luke to catch us now would we?" Spencer breathes in the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. You are completely at Spencer's mercy and you wouldn't have it any other way. The pleasure shooting through you goes rocketing up your spine when Spencer scissors his fingers inside of you. You're mumbling incoherently against his palm, desperate pleas not to stop, to please let you cum. Your entire body is flushed, and you feel sweat on your skin like a sheen layer over you. Spencer feels you begin to squeeze around his fingers and he replaces his palm with his mouth, swallowing all of your moans and desperate cries.

Your back is arching as your high approaches, and you climb higher and higher to meet it. Spencer never lets up, his fingers steadily pumping into you and his lips muffling all of your cries of pleasure. The sounds you make are music to his ears, they tell him that you will always be his, no matter what childish fears he has. Your hands come up to unbutton the buttons on Spencer's dress shirt, you need to feel more of him. Before you can finish undressing your husband, his fingers nudge your cervix and you instantly clamp around his fingers, your body convulsing.

"You look so beautiful when you cum." Spencer praises, his cock rock hard again. He needs to be inside of you as soon as humanely possible. Spencer pulls away from you to grasp the base of his cock, no need to bother with protection. The two of you already agreed that you want to try for a baby anyway.

"Please baby, please get inside me. How could you think I'd ever leave you? I love you, and nobody could make me cum like you can." You moan desperately, turning to bend over the table. Spencer's hand runs up your spine, enjoying the way you wriggle your hips in search of his cock. There are butterflies squirming in your stomach as you spread your legs apart wider for him, but he still doesn't bring his cock closer to you.

"Oh c'mon Spence don't do this please. Baby, fuck me." You plead, nearly sobbing as you shamlessly beg. He presses his tip against your soaked entrance and you whine. You hear fabric rustling around and you turn your head just in time to see him pull his tie from around his neck.

"I needed to hear you beg for me, and this is to keep you quiet. As much as I love the sounds you make when I'm inside you, I can't let anyone else hear you." Spencer says, his voice low and rumbling from his chest. You open your mouth to let him tie the silk fabric in your mouth. You try to whimper but you gag around the tie in your mouth, and you see a pleased smile cross onto Spencer's face. Your fingers grasp at the edge of the table as you impatiently wait for Spencer to push into you. You feel his glorious cock nestled at your entrance, the tip barely nudging in. You feel another wave of slick gush out of you and Spencer is running his tip through your already drenched folds. Such a tease.

You whine softly, trying to push back against him. Spencer chuckles darkly before his hands grasp your hips to hold you steady. With one firm thrust, Spencer is breaching your folds and sliding deep inside you. You feel heat searing through you, your head dropping to the table as you whimper through the burn. The stretch burns more then you anticipated, and you hear Spencer groaning softly, which sends another wave of liquid heat rushing through you.

"God you feel so good baby, you take my cock so fucking well." Spencer praises, gently pulling out to slowly thrust back in. His eyes are locked on the place where you two connect, watching with hooded eyes as his cock disappears inside you.

"I wish you could see this baby, I love watching you take my cock." He praises through a soft moan, and you drink up every sound he makes. Spencer needed this so bad and you love the fact that you can give him a type of relief nobody else on the planet can give him. Spencer steadily thrusts into you when you both hear footsteps slowly passing outside the room. You expect Spencer to stop, to pull out of you and start redressing but he doesn't. He slows his pace considerably, but he still slowly thrusts into you.

"Shh, I would hate for whoever that is to see my cock buried in your pretty pussy." Spencer whispers as he leans forward to whisper in your ear. You struggle to contain the whimpers, but somehow you remain completely silent as Spencer gently thrusts into you. Once whoever it is passes by, Spencer resumes his quicker thrusts. His pelvis hits your ass with enough force to send you lurching across the table and your fingers scramble to find purchase against the smooth surface.

"This is my pussy, you're my wife, you're mine. Not Luke's, not that dick from the Prison. Mine." Spencer says, punctuating the words with a sharp thrust into you. You wished you could answer him, that you could cry to the heavens that you belong to Spencer Reid- that you never want to belong to anybody else. You settle for squeezing his cock whenever it returns to your velvety warmth, chanting the same word in your head over and over.

Yours yours yours yours yours.

Your forehead presses against the table, muffled and strangled cries escaping your lips every time Spencer hits deep inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, and always hits places deep inside you. Places you didn't know existed. Soon you feel your orgasm creeping up on you, and you feel lightheaded so you reach up to yank the tie away from your mouth.

"Please make me cum Spence, I'm so close baby please don't stop." You beg, muffling your moans with your palm as he drives his cock into you. You feel sweat covering your entire body and Spencer holds your hips with a bruising force. You feel that coil winding tighter and tighter, and you release a high pitched whine when Spencer's hand snakes around your body to thumb your clit.

"Oh Spencer your cock feels so good, soo good baby. Always feels so good, fuck baby I love you," You're not sure what you're saying at this point, an incoherent mess of praises for the man above you. Spencer loves when he reduces you to this, speaking in a jumble of words and disconnected statements because you can't think with his cock inside you.

"I, shit, I love you-" Spencer gasps, slamming his cock inside you and rolling your clit before you're squeezing around him tightly, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. You cum in hot gushes around him and Spencer can only offer a few more stuttering thrusts before he's cumming with a loud growl, coating your walls in his hot cum. Spencer keeps his cock inside you, ensuring his cum stays inside you. He wants to get you pregnant. His palms gently hold your hips, and all the frustration he's felt all day has completely disappeared. His chest is heaving from the exertion but he feels more relaxed then he has all day. There's a smile on your face and your eyes are closed as your legs finally give out and you collapse against the table.

"You okay?" You hear Spencer's voice, and you can't help but smile when you hear that he's panting slightly. You hum with a smile on your face.

"I'm amazing." You mumble back, feeling Spencer begin to gently massage your back. You love enjoying the afterglow with him, even if you're laying on a table. Slowly Spencer pulls out, but he groans softly when he sees his cum inside your pussy. He reaches to the floor to pull your panties and dress slacks back up your legs and he quickly tucks himself back into his pants. He buttons the 4 buttons you managed to open on his shirt before he's gently pulling you to stand.

"You sure you're alright?" Spencer asks, concern in his eyes. You nod with a smile, but when he releases his hold on your shoulders, you feel your legs tremble and give out underneath you. Spencer immediately catches you and sets you down on the table. You laugh softly.

"Guess you fucked me good."

"Sorry." Spencer says sheepishly, but you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Don't be, that had to have been the best sex we've had in a long time." You mumble against his lips and Spencer hums in agreement. Reaching for his tie, Spencer shoves it in his pocket before he pokes his head out of the room you guys just defiled.

"Spencer, I'm so sorry about what I said. I love you so much, I didn't mean what I said about my ring-" You blubber suddenly, drawing Spencer's attention to you. He cradles your head against his chest, pressing kisses to your forehead.

"I know baby, it's okay. I love you." Spencer answers quietly, holding you to him tightly.

"I'm sorry I was a jerk today. I'm just so protective of you. I can't let anything steal you from me." Spencer admits softly and you cup his cheeks to make him look at you. There is a sadness in his eyes that you want to obliterate, you can't stand it when he's sad. It breaks your heart.

"Nothing could steal me from you. I only want you Spencer." You say quietly and you see tears misting his eyes. He presses his lips desperately against yours, and you feel tears cascading down yours and his cheeks. The kiss is wet, but it's passionate and you throw every ounce of love you have for this man into it. When you and Spencer part, your foreheads are pressed together.

"Hey Spence? How am I gonna get to the hotel. I can't walk." You say softly with a giggle and Spencer smiles mischievously.

"I guess I'll have to carry you." He scoops you bridal style into his arms then and you blush deeply when he carries you out of the room and towards the front entrance.

"Spencer! Everybody is going to know!" You whisper into his ear and he chuckles.

"Good."

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Horny on Main Disease - Komaeda x Reader

Summary: Reader catches a strain of the despair disease that means she says everything she is thinking. Kind of awkward considering all she can think about is how much she wants to jump Komaeda's bones. This is intended to be sort of funny, but i still wrote it pretty seriously, just want to make it clear that i did not half ass the smut. i whole assed it.

Word count: 4444  Contains: fem reader, they/them pronouns, despair disease, explict sexual content, unsafe sex, voyeurism Read on AO3 ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

It’s not even a particularly hot day, and yet you’re sweating bullets as you walk over to the dining hall like you do every morning. Your legs are wobbly and your head is aching something terrible, you assume that you’ve caught a cold or something , whatever the problem is, it’s going to be a question for Tsumiki when you meet up with her at breakfast.

Kuzuryu is standing out by the pool, pensively staring into the still water. He probably misses Pekoyama, but you’re smart enough to know not to-

“Hey, Kuzuryu! I bet you miss your dead girlfriend, huh?”

He just stares at you, and it takes a good few seconds for you to even realise what you just said out loud. You clap a hand over your mouth, horrified.

“I don’t know why I said that!” You squeak

Kuzuryu doesn’t look...angry? He shakes his head at you and sighs, “you’re acting weird today too, aren’t you?”

“What? Weird? Who’s weird?”

“Owari was here a few minutes ago, bawling her eyes out on the ground.” He crosses his arms and looks away from you, “I think the bear is planning something again.”

You nod sternly, “anyone with tits as big as Owari has nothing to cry about! Something is definitely suspicious.”

Oh god why did you say that??

“Oh god, why did I say that??”

You just keep saying everything you’re thinking!

“I just keep saying everything I’m-“

Kuzuryu grabs you by the wrist and starts tugging you towards the dining hall, “something is definitely fucked up.” He looks down at where his hand is gripping yours, “Jesus Christ, your skin is on fire!”

“Yeah, cause I’m hot !” That was already an embarrassing thing to say, you are horrified when your mouth drops open again to follow it up with, “bow-chicka-wow-wow!”

There is definitely something wrong with you. In general you are the sort of person who takes the time to carefully curate every word that leaves your mouth, the fact that you are just speaking without even thinking about it is bizarre and alarming. The ache in your head is also steadily growing stronger and you’re starting to feel dizzy, maybe you’re just delirious with flu? It doesn't make sense for you to catch the flu on an abandoned island, but weirder things have happened already.

It is at this moment that you realise you have been (only semi-coherently) mumbling your full internal tirade outloud to Kuzuryu, who is now helping you up the stairs to the dining hall. He has very diplomatically, been either ignoring, or at least pretending to ignore everything you have been saying.

“You’re nice. Probably the politest yakuza i’ve ever met.” you pause, “I’ve never met another yakuza, i'm not sure why i said it like that.”

Kuzuryu scoffs and tugs you up at the last step. Deigning to give your comment any sort of response.

As you step up onto the dining hall landing, you freeze. This is dangerous. Your nails are biting into the skin of your palms, and your already warm face feels even hotter. Don't look at him, don't think about him, don't look at him, don't think about him. Kuzuryu is giving you a look, you must be verbalising your own mental gymnastics, but that is less embarrassing than the alternative.

“Don't look at him, don't think about him, don't look at him, don't think-”

You look up, like an idiot . Komaeda is sitting by the window with his chin in his palm, just sort of staring off into the middle distance, not really looking at anything. The morning sun cascades through the window and catches in his hair. It shimmers. Your heart twists and turns in your chest, you have been trying to keep this little fascination of yours under wraps, but he slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose and-

“He looks like an angel .” You say, and you say it loudly.

All eyes in the room turn to you. Hinata especially is looking at you with his particular brand of exhaustion, that says this is not the first weird thing he has heard today. You scramble, trying desperately to think about anything other than Komaeda, to stop yourself from saying anything stupid. In your desperation, what you say is: “Yes hello! I was talking about anyone in this room apart from Komaeda. Please do not be confused, it was not Komaeda. I want to make it crystal clear that i am NOT attracted to Nagito Komaeda. This is a very convincing lie and you all believe me!”

Mioda straightens her spine and salutes you, “Roger! You are not attracted to Komaeda, I believe you!”

Your sweating even more now, it’s getting hard to breathe, “Forget I said anything!”

Mioda salutes again, “Consider it forgotten!”

“What is happening?! ” Hinata exclaims, gesturing wildly to you, Mioda, and Owari who you suddenly notice is leaning against the far wall and sobbing, “This is not normal!”

Your eyes slip to Komaeda again. He is looking at you and he is blushing-

“He looks so...cute…” You whisper, and Hinata yelps.

“Why are you all being so weird???? ”

Monokuma takes that as his cue to finally show up. Waltzing on into the dining hall like he owns the place, clearly buzzing with excitement, “A good question!” He says, clamoring up onto a vacant chair and holding a paw in front of his face to hide his laughter, “ Oooh , this is my best motive yet! Looks like three members of the class have come down with a bad case of the despair disease!”

“D-Despair Disease?” Tsumiki contributes, nervously playing with her hands, “I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

“Yeah, well. It’s pretty self explanatory!” Monokuma says, “The main symptom is high fever, along with some other fun despair related effects! It’s a bit of a mixed bag though and no two cases are the same! For example, Moida is suffering from the Gullible Disease...Owari has the Cowards Disease.” Then, Monokuma points his stubby little paw in your direction, “And you have the No Filter Disease. You just say whatever you’re thinking! It’s been lots of fun so far, upupupupu~”

“Oh, does that mean all those things they were just saying about Komaeda were the truth?” Sonia says. Her brows draw together, and she taps her lips with a finger, “How interesting.”

“It’s not my fault he’s gorgeous!” the words escape you before you have a chance to stop them. You squeal and clap a hand over your mouth before you start talking again. Komaeda is now bright red to the tips of his ears.

“That was true? GROSS!” Saionji exclaims.

You glare at Monokuma, “If you wouldn't kill me for doing it, I'd rip out all your stuffing right now.”

Monokuma withers a little, “Aw~ Is that what you really feel? Here I was thinking we were great friends.”  

“I’ll gut you like a fish.” you pause, “a bear-fish.” another pause, “a fish-bear.” You groan, “UGH, I can’t stop saying stupid things! I’m all sweaty! This sucks !”

Tsumiki steps over to you, her hand is shaking as she brings it up to your forehead.

“Oh…” you breathe, “your hand is cold.”

“S-Sorry! I’m just checking your temperature.”

“You smell like lavender.”

She recoils a little, “It’s j-just my shampoo!!'' Then she shakes her head and turns to the rest of the group, “Monokuma is telling the truth. They’ve got a fever.”

Hinata hurriedly presses his hand against the foreheads of both Owari and Moida, confirming that they’re also burning up, “What do we do, Tsumiki?”

Before she can answer, Monokuma pipes up again, “did I forget to mention? It’s contagious~~”

Saionji squeals and backpedals all the way to the stairs, “Contagious!?”

“Yeah and I'm a conta- genius . Get it?”

Souda gives you an uncomfortable look and scratches the back of his neck, “How much space in your brain is taken up by bad puns?”

You’re feeling really dizzy now, “A lot of it! But usually I don't say any of them!” your knees wobble and you almost fall over, luckily Tsumiki is still close enough to grab you before you topple to the ground, “I am going to kill that goddamn bear .”

“Could-could someone help me?” Tsumiki squeaks, “If i keep holding them up like this we-we’re just both going to fall over.”

You giggle a little, slipping into a semi-delirium as you cling to Tsumiki for dear life. Hinata and the others start working on a plan to keep everyone safe until the illness runs its course, “Hey Tsumiki…” you whisper, “Komaeda’s got real nice hands, huh?” she is too busy trying to keep you upright to answer, “I want him to carry me. Unless I'm too heavy, Tsumiki, am I too heavy?”  

You’re all but draped over Tsumiki now, who is trying in vain to shuffle you over to a nearby wall, when you suddenly hear her sigh in relief, “Oh...Th-Thank you. I’m not very s-strong…”

You manage to flop your head around to face the other direction, lacking the strength to turn your neck properly. Komaeda is looking down at you, it might just be the fever, but you feel like you’re going to burst into flames.

“Aha, I’m sure i'm not much stronger than you, Tsumiki.” He says, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you over to him. You might have moaned, you can't be sure, “But I do have the height advantage.”

The utter tsunami that leaves your mouth is unavoidable. Literally medically unavoidable, but that doesn't stop it from being the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“He’s touching me. He’s touching me…” your head has come to rest on his chest and you are practically hyperventilating, “He smells like chamomile soap and clean laundry...His hands are cold, his shirt is soft...Oh god i'm so sweaty, he probably thinks i'm disgusting! Komaeda, i'm so sorry , this was meant to be a secret!!! I wasn't going to tell you, everyones gonna think I'm weird!” your thoughts are leaving your mouth faster than you can think of them, if Komaeda is reacting to anything you have to say, you don't notice because despite your mouth running a mile a minute you still have an ounce enough of shame and bury your face in his chest to hide from your own words.

The world is spinning, your head feels heavy, everything is so hot , “Your hair is nice, did you know your hair is nice? God, I've wanted to run my fingers through it since day one. This is so fucked up, you almost killed someone! I want to stop talking , i feel like i'm gonna pass out, i'm gonna pass out, i'm gonna pass out. Im gonna…”

***

“I think I passed out.” Is the first thing you say when you wake up. You’re still hot and the back of your neck is sweaty, but you can see that you are now in the hospital, and that you’re wearing a hospital gown.

“Who undressed me?!” You exclaim, disappointed to find that you still can’t help saying everything you think.

At the sound of your voice, the door to your room opens, and Komaeda steps in.

“No! Not you!”

He freezes, withering under your gaze, “Ah, I see. Being greeted by garbage like me in your current state, it must be insulting .”

You feel like an asshole .

“That’s not what I meant! Please don’t go, I never want you to go.”

Komaeda laughs a little, still lurking nervously in the doorway, “You’re confusing me.”

“I don’t want you to hear what I’m thinking. I want you to stay, but all I can think about is how much I want to suck on your collarbone.” You freeze the second you stop talking, a high pitched whine leaving your mouth as you hide your face in your hands, “I’m so sorry! I can’t stop it!”

Stepping further into the room, Komaeda quietly closes the door behind him. Your heart is pounding.

“I’m nervous.” You say.

He tilts his head, walking over to the side of your bed, “I can still leave if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m not uncomfortable.” You shrink under his gaze, “it just, the way you closed the door it makes me feel like you’re planning something, like maybe we’re going to have-“ you manage to cover your mouth before the rest of the sentence escapes. Keeping your hands tight over your lips as all you can think about is his long fingers, his soft hair, his half lidded eyes.

“Are you...still talking behind your hands?”

You nod.

A smile crawls up the side of his face, “are you saying something embarrassing?”

“I wanna stick my tongue in your mouth.” You say, loud enough that even the tight grip of your hands doesn’t muffle it.

Komaeda remains remarkably calm, “You keep saying those things. This disease...means you say whatever you’re thinking, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s driving me crazy, I’m just being such an idiot and I’m probably freaking you out. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s not it.” He sighs, moving slowly as he sits down on the side of your bed, “Honestly, why would you let such thoughts about scum like me take up so much real estate in your mind?”

“I can’t help it!” You exclaim, “I’ve been trying not to think about it, but I just can’t! I want you so badly. I…..I-“ you hold your breath, you can’t let that last part out, no matter what, you can’t say that last part. You’ll die of suffocation before you let him hear it.

“You...what?” He asks

Oh god. You can’t stop thinking about it. Your lungs are aching, screaming for you to just open your mouth.

“What are you hiding, hm?”

It’s too much. The nerves, your sick and weakened body, him right there . You can’t do it, you can’t stop it, the next time you see Monokuma, you are drop kicking him into the sun.

“I’ve touched myself while thinking about you!”

The words echo off the walls of the room like a gunshot.

For a moment Komaeda just stares at you, but then, his shaky hands reach out and wrap around both of your wrists. His throat bobs.

“Hng. I want to suck on the side of your neck, I want to see you covered in marks from my teeth-“ you try to cover your mouth with your hands again. Komaeda grips your wrists tighter.

“No.” He whispers, trembling, “keep going.”

“ God, your hands are so big. I want to know how deep your fingers would reach inside of me. I bet you’re good at it, I bet you’re really good at it.” He just keeps staring at you, ghostly green eyes blown wide, chest heaving , “Are you turned on? Is this turning you on? Just pin me down and fuck me, do it, do it, do it!”

“How...how often are you thinking about me like this?”

“Oh, all the time.” You freeze, mentally (and therefore also verbally) berating yourself, “Not all the time! Just like, a normal amount. However much that is.” He is still just looking at you, the pad of his thumb slowly brushes across the pulsepoint in your wrist and you shiver, “Yes, yes! I’ve wanted this intimacy with you for so long . I couldn't tell anyone, I couldn't tell you. During the first trial, when you went on your weirdo rant about hope and despair. I was scared, i was so scared, but oh god- ” you can't stop yourself. Every thought in your head is pouring out of your lips. Filling up the room, the mortification is drowning you . All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut to avoid looking at him, “I was wet , Komaeda. I went back to my cabin and came three times to the thought of you, I am reprehensible . What do you think the others would do if they found out, huh? That all i can think about is you fucking me over my trial podium. They’ll tie me up next-”

The bed squeaks, and Komaeda brings his knee up and over your hips.

“-Oh my god. You’re doing it aren't you?”

His other leg comes up on the bed, and he settles, hovering up above you. He shrugs, “I honestly don't understand why this is something you want,” he leans down over you, resting his palms on either side of your head, “but who am I to deny the wishes of an ultimate.”

If not for the warmth of his lips pressed against yours, you are sure that you wouldn't be able to shut up, based only on the number of thoughts tumbling through your head like they’re on a spin cycle. You are still sweaty with fever and probably look disgusting, but Komaeda shuffles down in between your legs and hikes your hospital gown up to your waist. So you are suitably distracted.

He laughs as he hooks his fingers around your panties and tugs them down your thighs, “I cant believe that you want scum like me to touch you like this. Usually I would assume that you are lying, or taking pity on me.” He grins, running a finger up the length of your sex, “But everything you say to me is your exact thoughts, isnt it?”

“Yes! Touch me, please! ” You’re quivering beneath him, barely able to breathe in between your frantic pleas, “You feel so good, you feel perfect . I want your fingers inside me so bad .”

He hisses as he slips his middle and ring finger inside of you, eyes glued to where your entrance is swallowing him up, “Ahaaa...you’re drenched . You really do want me don't you?” he pistons his fingers in and out slowly, slowly and deliberately, “Someone like you, desiring me so terribly. It’s such a waste , but i can't help it. I must be selfish and take this chance while i can.”

“Not a….waste....” You force out, helplessly grinding on his fingers, “Want you....want only you…”

“Oh- Ohhhh .” He moans, “I can feel you, squeezing around my fingers. You’re so wet...so warm…”

You hear a zipper coming undone, and your thoughts go into overdrive, “oh my god, oh my god. Komaeda’s going to jerk off in front of me, wanna watch, wanna watch! ”

His fingers still inside you for a moment as he tugs his boxers down far enough to slip out his cock. Your eyes follow the movement of his long fingers as he slowly curls them around the base, and tugs them up again, rolling the pad of his thumb over the head. His hips buck, and you moan.

“You...you’re tightening around my fingers…” he breathes, choking on a moan as he pumps his cock again, “you like watching me touch myself?” Your hips stutter, grinding your clit against the meat of his palm as he continues stroking himself. His eyes are wide as he watches you writhing beneath him.

“The face you make when you do that...it’s so cute.” You say, whining as his fingers start moving inside you again, “it’s even cuter than I imagined. Your cheeks are all red.” You swallow, “and your cock is so pretty...I want you to cum inside me, so bad .”

His breath hitches, “you want me to cum, inside you?” his cock is leaking with pre-cum now, painfully hard in his hand. His chest is heaving.

“Yes yes yes! ” You plead, “I want you, please! ”

“I don’t understand.” He breathes, and you whimper as his fingers slip out of you, “How could someone be so desperate for my pathetic seed?”

“Fill me up , Komaeda!” You exclaim, at this point you are long past embarrassed. The words leaving your mouth are the absolute truth and there is no way you can deny them.

He groans at that, an octave deeper than you are used to hearing and it seems he is having trouble denying you. His own desperation mingling with yours and overtaking his painful self-doubt, he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, and slowly edges the swollen head against your entrance, “f-fuck…” he mutters as he slips inside you, “you’re so warm .”

You can barely even register what you are saying anymore, it’s little more than a string of compliments about how good he feels inside you. About how handsome he is. Your tongue feels weird and loose in your mouth from overuse, but you still can’t stop talking.

He looms above you, halo of white hair bouncing as he thrusts in and out of you, the unmistakable jangle of the chain hanging from his jeans. All things that confirm it is Komaeda inside of you. Your heart races with the fact.

“Th-thank you, for permitting me to do this with you.” He stammers, sweat slowly dripping down his brow, “it’s...so good...it feels like I belong inside you. ”

A moan rips through you, and you hook your weak ankles around his waist, “you do belong inside me. You fit so perfectly , I was made for your cock. GOD I sound so filthy…..I- I can’t help it.”

“ No.” He hisses, eyes meeting yours, “Keep talking.”

“You say that like I can stop.” You dip your head lower, and wrap your lips around his left collarbone, moaning as you suck hard enough to leave a bruise. He keens above you, hips snapping against yours even faster, “Your hip bones are digging into my thighs…”

He squeezes his eyes shut, “I-I’m sorry, do you want me to-“

“Don’t you dare stop, Komaeda. You’re mine , I want to feel every inch of you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

You bring a shaky hand up to his cheek, he nuzzles into your palm, “You aren’t hurting me. It feels wonderful.”

He kisses you then, messy and wet, his lips taste like desperation. Even with his tongue tangled with yours, you are still trying to speak. Sweet nothings, forceful demands, anything and everything that comes to mind is trying to force its way out of your mouth. Something is in the pit of your stomach is twisting tight and you moan greedily into the cavern of his mouth as his hips meet yours again. You can feel that he’s losing his rhythm.

“S-sorry. I’m...im close…” A moan rips from his throat and he buries his face in your neck.

Your hips have started canting up to meet his, you want so badly to be close to him, to feel all of him, “M’close to. I love having you inside me, i want to do this again and again and-”

Komaeda freezes, eyes turning to the door on the other side of the room. Footstops.

“Who is it? Did they hear? Are there going to come in? What do you think they’re going to do if they see you inside of-”

Komaeda covers your mouth with his palm. You’re still talking, but at least it’s muffled now. Kuzuryu and Hinata are chatting in the hallway, the footsteps seem only to be growing closer. You can't stop thinking terrible, horrible things, and while Komaeda’s hand keeps you quiet enough that they can't seem to hear you from outside, Komaeda can definitely hear you.

“I wanna keep going.”

His eyes are blown wide, but you feel the tell-tale throb of his cock inside of you, “ What?! ” he hisses, “there’s no way you can keep quiet like this...they’ll definitely hear us.”

“I don’t care if they hear us, I want them to hear us. I want them to know what you’re doing to me.”

His hips twitch, and he bites his lip hard to keep in a moan, “You're not ashamed to be seen intimately with someone as despicable as me?”

You coo at him, running your index finger down the front of his throat and over the mark you left on his collarbone, he tentatively removes his hand from your mouth and pushes some sweaty hair away from your forehead, you smile, “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m in love with you.”

Komaeda sucks a breath in through his teeth, and it is only then that you realise what you have said.

“Oh GOD. I didn't - I'm so sorry.” your eyes are wide, you’re ready for him to jump up and bolt out of the room, “I just thought it and then i said it, and jesus christ im so sorry-”

You’re cut off by his lips. The kiss is gentler, less desperate, but filled with the depth of passion. He starts thrusting in and out of you again, and you gasp in surprise at the feeling. He pulls away from the kiss, and rests his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy as one of his hands slips down under your knee. He pushes your leg up higher and you choke on a moan at how much deeper this new angle feels.

A high-pitched whine leaves his throat as he continues moving inside of you, he swallows, “I...I love you too.”

“Aaah... ahhh .” You’re so close at this point, the coiling in your stomach is about ready to snap, “I love you so much, I want your cum, please! ”

“I’ll give it to you, I...hah...I’ll fill you up...is that what you want?”

His hand slips down to your clit and you shriek , clenching hard around his cock, “Yes, yes, yes! I’m close...i'm so close…”

“I’m gonna...I...I…”

A moan rips through you as your climax finally hits, for the first time this day your mind is void of thoughts. All you can do is feel . Your fingers dig into the bedsheet under you, and your legs tighten around Komaeda’s waist. He writhes and moans above you,  he just keeps going, harder and harder and harder, and then, with a heavy groan you feel him release inside of you.

“Thank...you…” you mutter, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…”

Before Komaeda has a chance to say anything in return, someone clears their throat on the other side of the door. The two of you freeze.

“Are you two done?” Hinata asks, he sounds exasperated.

Komaeda clears his throat, “Um...yeah...pretty much.”

“His dick is literally still inside of me! Maybe give us a few minutes!” You wince at the blunt sentence that just left your mouth, Komaeda is clearly trying not to laugh, you huff “Sorry Hinata! I can't help it!”

This disease was going to be the death of you.

[shespeaksinsongs]

You Are My New Fear | Letters To My Mom

TW: MOMMY ISSUES, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION, SUICIDE, AND ANXIETY.

Me in my game room at about five years old.

I wish somebody would have told me that that smile I used to slather onto my face so effortlessly would soon become something I forced. I'm not sure if it would have made a difference, but it's best to be prepared in any case.

-

"What's your biggest fear?" My elementary best friend asked, kicking her feet giddily under the table. We were still too little to reach the floor.

"Drowning." I'd say, with a panicked look on my face, growing pale at the mere thought of dying that way.

-

"What are you most afraid of, hija?" My dad asked on our regular morning car rides to school.

"Drowning." I'd say, without even thinking twice. The answer was almost prepared, seeing as how casually it rolled off my tongue.

-

"What's your biggest fear?" My friend asked in the comfort of her room, watching as I shifted uncomfortably in my spot on her bed.

"Becoming my mother." I'd say wishing that drowning was the most of my worries.

-

I don't know when my default answer of drowning to death switched to the terrifying idea that I would, one day, become my mother. Still, somewhere along the lines, those little moments that I would suck up to my mom and gift her pretty pictures I spent hours working on and picking daisies from my backyard for her turned into scheduling my crying for nighttime when everyone was asleep.

Slowly but surely, I became uneasy about the idea of marriage, fearing that I'd only ruin it and become a wife like my mother. The idea of having children scared me to the point where I felt I would rather sacrifice my own happiness so that my children wouldn't have to live to see the day I turn into my mom.

Because in my eyes, my mom is a monster. She's not the kind of monster that has big, sharp teeth and scary yellow eyes, and a menacing growl. She's the kind of monster that you would never suspect. She's the bloody hand, but you were the accomplice. She was the screwdriver, but you were the loose screw. Sure, she hurt you, but you let yourself be hurt by her - so really, whose fault was it?

My mom is the kind of monster that uses your vulnerability against you in the worst way possible.

-

"I'm just not feeling good right now. I feel like I'm dying, and I feel tired all the time." My sixth-grade self, awkwardly positioned in the passenger's seat, turning my head away from my mom.

"Well, you know we care about you." My mom said, stoic in her demeanor and ultimately still in how she held her body up.

It was a day I'll never forget. She picked at her fingernails and anxiously tapped the gas pedal, waiting for me to be done talking about my emotions so she could drive back "home."

Warm tears stung my eyes, forcing their way down my face in slow streams. "You don't get it, I-" I stopped, knowing it wasn't worth it to try to make my mom understand feelings she'd been adamant didn't exist.

"Ay, don't be so dramatic." My mom said, waving her hand up to dismiss me and my silly ideas. She was right. I wasn't depressed or anxious, and I definitely didn't look for any excuse possible to threaten suicide against myself. My mom said so.

-

I don't know why I kept running back to her in times of need. Maybe it was my dream version of her that I relied on to justify my ever-growing love for her. Feasibly, it was the person I wanted her to be. And perhaps, just perhaps, my expectations of her drove me to the point where I'd convinced myself my mother was the person I saw when I closed my eyes at night.

I remember telling her things, spreading rumors I'd heard about people in the family, hoping that it would make us closer. The things I did just to make her happy...

-

"Mom, I'm trying my best!" I cried on the floor, cleaning up the mess my new puppy had made. She'd pooped and peed all over the kitchen. I was exhausted, previously knocked out in my bed, when my mom called me downstairs, screaming for me to get my ass down there.

"No, you're not! You never try! You're useless! I should've never had you!" My mom yelled from the bottom of her heart (or lack thereof).

Tears welled in my eyes for the millionth time because of my mother. This wasn't the first time she'd wished me dead, and it sure wouldn't be the last time. "Mommy, please just leave me alone and let me clean up." I begged, letting broken sobs come out of my mouth. I wanted to hurt her, and I wanted to hurt her as bad as she hurt me.

My mom refused to leave, yelling at me, watching as I piteously scraped my dog's contents off the wall.

-

It's sad that the only good memories I have of my mom are those I couldn't participate in. Instead, I have stories of her youth and how caring of a mother she used to be when I was a baby - conveniently so far back that I can't remember it. It pains me more knowing how she was before she had me, her firstborn. If she were this way her whole life, would I take it so personally?

Am I dramatic for wishing I had a mother who could hug me back when I hugged her? Am I a selfish and pathetic bitch for feeling envy when I see how my friends' moms act with them? Why can't my mom love me the way she loves her? Why does my mom have more pictures of her first niece than she does of me? What did I do to her?

-

"Mommy, mommy! Look!" I said, running up to my mother, holding my report card in the air like a shiny new toy - all A's.

"Nice job, Fio. I'm so proud of you. You're doing great. Keep it up." My mom said softly, pulling me into a warm hug. Somehow, that was all I needed - that's all I wanted. It really is a shame that that memory is fake.

-

I have plenty of other fake memories that I store in my head, letting the (also fake) backstories take over my mind when I go to sleep. For one of them, I was romping around on an old swing set, one that made little squeaky noises whenever I swung too high.

Somehow, I lose control of the swing, and my mom comes rushing up to me, worried and begging for me to tell her how she could help. I don't know when or how she got there (my dad was usually the one to take me to the park), but what I do know is she's exactly who I needed there at that moment.

So many real memories I have of me needing my mother most, waiting for the day she would actually turn up in one of them. She was always the first to pick me up in school lines. She was always at my open houses. She attended every grade promotion I had. But she was never there. It was all a facade. She'd said so herself that she craved being the all-star mom, the one who'd win several gold medals if there were award ceremonies for that sort of thing.

Her perfectionism is what makes her corrupt. She has spent my entire life telling me what to do, how to do it, scolding me for not doing it the way she imagined me doing it in her head.

She refused to seek help when that's all I wanted her to do.

-

"What do you want for your birthday, hija?" My dad asked, glancing at me while keeping his eyes fixed on the road, humming along to a Christmas carol playing on the radio.

"Honestly, dad?" I asked, only twelve years old, my green eyes twinkling in hope.

"Whatever your heart desires." My dad said in a goofy voice, making me smile.

"I want Mom to get help." I said sadly, hoping my dad would agree and push the idea upon my mom.

-

My mother went to therapy for four months. My dad had to pay her every session for her to go. In my mom's life, money has never been an obstacle. Her father was a middle-high class socialite in Venezuela who worked in engineering and oil companies. Her mother, who passed away of Leukemia when she was twelve, spoiled her rotten until her very last breath.

Eventually, I became mentally sick to the core. Writing and singing, my two favorite things in the world, became hobbies, and life had lost its zesty twang. Little things like music and the people I passed on the street that waved "hello" at me became nuisances. My mom "gave up" her therapy so I could get help.

I still wonder if she did it for herself or for me.

-

A few times a year, I get asked what my biggest fear is. Sometimes it comes up in conversation. Other times I create the question, not thinking about the consequences if people answer with "Spiders, yours?"

Each time I get asked, I take a deep breath and lie. "The dark." I say now, the idea of death by sea sounding more of tranquility than a travesty.

I look back at the old pictures I have of myself, a smiley and shy little girl who was afraid of nothing and everything at the same time. To her, I ask, "When you have nothing to lose, why be afraid?"

Me, with my baby doll at age three. I loved taking care of her. I used to take her everywhere with me.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Hello! I'd like to request a Klaus x Reader, with Scenario 4 and Dialogue 22 from the horror prompts, if that's not already taken! Thank youuu ☆

A/N: Thank you so much for the prompt Nonny! This was a lot of fun to write, and I hope you enjoy reading it just as much! Word Count: 1979 Rating: M - stalking, threats, creepy phone calls, reference to drug use/rehab (it’s Klaus), open ending

When the phone calls started, you ignored them, dismissing them as some bored teenage prank. They would start with your name and then some comment, usually about knowing where you were or being able to see you, and then as soon as you said anything, they’d hang up. And then, as one week of daily calls turned into two and you started to get annoyed, they started getting creepier: the comments stopped being “I know where you are” and started talking about places you had gone and things you had done during the course of the day; stopped being “I see you” and started describing your outfit, or commenting on what you were doing at that very moment. 

The one that finally made you snap was when, nearly a month in, the voice on the other end of the line told you that your milk was expired and the exact date stamped on the bottle, and that you were out of peanut butter. You had screamed at them, demanding to know who they were and what they wanted from you, completely losing your cool. They had laughed, amused by your distress, and hung up.

You let the phone drop from your hand as you sank to the floor, knees pressed up to your chest. You watched it dangle in front of your eyes, swaying back and forth like a pendulum as you fought back a sob. 

A tap on the window at the other end of the room a while later startled you out of your terrified daze. You froze, staring and wondering, almost hoping, that you had imagined the sound. 

Ptink! 

The sound came again and your eyes caught a flicker of movement as something bounced off the glass pane. Hesitantly you stood, wincing as your knees cracked stiffly from how long you had been sitting there, and crept forward toward the sound, wishing you had some sort of weapon, or a camera to catch whoever was harassing you. 

Ptink! Ptink!

The next two taps came in rapid succession, and this time you caught a clearer sight of what was causing it: someone was bouncing pebbles off your window. Frowning in confusion since that was a move more likely out of a rom-com than the horror flick that you felt like you were living in, you picked up your pace until you stood in front of the second-story window. 

Peering out into the night, you spotted something and laughed in relief. The mysterious rock-thrower wasn’t the same person who had been calling, it was just Klaus. Lovely, ridiculous, probably fresh out of rehab, unknowing captor of your heart Klaus.

Opening the window, you leaned out.

“What are you doing?” you called down to him, as loudly as you dared without waking the neighbors. 

“Ah, Y/N! I was hoping to get your attention,” he called back cheerfully, having no such compulsions about his volume. “Or should I call you Rapunzel and beg for you to lower your lovely tresses for me to climb?”

“I don’t have time for your games, and I’d like for my neighbors not to hate me,” you sighed. “So keep your voice down and tell me what you want?”

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Y/N is the sun!” he called, striking a dramatic pose. 

“I’m closing this window now,” you threatened, leaning back inside. 

“No, no, wait! Let me in.”

“Really? That’s all you wanted? Let yourself in.”

“Oh, I want many things, but at the moment, yes, just that. I would if I could, but you’ve removed your key from the little garden frog. Poor little thing is so empty now.” He laughed, giddy and bitter at the same time. “But hey, me too.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, a chill creeping down your spine. “I didn’t touch the key…”

His face grew serious. “Y/N. Let me in. Now.”

You nodded rapidly, swallowing the lump in your throat and slamming the window shut so you could hunt for your shoes and go downstairs. Klaus was almost never serious if he didn’t have to be, so the commanding, urgent tone in his voice did more to shake you than even the phone calls could. 

When you wrenched the front door of your apartment building open, Klaus was right there, immediately pulling you into the tightest hug he had ever given you (which was saying something, given that crushing hugs were second nature to him). You couldn’t even take comfort in it though, feeling the way his heart raced beneath your cheek. He was just as scared as you were.

“Klaus, what’s going on?” you asked, the harshness of your whisper all you could do to hide how you were feeling. 

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Let’s just go upstairs, and then we’ll talk…” he said hesitantly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

You nodded, reluctantly pulling away from him to climb the stairs, linking your fingers together as you did, the feel of him and his very real presence at your back making you feel instantly safer, although not completely so. When you reached the landing, Klaus pulled you up short, positioning you so that you'd be behind him when the pair of you entered the apartment. When nothing immediately jumped out at him upon opening the door, the tension in his shoulders dropped just minutely. Still, he kept you pressed close to his side as he swept the entire place, throwing open closet doors and rifling through the contents until he could touch and see all four walls, turning around suddenly to try and catch something behind you, entering rooms faster than you'd ever seen him do anything with a shout of "Ha!" like the world's most screwed up game of hide-and-seek.

"Klaus, what's happening?" you asked.

You both stood in your main room again, his inspection complete, and you noticed your phone still hanging down off the wall. With a sigh, you placed it back in the cradle and waited.

"What's happening is that someone has the keys to your apartment," he explained with a deep frown. "We don't know who, we don't know why, we don't know for how long."

You knew that. But hearing him say it out loud was a different story. You shivered, and he drew you closer, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders and running his thumb over the hand you still had gripping his.

"Has anything else weird been happening lately?" he asked, his confidence and competence at handling the situation reminding you with a brief shock that he was indeed an ex-superhero and had probably dealt with this kind of stuff before. 

You told him about the nightly phone calls and their growing specificity, but before you could get to tonight's, the phone rang, making you jump.

"Don't answer that," he said when you moved instinctively to answer. 

"They've never called twice in a night. It's probably nothing to do with all this…" you weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

"If it's someone that actually matters, they'll leave a voicemail."

The ringing stopped, silence descending.

"Probably a telemarketer. They have the worst timing," you tried to joke.

The phone rang again.

"Don't," Klaus warned again. 

You bit your lip warring with yourself over whether to listen to him or answer anyway, in case it was important. Seeing the conflict on your face, Klaus sighed.

"I'll take care of it."

He picked up the receiver, holding it casually to his ear, even though you could tell from his expression that he was anything but casual. You had never seen rage in his emerald eyes before, but it was definitely there now. 

He stayed silent for a moment and then the voice on the other end, a voice that had started stalking your nightmares, laughed. 

“I know you can hear me,” they said. “So make sure you’re listening. If you or Y/N think that some strung-out little junkie like you is going to stop me, you’re dead wrong.”

Silence fell, broken only by the faint hum of the dial tone from the phone still in Klaus’s hand. A sob wrenched from your throat as your knees gave out and you pitched forward, feeling like you would almost rather death than to keep dealing with this. Immediately, his arms circled you, pulling you close again and you clung to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, not caring that you were soaking his collar with your tears. 

“Shh,” he soothed, rubbing small circles on your back. “It's going to be okay. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you.”

“Why is this happening to me? What did I do?” You moaned. 

“No, no no no. This is not your fault.” His hair tickled the corner of your temple as he shook his head. 

“But--” you started before he pulled back so that he could look you in the eyes.

“Y/N, listen to me. I know we don’t have any information, we’re at the disadvantage here, but this is about them. You haven’t done anything. But whatever this is, whatever they want, I am not going to let anything happen to you. We’ll call Diego. We’ll go stay somewhere not here, maybe even the Academy. That’s locked down better than a fortress. We will get this sorted out, and I am not going anywhere until we do.”

“You don’t have to do that…” you sniffled, stunned that he would willingly go back to the place of his miserable childhood for your sake. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’m sure you will. But I care way too much about you to leave that to fate. And you’ve said it yourself, I’m like a bad penny. Even if you don’t want me to, I’ll keep turning up.” He grinned at you, trying to cheer you up even a little and you couldn’t help smiling softly back.

“Oh Klaus,” you sighed, snaking your arms around his waist to better hold onto him. “What would I do without you?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know, but you’ll never have to find out. Now, what do you want to do?”

“I’m just...exhausted,” you nuzzled your face back into the hollow of his throat. “Can we go to bed and deal with this all tomorrow?”

He was silent for a moment and when you leaned back to look at him, he was biting his lip and staring off into space, deep in thought, or maybe listening to some ghost or another. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, and you opened your mouth to answer before realizing that he was not talking to you, but someone over your shoulder. “Alright...thank you.”

You raised an eyebrow in question when he looked down at you. 

“Ben said he would keep guard so you can get some sleep,” he explained.

“So we can, you mean.”

“Well...I figured I’d look around some more and see if I can find anything that I missed the first time, and then I’d stay up, just to make sure.”

“Klaus. Please. I don’t think I can sleep anyway, but I know I won’t alone. Can’t you just come to bed and cuddle? Even if you don’t sleep, I’d feel a lot better if you’re holding me…” your voice trembled as tears threatened once again. 

“What? Really?”

You nodded. “You make me feel safe, just by being here. But a little reminder would be...good.”

“Oh,” he breathed, pulling you back into a tight hug. “Of course I can do that for you. Anything, anytime.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled against him before turning, one arm still around him as you headed for the bedroom, turning to call over your shoulder. “And thank you Ben.”

“He says you’re welcome. And good night.”

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of July 31st, 2019

Best of this Week: Batman: Last Knight on Earth #2 - Scott Snyder, Greg Capullo, Jonathan Glapion, FCO Plascencia and Tom Napolitano

The last case Batman will ever solve, might just be his most terrifying.

Beginning with Batman confronting an older Joe Chill in the past over the dead child in Crime Alley that looks eerily similar to Bruce. Our hero kind of surprises and disarms him by removing all of the weapons he’s hidden around his apartment. Chill seems to have been expecting him, preparing what he calls an “end of an era feast” for Bruce, implying he knows his identity. To make matters even more interesting, he insinuates that he didn’t even kill the Waynes for Marth pearls and makes it seem like there was an even larger plan afoot than anyone realized.

Cutting back to the Nightmare future, Batman and Joker’s Head are taken by surprise as a Speed Force Storm tears through the desert. Never let it be said that Greg Capullo hasn’t been improving his skills at body horror because the tornado is terrifying. Consisting of the constantly shifting, twisting and stretched bodies of Barry Allen, Bart Allen, Jay Garrick and possibly others, the faces scream and cry for Bruce to help them. It’s a shocking and unsettling sight as one can almost hear the deafening cries of atom splitting agony that they’re going through. The deep red of the storm doesn’t help as it just makes things FAR more threatening than they need to be. Bruce and Joker sit in a cave for safety while Bruce laments that there is absolutely nothing that he can do to save them.

The pair continue on, hang gliding through the air, crossing over a base named Fort Waller. Joker tells Batman that originally it was the last bastion of hope, where Mr. Terrific, Dr. Sivana, Ivo and others could combine their knowledge with the powers of the new avatars of the Green and Red to repel those incensed by Luthor. Batman asks him what happens and Joker’s narration ends as they watch the battle. Unknown Soldiers fighting abominations of the Red in a hellish battle of blood and fire until a Swamp Thing appears from the crimson dust of their fight, no longer appearing to have any faculties or emotion other than: KILL.

The tone shifts as they reach an area known as the Plains of Solitude, seeming a mass of crystalline structures similar to Superman’s secret base. The cool blues of this area offer something of a safety in a book that has otherwise been overbearingly tense since it began. It doesn’t help that Joker’s been doing variations of “can I be Robin, are we there yet, and knock knock jokes the entire time. Bruce snaps that he could never be Robin because Robin was a good guy and who in this world was still like that? Pods shaped like Superman’s baby rocket start landing close to Bruce and Joker before the pair are saved by… Superman?

Or so we think, this “very talkative” (end sarcasm) Superman leads the pair to a farmhouse in the middle of the plains where a surprisingly alive and potentially insane Lex Luthor greets them. Batman, furious at the state of this world demands to know what happened, what did Luthor do? Luthor answers that he had a debate with Superman. What makes this so interesting is that, Luthor says that he knows that he should have lost. The stakes were such that, the loser would be impaled by spike of Kryptonite and Luthor, having almost crapped himself a speech mostly using platitudes from others in his own words, didn’t hold a candle to Ka-El… but in the end, Superman ends up skewered and the world goes to hell with him.

It begs the question of, what happened? Did all of the people just side with Luthor on impulse? Did something happen to sway them or was someone else manipulating things? Everything is speculation. Things are cut short, however as Bane and Scarecrow show up to punish Luthor and bring Batman to their new God, Omega. Bane appears to be absolutely rotting with venom as his veins are green and his skin is pale. Scarecrow looks absolutely scraggly with long, gnarled fingers with syringes at the end of his fingers. Scarecrow has poisoned the Superman clone and forces him to try and break the Bat.

Suddenly, as Superman lifts Batman above his head, a sword pierces his chest as it’s revealed that Wonder Woman has returned to save the Caped Crusader. The two are told to run away by Luthor, to save the world as he opens a portal for them and is summarily torn apart by other infected Superman Clones. 

We see the full extent of the utter destruction Luthor’s actions have caused as they land on the cloak of The Spectre. Wonder Woman tells Batman that the fighting eventually spilled over and destroyed both Heaven and Hell. It only makes sense, doesn’t it? The forces of magic are very powerful in the DC Universe. How much trouble would it take for a Mordru or Neron to tangle with Doctor Fate or Zatanna, culminating in the ruination of the afterlife, damning everyone to a non-existence at the end of everything?

They enter the cloak and take a ride down the River Styx. Diana tells Bruce that the voices of the dead will be calling out to him for sending them there. Capullo stuns with a double page spread of many of DCs biggest heroes, showing Batman the sheer weight of what his as-of-yet unknown role in Luthor’s scheme was. There are far too many to name, but I will say that I appreciate Capullo putting Kyle Rayner among those in the front. His deaths in many alt-stories will always irk me, but I do like seeing him recognized and put higher than Hal Jordan or even John Stewart.

Things take an even darker turn as Alfred shows up among the dead and Batman almost climbs out of the little boat, knowing that he just saw Alfred not too long ago and he and Wonder Woman make it to the real Gotham City with a cliffhanger and a surprising reveal at the end.

Last Knight on Earth pulls no punches when it comes to depicting a desolate world where Doom wins. I want to say that it’s almost dour to the point of being almost being hopeless and that’s exactly what I love. I adore how much is being packed into this story, how many references to the greater DC universe we’re getting. Capullo’s art is probably the best it has been in years and the quality of the writing is right on part with Dark Knights: Metal. It’s a righteous trip as Batman lugs the annoying head of the Joker around like a planet hopping adventure. It’s really fun and very dark.

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

The world needs more Swamp Thing stories.

Runner Up: Justice League Dark Annual #1 - James Tynion IV, Ram V, Guillem March, Arif Prianto and Rob Leigh

This annual was dark, far darker than most of the Justice League Dark tales so far because of how self contained it was and the sheer weight of the situation therein. Sure, it wasn't a world ending cataclysm like the one they just stopped, but that doesn't make it any less horrible. I'd never heard of Ram V before, but their storytelling, combined with Guillem March's art makes me feel like I've been pulled back into the old days of Vertigo.

Magic is broken. After Wonder Woman and Zatanna used the Ruby of Life to repair the damage they did to magic after defeating the Lords of Order, magic itself is repairing itself, but in a manner that throws the old rules out of the window.

Consequently, the Parliament of Trees has been destroyed and now Swamp Thing has no one to answer to as the new Parliament of Flowers is seeking a new champion. After confronting Constantine about coming on as a consultant for the League, the con-man convinces Swamp Thing to go on the search for the new Avatar before he loses his humanity like Swampy did. Swamp thing tries to act like he doesn't care, but goes off to find the man.

The story descends into something of a tragedy as we're introduced to Oleander Sorrel, a flower botanist, and his wife Natasha. 

What makes this story so great is that, like the best Swamp Thing stories, it focuses on other characters and their own personal situations. The pair suffer in a broken marriage after the death of their son which causes Natasha to leave Oleander and himself delving deeper into his work, later resulting in his death. He becomes the Avatar of Flowers, but refuses to let go of his humanity after Swamp Thing tries to convince him that he is no longer a man.

He seeks out his wife and watches over her until Jason Woodrue, a very old DC villain that really hasn't been seen since the early days of The New 52, whispers in Oleanders ear. Oleander listens and suddenly a boy that looks very close to their son appears at the door. Natasha is happy, then another child appears and another until Natasha is absolutely blind with love for her new kids.

But not all gifts are good. There's no way that Woodrue doesn't get something out of this himself. There's always an underlying plot and Swamp Thing manages to uncover what really happened to Oleander. The fire that killed him was actually a pool of caustic that he laid in his flower bed and kills himself in. Oleander did die in the pool, but his memory lived on in the flowers that he planted. This revelation stuns Oleander and the children he created out of flowers begin to dissipate. He grows weary, knowing that Swamp Thing was right and Woodrue manages to convince him to rest for a while before feasting upon his flower flesh, regaining his own connection to The Green.

This annual definitely fit the title. It was Dark, not only from a storytelling standpoint, but also visually. Natasha’s post crying face was heart wrenching to see and Gullem March squeezed every bit of emotion out of it that he could. Her lips quivered, her eye makeup ran just a bit and there was a hopelessness that could be felt. Oleander’s transformation was a beautiful kind of macabre with his appearance, composed entirely of flowers, looking very sinewy and skeletal at the same time. Colors are very warm, juxtaposed against an ever growing sense of dread that culminated in the most haunting scene of Oleander growing more and more flower children. The shot is perfect as Oleander is shown to be a hapless man whose only intent is to make his wife happy, but his methods are horrifying almost wrong.

When the children begin to disappear following the revelation, light is shown on them while the background remains dark. Their petals waft away with the night winds as Natasha has to watch in horror, likely to be absolutely broken by the experience of losing her kids. Woodrue eating Oleander afterwards, however, is brutal. The color shifts to a deep red and Woodrue furiously munches on the flowers, gnawing and tearing his way into Oleander’s body and emerging as a new creature unto himself.

I haven’t been able to find anything about this Ram V person, but I want to read more of their work. This book was absolutely stunning and I hope that it does well enough to warrant another Swamp Thing mini-series or full run. Amidst the cancellation of the show after just one season, it’s definitely something the world needs more of. This story was chilling, well paced and had a great focus on someone else while keeping it’s main star tangential as he should be in things like these. This is a definite high recommend from me.

[dimancheetoile]

I'm finding I'm not her (the girl I thought I'd be)

Nine months later, to celebrate Sasuke's graduation from Explosions and Booby-traps Academy, she drags both him and Naruto to a lingerie store.

Read it on AO3

The title is from @mouseymightymarvellous's AMAZING poem, "forgiveness for matryoshka dolls"

Haruno Sakura is born in the early days of spring. She has hair the colour of cherry blossoms and the brightest smile you could wish on a baby's face. Her parents adore her and early on, she's spoiled rotten by every single member of her family. It could be the beginning of a beautiful tale, a happy story to tell children when they ask what a perfect life is. For a few years, it is.

One hot, tiring day of summer, Sakura comes home after a full day playing with the Yamanaka heir, and tells her parents that she wants to join the Academy. She smiles her bright smile and proudly explain how she's going to become the strongest shinobi in the world.

On the same day, Sakura also tells her parents that she is a girl.

Let's try again.

Haruno Nadamaru is born in the early days of spring. He has hair the colour of cherry blossoms and the brightest smile you could wish on a baby's face. Nadamaru is the Haruno's heir, destined to take the Clan Head mantle and keep their trading network in good shape. His mother is already eyeing his cousin Haeru as a potential bride.

One hot, tiring day of summer, Nadamaru comes home with a red ribbon in his pink hair and bright orange fingernails. He talks about his best friend Ino and all the fun they've had playing ninja. He tells them all about Yamanaka-san with his kind eyes and quick laugh and how bad Nadamaru wants to be like him when he grows up.

On the same day, Nadamaru tells them to call him Sakura, like his pretty hair, and asks for a qipao on his next birthday.

Hikari sends her son to his room with a shout and starts crying in her husband's arms. Nadamaru goes, tears streaming down his round face, and swears he'll show them how good a shinobi Haruno Sakura will be.

Sakura graduates a few weeks after her twelfth birthday. She comes home ecstatic, but already expecting the disappointment in her mother's eyes, and the complete disinterest on her father's face. She quickly makes herself a snack, before her mother can decide she'll punish her for her foolishness one more time, and disappears in her room. It still hurts, but it stopped bothering her a long time ago.

Her brand new qipao is waiting for her under the bed, where Sakura hid it this morning. Hikari can't force her to wear more appropriate clothing, but she tries really hard to destroy every dress Sakura might buy for herself. Tomorrow is the big day, and she wants to be the prettiest girl in their promotion. Maybe one of the boys will notice her; surely, if she brings back a good husband, her mother will finally be convinced to let Sakura be herself?

She sighs and carefully braids her long hair, before going to bed. She knows she won't be able to sleep for a while, for how excited she is, but she needs to be well-rested if she wants to pass the test. She can't wait.

Tell me your likes and dislikes, asks the jōnin teacher, and Sakura is about to comply, when he adds the annoying bit about their dream. Sakura has a dream, but she learned a long time ago that it was best not to tell people. No one understood her dream, and her family kept scolding her every time she brought it up. Just like they did when she wore her hair up in a bun with glittering pins, or when she dressed up in her most elegant outfits.

So she bites her lips and waits until both Naruto and Sasuke are done. Then, in a gentle voice and with the greatest care, she crafts her words. She says that her dream is to be acknowledged for who she truly is, and stays quiet when Naruto side-hugs her. She knows how close her answer is to his, and she pretends not to notice her sensei squinting his only eye at her.

The test is a disaster. Sakura gets caught in a genjutsu almost as soon as it starts. She sees Sasuke, lying dead in a pool of blood, and she runs to his crumbled form. Only when she's kneeling next to him does he open his eyes and stares at her. Nadamaru, he whispers, Nadamaru, Nadamaru, Nadamaru—

"Hey, Sakura! Wake up! Kakashi-sensei put you in a genjutsu, but it's over now, don't worry."

Except it's never truly over now, is it, Naruto?

Sakura honestly didn't expect for her secret to hold this long. She's done her best to act true to herself, but sometimes she slips up because Hikari drilled habits into her as hard as she could, whenever Sakura was too tired to fight her mother. Oh, how relentless Hikari could be. And sometimes, that means that Sakura walks with a hunched back and a different sway in her walk. Sometimes, she forgets that she's supposed to trust her team and jokes in a deep voice about girly things and cooties, only to catch herself because she's the one who should be offended at her teammates for making the jokes, not telling them herself.

And yet her secret holds until a few days before the start of the chūnin exams. Everyone in the village heard about it, and so did her parents. When they realized there was no convincing their daughter to back down from her goal, they decided to invite Team 7 to a family dinner, hoping to embarrass Sakura. She won't let them.

After a particularly successful training session that ended with Kakashi almost praising them, Sakura grits her teeth and takes a leap of faith.

"Boys, can I talk to you before we go to Ichiraku?"

Sasuke grunts, looking annoyed, but stays in place. Naruto grins and sits cross-legged next to her, while she gestures for their sensei to join the lopsided circle they created.

"What is it about, Sakura-chan?" Kakashi asks, his orange book balanced on one of his knees. Sakura feels weirdly warm to think he cares enough not to read it when she needs to talk.

"You know my parents invited you to dinner, tonight. And you all promised to go."

Naruto beams. "Yeah, I can't wait to meet them! I'm sure they're really cool."

Cool. Sakura feels like crying. If only.

"There is something you don't know about me, and my parents will definitely talk to you about it. I hope... I hope this won't ruin everything."

Sasuke is frowning and Kakashi has the same look than the day of the test. Naruto just wraps an arm around her shoulders in the half hug he seems to be fond of.

"You can tell us anything, we're your team!"

Sakura nods quickly, holding back the tears she can feel gathering in her eyes. And before she can change her mind, she rushes to grab her ID card in her pouch and throws it at Kakashi's face. Then she ducks her head under a fall of pink strands and waits for the inevitable. And waits. And waits some more.

"Uh."

Sakura chokes on her next breath as she quickly raises her head again. Kakashi is looking at the card with an eyebrow raised, before looking briefly at her, and going back to the card.

"Uh." He says again, then proceeds to shrugging exaggeratedly slow before handing the card to Sasuke. The Uchiha's eyebrows disappear into his hair and he stares at her, not moving when Naruto looks over his shoulder at the ID.

"Who's that, Sakura? Is it your brother?"

It's too much for her, the lack of reaction and Naruto's misunderstanding, and Sakura starts to sob. Deep, ugly sobs she tries to keep silent when she notices how uncomfortable Kakashi looks, but sobs nonetheless.

"Moron!" And Sasuke is punching Naruto, who starts to insult him before freezing when he hears Sakura's hitched breath. He glares back at the card, and a look of understanding settles on his face.

"So you're..."

"Naruto, for once in your life, shut up."

And suddenly, Sasuke is hugging her. Sakura is pretty sure her soul starts to shrivel and ultimately dies inside of her.

"I don't give a flying fuck what your parents decided to call you," he whispers against her ear, "but you're my teammate, Haruno Sakura, and that means I'll stand by you tonight."

As quickly as he appeared, he releases her and settles again on the ground, on Naruto's left. When the Uzumaki looks at him funny, he blushes slightly and looks away.

"My cousin Shisui was... well, you know. Like you. He was like you."

And that settles it. Naruto still hugs her approximately five minutes too long and Kakashi offers to braid her hair, which is frankly terrifying and she does not feel the slightest inch of regret at refusing. When they arrive at the Haruno Estate, on the outskirts of Konoha, none of the boys bat an eye when Hikari asks her son to help them settle in. They call her Sakura and compliment her on her dress and later, much later, after Sakura's tears are dry and Kakashi has finished tying knots in their hair (which he keeps insisting on calling braids), they laugh about the angry look on Hikari's face when she understood she couldn't hurt her daughter that way anymore.

When Sasuke starts his apprenticeship in the Sabotage squad, where his fire jutsu and sharingan makes him an amazing student, Sakura starts to consider her options. Naruto is hinting at a trip with Jiraya, to learn both about his family and the Sannin's techniques. Sasuke is barely in Konoha anymore, spending most of his time in the Forest of Death. And she can't stay with her parents anymore.

Now that she made it clear her shinobi career is here to stay, on top of Konoha's administration giving her a new ID card with her true name on it, the Haruno want nothing to do with her. She's this close to being disowned, and she knows it. It means Sakura needs new living arrangements, possibly someone willing to give her their name. She doesn't mind being clanless, like Tenten, but having a name would definitely help her.

It's Kakashi who suggests she tries it with the Hokage. Tsunade has been here for a few years now, and as scary as she still appears, Sakura has seen her smashed more times than she's seen her sober. It helps a lot with the fear. So she goes to Tsunade, bows to her waist and asks to learn her legendary strength. If Sasuke is to be a sabotage expert, with Naruto's quick thinking and his love for traps, Sakura will need to be the blunt force of their team.

Tsunade laughs at her face and calls her a naive little girl. She tells her she'd be better as a medic, that she should stay at the back because she's not as strong as her teammates. That she should go back to her civilian family and think of marriage and bearing children.

Sakura punches a hole through the Hokage's desk and starts screaming. Tsunade lets her swear for thirty seconds before sending her flying through a wall with a flick of her finger. Then she marches out of the office, picks Sakura up, and goes to the nearest training ground.

Sakura grins a bloody smile. The Hokage read her file. She knows of Nadamaru's shadow, glued to Sakura's steps. And she still asked her if it wouldn't be better for her to go back to her clan and get pregnant. That's the whole three seconds it takes for Sakura to fall in love with the idea of becoming the new Tsunade.

Later in the day, when the Hokage is done printing Sakura patterns into the earth, Tsunade sits in the dirt next to her. She asks in tactless and ugly terms if Sakura wants something done about her body. She talks about surgery and procedures and hormones and medical ninjutsu. When she's done talking, Sakura is smiling through her tears, and Tsunade pats her on the head.

Nine months later, to celebrate Sasuke's graduation from Explosions and Booby-traps Academy, she drags both him and Naruto to a lingerie store.

They're seventeen, with a spring in their steps and the future laid down at their feet. Naruto is trying on a emerald bra with a dangling heart pendant in the center while Sasuke stares at a garter, probably trying to figure out if it's going to kill him in his sleep. Sakura looks at herself in the mirror of their proud eyes and she smiles the brightest smile she can conjure. She's beautiful.

She's beautiful and they tell her that, later, when they're all in the kitchen of their tiny apartment, stuffing their face with ramen. Naruto is leaving again in a few days, this time to the ruins of Uzushio. Except he asked them to come with him, and they both accepted. Sakura is eyeing the jōnin promotion Kakashi swears she has a shot at, but she won't take it just yet. She wants to enjoy the time she has with her teammates, while Naruto is still looking for himself in the shadows of a destroyed village.

They tell her she's beautiful when they lie down on the largest futon and Sasuke unties her chest bandages with his teeth. They tell her how proud they are of the woman she has become while Naruto nips at her hip.

In the morning, when they read over her shoulder the letter of repudiation from her clan, they will kiss her gently. Then Kakashi will rush inside with forms and applications, a few chosen words for the Haruno's decision, and an offer to take his name. And Sakura will smile.