#tired of being let down by people who are otherwise... fine i guess but we are balling regardless

[tf-boi]

Thredr

“What the hell happened to me!” A pair of white socks suddenly said.

“Uwaahh! Y-you woke up. . .” A young boy, approximately 20 years old with black hair and brown eyes, and a thin body, said. He was sporting a blue soccer uniform but with bare feet, he had fallen to the floor as he was shocked that his socks woke up. “You were supposed to be asleep. . .”

“What did you do Alex??” The socks said again. Although we say “said” its more so the voice was in Alex’s head. 

“Sorry Anthony. . .I couldn’t help it.” Alex said picking up Anthony.

“Explain. . .” 

“Well . . .” Alex thought the best way to explain how he turned his best friend of the same age into a pair of socks. “Guess I’ll just be blunt! I have been in love with your feet since we met! And I always wanted to wear your socks! So I turned you into a pair of your used socks so that I could wear you to today’s game!”

“. . . .” Anthony was stunned “HOW. . .?”

Alex pulled out his smartphone and showed him the app “Its called Thredr (pronounced “threader”), its where people who have clothes transformation fetishes meet and you know . . .become eachother’s clothes. . .”

“But I don’t HAVE that app. . .” Anthony said annoyed.

“Well. . .you were tired from your late night shift and so I just used your hand to unlock your phone. . . “

“That has GOT to be illegal. . . .”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t hold it in and I read that I could just make you unconscious while I did it, so I was gonna do my thing and turn you back right after without you noticing. But I guess I pressed the wrong button and you woke up! I swear it was only gonna be once!”

“And you fused me with my socks?!” 

“Well. . .actually while you were showering, I scanned a pair of your socks so I just morphed your body to resemble that pair all the way down to the grime. . .”

“You are seriously messed up. . . Turn me back NOW!” Anthony said annoyed

“I can’t. . . the minimum transformation time is 8 hours otherwise your molecules will be messed up.” 

“So I’m stuck like this for the day. . .” 

“Yeah well. . .you can let me. . .” Alex said, pointing at his raised foot.

“No. Absolutely not!” Anthony protested.

“Pleeeease just this once!!! I’ll buy you food for the rest of the year and I’ll even use the app to wipe your memories after!” Alex begged.

“. . .fuck man. . .fine. . .” Anthony said defeated, the boy couldn’t resist free food being a starving college student, let alone for a whole year.

“Yes!” Alex said picking up Anthony and putting him on his feet.

“Unnnff a little more gentle please!” Anthony said, he just felt Alex’s feet enter him. His right sock body felt like Alex put his entire foot into Anthony’s mouth, while on the left it felt like a foot just went up his ass. “This feels. . . kinda good. . .” Anthony thought “But man his feet stink! Shower better man! And yet. . .it smells divi- no stop it Anthony you can’t be into this!”

Alex walked down the stairs to the doorway, each step was like Anthony having the best body massage of his life.  Alex then stared at his shoes, then to Anthony’s running shoes.

“You wouldn’t mind. . .?” Alex smirked.

“Go ahead. . .” Anthony said shyly 

Alex picked up Anthony’s shoes and slid them on.

“Uggh. . .is this how I smell??” Anthony said, his scent penetrating his mind “God I hope he doesn’t take me off. . .” Anthony let the thought slip.

Alex got to the field and swapped into his cleats. Before doing so, he stuffed his feet (with Anthony still on) into a pair of blue soccer knee high socks.

“Alex smells. . .so good!” Anthony thought, his mind succumbing to his role as a sock.

Alex ran in the field, jumping, skipping dodging players, kicking the ball.

“Ohhh ohhh yes daddy!” Anthony thought as he felt his body being used in the game.

Another player accidentally stepped on Alex’s foot, Anthony feeling the pressure “Ohhh yes!” he shouted. 

Alex continued the game pretending to not hear Anthony’s burst of joy “Hmm hmm glad he’s enjoying himself.” Alex giggled as he scores the winning goal.

“Good job team!” the coach said in the locker room. “Now hit the showers!” He said exiting the room.

The captain, a tall more muscular body, came up to Alex and held him up. “And heres to our MVP!” the captain cheered as everyone joined him “Now for his reward!” 

The entire teams takes off their socks as Alex strips down naked and lays on the ground, he is then showered with all their used socks as they go to the shower.

“What the?” Anthony questioned 

“Oh. . .” Alex said with a sock ontop of his mouth “They all know about my thing for used socks. . .so whenever we win this is my reward!”

“And. . .they’re okay with it??” Anthony said puzzled.

“Yeah well, I’m sure they were weirded out at first but to be fair, most of them are here on a soccer scholarship and want to be recruited. Most of the time I just support them and make them look good in front of recruiters so this is a small price for them~ I even get to pick a pair and take home with me for keeps!”

“Ohh. . .say. . .can I pick which one this time, you know, since I’m doing this favor for you. Its not like I like this by the way!” Anthony said pouting.

“Haha, sure, take your pick!”

“I don’t know who it was, but that blonde looked like he had cute feet!” Anthony said, with a bit of excitement in his voice.

“Oh Tyler? You have a good eye. . .should be this pair!” He said picking up a black pair of Nike socks.

“Can. . .you wear them on the way home!” 

“Sure!” Alex said putting on Tyler’s socks over Anthony.

“This is heaven. .  .” Anthony said “I mean GROSS!”

Alex giggled and bent down to Anthony “By the way, I saw the Thredr app on Tyler’s phone so maybe I can arrange something for the three of us~”

“Fuck off!” Anthony said, if he weren’t in his sock form you could see him blushing.

After the shower everyone said their goodbyes.

“See you later Tyler!” Alex said cheerfully “Your socks are pretty comfy!”

“B-bye Alex!” Tyler said, trying to hide his erection. 

As Alex and Anthony walk back to their dorm room Alex looks at time on his phone 

“Hmm. . .just enough time maybe. . .”

Alex enters his and Anthony’s now empty dorm room. Making his way to Anthony’s bed, removing Tyler’s socks.

“Well almost time!” Alex said

“Finally!” Anthony groaned. 

“But. . .before that can I do one more thing. . .” Alex said blushing

“What. . .?” Anthony questioned.

“Wow he actually blushes. . .” Anthony thought.

“Can I use you as a . . .meat sock?” Alex said shyly

“Uhhh. . .” Anthony said

“Nevermind I know its weird-” Alex said flustered.

“Yeah sure.” Anthony interrupted.

“Wait really?” Alex said surprised.

“Just make it quick. . .”

Alex’s heart raced as he removed his left sock from his sweaty smelly foot.

He then wrapped it around his erect penis and began to masterbait with it.

“Ohhh you feel so good Anthony!” Alex moaned.

“Uhhff unghhh” Anthony moaned, his mind going blank as he fully immersed himself into being Alex’s meat sock for the night!

Alex stroked his cock faster and harder inside Anthony’s sock body, Anthony feeling like his brains are getting fucked out as he feels what used to be his ass getting beaten by Alex’s long shaft.

Alex then took off his other sock and began smelling it.

The pair moan as they are locked into each other's bodies.

As Alex sniffed Anthony’s body he didn’t notice himself sucking on Anthony licking all the flavors he had accumulated throughout the day. 

“Faster faster!” Anthony said, as Alex turned up his speed.

He paused for a moment to grab Tyler’s sock and wrapped it around Anthony’s body.

“Yes…YES!” Anthony screamed. If he still had a body he would have came by now but he could only hold in his lust for both Alex and Tyler.

“C-crap!” Alex muttered “I’m cumming!” He said as pumps of his semen fills every thread of Anthony’s body only leaking a bit onto Tyler’s sock.

“Oh yes. . .yes. . .fuck yeah. . .” As Anthony gasped for air.

The pair lay in a puddle of Alex’s sweat and juices. 

Alex weakly reaches for his phone “Guess I gotta turn you back. . .”

“Hold up!” Anthony interrupted. “I don’t have class or work tomorrow. . .so. . .” He said with a bit of embarrassment in his voice.

“Hehe. . .I get you! One more day then!” Alex said victorious that he converted his friend.

“But!” Anthony said with a demanding voice “I have multiple double shifts the day after tomorrow so prepare yourself!”

“Oooh” Alex said curiously.

**** A few days later****

“Where do you keep the condoms?” A young man, with a huge cock clearly erect going commando in a pair of basketball shorts asked Anthony, who was now in his human form, a slightly shorter boy than Alex, with brown hair and hazel eyes. 

“This way. . .” He said gesturing the customer to follow. “God, I want him to raw dog me in the restroom. . .” Anthony thought “Thredr did go off when he walked by so maybe the boys will have some company. . . or I can call off early and have him take us home. . .” He thought, leading the man into the restroom passed the shelf of condoms.

Each step he takes is pure bliss for Alex, who has been transformed into Anthony’s grey Adidas.

“Wow. . .this is how the other side feels!” Alex whispered “I hope he cums on me later! How you doing Ty-ty?”

Tyler, who has been turned into a pair of black Adidas tube socks, moans lightly to himself “Never better Alex. . .never better. . .”

[snoopmary]

I realize it’s THE SUN but it annoyed me

No idea who said this and it reads as a half-baked, inexperienced publicist frantically trying to protect an actress at the direction of her managers, but you know, it’s got my professional back up. 

I frankly doubt this is even one of Sweeney’s people working on her behalf because that girl isn’t stupid and her team is better than that at this shit. They’d just drop a line or two to Deux Moi and Page 6, not the Sun. that’s not her audience.

Disclaiming: No one not involved knows the story and I frankly don’t care who is with whom but this SUN article ticked me off so I’m going to vent right now. 

Humour me and let me deconstruct this article for all the many PR oops in it:

Quote 1:

"[Sweeney] doesn't want or need this attention and, to be frank, this is Glen's problem for letting his relationship with Gigi get out of control and for being so public about his personal life on social media."

Pretty sure GP didn't expect his apparently now-ex girlfriend to go passive-aggressive bunny-boiler (yes, I said it and I am so not sorry) on the ‘gram and try to impact the career he's busted his ass trying to build. Those posts? Human scorned shit has a short shelf life and always backfires on the person who goes low in Hollywood. See also Brad and Angelina at the moment. 

Two mistakes: blaming the guy for his ex publicly pulling shit on her personal instagram while blaming the guy for also leaving what clearly became an unpleasant relationship, while also implying he should have ‘controlled’ his ex and was responsible for parenting her behavior online!

Sympathy is going to turn towards Powell if it turns out there really is nothing going down but acting to sell the movie happening and this article will age really poorly. 

Also: the extent of his being public was, this is my girlfriend. [shares photo, red carpet thing]. Pretty sure that has been the exact same extent of Sweeney’s stuff with her BF, who by the by - and yes, I am going there - Sweeney’s supposed BF is 39. She is 25. If they have been together for 5 years, she was 20 and he was 34 when they hooked up. 14-year age difference. 

He could have babysat her before he got his high school diploma. Just saying. The ick is strong with this one, IMHO, and the public (esp the woke part) post-me-too is not fond of that, optically speaking. They aren't the great Leo DiCaprio and people are even tired of that crap from him now.

QUOTE 2:

"If she and Glen were closer, she'd tell him to handle his problems privately instead of letting them bleed into social media," the pal added to The U.S. Sun. "But the fact is, she and Glen don't have much of a personal relationship at all beyond the making of this movie.”

Most people don’t have a personal relationship with people they just met. Weird how that works, yeah? Except she also hung out with his sisters, his niece and nephew, and his parents while shooting an extremely R-rated sex comedy with him with nudity and an intimacy coordinator. 

So from their perspective, I guess that means Powell probably would have been okay with an apparently strictly professional acquaintance [activating sarcasm font] criticizing him for his angry ex-girlfriend going passive vindictive on instagram for attention. 

We’re all fine with ‘near-strangers’ doing that to us, aren't we? ::insert eyeroll::

QUOTE 3:

"Glen's real-life girlfriend problems are now infecting how people will perceive this project before they've even had the chance to market it.”

Oh, honey. No. No, sweet summer child. No.

The *only* reason *anyone* is talking about this project is BECAUSE of the chemistry between Glen and Sydney. Otherwise, it’s just another rom-com. Now it’s - as Lainey pointed out - ShoWest Mr and Mrs Smith territory. 

It’s a rom-com, the believability of the leads doing the rom-ing IS the market strategy.

The PR teams at Sony are loving this because they could not have begged for better press for this flick, even if this pushed JLaw, Denzel, and the Barbie movie off the front pages of the news cycle. Everyone has actually heard this film is coming out now and will probably be dying to see what the what is about it. Wouldn’t be surprised if this got fast-edit for October now.

QUOTE 4:

"It's distracting and annoying as hell and Sydney loathes that she's been publicly dragged into this."

If *that* was Loathing in Las Vegas, then she is a much better actress than I and most of the film industry have given her credit for. Period.

Lastly:

I said it before and I’ll say it again: no man has his sister and her family with young kids, his parents, and his other sister and her BF around AND screws around on his girlfriend in front of them. In fact, I kinda suspect he had them there in order to try and prevent this kind of story because who screws around on their GF in front of their immediate family? He had them down there to avoid this and guess what, it backfired. Why?

Gigi wanted a bit of satisfaction for not getting to be Hangman’s WSO any longer because who TF in the entertainment industry cares who Gigi Paris is when she isn’t Glen Powell’s girlfriend? {Hate me but you know I am right!]

If she hadn’t said a damn thing when they split, none of this news coverage would exist and no one who didn’t follow Glen Powell would have ever heard her name.

Let me tell you how the industry is going to see this situation in about a week:

Glen Powell’s now ex-girlfriend - a model who, while attractive, is just a model among many in LA and NYC - did not handle it well when their rocky relationship finally ended. Despite the brouhaha, Glen Powell showed up and worked his ass off (despite the personal tumult and embarrassment) to sell the movie he was paid to make while he's being dragged through the mud. And he was a consummate professional and he didn't sink to anyone’s level either. 

The chemistry with his blonde-of-the-moment co-star Sydney Sweeney (see also Margot Robbie/Will Smith and JLaw/Helmsworth) was hot enough to dominate the entertainment social news cycle globally for 48 hours now because everyone was interested in a rom-com where people actually had chemistry. (Ghosted is bad, Your Place or Mine was worse, and the best part about The Lost City was Daniel Radcliffe and Sandra Bullock’s scenes together.) 

And after all that: Powell still showed up to do prep for Twisters in Oklahoma without being a dramatic diva about the shitstorm his life became in April 2023 because he left a dead-end relationship? 

Producers are loving what they’re seeing from him. Family-oriented, clean-cut gentleman who can handle his emotions and still work? Christmas came early! 

Whoever this “friend” of Sweeney’s is, it would have been better for them to have kept their mouth shut and let this fade out quietly. That piece did her no favours, especially after that red carpet in Vegas because whoever did that just tried to throw her co-star under the bus to explain it all away and all the other actors in the industry are going to remember that.

And that is the way I see that SUN piece.

[orpheus-lovett-thenardier]

Alrighty, guess I’m gonna take the risk and post this.

(Pls don’t get mad at me, y’all. I’m just stating an opinion & ranting about my frustrations, I don’t mean to sound rude.)

This is certainly gonna make people mad. If you disagree with me or are upset by this, that’s fine, I get that everyone has different opinions. Idc, just please leave me alone & don’t harass me over it.

I honestly have a lot of complaints similar to this, but then I saw this happen with my favorite song, and it just absolutely upset me, so yeah-

Can we PLEASE stop over-sexualizing Wait???

Yes, I know that at the end of the day, I’m always gonna have my asexual bias, but I swear that I have more complaints than just, “I’m a sex-repulsed ace who’s tired of everything being over-sexualized.”

I know that a lot of things are gonna vary depending on the production, but at least to me, that’s not what this song is supposed to be. I know the Broadway revival does the whole weird thing with his suspenders, idc what the Broadway revival does, this song is supposed to be a soft, sweet, and genuine moment. (This isn’t an insult to the Broadway revival, btw. I do still love that production despite it making some choices I disagree with.)

Let’s review the scene & context surrounding it:

Sweeney has been presented with the opportunity to off Beadle Bamford, but he’s impatient af and wants his revenge now. On top of that, he’s also stressing over how to get to Judge Turpin. Nellie basically tells him to chill out and be patient, but like, in a sweet and loving way. The whole song is her trying to help him calm down and feel less stressed, upset, and tense. She can see that he’s dealing with a lot, and she genuinely cares about him and wants to help him. By the end, he’s a lot more calm, even if he is still thinking about revenge deep down. You see the calming affect Nellie has on him, and she’s happy to see him okay again, even if it’s only for a moment. He even internalizes her words. During Epiphany, he says, “Why did I wait? You told me to wait!” Obviously he seems to have misunderstood her a little, but it shows he was at least paying attention.

At its very core, this scene is a man who’s gone through a lot and is stressed, a woman who cares about him and wants to comfort him, and him briefly being able to silence the noises in his head because he really does find comfort in her words and her presence.

This is supposed to be a calming type of song, sort of like a lullaby in a way. Maybe this really is just a me thing, but it was never meant to be sexy.

There’s a lot of things that annoy me about the over-sexualization of Nellie Lovett in general & this song in particular, but the main one is that it makes everything feel less sincere. Idc if you have your headcanons, or if you wanna talk about NSFW stuff regarding this show from time to time, but treating it like that’s the whole thing, especially regarding her, just… Idk.

Nellie truly loves Sweeney, and it’s always annoyed me when people say otherwise, and when people say that it was just lust. When people over-sexualize her & every moment between her and Sweeney, all that does is prove their point, and it makes her relationship with Sweeney feel a lot less genuine. When she’s not allowed to have genuine, emotional, and romantic moments without it either being sexualized or played for laughs (or both in some cases), it both erases her complexities as a character and cheapens the moment. (I have another rant regarding By the Sea too, but I’m specifically gonna focus on Wait here)

She truly cares about Sweeney and wants to help him, comfort him, and be there for him. When Wait is instead seen as just seduction, it makes her feelings for him seem a lot less genuine. I would think that none of us Nellie lovers or Sweenett fans would want that, and yet my fellow Sweenett shippers are the ones that are most guilty of this. Do you not also care about the emotional side of their relationship? The sweet side? The soft side? The romantic side? Their friendship? Does it only matter to you if it’s sexy? (I’m not saying this is all Sweenett shippers, or even the majority.)

Idk, I’m just tired of people trying to take away their actual adorable moments and make it all horny.

(Does it feel like nobody’s appreciating everything else about their relationship and is trying to make everything sexual, or am I just ace & losing it?)

Idc if you want to write smut about them, idc if you have differing opinions. I really don’t want to sound rude regarding people’s opinions & interpretations, and I don’t want to shame anyone. There are even people on here that I’m genuinely chill with & like that do this, and I don’t want it to sound like I’m mad at them or don’t like them or anything. I’m just so tired of it all.

Not everything has to be about sex, you guys.

(More stuff in the tags)

[krisapparently]

1. "I know it's winter, but you don't have to act so cold!" (Kaveh/Alhaitham)

DISCLAIMER: take this however you like romantic or platonic idc I'm just here to write

▪︎ 556 words because I wrote this at 2am and I'm slepy

▪︎umm cw// cursing and this is fluff i think

▪︎this is boring tbh it's just them fighting and complaining

▪︎I did not proofread who does that lol

"It's so cold here! My face feels so dry and flaky.." Kaveh complained while walking through the night streets with none other than his roommate, Alhaitham.

"You insisted on coming here for the holidays. Deal with it." "Hey, I know it's winter, but you don't have to act so cold!" The blonde rolled his eyes before he blowing and rubbing his frosty hands together.

"I'm not 'cold.' I'm simply stating the obvious. As a matter of fact, this weather is perfectly fine."

"Fine?! What part of this weather is fine?! We are out in the dark, brutal, cold, shivering, lonely, night and in addition, we come from a hot, dry region for fuck's sake!"

"It's not my fault that you aren't used to the cold. Maybe you should go out more instead of shutting yourself in either hammering on your never-ending projects or drinking."

Wherever they are, Kaveh and Alhaitham were always bound to argue about even the smallest, irrelevant thing you could think of. Some would say they're like cats and dogs. Others would say they're like oil and water. But despite their attitudes against each other on the surface, people who really knew them would know that deep down.. they truly care for each other. It was just a matter of Kaveh's anger issues and Alhaitham's bluntness.

"You- It's only because I- Ugh. Whatever. I'm tired of fighting with you." Kaveh crossed his arms as he seemingly walks a bit faster. "Let's just go home and get this over with. I'm freezing my nails off right now."

Alhaitham noticed his change of speed and quickened his pace to catch up with him. He unwrapped his scarf and handed it over to Kaveh. "Here."

"What? I don't need that-" "You clearly do."

Kaveh still felt a bit grumpy but took it anyways and mumbled. "Thanks.. I guess.."

It was a silent but somehow a rather comforting walk. Kaveh glances over at the taller, half-amazed at how he handled the temperature well, but also noticed his slightly rosy cheeks. "Hey, aren't you cold? I mean, I know you're used to it or whatever but you seem like you're still freezing.."

Alhaitham met his gaze and replied, "I would be lying if I said it's colder now but it's not that big of a deal. I'd rather freeze my brains off than hear you complain anyways."

"Tsk, you seriously-!"

"And also, I don't want you to get sick."

Kaveh's eyes slightly widened. He sometimes forgot that even when they get into disputes, Alhaitham was still someone who cared about him. "I-I see.. you didn't really have to though."

"No, I had to. Otherwise, you'd be complaining about being sick."

"I don't complain that much, shut up!"

Alhaitham lifts his eyebrows. "Really now? There was one time you complained about the rain wetting your laundry again even though I had already informed you beforehand that it'd rain that day. There was another time you complained about how hot the weather was, oh unironically like how you're complaining about how cold it is now. And on another-"

"OKAY OKAY SHUT UP FINE I COMPLAIN A LOT, HAPPY?" the architect explodes.

"No, I'm not necessarily happy with your complaints-"

Alhaitham pauses as he noticed Kaveh brisk walking away from him while he also flips him off.

"Heh, typical." The Akademiya's scribe sighs as he watches Kaveh fade into the distance.

[timeoverload]

I have spent a lot of my weekend sleeping but I keep having horribly vivid nightmares. I woke up at 5 because I had another one.

I've had to cut down on smoking a lot (against my will) since the person that was helping me with that is strung out on coke now or something and I don't feel safe going over there anymore. They have changed a lot and I can't trust someone in that state, especially when they have weapons laying around. I don't want to be around that stuff and I'm not going to put myself in a potentially dangerous position just for that. I'm not sure what I'm going to do now but I will probably have to stop entirely since I don't really talk to anyone anymore. I'm pissed that I can't just go to the store and get it myself and I wish it was legal here. It's so much better than drinking all the time and I haven't really wanted to do that either. I don't handle hangovers very well anymore. It's probably good for me to take a bit of a break but I hate it and I'm grumpy. I think that has contributed to me having more nightmares and definitely isn't helping with my pain, appetite, or my mood. I thought I would be more motivated without it too but now it's worse.

I decided to get up and force myself to go to the grocery store this morning since I couldn't fall back asleep. I bought way more stuff than I normally do so hopefully I can get myself to eat more. I like going to the store really early when there aren't very many people there so I don't get overstimulated and feel like I need to rush out of there. I don't feel like I did that much but I'm worn out again. I also feel like I have a migraine coming on. I need to force myself to get more stuff done today and tomorrow. It feels like any time I make any progress, I have to start over again. I'm tired of it being that way.

I greatly appreciate my family letting me live here for free because I would probably be homeless otherwise but I really wish I had a little more room. I really like my bedroom but with all of the stuff in here it feels small and overwhelming. I really miss having my own bathroom and my washer and dryer. It is nice not having to pay rent since I was spending almost $1000 a month on that since I usually ended up having to cover most of it. I like being able to save some money and also buy myself the things I always wanted when I wasn't allowed to spend money on myself without getting in trouble. I've made quite a bit of progress with paying off my debt too.

I guess I've still been feeling a little bitter though because the person who ruined my life has gotten to live comfortably in a brand new place since I left and I have had to struggle to do everything. I'm still angry with his family for treating me like I'm a bad person and spoiling him when they witnessed how he treated me and they were fine with it but I don't think they ever liked me or understood me anyway. They could tell I was traumatized and I wanted to tell them that he hurt me but I couldn't trust them. I also couldn't sleep at night without worrying that he would do something to me while I was unconscious. He was a creep and lacked self-control. He didn't get my permission. He didn't have respect for my bodily autonomy. I remember him insulting my appearance and then later trying to say he was just joking. Apparently no one ever taught him that it's not ok to hit a woman either until I came along. I remember him responding to my panic attacks by trying to wrestle me and pin me down and I had bruises on my arms from trying to get away from him. Sadly that's not the worst thing he did to me. There is a lot of mental illness and violence in his family too. It got to the point where I had to start fighting back and I'm not that kind of person. I didn't like how he and his dad started buying lots of guns and it made me uncomfortable to know there was one in the closet when we lived in the apartment. I don't miss getting screamed at on a regular basis either and getting in trouble for doing anything. Mental illness isn't an excuse in my opinion and he refused to get on medication until after I broke up with him and tried to use that as leverage to get back together but obviously I said no. He also wrote me a 40 page love letter and forced me to sit on the couch while he read it to me after we broke up even after I begged him to stop and was crying. He also went and got tattoos on his arms that matched the color and theme of the ones I have after we broke up because he wanted to match and I thought that was weird. He was just being obsessive and wouldn't leave me alone for a while even when I would ignore him. His mom always hated me too because I "took her son away from her" when he was the one who pursued me initially and wouldn't back off until I decided to date him. It still grosses me out that his dad also tried to sexually harass me on multiple occasions when he was trashed and I was still expected to be around him despite my complaints. I want to warn his current girlfriend about him because I don't want to see anyone else get hurt but it isn't my place to do so. I'm happy he moved on. I don't miss him and I don't care that he's with someone else but I just hope he treats her better than he treated me. I know I wasn't the perfect girlfriend but I spoiled him and did everything he asked me to do and it still wasn't enough. I let him manipulate and control me for so long and I had to relearn how to make decisions for myself. I'm so happy I never have to see those people again. I would never go back. I can't say they never did anything for me but they definitely didn't treat me with respect a lot of the time. I'm really surprised that our last conversation was amicable considering what a nightmare it was trying to get out of there. Lately I have been thinking about all of the bad things that happened to me during the time I spent with him and I know I made the right decision to leave. I don't think he ever truly loved me because that's not how you treat someone you love. I'm so thankful we never had any children together despite him pressuring me to do so. I couldn't imagine trying to raise a child in that environment. It wasn't healthy at all. I spent so long questioning my reality and wondering if I was as evil as he said I was. Unfortunately those memories have been resurfacing in my nightmares and I feel like I need to talk about it because it has been bothering me. I definitely have PTSD from that situation. I'm glad that I feel safe here with my family because I never want to experience that again.

I know I will always have a home here. I know my dad has tried really hard to be patient with me and make me happy and I'm not sure where I would be without him right now. He stepped up and took care of us when my mom couldn't do it anymore while trying to work full time and take care of the house. I know that being a single parent isn't easy. He has a lot of responsibilities and things to worry about and I don't want him to be super stressed out all the time. He doesn't show it but I know he is. I'm thankful that he has helped me take care of the cats too because it has been difficult for me to do anything. I wish I could do more for him and help him more and maybe I will be in a place soon where I am able to do that because he deserves it. He hasn't had an easy life and has worked really hard and I think he needs to take a vacation soon. I definitely feel like I owe him a lot for helping me get my life back.

I just can't wait to get out of this slump because I don't think I have ever been this bad. I know I'm capable and I'm not giving up on myself. I think I am also getting stir crazy because I have been cooped up in here for a long time now. The weather has been really nice lately and I want to go outside more because my vitamin D is extremely low but I don't really like going for walks by myself because of past experiences. I really hope I can get out and do something fun this summer because I really need it. I'm going to enjoy the rest of my day and try to stop thinking about bad stuff so much.

[fozmeadows]

race & culture in fandom

For the past decade, English language fanwriting culture post the days of LiveJournal and Strikethrough has been hugely shaped by a handful of megafandoms that exploded across AO3 and tumblr – I’m talking Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Dr Who, the MCU, Harry Potter, Star Wars, BBC Sherlock – which have all been overwhelmingly white. I don’t mean in terms of the fans themselves, although whiteness also figures prominently in said fandoms: I mean that the source materials themselves feature very few POC, and the ones who are there tended to be done dirty by the creators.

Periodically, this has led POC in fandom to point out, extremely reasonably, that even where non-white characters do get central roles in various media properties, they’re often overlooked by fandom at large, such that the popular focus stays primarily on the white characters. Sometimes this happened (it was argued) because the POC characters were secondary to begin with and as such attracted less fan devotion (although this has never stopped fandoms from picking a random white gremlin from the background cast and elevating them to the status of Fave); at other times, however, there has been a clear trend of sidelining POC leads in favour of white alternatives (as per Finn, Poe and Rose Tico being edged out in Star Wars shipping by Hux, Kylo and Rey). I mention this, not to demonize individuals whose preferred ships happen to involve white characters, but to point out the collective impact these trends can have on POC in fandom spaces: it’s not bad to ship what you ship, but that doesn’t mean there’s no utility in analysing what’s popular and why through a racial lens.

All this being so, it feels increasingly salient that fanwriting culture as exists right now developed under the influence and in the shadow of these white-dominated fandoms – specifically, the taboo against criticizing or critiquing fics for any reason. Certainly, there’s a hell of a lot of value to Don’t Like, Don’t Read as a general policy, especially when it comes to the darker, kinkier side of ficwriting, and whether the context is professional or recreational, offering someone direct, unsolicited feedback on their writing style is a dick move. But on the flipside, the anti-criticism culture in fanwriting has consistently worked against fans of colour who speak out about racist tropes, fan ignorance and hurtful portrayals of living cultures. Voicing anything negative about works created for free is seen as violating a core rule of ficwriting culture – but as that culture has been foundationally shaped by white fandoms, white characters and, overwhelmingly, white ideas about what’s allowed and what isn’t, we ought to consider that all critical contexts are not created equal.

Right now, the rise of C-drama (and K-drama, and J-drama) fandoms is seeing a surge of white creators – myself included – writing fics for fandoms in which no white people exist, and where the cultural context which informs the canon is different to western norms. Which isn’t to say that no popular fandoms focused on POC have existed before now – K-pop RPF and anime fandoms, for example, have been big for a while. But with the success of The Untamed, more western fans are investing in stories whose plots, references, characterization and settings are so fundamentally rooted in real Chinese history and living Chinese culture that it’s not really possible to write around it. And yet, inevitably, too many in fandom are trying to do just that, treating respect for Chinese culture or an attempt to understand it as optional extras – because surely, fandom shouldn’t feel like work. If you’re writing something for free, on your own time, for your own pleasure, why should anyone else get to demand that you research the subject matter first?

Because it matters, is the short answer. Because race and culture are not made-up things like lightsabers and werewolves that you can alter, mock or misunderstand without the risk of hurting or marginalizing actual real people – and because, quite frankly, we already know that fandom is capable of drawing lines in the sand where it chooses. When Brony culture first reared its head (hah), the online fandom for My Little Pony – which, like the other fandoms we’re discussing here, is overwhelmingly female – was initially welcoming. It felt like progress, that so many straight men could identify with such a feminine show; a potential sign that maybe, we were finally leaving the era of mainstream hypermasculine fandom bullshit behind, at least in this one arena. And then, in pretty much the blink of an eye, things got overwhelmingly bad. Artists drawing hardcorn porn didn’t tag their works as adult, leading to those images flooding the public search results for a children’s show. Women were edged out of their own spaces. Bronies got aggressive, posting harsh, ugly criticism of artists whose gijinka interpretations of the Mane Six as humans were deemed insufficiently fuckable.

The resulting fandom conflict was deeply unpleasant, but in the end, the verdict was laid down loud and clear: if you cannot comport yourself like a decent fucking person – if your base mode of engagement within a fandom is to coopt it from the original audience and declare it newly cool only because you’re into it now; if you do not, at the very least, attempt to understand and respect the original context so as to engage appropriately (in this case, by acknowledging that the media you’re consuming was foundational to many women who were there before you and is still consumed by minors, and tagging your goddamn porn) – then the rest of fandom will treat you like a social biohazard, and rightly so.

Here’s the thing, fellow white people: when it comes to C-drama fandoms and other non-white, non-western properties? We are the Bronies.

Not, I hasten to add, in terms of toxic fuckery – though if we don’t get our collective shit together, I’m not taking that darkest timeline off the table. What I mean is that, by virtue of the whiteminding which, both consciously and unconsciously, has shaped current fan culture, particularly in terms of ficwriting conventions, we’re collectively acting as though we’re the primary audience for narratives that weren’t actually made with us in mind, being hostile dicks to Chinese and Chinese diaspora fans when they take the time to point out what we’re getting wrong. We’re bristling because we’ve conceived of ficwriting as a place wherein No Criticism Occurs without questioning how this culture, while valuable in some respects, also serves to uphold, excuse and perpetuate microaggresions and other forms of racism, lashing out or falling back on passive aggression when POC, quite understandably, talk about how they’re sick and tired of our bullshit.

An analogy: one of the most helpful and important tags on AO3 is the one for homophobia, not just because it allows readers to brace for or opt out of reading content they might find distressing, but because it lets the reader know that the writer knows what homophobia is, and is employing it deliberately. When this concept is tagged, I – like many others – often feel more able to read about it than I do when it crops up in untagged works of commercial fiction, film or TV, because I don’t have to worry that the author thinks what they’re depicting is okay. I can say definitively, “yes, the author knows this is messed up, but has elected to tell a messed up story, a fact that will be obvious to anyone who reads this,” instead of worrying that someone will see a fucked up story blind and think “oh, I guess that’s fine.” The contextual framing matters, is the point – which is why it’s so jarring and unpleasant on those rare occasions when I do stumble on a fic whose author has legitimately mistaken homophobic microaggressions for cute banter. This is why, in a ficwriting culture that otherwise aggressively dislikes criticism, the request to tag for a certain thing – while still sometimes fraught – is generally permitted: it helps everyone to have a good time and to curate their fan experience appropriately.

But when white and/or western fans fail to educate ourselves about race, culture and the history of other countries and proceed to deploy that ignorance in our writing, we’re not tagging for racism as a thing we’ve explored deliberately; we’re just being ignorant at best and hateful at worst, which means fans of colour don’t know to avoid or brace for the content of those works until they get hit in the face with microaggresions and/or outright racism. Instead, the burden is placed on them to navigate a minefield not of their creation: which fans can be trusted to write respectfully? Who, if they make an error, will listen and apologise if the error is explained? Who, if lived experience, personal translations or cultural insights are shared, can be counted on to acknowledge those contributions rather than taking sole credit? Too often, fans of colour are being made to feel like guests in their own house, while white fans act like a tone-policing HOA.

Point being: fandom and ficwriting cultures as they currently exist badly need to confront the implicit acceptance of racism and cultural bias that underlies a lot of community rules about engagement and criticism, and that needs to start with white and western fans. We don’t want to be the new Bronies, guys. We need to do better.  

[absolutelyfizzing]

little dove

loki x reader

description - Loki acted so caring around you, more so than anyone else in his life. He loved to take care of you, especially when you had a long day, and he got teased by some of the team for it.

warnings - fem reader, cute loki and pet names, implications of gender fluid loki?, reader gets picked up, slight implications of a nsfw theme the night before

word count - 1900

A/N - this is a pretty plotless blurb but i just love this man, i have been obsessed with the new series and just wanted to write anything about him. i will inevitably be writing for him more so please end me now. there are no spoilers for the new series and it takes place in an AU after new york but pretty much otherwise out of timeline. all the avengers live at the compound together, endgame didnt happen and no i wont talk about it.

MASTERLIST

Loki was not someone who was overly friendly. To most of the people in the compound, he was courteous at best. That rule, however, was bent occasionally. The only exceptions were you and his brother (some of the time). He had been smitten with you the moment he saw you though he would never admit it. You were bubbly and light and the exact opposite of him. You were so friendly and kind that it almost made him want to be the same.

You were kind to him, which he was shocked by. Most of the people in the compound tolerated him but they were never caught being too nice. You, on the other hand, were friendly to him the day you met him.

You weren't an Avenger, you weren't really even a fighter. You were a genius in the medical field as well as the unofficial caretaker of everyone on the team. You made sure that they all ate, they didn't overwork themselves, that they were getting enough sleep every night because they were your closest friends. Everyone listened to you. You had this power over them all that they just wanted to make sure you were happy and that meant they wanted to do what you asked of them. They tried their best to take care of you as well.

When you met Loki and were very nice to him, he expected some ulterior motive. He assumed that there was something you wanted or that you would gain his trust and then humiliate him later. So he kept his guard up. This was proved wrong over the months to come. He noticed that you were that kind to everyone and you were just happy to be around other people. He let you in over time.

You became the only person who he opened up to, even more than his brother. You would keep him company even when he lashed out at others and when he was filled with guilt. You forgave him for his past without question and opened up to him as well. It took probably 3 months for Loki to realize that he was in love with you.

He couldn't believe himself. In love with a midgardian? What was he thinking?

But it was undeniable and uncontrollable. He just couldn't help himself. You would read to him and watch movies with him. You would braid his hair when he was stressed and would teach him how to cook when he asked. You were just everything to him. It took him a long time to confess. He was terrified that you would reject him. You could have had anyone you wanted, why would you choose him?

When he did confess, you were thrilled and he couldn't believe it. You kissed him and he thought he could die happy right then and there. He had never felt this much love for anyone besides his mother.

You continued to break his walls down and he fell deeper in love with you every day. He didn't, however, change his behavior towards others very much. He had grown closer to the team, having regained some trust from them all. He was no longer aggressive and he tried very hard not to lash out. Most of that was out of his own desire to be trusted. He realized that he was going to have to make his life work to remain with you and he slowly learned that most of the people in the compound weren't actually as awful as he might have originally guessed. That didn't mean that his personality changed toward them though. He was still slightly cold and short. He wouldn't smile too much and he was what some might call grumpy most of the time.

That only changed around you and everyone noticed. Loki got teased for it constantly and he couldn't care less. He just wanted to make you happy and he had no regard for what anyone thought of your relationship.

He was waiting patiently in the common area of the compound on the couch. Steve and Rhodey were sat on the couch watching something that Loki didn't recognize or care for, it was some kind of reality TV. When he heard the elevator door open he looked toward the door and you were walking towards him. A grin spread over his face and his posture relaxed. He could hear the men on the couch scoff at his sudden change in demeanor. When you got close to him he picked you up and pulled you to straddle his hips on his lap and immediately began kissing all over you. You buried your face in his chest and he kissed your hair.

"How are you, my love?" He mumbled sweetly and you hummed. "Long day?" he questioned and you nodded in affirmation. "Lets go get you some food then, yes?" He asked lightly and you hummed happily. He picked you up and you clung to him, arms and legs wrapping around him. He carried you with ease toward the kitchen. It shocked you sometimes how much he could lift and how easily he lifted you but you had to remind yourself that he was indeed a god.

"How come you never treat us that way?" Rhodey called from the couch and Loki grumbled a bit.

"Oh I'm sorry did you want me to pick you up and make you some tea?" He asked sarcastically and you giggled from where your face was pressed into his chest. He smiled at the fact that he had gotten you to laugh and he set you on the countertop. He tried to pull away to make you some food but you did not let him leave you, still holding on to the front of the shirt that he was wearing. "Do you want to talk about your day?" He asked sweetly, kissing your forehead lightly. You gazed up at him lovingly and his heart skipped a beat.

"I'm just tired. People are annoying and I didn't exactly sleep much last night." You winked at the last part. He smirked at your comment.

"I'm sorry, my love. I was under the impression that you enjoyed what we did last night but I would be happy to give you plenty of time to sleep tonight if that's what you would prefer." he teased and you punched him lightly in the chest.

"Okay fine you're right, I like getting kept up." You confessed. You paused for a moment and his eyes remained on you as he waited patiently for you to continue. "I was mistaken for an intern again today. You would think that after over a year of working here that people would recognize my name and my work but today there were some new investors walking through the facility. When they came to look at my work they started to talk to one of my coworkers and then turned to me to ask me to get them a coffee order while they waited for the doctor to arrive." You grumbled, your mood now sour at the memory. Loki frowned and he felt his anger begin to take shape inside of him. His eyes flashed green for a moment.

"Would you like me to go and teach them a lesson? Perhaps just to mildly terrify them?" he asked, fully serious. That cheered you up plenty and you chuckled. Loki knew that you were laughing because of the absurdity of his statement and the fact that he was dead serious but he was just happy to see you smile again. "I will never understand the midgardian obsession with gender roles. Though I suppose my own identity is more fluid than most asgardians as well." He confessed and you brought your hand to rest on the side of his face. He leaned his head into your hand as he beamed at you. You loved when he compared his home to yours. It reminded you just how powerful he was and that he still chose to spend his days with you. There was suddenly a flash of green before he held his hand out to you, now holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. When you gasped and moved to grab them he slipped from your grasp to move towards the refrigerator.

"Hey that's not fair, you tricked me." You pouted at him, now grumbling that you couldn't hold him anymore.

"Little dove, I cannot make you food when you hold onto me. When I am finished cooking then you can stay with me for as long as you would like." He promised and you nodded solemnly. He quickly pressed another kiss to your cheek before moving around the kitchen to prepare you waffles as he often did when you were having a long day. You observed the beautiful flowers in your hand and watched him as he moved around the kitchen, a million times more comfortable than he had been when he first moved into the compound. You talked contentedly with the people passing by as well as the man who was diligently trying to improve your mood. Occasionally one of the other team members would walk by and laugh a bit at how caring he was acting toward you, all of them just happy you were content though. Eventually Thor stopped by while Loki put some batter into the waffle iron and sliced some fruit.

"You know, this is the happiest I have ever seen him." He stated simply, a smile in is voice.

"It's the happiest I've been too." You responded with a small grin.

"The last time I saw him open up to someone the way that he opens up to you was on Asgard with our mother. She would be happy to see him being so vulnerable again." He patted your back and walked away as tears started to come to your eyes. The brothers would talk of their mother sometimes and Loki often mention the fact that he believed she would have loved you, if not for your own personality then for what you did for her son. You wished that you could meet her.

You were suddenly taken out of your thoughts by someone handing you a plate of waffles and sliced up fruit with a little container of syrup on the side. You looked up at Loki and nearly cried right there. You put the plate aside for a moment to reach out and pull him into a crushing hug. He was a bit startled but responded quickly, a hand going to the back of your head and his fingers brushing through your hair soothingly.

"Did something happen, my love?" He asked softly and you sniffled a bit.

"Just love you and I'm very thankful for everything you do for me." You got out and he affirmed to himself that he would die for you in an instant.

"I love you too, darling, but I slaved away at those waffles and now they are getting cold." He teased and he kissed your hair gently. You took a deep breath before pulling away, looking up at him with love. You smiled and then hopped off of the counter. He walked with you over to the dining table where he sat next to you and serenely waited as you ate, the food lifting your spirits a bit and easing your anxiety of the day. You planned on spending the rest of it with the man next to you as well as every day after that.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Hungry Eyes

masterlist

Summary: Spencer is tired of hiding your relationship. 

A/N: The idea for this fic came from a lovely anon that requested a fic based on She’s So Nice by Pink Guy. I also drew inspo from Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen (strange mix, but stay with me here.) So basically, a lot of Dom!Spencer goodness. I’d like to say a huge thank you for almost 1k followers, because wow. I never imagined 5 people would actually want to read my writing. I love you all, and I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future works!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, jealousy, degradation, spitting, slapping, oral sex (male and female receiving), spanking, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex

Word Count: 5.5k

           “That is one fine piece of ass. Don’t think I could get any work done with a sweet little thing like that prancing around my precinct,” mutters yet another sleezeball detective, beady eyes trained on you like a lion might study their prospective prey. It’s moments like these that Spencer has to remind himself that patience is a virtue – that he must bite his tongue because he’s at work and that means he has to act professional. Even if those around him don’t seem capable of affording him the same luxury.

           So, it’s with a clenched jaw and all the self-restraint that he can muster that Spencer forces himself to focus on the task at hand. Because Spencer is a professional, and there are more pressing matters that demand his undivided attention. The detective could be dealt with later – in the form of a complaint to the higher ups. But for now, patience.

           Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem. Years on the job had taught Spencer to remain level headed no matter the circumstance. Usually, Spencer could tune out the locker room talk in favor of immersing himself into the case. But when it came to you, or rather, people who dared to look upon you with eyes laden with lustful intentions, Spencer had a rather short fuse.

           It happens often, and he supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised. You’d certainly turned his head the first time he was fortunate enough to lay eyes on you. He’d nearly broken his neck trying to steal another glimpse of you as you walked past him on your way to Emily’s office on your first day. No one would ever describe Spencer Reid as forward, but on that day, he was the most brazen he’d ever been.

           Throwing caution to the wind, Spencer made a split-second decision stop you and introduce himself.

           It was the best decision he would ever make.

           So, yes – he understood why the head of everyone you passed turned your way, eager to bask in your unparalleled beauty. But that didn’t mean that he had to like it. In fact, every time Spencer caught some imprudent bastard leering at you, he had to remind himself that enacting physical force on another person with no real reason could cost him his job. That, and he was above resorting to violence – or at least he was, until you came around.  

           Part of his anger was rooted in the obvious lack of respect. It didn’t matter if Spencer held your hand in his as the two of you walked down the street, or if he kissed you on the lips in the middle of a crowded restaurant. All the PDA in the world did nothing to assuage the lingering stares, and Spencer felt his sanity chip away with every passing day.

           In the beginning, keeping his relationship with you a secret from your colleagues seemed like a good enough idea. Both of you were in agreement that you didn’t want to your personal relationship to affect your professional one, so when the elevator doors opened up and the two of you stepped out into the bullpen, you both were on your best behavior. And it was okay at first – Spencer was able to put his romantic feelings aside and focus on his work, all while still being able to make eyes at you from across the room. It was the perfect arrangement.

           Until it wasn’t.

           Because it wasn’t enough that you were gorgeous – you were also the most selfless person that Spencer had ever met. Always eager to lend a hand to anyone in need – always seeing the best in everyone, regardless of if they deserve it or not. It was an admirable quality to have, and he loved you for it, but on days like today he wishes you were a little more perceptive.

           That, and he wishes you’d chosen to wear anything but the tight little skirt and low-cut top that you were currently sporting. Not that he didn’t love the way the fabric clung to your figure like it was tailor-made for you – because he did - it was just that every other male in the precinct seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. And that made Spencer’s blood boil.

           The tipping point comes when, just as Spencer is trying to hunt you down and propose a quick lunch break, he finds you engaging in conversation with the very same detective that had been spouting lewd comments about you all morning. You’re seated at the breakroom table, clutching a fresh cup of coffee in hand as you look up at the man, a polite smile upturning your lips as you listen to him drone on about how his amateur baseball team had won some stupid fucking tournament the previous weekend. He’s smiling down at you, endlessly smug and way too pleased with himself at having captured your attention.

           It makes Spencer sick.

           His reprieve comes when your eyes flit to the doorway and you flash him a breathtaking smile. It makes him warm from the inside out, and Spencer wants nothing more than to plant kiss after kiss on your lips. Unfortunately, he can’t, so he settles on returning your smile.

           “There you are,” Spencer greets as he crosses the room before coming to a stop next to you. “I was thinking we could go grab lunch.”

           “Is it really lunch time already?” you murmur as you glance down at your watch. “I guess I let the day get away from me. Detective Yarborough was just telling me about the baseball game his team won this weekend.”

           “Oh, was he now,” Spencer feigns interest as he turns to face the man.

           “Yup,” you say, completely oblivious to the uncomfortable tension. “Didn’t you tell me you played in a baseball game once?”

           This piques the interest of Yarborough and he raises an eyebrow at Spencer.

           “You play?” he asks, tone laden with disbelief.

           “Not exactly.”

           The detective merely harrumphs in response, and an uncomfortable silence falls on the room.

           Your eyes dart between the two men and your brows furrow adorably as you try to make sense of the almost palpable animosity.

           “Okay… So, lunch. Did you have anything in mind, Spence?”

           “There’s a really good pizza joint two blocks from here,” Yarborough chimes in. “I could show you, if you like.”

           He acts as if the offer extends to you both, but the way he looks only at you when he says it tells Spencer otherwise.

           “The hospitality is appreciated, but that won’t be necessary,” Spencer breezes, clipped and to the point. He’s able to see in his peripheral vision the way your eyebrows raise in shock, but he’s too busy glaring at the detective to care.

           “Uh, yeah. Thanks anyways, Detective,” you mutter confusedly as you stand.

           “Anything for a pretty lady such as yourself,” he replies. “And you can call me Trevor.”

           Spencer’s hands are clenched into fists and he has to actually bite down on his tongue to keep from doing something he’d surely regret later. You bid Trevor ado with a smile and a parting wave, and then Spencer’s ushering you out of the room and down the hall, hand placed firmly on your back. He can’t do much in regards to initiating physical contact, but he allows himself this miniscule act of PDA. The feeling of your warmth radiating through your blouse is the only thing keeping him from giving into his primal instincts. Instincts that are screaming at him to put that smarmy bastard in his place.

--

           The hours after lunch pass by rather uneventfully. You accompany Tara when she goes to interview the victim’s family, and for the first-time all-day Spencer is able to repress his frustration long enough to focus on piecing together a geographical profile. By the time you and Tara return, the sun has long since disappeared from the sky and fatigue is rolling off everyone in waves. When Emily finally announces the end of the day, she’s met with absolutely no resistance.

           Spencer immediately scans the room for you, only to frown when he sees that you’re nowhere in sight. In fact, he hasn’t set eyes on you in well over an hour, too busy wrapping up the days’ work to notice your absence until now.

           “Has anyone seen Y/N?” Spencer calls out. His question is met by several shaking heads.

           “I think she’s busy,” JJ sing-songs, eyebrows waggling suggestively. Spencer’s frown only deepens.

           “Busy?”

           JJ nods.

           “Yarborough has been chomping at the bit to ask her to dinner. My guess is he’s got her cornered somewhere.”

           Of fucking course.

           Spencer’s out of his seat and stomping through the precinct in second, oblivious to the way his coworkers exchange curious glances as he storms off.

           He finds the two of you in much the same way as before, only this time Trevor is blocking your path to the doorway, hand in the air as he moves to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.

           “– C’mon, babe. Say you’ll go to dinner with me,” Trevor croons in a way that’s supposed to come off as seductive. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

           You lean backwards in an attempt to evade his touch, and you barely get the chance to open your mouth when Spencer intervenes.

           “She’s not interested.”

           The detective whips around, snorting in annoyance when he sees Spencer standing in the doorway.

           “What are you, her fucking keeper?” Trevor sneers, before turning back to face you. “Who does this guy think he is?”

           Something in Spencer snaps, then – the same something that has been swelling inside him for months, threatening to spill over every time he had to pretend that the stares didn’t enrage him. He’s tired of pretending, tired of hiding, and so, so fucking tired of not putting assholes like Trevor Yarborough in their place.

           Fueled by months of suppressed anger, Spencer manages to cross the room in about two seconds. He has several inches on the detective, standing at an intimidating six-foot one inch in height, so when he comes to a stop right in front of the detective, he’s looming over him threateningly.

           “I’m her fucking boyfriend, and if you so much as try to touch her again, I’ll break your goddamn hand,” Spencer spits out, and he’d be lying if he said the way Trevor’s eyes widen in fear doesn’t thrill him. “Are we clear?”

           “Uh, yeah. Sorry, dude,” Trevor splutters, raising his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she was taken. My bad.”

           Spencer tears his eyes away from the detective and takes in the way you’re watching on with an amused expression. He reaches out, and you’re quick to place your hand in his. Without speaking another word to the detective, Spencer leads you from the room and out the back entrance of the precinct.

           “What was that?” you tease, eyes glistening mischievously underneath the street lights. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t taking things public just yet?”

           Spencer crowds you against the brick wall of the building, pressing his body flush against yours. He ducks down swiftly, pulling you into a frenzied kiss. His lips drag against yours relentlessly, and all it takes is one breathy moan before he’s licking into your mouth possessively. Spencer slots his knee in between your legs, simultaneously groping at your chest with one hand as the other tangles in your hair.

           When Spencer pulls away, he doesn’t go far. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck as you writhe against him, hands clinging tightly to his dress shirt. You whimper when his teeth nip at the tender spot right under your ear, and you can’t help the way your hips cant up when Spencer’s tongue brushes against reddened skin.

           “I’m tired of pretending,” Spencer murmurs as his mouth continues to move against you, sucking purple bruises against your flesh. “Don’t fucking care about how it will affect the job. Tomorrow, everyone’s gonna know that you’re mine. Gonna mark every inch of you tonight – gonna fuck you until you can’t fucking walk.”

           “Please,” you slur as you guide Spencer’s hand down until his fingers graze the end of your skirt. Spencer chuckles darkly against your neck when his hand brushes against the soiled lace of your panties.

           “Didn’t mean I’d fuck you right here,” he laughs, prompting you to let out an impatient whine. The hand that was previously tangled in your hair slides down until it’s wrapped around your throat, and Spencer’s cock twitches eagerly in his pants when you push your throat harder into his palm. “Such a needy little slut for me. Ready and willing for me to fuck you out in the open, where anyone could walk by and see how fucking desperate you are for my cock.”

           “M’ your slut,” you pant as Spencer’s middle and index fingers ghost across your center. “Only yours, Spence. I don’t care who sees, just - please fuck me!”

           “I fucking own you,” Spencer growls against your lips as he tightens his hold on your throat. “And as much as I’d love to take you right against this wall, the things I have planned for you would elicit quite an audience. I know how loud you like to be.”

           Spencer pushes your panties to the side and you let out a low hiss as he drags a finger across where want him most. You cry out in frustration when he removes his hand to bring it up to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick his finger clean.

           “Just needed a little taste to tide me over,” Spencer murmurs, smirking devilishly at you as he steps back from you. “Let’s head back to the hotel. I’ve got lots I wanna do to you, pretty girl.”

--

           As soon as the door to the hotel room clicks shut, clothes are flying off as the two of you make your way to the bed. It’s a mad dash as you both undress, and as soon as the last garment leaves your body, Spencer pounces on you. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, and the way you immediately go pliant as Spencer’s mouth works against yours makes him hum appreciatively.

           “Don’t feel like being nice tonight. Are you gonna let me use that pretty little pussy however I want?” Spencer inquires, though he already knows the answer. He’s known how tonight would pan out ever since the first roll of your hips against his back at the police station.

           You nod fervently, hopelessly, and Spencer moves his hand up to grip your chin in his hand. The pad of his thumb traces over the swollen skin of your kiss bruised lips.

           “What about this?” he asks, tapping lightly against your lip. “Are you gonna let me fuck this slutty little mouth of yours?” Spencer slips his thumb into your mouth and you immediately close your lips around the digit, suckling lightly. Your eyes never leave his.

           “You’d do anything I asked you to, wouldn’t you, pet?” Spencer muses, pressing his thumb farther into your mouth until you gag around him. Spencer withdraws his thumb and his hand tugs hard on the hair at the back of your scalp. “Open.”

           You oblige immediately, and Spencer spits into your waiting mouth. You swallow without being instructed, and the visual of it makes Spencer let out a low groan.

           “Get on your knees,” Spencer barks out, and the way you scramble to follow his order makes him let out a chuckle. “So eager to have my cock in your mouth,” he hums as he taps his dick teasingly against your cheek. You open your mouth wide for him, and Spencer guides your mouth down onto his dick at a tantalizingly slow pace. You let out a moan as you hollow your cheeks around his head, tongue lapping greedily at the precum that gathered there before Spencer makes you take him deeper.

           “Everyone thinks you’re such an innocent little thing, but here you are, letting me use you like a cheap whore while you enjoy every minute of it,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as you moan wantonly around his cock. It isn’t until he’s halfway down your throat that your eyes begin to water, mascara running down your cheeks as he fucks into your mouth.

           Spencer lets out a choked sound when your nose brushes against the skin of his abdomen, and he has to fight the urge to throw his head back in pleasure. He doesn’t want to look away, not even for a moment. Not when you’re looking up at him like that, tears running down your face as you swallow around his length.

           He pulls you off him just the tiniest bit before he’s forcing you back down, a string of curses falling from his lips as your head bobs up and down.

           “You take my cock so well, pretty girl,” Spencer praises, prompting you to let out a muffled moan around him. The vibrations send a shock of pleasure through him and he can help the way his hips stutter. “Fuck, baby. You like it when I tell you what a perfect little whore you are, don’t you?”

           You’re unable to answer, because Spencer presses down on the back of your head until you’ve taken all of him again. The pressure he puts on you doesn’t relent, not even when you gag around him.

           “Fucking choke on it, slut,” Spencer grunts. “Don’t act like you don’t want this. You were just begging me to fuck you in an alley not twenty minutes ago, like some pathetic fucking tramp. You wanna act like a tramp, I’m gonna treat you like one.”

           Spencer’s lips curl into a debauched grin when your hands come up and grip the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer and further down your throat.

           “That’s what I fucking thought,” Spencer moans, giving several more harsh thrusts before pulling you off of him completely. Spencer reaches down to wipe at the spit that coats your lips as you look up at him with a shy smile.

           “You okay, pretty girl?” Spencer asks as he caresses the side of your face.

           “Mm,” you hum, nuzzling your face against his palm. “Keep going, please. Don’t hold back.”

           “God, I fucking love you,” Spencer sighs happily. “Get on the bed.”

           By the time Spencer fishes a tie out of his suitcase, you’re sprawled out across the bed, head resting against the pillows with your legs spread wide. Your teeth are nestled against your bottom lip as you watch him stalk towards you, eyes running up and down his naked figure appreciatively.

           Spencer crawls onto the bed until he’s settled in between your legs. You present your wrists to him, just like you’ve done a million times before, and Spencer feels that familiar thrum of excitement rush through his body. He fucking lives for moments like these – moments where all his problems melt away to nothing. Moments where he has no other thought than wrecking you, thoroughly and completely.

           Once your wrists are bound you hold them above you, and Spencer sits back on his heels, eyes raking up and down every inch of you.

           “M’ so fucking lucky to be the only one who gets to see you like this.”

           Spencer pinches your right nipple in between his fingers and you let out a squeak, hips bucking up, desperate for some friction. He kneads your breast in his hand as he lowers his mouth to the other one, tongue laving around you. A light nip from his teeth is all that it takes for you to cry out, eyelids fluttering closed.

           “Spence, please. Need you to touch me now, pl-”

           Spencer’s hand connecting with your cheek stops you from finishing your sentence.

           “Do not tell me what to do,” Spencer seethes, once again gripping your chin to keep you from looking away. “Ungrateful slut. I should just leave you here, fucking dripping and desperate for a release that you won’t get. Maybe then you’d learn to take what’s given to you.”

           “Please, no! I’ll be good, I swear. I’m sorry!”

           Spencer narrows his eyes at you, contemplative.

           “Open.”

           You do as he says, and without another word Spencer inserts two fingers into your mouth, pressing down hard on your tongue.

           “Get them nice and wet, and maybe I’ll think about using them on you.”

           You do as he tells you, and by the time Spencer removes his fingers from your mouth, you’re trembling underneath him from anticipation.

           “D-Did I do good?” you stutter out, batting your lashes at him as you squirm under his gaze.

           “So good, baby. I think you’ve earned my fingers,” Spencer hums. “Need you to be still, okay? You’re not gonna like what happens if you try to move.”

           You nod enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut when his fingers brush across your clit. Spencer spends ample time rubbing deliciously slow circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, relishing in every gasp and whimper that falls from your lips. Lips that he’d very much like to kiss, so he does, and you’re more than happy to reciprocate. Spencer lets out a happy sigh into your mouth.

           You get lost in the kiss, so lost in the way that Spencer licks into your mouth that it catches you completely off guard when he slides two fingers into you.

           “Oh, God,” you moan when Spencer curls his fingers against your walls, fucking them in and out of you, slow and unrelenting.

           “S’that feel good, princess?” Spencer asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Tell me how it feels.”

           Your head falls back against the pillows as you struggle to keep your hips firmly placed on the mattress.

           “Feels amazing, Spence. Always feels so good with you. Never want anyone else, only you.”

           And fuck, if that sentiment doesn’t shoot straight to his heart - amongst other places. Spencer places a tender kiss to your cheek before he’s moving down to your neck and sucking a bruise right under your jaw.

           “Yeah?” Spencer prompts. “Not even that stupid fucking detective? I’m sure he’d love a chance to see you like this.”

           “So, you were jealous,” you chuckle between moans, and Spencer bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder.

           “F-Fuck, Spencer!”

           “Should I be jealous?” Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers, scissoring them at such an unforgiving pace that you can’t help but roll your hips against them.

           You regret this instantly, because Spencer’s fingers immediately pull out of you, leaving you empty and cold. Spencer tuts, shaking his head disappointedly.

           “Dumb little whore can’t even sit still long enough to cum on my fingers.”

           “Please, let me try again. I’ll do better, I promise!”

           Spencer shakes his head and scoots up until his back is rested against the pillows.

           “C’mere,” he commands. “Lay across my lap. Or can you not follow simple commands?”

           “I-I can,” you whisper as you crawl across him, splaying out so that you rest on your elbows with your ass in the air.

           Spencer grabs a handful of your ass and kneads it in his hands.

           “How many do you think you deserve?”

           You blush and smile shyly at him from over your shoulder.

           “However many you want to give me. I can take it.”

           Spencer returns your smile.

           “Good answer. I think you can handle fifteen. How does that sound?”

           “Sounds perfect. T-Thank you, Spencer,” you mumble, cheeks burning red. Spencer continues to caress the tender skin of your bare ass, admiring the way the skin is completely blank; the perfect canvas.

           You let out a whimper when his hand comes down hard on your ass before kneading the sensitive, reddening skin.

           “T-Thank you,” you gasp out, and Spencer is quick to follow up with another strike against the opposite cheek.

           It goes on like this until it’s time for the fifteenth strike, and by then you’ve devolved into garbled whines, ass bright red and marked up with the imprint of Spencer’s hands. His dick is painfully hard underneath you, and you’re in a similar state – arousal dripping onto Spencer’s thigh, coating it.

           “Last one, baby. Do you think you can handle it?”

          “Y-Yes,” you choke out. “Please, I need it. Hurt me, please.”

           The desperation in your voice does things to him, makes him practically feral with the need to fucking tear you apart, and Spencer is quick to deliver the final blow. You barely even have it in you to cry out anymore – a feeble sob is all that falls from your lips.

          Spencer’s hand ghosts down across your bruised skin until his fingertips trace over where you drip for him.

          “You like it when I punish you, don’t you, dirty girl?” Spencer hums as his fingers glide over your soaked folds. 

          “Y-Yes,” you mewl, shifting so that your cunt grinds back onto his hand. Spencer indulges you - allows you to rock your hips against his palm as he watches on in awe, soaking up every desperate sound that tumbles past your lips. 

          Spencer pulls his hand away after a moment and you keen in protest.

           “Can you sit up for me, sweet girl?” Spencer asks, and you nod, because of course you do – you’d do anything if you thought it’d please him. You struggle to pull yourself up with shaky limbs, and Spencer puts a hand on your lower back to steady you. “Can you straddle my leg? Yeah, just like that.” Spencer pulls you down and places a slow kiss to your lips, one hand coming up to wipe away the tears gliding down your face. After a moment of slow, sweet kisses are shared, Spencer unties your wrists.

           “I want you to ride my thigh – can you do that, princess?”

           You whimper as you lower yourself down onto his leg, eyes fluttering shut as you begin to rock against the hardened muscle of his leg.

           Spencer continues placing kisses on your lips, your face, your neck – worshipping every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth, all while whispering praises against you.

           “So perfect for me. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs as he grips your hips with steady hands, urging you to increase the speed of your hips. “Can’t wait to have that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock. Always so tight, yet you take it so well every time.”

           “S-Spence, m’ close,” you slur, hands clinging desperately to his shoulders.

           “Already? You usually last a bit longer than that, baby.”

           “P-Please, Spencer, I can’t-” you whimper, tears once again pricking at the corners of your eyes at the thought of having to wait a second longer.

           “Shh, baby. It’s okay, you can cum,” Spencer reassures you, and your shoulders visibly untense. “Cum for me, pretty girl.”

           It takes two more rolls of your hips for you to cum on Spencer’s thigh with a cry of his name. Spencer rubs soothing circles into your hips as you ride out your high, murmuring broken thank yous as you come down.

           Finally, you still, and your eyes open, pupils so dilated that your eyes look almost black in the dim light of the hotel room.

          “You okay, princess?”

           You give a weak nod.

           “M’great,” you smile, sounding as fucked out as he’s ever heard you. You lean down and slot your mouth against his, and the kiss is slow and languid – soft and unhurried.

            Spencer is the first to pull away.

           “Need you to get on all fours for me,” he instructs. “Don’t think you need to put any pressure on that pretty little ass of yours right now.”

           You giggle at that, before crawling off of Spencer’s lap. You assume the position, and Spencer places a pillow underneath your hips before trailing a line of kisses down your spine. By the time he reaches your ass, you’re writing against him, wiggling your hips eagerly. Spencer places a kiss to both of your bruised cheeks before pulling away.

           You let out a startled oh! when Spencer licks up your center, parting you with his fingers before fucking in and out of you with his tongue.

           “S-Spence, oh my God, yes!” you cry out, hands fisting in the sheets as he continues to work his mouth against your core.

           “Love your fucking pussy so much,” Spencer sighs against you, lapping at your clit hungrily. “Could fucking lick you out for hours. You taste so perfect, Y/N.”

            Spencer lets out a filthy groan against you, and that’s all it takes for you to fall over the edge, wrecked moans filling the otherwise silent hotel room. This orgasm hits you both quicker and harder than the first, and he can’t help but smile against you as you rock back against his face, desperate to prolong the sensation. Spencer continues to work you through your orgasm, stopping only when you cease to twitch underneath him.

           “Such a good girl for me. Think you can handle one more?”

            You raise up just enough that you can look at him from over your shoulder.

           “Yes, please,” you beg, voice scratchy and raw. “Please, fuck me.”

           “Yes, ma’am,” Spencer chuckles. “Do you think you can lay on your back? I wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum on my cock.”

           You answer by rolling over, wincing slightly when your ass comes in contact with the sheets. You look up at Spencer with wide, doe eyes. You have mascara smeared all down your cheeks and your lips are swollen, and to top it all off, deep, purple love bites are dusted across the entire expanse of your neck and chest. Spencer had set out to mark you as his – so that no one would be able to deny that you belonged to him – and he’d done a spectacular job, if he said so himself.

           “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

           “Then come fuck me already,” you challenge, looking sated in every possible way – yet still, your eyes hold the same hunger that he’s sure is reflected in his own eyes.

           Spencer leans down and traps your lips in a bruising kiss, and without warning he thrusts in you to the hilt. You cry out into the kiss, startled by the sudden intrusion, but Spencer sets a brutal pace that leaves you no time to recover.

           “You said you wanted me to fuck you,” he growls against your lips. “Now fucking take it.”

           He’s fucking into you so hard that you can’t even manage a reply – you just tighten your legs around his waist and drag your nails across the expanse of his back, no doubt leaving bright red marks in your wake. Spencer can feel his own release fast approaching – honestly, he’s been close ever since the first drag of his tongue against your pussy. And now that he’s finally enveloped into your tight, wet heat, that all too familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach is threatening to consume him.

           Spencer’s hand descends from its place next to your head down to your clit, and your whole body jolts with the first swipe of his thumb. You clench around him as a litany of particularly filthy utterances escapes you, and Spencer’s hips stutter.

           “Fuck, princess,” he groans, head coming to rest on your shoulder as he struggles to regain his rhythm. “You don’t even know what you do to me. You’ve ruined me for anyone else. Never fucking want to lose you. Love you so much.”

           “I love you, I love you, I love you,” you chant into his ear, sounding like some kind of siren, luring him straight to his inevitable ruination. “I’m so close, Spence. Cum with me, please? I want to feel you. Please, baby.”

           “Y-Yeah, fuck,” Spencer chokes out. “Say my name when you cum, princess. Want everyone to know how good I fuck you.”

           And when you cum with a shout of his name, walls pulsating deliciously around his cock, Spencer is quick to join you. He continues to roll his hips against yours as you both ride it out, whispers of almost intelligible affirmations being shared between slow, loving kisses.

           After a moment of post-orgasm bliss, Spencer leaves and returns with a bottle of cocoa butter lotion and a warm, wet rag. You watch on with heavy lidded eyes as he cleans you up, and for a moment, he thinks you’ve fallen asleep. It’s not until he finishes slathering your reddened backside with lotion that you speak again.

           “You shouldn’t be jealous, by the way,” you murmur as he lays down beside you. “You’re it for me, Spencer Reid. I don’t ever want you to doubt that I’m anything less than crazy about you.”

           It’s everything that Spencer’s ever wanted to hear, and just like that, every fear – every insecurity that had plagued him in the past several months – fell away to nothing. Suddenly, he couldn’t remember why he’d ever been worried in the first place.

           “You’re it for me, too,” Spencer whispers as he pulls you until his arms and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

           “We’re going to have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow, you know,” you remark as you nuzzle into Spencer’s side.

           “Don’t care,” he sighs happily. “I’ll shout it from the roof tops if I have to. I want everyone to know you’re my girl.”

           “You’re a sap, Doctor Reid.”

           “Only for you.”

           A moment of blissful silence passes, before the sound of your growling stomach sets you both into a fit of giggles.

           “We never did get dinner, did we?” Spencer muses as he lightly runs his fingernails across your scalp. You hum appreciatively and a pleased shiver rolls through you.

           “Nope. You were a little too preoccupied with marking your territory to even offer to feed me,” you tease as you run your fingertips down the planes of his chest.

           “Well, now that that’s been taken care of - could I interest you in some takeout?”

          “Possibly,” you sigh, flattening your palm on his chest, right over his heart. “Do you think that pizza place Trevor mentioned delivers?”

          “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

          “Is that a no?”

          “... Look up the number.”

-

-

-

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[whythinktoomuch]

Andrea sighs. “I hate this part.”

“And what part would that be?” Kara spares a small glance for her, but continues to tug on her socks, her shoes, and anything else that she might need on her way out of Andrea’s apartment without a second thought. Again.

“The part where you make me sleep alone.”

Kara whips her head around. “… I’m sorry?”

“Nothing.”

Andrea regrets everything as she buries her head underneath her pillow. Maybe she can blame this sudden onset of weakness on her most recent trend of foregone sleep, or maybe even the very reason for said lack of sleep now standing at the foot of her soon-to-be half-emptied bed. But it certainly isn’t something that deserves any more elaboration, much less voiced.

Unfortunately though, Kara’s never been one to let something go. The rustle of clothing dies away, leading to a padding of steps which leads to the sagging of Andrea’s bed as Kara sits down beside her. “Hey, what’s going on?”

--

“Nothing,” Andrea repeats, her voice firm despite being muffled under her pillow. “Make sure to lock the door on your way out.”

“No, come on…” Kara’s tugging on Andrea’s arm, thumb rubbing gently into her skin. “Talk to me. Please? I’m right here.”

Groaning to herself, Andrea finally sits up, frown deeply set and disgruntled. “Where are you even going anyway?”

Kara takes a deep breath before answering, and Andrea hates how these are the kinds of things that refuse to escape her notice now. “I told you,” Kara says slowly. “I’m meeting a source downtown.”

“Right now? After midnight?” Andrea says with a scoff. “You don’t have a better, more business-friendly time—I don’t know—during the day to be meeting up with these people?”

“I have to go where the story takes me! And I also have to meet my sources on their own terms if I want to cultivate a lasting sense of trust and profess—”

“But for what article?” Andrea demands. “You’ve already met all your deadlines for this week. You wouldn’t be here”—she gestures aimlessly about her bed—“otherwise, so what else could you possibly be researching right now?”

“It’s…” Kara stumbles slightly, and Andrea wills her heart to harden into something that can never sink. “This is for a new story. One that I’m thinking about pitching. Soon.”

“Okay. What story?”

“I can’t tell you yet! It’s not ready,” Kara says, and Andrea just scoffs again. “Hey, seriously. What’s really bothering you? You never care about my work.”

“I’m your boss, Kara. It’s literally my job to care about your work.”

“Just tell me what’s actually bothering you, and I’ll fix it.”

Andrea rubs at her face. “I’d just… really like to know what it’s like to sleep next to my girlfriend for once…”

“Your girlfriend?” Kara echoes. “Who’s your girl—oh!” Her eyebrows nearly shoot up to her hairline. “Wait, oh…”

Groaning once more, now about ready to bury her entire body beneath her pillow if possible, Andrea just waves her hand. “Never mind, okay? Just go.”

“No, hey, hey, hey…” Kara tugs on Andrea’s wrist, refusing, per usual, to let an unwieldy moment die down on its own. “Girlfriend?”

“Forget I even said anything…” Andrea starts, but Kara seems quite unwilling to. In fact, she’s looking at Andrea in complete awe, and Andrea can’t help but straighten up at the attention. Maybe even pushing out her chest a bit just to make a point. “All right, fine, we can talk about this. But you should know right now, that I can’t date anyone who refuses to sleep with me.”

“Pfft, what do you mean? We literally sleep with each other all the time,” Kara protests, until Andrea shoots her a meaningful look—glare. “Oh… Right. You meant, just sleeping, sleeping. Um. Okay. Well, I guess that’s something we can try if you really want…”

Andrea rolls her eyes. “I don’t want you to try it just to appease me, Kara. I want you to want it too. For your own sake.”

“I do want it too! I just didn’t realize that it was something that you’d want. From me, especially.”

“Why the hell not?” Andrea says. “I’m sorry—was the past hour and a half not convincing enough for you?”

Kara flushes all over, sputtering, “No, what I meant was… I didn’t realize that you actually liked me like that?”

“Again. Was the past hour and—”

“I get your point,” Kara says, flapping her hands. “And okay. I, you know… like you too.”

“Oh, how promising,” Andrea mutters, but her nerves were undeniably starting to settle. The flow of conversation now comfortably in her favor.

“And I do want that too,” Kara continues, cracking a smile. “So… let’s do it. Let’s be girlfriends who, you know, sleep together.”

“Deal.” Andrea clears her throat, fidgeting with her sheets. “I imagine that it’ll have to start another night though, no?”

Kara rubs at the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. I just really have to meet this source tonight. It’s really important, I swear.”

“Fine,” Andrea says in a sigh. “It’s not like I don’t understand the need to put one’s career first.”

Kara pouts. She reaches out to cradle Andrea’s face, thumb tracing down her cheek, and Andrea’s not melting, she’s not melting, she’s not.

“I’ll come back,” Kara says at last. “No matter how long this meeting goes for, I promise to come straight back here and sleep with you.”

“Oh, you promise?” Andrea laughs, but there’s a serious glint to Kara’s eyes, twinkling in the way that they do in the strangest moments sometimes.

“Absolutely. I’ll be right back. And I’ll be right here for you, okay?”

Andrea lets out another laugh, ducking her head slightly. “Okay. I guess we’ll see how you do then.”

“Thank you,” Kara says, beaming. “But for now, I really do have to go. I’m actually kinda late now.”

“Then go. I ain’t keeping ya.”

Kara leans in, clearly in askance of a goodbye kiss, but when Andrea goes to cup her face, Kara resists just a tad. “Trust me,” she says. “You kiss me like that, and I’ll never make it out of here.”

“Want to test that little theory?” Andrea asks, her voice dropped into huskier territory, and Kara accordingly flushes pink cheek to cheek.

“Oh… boy…” Kara says in a hushed whisper. “I… er, I gotta go though, so…” She quickly shakes her head. “Yup, gotta go, gotta go. So sorry, but bye!” Pecking at Andrea’s cheek, Kara all but bolts out the door.

With a tiny unseen pout, Andrea sinks back into her bed, her moment of vulnerability already regretted with that aching part of her chest. But Kara promised to come back, and she seems the type to keep promises like that—the girlfriend type, that is.

Andrea’s final thought as she’s drifting off is a fleeting hope that wherever Kara’s rushing off to meet her source wouldn’t be anywhere near the sirens that have been going off. The last thing this would-be relationship needs is for Andrea’s would-be girlfriend to get stuck in traffic this late at night because of fire trucks or something.

//

Andrea wakes up to a sudden dip in her bed, coherent thoughts still slow to return as a column of warmth wraps around her middle from behind. She blinks blearily into the darkness. The sharp bite of smoke lingering in the air somehow only seems to get stronger the clearer her vision gets.

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” comes a sleepy mumble close to her ear, and Andrea starts to chuckle, her surprise melting into blessed relief.

There’s a wry comment sitting on Andrea’s tongue as she glances over her shoulder, but the specifics of it all gets lost when she sees Supergirl curled up against her. “Whoa. W-wait…”

“Oh, m’s’rry…” Supergirl says softly, eyes still squeezed shut. “Forgot to ask… Can I call you ‘baby’ now, since we’re girlfriends who sleep together and stuff…?”

Andrea is reeling, as she takes in the sight. That is to say, the sight of National City’s darling and daring hero rapidly passing out in her bed, blonde hair strewn across Kara’s go-to pillow like a golden halo, her bulk scrunched up into a tiny ball of warmth pressed into Andrea’s side, cape splayed out without a care.

“You’re…” Andrea clears her throat, hopefully ridding herself of the dry stutter caught within. “Excuse me, you’re wearing boots in my bed.”

Supergirl lets out a small whine—there’s a literal, bona fide superhero whining all disgruntled in Andrea’s bed right now—and kicks out her feet. “But I’m so tired, maybe-baby.”

“Maybe-baby,” Andrea echoes, rolling her eyes, because okay, this is definitely Kara all right.

She manages to extricate herself from Kara’s embrace with surprising ease, considering, then manages to tug Supergirl’s boots off one by one with far less ease. But the sight that Andrea’s greeted with startles her into soft laughter.

“Hey. What’s so funny…”

“I like your socks,” Andrea says, slipping back under the sheets, eyes fluttering shut when Kara sidles right up against her once more. “You know, you weren’t wearing those when you left me.”

“Is it really leaving when I come right back?”

“Yes.”

Kara snorts, burying herself into Andrea’s hair with a sigh. “Mm, I like my socks too. Was a gift from Santa,” she says, and Andrea can almost feel Kara wiggling her toes. “I like the smilin’ fruits…”

“Yes, I figured you would.”

Kara lets out a mock scandalized gasp, “It’s s’pposed to be secret Santa, you know…”

“You know what else is supposed be a secret?” Andrea shoots back, arching an eyebrow that is of course lost on her half-asleep almost-girlfriend. But Kara seems to know, because she grins.

“Hm. We can talk about it in the morning, mm’kay?”

“Oh, we most certainly will,” Andrea says, turning on her side, allowing herself to be happily spooned. “Good night, Supergirl.”

“Yeah, yeah, good night, maybe-baby.”

[yam-writes]

kiss me with your eyes closed - strade x reader hi, me again Rating: Explicit Relationships: Strade (BTD/TNR)/Reader Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, Kissing, Rough Kissing, Riding, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Smut, Shameless Smut, Biting, Bruises, Unhealthy Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, Cock Warming read here or on ao3

Strade wasn’t a good kisser. He didn’t have any reason to be. It’s not like he was going around, shoving his lips onto the lips of people he kidnapped for the sole purpose of torturing them. Maybe he’d do it if he just so happened to know that the person hated it, but that was nowhere near enough for him to be good at it. Besides, if he was bad at it, the person would probably hate it more. Really, it was probably in his best interest to stay bad at it, but honestly he wasn’t good because he just didn’t see a point in it.

It was obvious how much he sucked by the way he would push his lips against yours, stick his tongue out, slobber on your chin, bang your teeth together. But when he kissed you, it didn’t seem like he was trying to be bad at it. Honestly, it seemed like it was something he actually wanted to do, but he just couldn’t get the hang of it. But you tried to push those thoughts out of your head. There wasn’t any way that Strade was trying to be good at something like that, something so intimate. Like, really be good at it, not just be good at it so he can trick the person he just cut a toe off of into trusting him. There was no way he actually just wanted to kiss. This had to be another performance, another mockery of what normal human beings do.

But it really did seem like he wanted to do this.

It was easier for you to write off at first. He gets ideas sometimes, horrible ideas that he wants to act out. Sometimes over and over and over again. When he first asked you to kiss him, then made you lay under him for an hour while he shoved his lips onto yours, you thought it was a punishment for something you must’ve done to him, or at the very least another passing thought of his that he didn’t have the self control to not act on. But when he kept making you do it, you knew that this was a phase he must’ve been going through, and that if he was going to keep forcing you to kiss him for hours on end, it was going to be a long month.

But, the more he made you kiss him, the more it felt like he wasn’t just punishing you, or even going through a phase. It felt like he just wanted to practice. So you started taking it more seriously. If he was going to make kissing a regular occurrence, you should probably make sure that he’s at least decent, and he didn’t seem to be making any progress.

You tried to guide him. When he would pin you underneath him, you’d raise your arms and wrap them around his neck. You’d pull him down and swallow the lump in your throat as you told him to “go slow, only pucker your lips when you reach mine.” He’d stare down at you, for once in his life not being able to find something to say back. But he’d lean down and let his eyes close and he’d push his lips against yours, but his pucker would be too late. He ended up just pushing your faces together. So then he’d lean back up and scrunch his eyebrows together and just try again. He’d keep trying and trying.

The two of you would make out for hours, and it was weird, because kissing didn’t do anything for him. He’d kiss you and maybe only get half hard, then push himself off and go do something else. So, really, you guessed this wasn’t a punishment at all. And, he was improving slightly every time, so you should probably just forget about him planning anything bad with this, and just be grateful that he had fixated on something that didn’t cause much bodily harm to you.

The phase lasted longer than you expected. You kissed more than you ever thought you would, and eventually, you were kissing even after Strade had already gotten pretty good at it. You didn’t have to tell him how to do anything, or what to do, or how to do it. He knew. He knew how to do it all, but he still wanted to keep kissing you. Those moments became special, the moments when you could wrap your arms around him and pull him closer and close your eyes and pretend that this was normal.

He didn’t even seem to mind when you were the one who wanted to do the kissing. You could ask him if he wanted to and he would say yes and that was it. You would kiss and he would put his hand on your cheek and you’d play with the hair on the back of his neck. It was… weird. It wasn’t normal. And it wasn’t like his behavior changed in any other way. The sweet moments were contained only in the minutes when your lips were locked together. Otherwise, he was still horrible. He would still push you down, twist your arm, shove his knife into your skin. But none of that happened when you were kissing. You supposed he was keeping that safe.

So it was a mutual agreement that either of you could ask to kiss and that was fine. But, it was the best when neither of you had to ask, because you both understood what the other wanted. Sometimes you would just be sitting together, neither talking, and you’d look at each other and just lean in. It wasn’t something that had to be asked for (or forced), it was something that was natural.

The only problem was that it never went any further. Which, you guessed, realistically, wasn’t a problem. Most of the time with Strade going any further involved a lot of pain on your end. But kissing did do something for you. When you kissed Strade, you wanted to do more eventually. You wanted to run your hands down his back and you wanted him to kiss down your body and you wanted to be close without the horribleness that was being close to him. You wanted to go further and you wanted it to be slow and deep and passionate. You wanted it to actually mean something. But none of that was plausible because, in the end, this was still Strade that you were dealing with.

It was late. The night was still and dark. The glow of the TV hit your face, the feeling of Strade’s presence beside you. You two had been watching TV for hours, just flipping through the channels when something he didn’t like came on. He was leaned back, his cheek pressed to his shoulder. He looked so relaxed, so at peace. You thought he was going to fall asleep, just like you felt like you could at any moment. Technically, you didn’t have to be down there with him. You could’ve gone upstairs, to your own room, and done anything else. But watching TV wasn’t much of a problem. Besides, what were you supposed to do all by yourself in your room? Spending time with Strade wasn’t so bad, but you had felt the sleepiness hit you almost an hour ago, and you had been fighting with your own eyes to keep them open ever since. Really, all you wanted to do was crawl onto Strade’s lap and give him lazy kisses until you just fell asleep in his arms.

You looked over at him. You started the night on the other end of the couch, but in the past hour you had managed to scoot towards Strade without him saying anything about it. He really must be tired, you thought, for him to barely pay any attention to me. You sat beside him, your head swaying as your eyes closed every few minutes. You rubbed at your eyes and looked over at Strade, before you swallowed and let your head fall onto his shoulder.

Strade’s body stiffened for a moment. You swallowed again, your heart beating against your chest. You had taken a chance with lying your head down, maybe you could take a chance with something else you wanted to do, too… After a second, without saying anything, Strade moved his arm and wrapped it around you. You moved your head, fitting yourself perfectly against his side. You stayed still for a few minutes, listening to Strade’s heartbeat against your ear. Then, you moved your head and looked up at him. Maybe I can make it mean something, you thought.

“Strade?” you said, your voice small from the hours spent not saying anything.

He glanced down at you. His eyes were heavy lidded and low.

“Yes?” he asked. He sounded tired, too.

You swallowed and looked away for a second, letting your eyes scan the floor. Then, you looked back up at him.

“Uh,” you breathed out. “Do you want to-” You paused, taking a deep breath, trying to still your heartbeat. “Do you want to kiss?”

Strade let out a small hum. His arm flexed on your side, his muscle getting harder before he relaxed again. He clicked his tongue and then looked down at you.

“Sure,” he said. “We can kiss.”

“Really?” you squeaked.

Strade let out a short, loud laugh. “Of course.” He smiled down at you. “Always.”

You raised up, scooting up on the couch slightly. Strade didn’t move, obviously content in the spot that he was already in. He might not make kissing a horrible experience, but that didn’t stop him from making you work for it. You sat sideways on the couch, pulling your leg up and bending it in front of you.

Strade stared at you, not saying anything. He always did that, and it never failed to make you nervous. You felt a lump form in your throat as you tried to get situated under his gaze. His eyes felt like they were staring straight into your soul, and even though you two were doing something that you had grown comfortable with, you still felt your arms shaking as you moved.

You placed your hand on his leg and scooted forward, getting close enough so that you could kiss him with only a slight lean. You paused, hesitating, staring up at him. He had turned his head so he could keep looking at you. He wasn’t saying anything, was barely even moving. All you had to do was lean forward and push your lips together.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, and then did just that.

You closed your eyes when you saw him leaning down slightly. It was only a second later that you felt your lips press against his but it felt like forever. You felt your heart beat faster as you kissed him, the intimate moment still making your entire body turn red and your stomach twist into knots. Your hand twitched on his leg, wanting to move, but you stopped yourself. It was too soon in the kiss to do any of that. You had to pace yourself, make sure he really liked this if you wanted to take it any further. And you wanted to. You wanted to be close to him.

Instead, you flattened your palm against his thigh and rubbed. Strade, however, wasted no time in raising his own hand to your face. He cupped your neck, rubbing his thumb under your jaw. He tilted your head back, like you taught him, and deepened the kiss. Your lips moved against each other’s, as did your hand. You gripped his thigh, pressing your fingers gently into his skin. The only reaction he gave was moving his other arm so that it wasn't squished between your two bodies. You shifted, his arm wrapping around your side.

Strade’s tongue left his mouth and ran across your lips. You parted them, giving him access to push it the rest of the way inside, but instead of rushing into it, he pulled back slightly. His mouth closed against yours and he swallowed, then he was kissing you again. You opened your mouth once more and felt his tongue come inside. He didn’t push it all the way in, though, instead licking just inside the entrance. He was doing everything you taught him to do, and he was being slow about it. You didn’t know if he was doing it deliberately, but either way you really didn’t mind. Your brain was filling up with all different kinds of scenarios, all different kinds of romance.

You let out a small whine and instinctively raised up. You pushed your hand into his thigh more and raised into the kiss. Strade pushed his tongue deeper into your mouth, and you both moved your lips rougher. It was obvious that the both of you were getting into it, the sound of spit dropping from the corner of your mouths and the sound of the moans escaping your lips filling the room. Your hand moved on its own, supposedly trained by Strade or just a reaction from such a moment from someone who meant so much to you. You inched your fingers closer and closer, until finally your palm rested against his clothed cock.

But you didn’t have much time to do anything more than a slight rub before you felt Strade’s grip on your face get tighter. His fingers dug into your jaw and you let out a gasp at the sudden pain, your brain pulled out of whatever rose colored vision you were just in. He pushed you back, away from him, and you looked up. He had a huge smile on his face, a light blush dusting over his cheeks, and his pupils were blown out.

“You know,” he said, his voice husky, his hand still placed firmly on your face, “if I didn’t know any better, I would think you were coming onto me.”

You stared up at him, your eyes wide at his comment. Maybe you were being a little hasty, but it was only because you wanted to be close to him.

You shook your head. You didn’t want him to get anything in his head, you didn’t want him to turn kissing into something bad.

“No,” you stammered. “I just wanted to kiss.”

“Why do you look so scared?” Strade asked. His grip tightened even more and you felt your neck move as he pulled you closer to him. He pressed his forehead against yours. “Kissing isn’t scary.”

“I know,” you breathed out. He smelled a little like peppermint, which you figured probably came from whatever it was he had been drinking. “I just-“ you stumbled out. “I just wanted to- um, I figured we could-“ You swallowed. You didn’t know how to ask. Kissing was all you had ever asked for. It never went any further. What if you pushed for more and ruined everything?

Strade sighed and dropped his hand, letting his palm run down your neck and over your shoulder. “Spit it out,” he said. He pulled away, dropping his back against the couch. He placed his hands on his lap and looked over at you. He stared at you for a second, then he quirked an eyebrow and a grin slowly formed on his lips. “Unless you’re too dumb to know how you really feel?”

He phrased it as a question, but it felt more like a statement. You swallowed, not knowing what to say. Maybe he was right. You couldn’t get out what you wanted to ask, after all.

“It’s okay,” he cooed, speaking to you like you were a kid. He reached his hand out again and cupped your cheek. He smiled at you, a smile that to anyone else would be comforting, but you could see the patrons action behind it. You still leaned into his palm, though. “I always know how you’re feeling.” He moved his hand and leaned back again. He raised his eyebrows and said, “You’re lucky I’m here.”

Strade smiled again and then looked away. He hummed, seemingly in thought. Then, he looked back at you. “You wanted me to kiss you while I fuck you, right?” he asked, matter-of-factly.

You felt a blush flood your face. You looked away from him, shifting your eyes to the floor instead. But it wasn’t long until you felt his fingers grasp your chin and your face being pulled towards him.

“You want me to kiss you while I fuck you,” Strade repeated, slowing down each word, dragging out each syllable, “right?”

You swallowed, feeling a hint of tears threatening your eyes. You stared up at him. He always knew exactly what was going on in your head. Once again he had shown that maybe he was right, maybe he was the only one who knew what was best for you, what you actually needed and wanted.

You nodded. “I wanted you to kiss me,” you paused for a second, “while you fucked me.”

Strade leaned back, a huge smile spread across his face. “Well why didn’t you just say so?” he boomed. “I can do that for you!”

Your face perked up. “Really?” you asked.

“Of course,” he said, his smile relaxing into an easier one to digest. “I’ll do anything for you.”

You guessed that was true.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Strade gave you a sympathetic look. “No need to thank me.”

You stared at each other for a few moments. You didn’t know exactly how to go about this. He knew what you wanted, but what now? Did he want to take the lead, or was this something he was going to make you work for? If so, do you just crawl onto his lap? Do you go slower? Faster? You had no idea what he wanted you to do.

But then he spoke. “Well, let’s get going, yeah?” he gestured his head towards himself. He must’ve seen the look on your face at his request because he followed up with, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

You trusted him. You gave him a small nod and then crawled to him. You swallowed as you leaned up, swinging a leg over his so that you were sitting on his lap. He smiled up at you as his hands found their place on your hips. You licked your lips, pulling the bottom one between your teeth. Strade stared up at you, not making any more moves. You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves, and then leaned down.

You placed your hands on both of his cheeks and crashed your lips together. You let your body slash on top of him, not holding yourself up. Your hips pressed against his. You felt his thumbs rub circles in your skin as you kissed. Your lips smacked together, both of your mouths opening as your tongues shot out and pushed inside. Strade ran his tongue across yours and you pushed back, putting up a mock fight. Really, you just wanted his tongue deeper in your mouth.

It didn’t take long before Strade and you were slobbering all over each other. Spit gathered over your lips as the kiss was deepened. Strade stopped rubbing circles and instead gripped tight. You squished his face slightly, raising up to kiss him harder. His fingers dug into your skin, though, forcing you back down onto his lap. You let out a gasp at the feeling, and Strade smiled against your lips for a moment before pulling you back into the kiss.

Strade’s hands moved, guiding your hips on top of his. He pushed you down, hard, against his cock. Your hands moved from his cheeks and slipped around, wrapping around his neck. You moved your hips along with his hands, grinding down. The kiss was intense, and you couldn’t stop the moans from coming from your lips. Strade’s breathing was getting harder, to, and small groans were coming from him.

He was getting more handsy as the kiss went on. You were a little surprised. Before, Strade really didn’t try anything when you were kissing. He would barely even press his body against yours. Was he doing this for you? Or has something really changed? You guessed you were acting a little different, too. You took the other kisses slowly. He allowed you to keep a wall up, so you did. But you weren’t doing that now. You wanted to really kiss Strade, you wanted to kiss him in a way that wasn’t you teaching him. You wanted to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and-

You let out a loud gasp at the feeling of Strade’s teeth biting down on your bottom lip. It pulled you out of your thoughts, and your eyes shot open. You looked down at him, his teeth pulling at your lip. He wasn’t letting you get too far away from him, but the pain was building up. Finally, he let your lip go, and your tongue shot out of your mouth. You tasted blood and you could feel your heartbeat. You swallowed, suddenly remembering who you were kissing.

Strade wasn’t looking at you anymore, though. His eyes were huge and staring at your lip, his own tongue poking out and licking his lips. He let out a low hum and then moved his hands up and around, cupping your lower back. He pulled you to him and when you were close enough to his face, you felt his tongue drag along your lip, licking up the blood that had gathered on the spot he bit. He let out a low groan as he savored the taste in his mouth. He was getting excited, you could tell, and fuck, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t getting excited, too.

You didn’t give him much time to do anything else before you dropped your face back down to his. You moved your hips, rubbing your clothed bodies together. Your lips crashed together, the blood from yours smearing onto his face. You didn’t know how he felt about this, but he didn’t react too much. He just tightened his grip on your back. You barely paid attention to what he was doing, but you were vaguely aware of the feeling of his hands slipping under your shirt. You felt his palms slide up your back, pulling your shirt up with them. You continued to kiss him, your tongues fighting against each other, the noise of the TV drowned out by the noises of you two.

You pulled away when Strade raised your shirt up. He slipped it off you and tossed out to the side, his mouth immediately attaching to you again. Your hands clenched behind his neck, your fingers grasping the hair at the back of his neck, His hands roamed your back as he kissed your neck, which quickly turned into bites. he bit down, hard, sucking bruises all over. Your hands dropped to his shoulders and you gripped, not really knowing what else to do with them. The hickeys hurt, but your brain had entered into a space that only Strade could put it in. And, besides, he didn’t really care if he was hurting you or not.

His dick grew underneath you. You could feel the hardness press against you as you grinned down onto his hips. He continued to move his head down, sucking onto your skin. After a few minutes, he leaned back and admired his handiwork.

“You look better like this,” he commented.

You looked down at him, but you didn’t say anything back. For once, he didn’t seem to mind. You felt his hand cup the back of your neck, his thumb placed close to one of the hickeys. He pushed your head down, closer to his, but when your lips were almost touching he paused. He looked into your eyes, his thumb rubbing lightly against the hickey. Your mouth was slightly parted against his. Then, his finger pushed into the bruise and a pain shot through your body. Your mouth opened more, but a gasp wasn’t able to leave it because Strade brought his out to yours. The noise was caught in your throat at the sudden contact. Then, you felt him purse his lips and spit in your mouth. It hit your throat and you had no choice but to swallow it down.

Your lips were connected again after that, your mouth slick with his spit. He kissed you back, but only for a moment before he was pulling away.

“Take your pants off,” he commanded. His voice was rough and his pupils were completely blacked out. He had one thing on his mind, and he was going to get it.

You scrambled off of him. When you got to your feet, you pulled your pants down and kicked them off. You were completely naked in front of him, but you didn’t even care. Being ashamed of anything like that in front of Strade had gone out the window a long time ago. You were quick to try and climb back onto him, but when your hand touched his knee, he stopped you.

“Whoa,” he laughed. “A little eager, aren’t we?” He quirked an eyebrow at you and tilted his head, an amused smile on his face. “I have to take my pants off, too.”

You stepped back and swallowed. Not being ashamed of being naked in front of him didn’t mean he didn’t find other ways to embarrass you every chance he could get. You watched him slip his fingers into the waistband of his sweats and pull down. He raised his hips and slid his sweats off, then kicked them away. You could see the bulge in his underwear, and he smiled when he saw you staring. Your cheeks burned even brighter as he started pulling at his underwear. He didn’t take them all the way off, though, he just pushed them down enough to pull his cock out. He stared down at it as he stroked lazily, but then his eyes drew up to you.

“Come on,” he gestured his head towards himself.

You stepped towards him and then climbed back onto his lap. He kept one hand on his dick, but the other one attached to your hip, guiding you on top of him. You settled on top, your legs squishing against his thighs. You looked up at him.

“So,” Strade started. You felt his knuckles brushing against you, “I believe that one of the conditions was that I had to kiss you while I fucked you, right?”

You bit your lip, trying to hide the small smile. “Yeah,” you nodded.

Strade smiled. “Okay.”

He leaned his face towards you, his hand raising to your cheek. You leaned down, too, closing your eyes and putting all of your trust into him. Your lips connected, and he gently kissed you. It was the most passion he had put into any of your kisses ever. It felt like he really, really wanted to do this. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to cry at a time like this. You kissed him back, your mind completely focused on that. You didn’t even notice he was moving his other hand until you felt his tip press against you. You instinctively clenched, preparing for him.

He went slow. He pushed inside of you, and you felt his legs shaking against yours as he did, trying his hardest not to go too fast. You let out small whines as he pushed all the way in, kissing him all the way through it. You felt him fill you up, stretching you out, and you didn’t help but to raise your hands to his cheeks and grip them tight. He didn’t move when he was inside, instead he moved both of his hands to your hips and kept kissing you.

His dick twitched inside you and you couldn’t help but clench around him. He wasn’t small, so the burn was almost painful, and as much as you adored cockwarming, you needed more than that. You were aching for him to move, to do anything.

You pulled away, breathing hard. “Strade?” you whispered. You moved your hips slightly, showing him what you wanted. “Can you…” You trailed off, looking down at him, your eyes big.

Strade let out a small laugh. “Right,” he said. “The other condition was fucking, wasn’t it?”

“Mhm,” you whined.

“Guess I have to fuck you then, huh?”

“Please,” you said. You moved your hips around again.

Strade let out another laugh and tapped his fingers against your hip. He was so deep, you could feel him in every part of your body. You needed him. Finally, he moved his hips, pushing himself down onto the couch. He barely pulled out any, but he slammed back inside anyway. You gasped, falling on top of him as you lost your grip on his shoulders.

He moved your hips, pulling you up and then pushing you back down. You were trying to keep your balance, your shoulder bumping into his chin as he continued to bounce you up and down. He didn’t seem to notice, though. His head was pressed into the crook of your neck, low groans coming from his mouth.

He wasn’t going fast like usual, though. He was going slow and hard, getting deeper and deeper with each thrust. He was hitting places inside you that you didn’t even know existed. The moans that were coming from you were guttural, coming from deep within your throat. Strade’s hands were gripping your hips tight, an ever present reminder that he was using his self control, but that this wasn’t what he normally did.

Strade pushed all the way inside you, but then he didn’t pull out. Instead, he pushed his hips up more, and yours down, staying deep and only fucking into you even deeper. The pressure and the hard thrusts were convincing you that your insides were going to be bruised forever, another way that Strade was going to leave his mark on you.

Strade’s face was still buried in your neck, his spit falling onto your skin. You felt him swallow as he moved his hands from your hips. He wrapped them around you and laced them together behind your back, pressing you against him, holding you to him. You raised up, pushing at his shoulder to get him to do the same.

He raised his head up and looked at you. His eyes were heavy lidded, his cheeks were bright red, his hair was a mess over his forehead, his lips were wet with spit. He looked… so… cute. So human. He looked like he was really, really enjoying this and for once you were really, really enjoying it, too. You two were so close, you two were… You two were made for each other.

You pressed your forehead against his, smiling. A moment later, you moved, pushing your lips against his. You kissed him, and he kissed you back. You felt his arm tightened around your back, pushing your face into his more. The kiss was deep, Strade’s dick, your entire body was on fire with passion and it was all too much. It was only a few more thrusts, only a few more pumps and you felt yourself come undone. You gasped into the kiss. Strade smiled and then let out his own series of groans as you felt him cum, deep inside you.

Your body dropped when both of you had rode out your orgasms. You slacked against him, your body not even able to move anymore. Strade was still, too, but he kept his arms wrapped around you. He was breathing heavily, and a small laugh left his lips.

“Hey,” he panted. He felt his fingers tap your back.

You couldn’t say anything back, though. You were tired before, but you were definitely on the brink of sleep now. You could barely even keep your eyes open.

“Are you asleep?” he asked, his voice lowering slightly.

When you didn’t answer, he let out another small laugh. He snuggled slightly, and then a few minutes later you felt your body raise up. He pulled out, and then more shuffling. Then you were raising up again, but this time Strade was, too. He carried you through the house and into your bedroom. He lowered you onto the bed. You squished your body into the mattress, and then felt a blanket cover you.

“Goodnight,” was the last thing you heard Strade whisper, his lips landing on your forehead, before you fell into a deep sleep.

[luimagines]

Waking Up Next to Him

Masterlist

Set platonically and within the adventure. It’s long so it goes under the cut!

Time

The bright sunlight winked just beyond your eyelids at an blinding angle. Your back was against warm though and was surprisingly comfortable despite the growing ache in your neck. There’s a weight over your shoulder, pinning you in place but doesn’t dig in. A thrown blanket is covering your body and the secret weight, even if half of it has ended up on the forest floor. You’re too tired to think of what the weight can be. All you know is that it’s comfortable and you don’t feel like moving. A heartbeat passes and the solid form on which you lay shifts. 

A groan.

More shifting.

Heat flushes your face slightly as you resign to get up, trying to play the whole cool, once you realize what, or rather who you passed out against.

“Mornin’ Time.”

Your pillow takes a minute to assess the situation.

It’s early, none of the others are up yet. Too tired from the journey the day prior, but the resident chef wakes up the earliest to cook breakfast on time. He’s asleep now but won’t be for long. You thank the stars and your luck that you woke up before him. No pictures for him to take this time.

Time grins, seemingly unbothered by the events and sighs good naturedly. “Good morning.”

Twilight

It was a cold night. They told you it would be. Both your traveling companions and the breeze as you settled with the day’s end.

But you couldn’t have guessed how cold it turned out to be.

Sleep didn’t come easy. Discomfort and shivers kept you awake. Your blankets were warm but not warm enough. At some point, in the middle of the night, you gain the warmth your tired brain was waiting for before drifting off to sleep. 

When you wake, you can’t breath.

Hairs tickle your mouth and nose and there’s a large and heavy being on top of you. At first you think it’s Wind because the shape is much to large to be four but smaller than some of your other companions.

Further analysis and you realize that it’s not hair but fur, that’s threating to enter your lungs and the color of the material seems awfully familiar.

“...Wolfie, I love you but you’re killing me. Get off.” You weakly push the beast away, not coherent enough to move your limbs and piece together how to be a functioning human yet.

The creatures blinks up at you, having just woken up as well and notices your open eyes. A yawn and crushed ribbed where he stepped to get off later and your freedom has been duel earned.

You take a breath of relief and grin, only now noticing the cold with the rising sun to be a little more barrable than the previous night.

“Thanks buddy, you’re a walking heater. I probably would have been a popsicle if it hadn’t been for you.” He nods in acknowledgment and swiftly turns away before you can reach behind his ears to thank him properly.

You look up and see Wild and Time already awake, not talking. Warrior looks to just have woken like you today. Not unusual but welcoming nonetheless. Wind and Sky probably won’t wake up for another hour or two and Hyrule and Four always wake up a little after them. No one knows for sure when Legend will get up because its never consistent and Twilight seems to be missing as well.

The ranch hand emerges from the tree line seconds after you realize he was gone to begin with. He smiles at you and waves in greeting.

You wave back and try to dust the wolf hairs off of your clothes.

You missed Twilight’s subtle smirk.

Warrior

It was a hard fight and not a safe place to stay put but the dungeon left you with little option. Separated from the group and low on provisions and healing items, you and Warrior realize that your both running low on fumes. Taking refuge in a secluded corner, hopefully far away from any potential monsters and threats, you rest.

Waking up is hell.

Sleeping back to back was probably not the best idea but neither of you wanted to risk an ambush. Shifts were supposed to be taken but given that you both fell asleep says something about your energy levels and the previous fights.

Your neck hurts, your legs are sore, your butt and hips are not thanking you for the treatment and everything ache will familiar but expected battle wounds. None major but each one takes its toll.

“You up?” Warrior stands up as if he wasn’t bleeding from the shoulder yesterday and he also didn’t sleep sitting for who knows how many hours.

“I am clearly sitting Captain.” You mutter. “I am not up. I refuse to be up.”

“You know as well as I do that we have to get to the others. What if they need help?”

“I’d argue we need the help. Everything hurts. We have no fairies and there’s more dungeon ahead of us with obviously more enemies and traps and puzzles...” The puzzles... were the worst. “Just five more minutes....Please?”

Warrior says your name in a way a tired mother tries to get her stubborn child to listen to reason. His face twists at the idea and when he attempts to look over his shoulder to check your surroundings, it instead contorts in a pained grimace.

So his shoulder pain was still there after all.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

Sky

As expected, Sky goes down for the count within the first few minutes of the mandated lunch break. Unfortunately after a rumble or two and strange smoke coming from the distance that decidedly wasn’t there when you first arrived, the group decided to investigate.

Legend goes to shake Sky’s shoulder in an attempt to wake him but it’s all in vain.

Sticks are drawn after a long and loud argument about what to do and yours in the shortest.

Everyone else goes to check out the commotion and you are stuck with babysitting duty. It’s not bad all things considered- he’s asleep- no actual babysitting happening. But part of you can help but grumble about missing the action so you sit non too gently next to him and decidedly not pout.

Your stomach is full and the sun light begins to feel heavy and warm and nice.

Your eyes close before you can fight it.

Some time later, you’re shaken awake. Adrenaline fills your system instantly but upon seeing the laughing face of Sky himself, you remember yourself and only marginally resist the urge punch him.

“Feel better?” You ask instead.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He chuckles and points to his chin.

You wipe across the area and your hands comes back wet, cold and covered in drool. 

“You saw nothing.”

“Oh sure, but Wind did.”

Great.

Now it’s on his pictobox. That’s blackmail material in his favor, you suppose and refuse to acknowledge it further.

Wild

When you wake up, it’s still dark. Not even close to sunrise.

The fire burns bright and warm throughout the area but it’s not the fire that’s keeping you warm.

You also find out you can’t move.

You crane your head slightly to find long hair draped over your shoulder and a familiar scarred ear belonging to the resident champion.

He wrapped around you completely, hugging you tightly and pining you down with a leg to boot. 

You attempt to shimmy out but his grip tightens instead.

You sighed and watch as Twilight comes into view. He crouches closer and squats on Wild’s side, whispering to you. “Do you need help getting out? I can wake him to take over Hyrule’s shift for the night.”

You take a minute to rethink about your position. It’s not painful. The opposite actually. It feel nice. You’ve seen Wild cling to who ever he can get his hands on when he sleeps so you’re not surprise. 

You don’t need to pee or leave anytime soon anyway.

“No, I think I’m good actually.” You reply, whispering as well. “Let him sleep, it’s been a day for everyone.”

Twilight nods and leaves, but not without looking back once or twice in case you changed your mind.

You shimmy back in place and allow yourself to be held by your friend. 

Sleep comes easier this time.

Hyrule

Gentle fingers card through your hair. Warmth, magic and the unusual feeling of safety plague your mind. Confusion hits you but the alarm that typically follows never comes.

“Oh thank goodness, you’re awake.” A voice fills your ears. It’s muffled and must have been quiet to begin with because you can’t make out who said it yet. 

Organizing your thoughts feels like traveling through knee high mud.

Your eyes blink open and the light comes through.

The Traveler is leaning over you, thankfully blocking out most of the sun from immediately assaulting you. 

“Hyrule?”

“You had us worried for a minute.” He visually sags with relief, a tired smile on his face and leans back. “You took quite a hit.”

Your head feels swollen but as Hyrule continues to push your hair back it dissipates as time passes. Your thoughts clear and with his help, you sit up.

A hand places itself by your temple. It takes a half second before you realize it’s yours.

It comes back covered in dried blood.

Sky runs over after tending to Four with what looks like a bloodied wet cloth. He sits down slowly and begins to clean your head in a familiar fashion.

“Thank you. Both of you.” You tired voice comes through and a worn out smile follows soon after.

“Anytime.”

Wind

It’s nice day. 

According to some people.

Dark clouds cover the sky, the sun nowhere to be seen. It pours cats and dogs and the only cover for miles is a lone cave where your group currently takes up residence. Everyone’s wet and your clothes feel heavy and cold. No one is happy. 

Wild, Twilight and Legend dive deeper, intending to check out if any monsters reside in the cave.

Hyrule insisted on traveling with them but Warrior’s concussion and Time’s bleeding leg call for further attention and Legend claims to have more magic restorative potions than healing potions.

He stays behind.

Four and Sky take over the food while he’s distracted, trying to make a half decent meal before he intervenes.

Wind is groaning, sore and bored but otherwise unharmed.

You don’t make any comments at your own pain, biting your tongue and taking a deep breath. As you lean against the stone wall, Wind stomps up next to you and sits down with purpose.

“I could’ve gone with them.” He slams his fist into his cheek with his elbow on his knee.

“But you didn’t. It’s not so bad.” You said.

“They didn’t want me to go.”

“You’ll live.”

“I’m just as good as them you know.”

“I know and you make a better pillow.” You says, throwing yourself sideways with your head landing on his lap. He squawks indignantly and attempts to push you off but you hold on. “Sorry, you make the best pillow.”

“NOOOO!”

“YEEEESSS!”

“Nooooo.” Wind keeps his hands on your back but you’ve misjudged your exhaustion. You’re out in seconds.

A moment passes.

“Hey, hey, hey.... wake up. You have to eat.” A small hand shakes your shoulder.

“Hm?” You blinked tiredly. There’s a bowl if front of your face and you don’t hesitate to grab it. “Thanks.”

“You’re heavy.” A voice calls from behind. The owner lets you take the bowl and begins to gently push you off into a sitting position. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“It was supposed to be a joke but thanks for letting me sleep.” You admit and smile at the pirate. 

“You trapped me.” He pokes your side, trying to look annoyed but falling flat. There’s a joke in there somewhere. You’re missing something.

The others have come back while you were out of it, all either have hidden smiles or failing to hide their shaking shoulders and snickers.

Curious and a little self conscious you looks into the provided meal, your reflection greeting you as always.

A lightbulb goes off over your head.

“DID YOU DRAW ON MY FACE?!”

Four

There’s a force dragging you down but there’s two arms under you.

It’s very concerning for a moment but then....the size of them catches up to you.

Your head snaps up and comes face to face with a very surprised Four.

“Hello.”

“...Hi.”

“Lovely weather we’re having, don’t you think?””

“You’re leading with that?” Four snorts and continues walking, unbothered by your weight in his arms.

“How...?” You trail off trying to find the right words to explain what happening to you. You don’t feel any pain and nothing feels injured....but the lack of memories is a little concerning.

“How am I holding you?” Four smirks as he guesses incorrectly. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“I was going to ask how did I fall unconscious. I don’t remember anything. I’m more surprised by that than the fact that you’re holding me despite being half my size.” You blinked and try to keeping searching through your memory.

Nothing comes up.

“Wizrobe.” Four answers causally with a shrug. “It caused some chaos, fought another wizrobe and you got caught in the cross fire between the two of them before we could intervene. Their attacks canceled each other out well enough that you weren’t actually injured but uhh..... Well I suppose you’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

“Four.” You glare in warning.

“Maybe don’t look at your reflection for a while. Legend, Twilight and Hyrule all agree that it’ll fade with time but...”

“What are you talking about? What happened to me?” You sit up a little in his grip, Your arm reach over his shoulders and something wrong catches your eyes.

Your skin is green.

Your shocked silence stills your entire body. Four winces once he follows your eye line and stops to place you on your own feet.

“It could be worse?”

You stare a little while longer and look back to Four with hopeful eyes. “Think you can knock me out again?

He’s not amused.

Legend

You blissfully wake up for the first time in a week. 

It’s been an easy week in terms of travel and attacks so the boys take it upon themselves to cause trouble and it hasn’t been merciful to your sleep schedule.

They are the very incarnation of that thing your hometown friend used to say. How did it go again? If there’s no trouble then I’ll create it? Something along those lines.

But this is different and you don’t plan on wasting it.

You close your eyes and attempt to go back to sleep while you can but hushed voices reached your ears, keeping you awake before you can tune them out.

“Should we wake them?”

“You know how Legend is. He can be as bad as Sky and he had a rough night to boot.”

“But he’s right on top of them and they promised to show me how to fight in hand to hand combat.”

“You have all day for that and they didn’t say it was going to be today.”

“But I‘m excited! I want to start as soon as possible.”

“Will you idiots keep it down?” A voice by your shoulder speaks up. It lacks the usual snark it posses but the intention for venom is there. “Some people took double shifts last night. Shut up.”

You breath a small sigh of relief as the voices abruptly cut off and don’t return for a long minute.

The body next to you stills.

Three heartbeats pass and the unnoticed weight gets off of you.

You pretend to be asleep still, not wanting him to push you away so early in your relationship. He’s just started to get used to you.

You’re determined to be his friend before everything ends.

He’s determined to avoid that.

It’s been a battle of wills.

An unstoppable force meets an unmovable object.

But this could tip the scales in his favor if you fail to play it off correctly.

“No one say anything.” Legend hisses. “Not. One. Word.”

You make the mistake of stretching. 

“You’re up! You’re up! You’re up!” Wind practically pounces on you, knocking his name sake out of your lungs and demolishing any chances for a peaceful morning. “We can start now!”

“Can I eat first at least?” You groan out, not bothering to fight him off.

“Wind. Off.” Time calls out and the boy follows the command without question. He quickly kneels by your side though, practically vibrating on the spot.

You sit up and look around.

Looks like you were the last one up.

“Morning everybody.” You smile. You glance at Legend who unluckily has the tips of his ears tinted red. His arms are crossed and he’s avoiding looking at you, even greeting you as the rest of the group return your call.

You smirk. “Good morning Legend. Did you sleep well?”

He huffs and turns away completely, taking a few steps to leave.

You get to your feet, shadowed by Wind and head to take your share of the food from Wild.

A beat passes without any words exchanged and you tilted your head innocently at the Veteran. You refuse to let it be awkward between you so you pretend you know nothing.

The blush travels down his ears to his face and neck. “I did. Thanks for asking.”

[irrelevantwriter]

House Call

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, reader being scared and horny, Rio’s BDE (y'all know what's up)

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Part 1. Rio shows up unannounced to talk business. Among other things. 

A/N: It’s here...it’s happening. It took me a whole 2.5 seconds to become obsessed with Rio once I started watching GG. Ya’ll know how I roll. Anyway, this is me just dipping my toe into the water. I didn't get too deep with a plot (spoiler alert: there isn't any). It’s essentially just reader-insert into the show’s current plot, but with some smut thrown in. For fun. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Added a Part 2! Read it here.

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

“You okay?”

The sound of your friend’s concerned voice filled the line, pulling you back to the moment and the conversation you’d been engaged in before you’d burnt yourself in the spray of hot water.

“Yeah, just washing dishes.” You explained, cradling your cell between your shoulder and cheek as you maneuvered dirty dishes under the spout of water.

“So the meeting with the principal? How’d it go?” Rachel asked, getting you back on track.

You sighed, beginning to scrub at a stubborn coffee stain left behind on one of your favorite mugs.

“Fine. The kids are still having a hard time with the divorce so it’s…” You paused, unsure of how to describe the child-like brooding your son and daughter had taken to participating in since you’d separated from their father.

“Tense? Difficult? Weird?” Rachel listed off helpfully.

“All of the above.” You deadpanned, still scrubbing.

“You take the rest of the day off?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta figure out what I’m going to do with these kids. Paul said he’d come over later to talk it over.”

“How incredibly thoughtful of him.” Rachel replied, sarcasm and disdain dripping from her words.

“Well, it’s a start. And as much as I’d like to tell him to fuck off, I can’t. He’s still their dad.” You explained for the hundredth time, feeling the stress of your situation with your ex starting to creep into your body. Your shoulders felt stiff and your head began to throb with a dull ache. It was a familiar reaction these days. One you loathed.

You opened your mouth to steer the conversation elsewhere when the doorbell rang, chiming throughout the empty expanse of your home.

“Paul?” Rachel asked, obviously hearing the alert of someone’s company over the phone.

“I guess. Look, I’ll call you later.” You said with another sigh, this one more tired than annoyed. You gave up on the stained mug and moved onto drying it, shutting the water off as you did.

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” You ended the call, aware that you were short with her, but unable to feel sorry for it. You had plenty of other things to worry about, none of which involved your shitty ex or his new girlfriend.

You placed your cell on the counter and turned to make your way to the entryway, mug still clutched in your hand. The ceramic cup dropped to the floor and shattered into pieces when you saw who was already in your kitchen. You gasped, clutching your chest and yelping at the familiar man in black, the dark ink splattered across his throat the first thing you noticed. Your heart leapt, your body going rigid at the unexpected visit. Pop-ups like this were never a good sign.

“I let myself in.” Rio supplied, voice low and thick with authority and charm. He wore a smirk, lips upturned at your surprised reaction. He always seemed amused by you. That fact only served to unsettle you further.

“What’re you doing here?” You managed to say between shaky breaths, fear making your own voice quiver.

“Just checking in, mama. Can’t I do that?” He challenged with his arms spread wide, daring you to say otherwise.

You didn’t.

You went to move around the large kitchen island but the shards of broken mug prevented you from getting far on bare feet. Rio took notice and strode towards you, all clean lines and hooded eyes. He had a swagger about him that radiated. It sent a clear message about the kind of man he was. Confident. Skilled. Smart. There was an ease in his movements, but a beast lay in wait inside, ready to strike when the need arose.

His piercing gaze took in your dress, uncaring of being discreet or polite. He appraised you from the tips of your painted toes to the top of your head. It was as unnerving as it was thrilling. He crowded your space. He always did. While the scent of him filled your nostrils. Something spicy, but pleasing. It sat in your nose, and you knew from previous experience that you’d smell it for hours after.

You swallowed, wanting to avoid his close proximity. You hastily bent down to gather what you could of the jagged pieces, moving around his sneaker-clad feet that stood before you. You tried to ignore his presence, tried to appear calm and composed. It was an uphill battle. The man always knew how to throw you off. He knew how to keep people on their toes. It was yet another facet of him that you both coveted and despised.

You hissed, feeling the edge of one of the shards dig into the tip of your finger. You stood and sucked the tip into your mouth, trying to clear the area of the blood that had started to surface. His eyes were on you, watching you with interest and a certain level of lust that you didn’t allow yourself to explore. You stiffened when he reached for your wrist and pulled your finger away from your lips. He inspected the cut, his flesh warm and soft against yours. It was a side of him that eclipsed the man you’d come to know over the last several months.

“It’s not bad. I’ll be fine.” You whispered, attempting to pull your hand free of his. It was futile.

“Band aid?”

“Uh...yeah. In that drawer. Next to the stove.” You pointed in the direction of the drawer, holding your breath as he retrieved the item. This time, you watched him. Watched as he unwrapped the bandage and tended to your finger with all the care of a parent with their child. He held the appendage steady as he got ready to wrap it, but he stopped himself. He locked eyes with you instead, making you shiver.

“I make you nervous.”

It was a statement. A very true statement. And yet you found yourself shaking your head; ironic because your voice felt too unsteady to use.

Your heart stopped when he placed a tender kiss to the cut. The air around you crackled with heat and tension. It was unlike any feeling you’d ever been subjected to before. It was danger mixed with primal fascination...attraction. And it called to you like a raft in a sea of treacherous waves.

He ignored your silent response and sealed the band aid over your finger, ensuring the ends were smooth against your skin. He didn’t let go of you.

“Don’t lie to me, okay? Trust is an important thing. And we’ve gotta have it if we wanna keep doing business together.”

His calm demeanor and gentle chastising made you a puddle of obedience. Your need to please wasn’t just born from fear. It was something you’d been unable to come to terms with until now. You saw it for what it truly was. You wanted to please him. In as many ways as he’d let you.

You nodded in response, agreeing to his statement.

“Let’s try it again then, yeah?” He started, eyes roaming your face. “I make you nervous, don’t I?”

“The constant threat of my life makes it difficult for me to be calm.” You said, choosing to still be untruthful. 

You forced yourself not to fidget as his stare scorched your skin. His black eyes roamed across the open expanse of your collarbone and to the modest neckline of your wrap dress. He licked his lips as he focused on the measured breaths of your chest, your breasts rising with each pass.

“That’s not the only reason.” He retorted with a shake of his head. He leaned in close, noses almost touching as he spoke. “Don’t move.”

You said nothing as he bent down, continuing your failed task of picking up the broken bits of ceramic. You observed him dutifully gathering each piece, piling them into one large hand. His face looked pensive, as if he was trying to solve an equation in his head. You leaned against the island for support and bit your lip, unwilling to give into the lecherous thoughts that haunted you at night and managed to infiltrate your dreams.

“Nice dress.”

His compliment made you pause, looking down to meet that familiar smirk. He’d set what was left of the mug onto the counter, the floor relatively clear of large fragments. His fingers now played with the hem of said dress, the flowy material dancing in the air and away from your body.

“Thanks.”

Your voice was small. The apprehension so clear that you could both taste it. He found it funny. You found it humiliating.

He slowly straightened, taking the fabric with him as he gathered it to just above your knees.

“Color looks good on you.”

Again, the juvenile warmth of his praise sent you reeling further into anxiety’s waiting arms. Inwardly, you were responding to every lick of his lips and quirk of his eyebrow. Your thighs shifted restlessly against each other, waiting for that satiation that you hadn’t felt in forever. Outwardly though, you remained as skittish as a wild horse. You were as much on the edge of pleasure as you were on retreating.

“Thanks.” You said with a pleasant smile, wanting to conceal the yearning that bubbled just under the surface. You smoothed out the hunter-green fabric that rested against your abdomen, hoping to urge his hands away from you and the dress.

No such luck.

Instead, he ran his fingers up your skirt and along the outside of your thighs and hips, almost meeting the edge of your lace panties. Your traitorous body showed its hand, your nipples hardening in eagerness. Rio’s gaze predictably caught the action. And his face showed his approval.

“How long you been divorced?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion at his sudden curiosity. But the switch in topic had you alert again and somewhat clear of the fog he was so insistent on throwing you into.

“Why? What does that have to do with anything?” You questioned, stepping back from his body.

His hands fell away from you finally, but they didn’t stay idle for long. They skimmed over your hips, pressing your backside into the edge of the kitchen island.

“Answer me, mama.” He demanded, head craning down to meet your eyes. The intensity of his stare made you shift on your feet. He had an amazing poker face. A skill that left you envious.

“Two years.” You dutifully supplied, leaning backwards every inch that he moved in.

“It’s been that long then.” He commented with a nod, a finger tracing along the neckline of your dress, hovering just above your cleavage.

“That long for what?” You asked, taking note of the subtle ways in which his face changed. There was no trace of the teasing, light-hearted flirting that you’d become accustomed to seeing from him. He was serious. Almost as serious as the times he’d threatened your life. His touch was more insistent, telling you what he wanted rather than hinting. His mouth lowered to your ear, his nose brushing against your neck in a far too erotic manner. Your fingers itched to anchor yourself to him. You denied the request.

“Since someone stretched you out.”

A gasp caught in your throat, though you didn’t know if it was more from his words or his touch. He’d managed to slip a hand under your dress, tracing the crotch of your panties with a dexterous finger as he spoke.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You stammered, knuckles tightening against the edge of the counter you were currently gripping.

“I mean…” Rio started, lips brushing against the shell of your ear with each syllable. His finger barely teased your slit, but his voice more than compensated for the lack of physicality. “You haven’t had someone here,” He emphasized the word with a firm press of his finger against the soaked material that hid your clit from view. “In two years. Maybe more.”

You whimpered, biting your lip as he continued to manipulate your body. Your head screamed at you to stop, to pull away. But the sensation of his body pressed so firmly to yours was far too comforting to deny.

“You don’t know that.” You attempted, though the effort was obviously pointless. It was true. Since your separation and subsequent divorce from Paul, you’d barely been on a date, much less had sex. Your body was fiending for it...for him. And he knew it.

He scoffed, finding amusement in your words. He pressed his finger along the same dampened area, seeing your eyes roll into the back of your head. He licked his lips when your hand shot out to grasp at his wrist.

“Yeah, I do.” He affirmed with a nod, finger still teasing over your lace-covered slit. “He stepped out on you, didn’t he?” He continued, his eyes taking stock of the way you responded to his touch.

You had trouble focusing on the conversation he insisted on having while his hand was up your dress and practically in your underwear. You didn’t feel the need to supply an answer anyway. He already had all the information he needed.

“He didn’t deserve you.”

You were jolted back to reality by his words, straightening your spine and pushing his hand from between your legs.

“And what? You do?” You threw back, agitation seeping into your tone. You felt like he was patronizing you. He was always one step ahead. Always aware of the skeletons in your closet before you were.

“Never said that.” He said with a shake of his head, not stepping out of your space. His hands were off your body now, but the stains they’d left on you would remain there. They wouldn’t easily be erased. And you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted them to be.

“Why are you here?” You asked, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

“Business.”

“A simple call or text works for that.”

“Wanted to come in person.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. He wore an expression of smugness, as if he knew something you didn’t, which was often the case.

“What do you want then?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” He retorted swiftly, lips pulled into a thin line.

The seriousness was back, his eyes nearly swallowing you as all humor became sucked from the room. The nerves in your stomach came back full force, the fear aiding them in their efforts. He was challenging you, apparently done with your lying.

“I…”

You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to even begin. He was too intimidating. Just too much.

“I-I can’t.” You finished lamely, shaking your head and looking down at your feet.

He tilted your chin up, his mouth only centimeters from yours as he dared you to move.

“Just say the word.” He rasped against your lips, his free hand cradling your cheek.

You let yourself stare back, taking in his dark lashes and the angles of his face. He confused you on many levels, angered you beyond belief. He made your life a living hell. And yet, you wanted him more than anything. More than the money and the thrill of crime. And somehow he was privy to it all. And he wanted to give it to you.

So you were going to let him.

“Kiss me.” You breathed out, your hands finally coming to rest on his chest.

He needed no further encouragement. His mouth settled over yours in a tangle of lips and tongues. He tasted like mint, his lips much softer than they looked. The scratch of his facial hair only added to the moment as you pressed further into him, asking him to take more.

He did.

His hands were rough, but not unpleasant as they trailed along your body. They had the marks of healed scars. Not to mention the blood of those who chose to cross him. They were everywhere and all at once. Your breasts, your neck, your waist, your ass. He kneaded where he knew you yearned for more and tenderly stroked the areas in between. You struggled to keep up as his hips pushed into yours, his own yearning making its presence known.

“We shouldn’t do this.” You managed to say between heavy breaths, Rio’s mouth attaching to your neck and sucking near your throbbing pulse.

“Why not?” He mumbled into your skin, hands unwilling to slow down.

“Things will get complicated.”

He pulled himself away from the crook of your neck, his thumb running over your kiss-swollen pout.

“Yeah, they will.” He said with a chuckle, that devilish smirk staring back at you.

It was all a blur after that.

Limbs intertwined together as you worked on the buckle of his pants while he pushed your dress up and over your hips this time. He harshly pulled the lace away, the elastic snapping against your thighs as it got caught before making its way to the floor. Your mouths didn’t separate, not even when he lifted you onto the counter. He pulled one side of your dress away, exposing the matching bra you wore underneath. Your pebbled nipples called to him and he responded, massaging the flesh with expert precision. You moaned and writhed like a woman possessed. Like a woman that hadn’t been laid in two years.

“Feels good?”

The roughened gravel of his voice made your walls spasm, the hint of self-assuredness causing a wave of arousal to seep from within you. You could only nod, wordlessly pleading with him to continue on. His touch ventured south to your spread thighs. You widened them, allowing him access to the place you needed him the most. He didn’t disappoint.

His fingers were long and probing as they penetrated your sex, slipping easily in. You gasped at the fullness, the stretch around him making your eyes squeeze shut. He let your body guide him as he rubbed at your clit, his fingers curling against your walls.

“I’m...god...I’m gonna cum.” You confessed, only somewhat embarrassed by the suddenness of your climax.

He worked hard and faster. Your nails dug into his back, your mouth landing on his shoulder as you struggled to not cry out. You bit down when the euphoria of orgasm washed over you, trapping his hand within you. He could feel every tremor he brought forth as you shook in his arms. It felt like it lasted for hours, your body unwilling to let the feeling be a fleeting moment in time.

“You still with me?” He asked, lips pressed to your temple.

You nodded, hissing when he removed his fingers from the confines of your body. You watched, feeling as if you were in a daze. He shifted his pants and boxers down, revealing his length to your ravenous eyes. The hand that had been so deeply embedded in you now wrapped around himself. He was long and hard, as rigid as his hands. You felt like a moth to a flame, hand reaching out to feel if he was real. He was.

You swiped your finger over the tip of him and were overcome with wanton pride at feeling the moisture that sat there. His jaw clenched in a way that you’d only ever seen him do in anger. He didn’t allow you to continue. In an instant he was wedged between your thighs, his body already pushing into your waiting sex. Even with the climax from his fingers, he was a tight fit. You both expelled breaths, his a mumbled curse and yours a throaty moan. You shut your eyes as a new burst of pleasure radiated from your core and traveled up your spine. There was only a brief moment of intimacy as he sat unmoving within you, letting your body adjust to him.

It was short-lived.

“Fuck...” He cursed as he began to fuck you into the counter, hands holding your hips in place.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lavished yours with kisses and bites, each thrust of his hips causing his teeth to graze your skin. The chill of the marble countertop beneath your bare ass cooled your overheated skin. You bit your lip so hard you could taste blood as he filled you over and over, each pass making your walls accept more of him. He was deep and hitting that gloriously elusive spot that sat within your womb. 

He cupped your breasts while you scraped your nails down his back, hearing him growl in response. The sound made you yearn to hear more. So, you did something you’d always wanted to do...you licked the ink on his throat. You decorated his skin with tantalizing kisses, your tongue aiding your actions. He shivered against your lips, the reaction making your walls clench around him. He was, at least for the moment, a slave to your ministrations. And it was a high unlike any drug you’d ever encountered.

It was animalistic fucking at its finest. He hit every nerve, soothed every ache. The union of your bodies was enough to send you sailing off the proverbial cliff, but his touch kept you tethered to solid ground, longing for more. He rocked his hips mercilessly into you, making your back arch at an almost painful angle.

“Right there, huh?” He teased, feeling you squeeze around him in raw desire. “Yeah, that’s the spot.”

You whimpered and tensed when he savagely rubbed your swollen clit, forcing your legs to tighten around him. He laughed, the sound ominous in your ringing ears. You could only hold on as he delivered the sweetest torture you’d ever felt. You spread your thighs wider, trying to get him closer than humanly possible. You opened your neck up to him, letting him have access to your bare flesh. You wanted him all over you and leaving a scorching trail of hunger in his wake.

It was manic. It was frenzied. It was passionate. And it all combined into a seductive elixir that made fireworks burst from within.

“Shit...I’m cumming.” You warned, feeling him double his efforts. Every muscle went taut with blinding pleasure as that coil finally snapped. You felt weightless, and yet the firm body still driving into your depths made you feel sublimely solid. And whole. More whole than you’d felt in the entirety of your marriage.

It was on the tail-end of your climax that Rio found his. His hips stuttered as he grunted and groaned, releasing himself into you and painting your walls. His fingers dug into the flesh of your inner thighs while his face burrowed into your chest and neck. It was as uninhibited as you’d seen him. And you were addicted to the sight. 

You both heaved with shallow breaths, the exertion of each of your climaxes literally taking the air from your lungs. The room smelled of sex and instant regret as you straightened in Rio’s arms. He separated from your body, eyeing you as he redressed. You shifted your dress back together to cover your bra, the mess between your thighs preventing you from closing them completely. 

Before you could say anything, Rio reached up and cradled your cheek. He played with your bottom lip, his thumb once again finding the appendage. His eyes took in every part of you, as if he hadn’t fucked you senseless seconds before. He licked his lips in that dangerous way that let you know his thoughts were on more than just money.

“Business is good?” He asked, warm palm still pressed to your cheek.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Cool, cool.” He nonchalantly replied, hand leaving your face as he stepped back from your debauched body. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You said with a nod, pushing your dress further down over your thighs, a lame effort to protect any modesty you might’ve still possessed. He smirked at the action.

“Might wanna clean up the mess.” He said with a cheeky upturn of his lips, hands gesturing to the remaining fragments of ceramic that still littered the floor but eyes locked solely to the spot between your legs. The place he knew he’d left a part of himself.

You bit your lip and nervously played with the hem of your dress, feeling his eyes bore into you. Despite still being fully dressed, you felt naked to him. Bare. Exposed. Vulnerable. You hated it.

He retreated, facing you as he walked backwards towards the front door. You watched him from over your shoulder, still unsure of what to make of the whole situation. 

“And lock your door from now on. All kinds of madmen running around these streets.” He quipped, eyes lighting up at his own joke.

He was gone as fast as he’d arrived, causing havoc and then leaving without a second thought. The door closed with a crisp click at his exit, the house now feeling bare without his foreboding presence.

You didn’t move from your spot. You remained on the counter, Rio still leaking from your walls and your dress still disheveled despite your best efforts. Your mind raced with thoughts, each one riddled with panic. His unexpected visit left you with more questions than answers, all of which were tinged with fear. What did this development mean for you? Did it actually mean anything? Or was he simply taking what was so obviously laid out in front of him?

Did it matter?

No. It didn’t.

Because although he may have indulged your craving, your appetite was far from being fulfilled.

[onecanonlife]

Ranboo plants Tommy flowers. Somewhere, somehow, Tommy receives them.

(word count: 1,261)

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

“So, it works like this,” Wilbur tells him. “Things that people in the living world give you as offerings show up here. We don’t quite know why, but then, we don’t know why we’re stuck here, either, so—” He shrugs, as if to say, There you have it.

Tommy frowns, looking away, eyes drifting across the white expanse, seemingly endless in all directions. Blank, empty of life, devoid of sound except for that which they make.

“It’s why Schlatt’s got his grave here,” Wilbur continues. “It’s the only real landmark we’ve got. People must leave him booze sometimes, I guess. I don’t know how he’d get it otherwise.”

“Do you get anything?” he asks.

Wilbur smiles at him, bitter around the edges. Shrugs again, as if to say, What do you think?

Wilbur’s not here all the time. Neither is Schlatt. Mexican Dream shows up even less than either of them. But the afterlife, or this holding place, whatever it is, never stays the same for long. He can walk for days and not run into a single soul, and sometimes he’ll take a step to the left and be surrounded by people, all of them fuzzy and indistinct and walking onward into some inexorable distance, none of them acknowledging his presence even when he yells. And he does yell. If he has one thing left to him, it is his voice, loud and strident and lonely.

Sometimes, he’ll find his way to Schlatt’s grave. Schlatt is always there. They don’t talk much. It’s hard, sometimes, to stay angry. There is nothing to do here except to be angry, and that gets tiring. The dead don’t sleep.

He changes too, just like the space around them. Sometimes, he is himself. Sometimes, he is a child again, truly a child and not the teenage soldier he grew up to be, wielding weapons he never grew into, old before he should have been. Sometimes, he is himself, but when he touches his face, his fingertips come away bloody. He doesn’t like to remember why, but he can never stop himself.

If he’s being honest, he’s not expecting to get much of anything. A grave, hopefully. Maybe a few small things. He likes to think that some people will miss him. But not most people, he thinks, because most people found him annoying, or disregarded him entirely, or loved him once but now do not. Tubbo will grieve for him, he’s sure. But that might be all.

Then, he steps forward, and he is surrounded by flowers. Red and white. Daisies, calla lilies, poppies, roses. There is a veritable field of them, and he can smell them, too, their scent sweet and pure in a place that never smells of anything at all. He walks among them, trailing his fingers along the petals, brushing them against their stems. He tries to pick one, but it won’t budge from the ground.

But they are for him. He knows in his heart that they are for him.

“Don’t they know that you don’t like flowers?” Wilbur asks, the next time he sees him. His words are mocking, but his face, as he bends down to inspect them, is soft.

“Right, yeah,” he says. “Flowers are for sissies.”

“Of course,” Wilbur says.

He doesn’t like flowers. Really, he doesn’t. Doesn’t see the point in collecting them, in using a fine summer’s day with his friends, picking them one by one. Doesn’t see the point in keeping them, either, not when they’re not useful for anything, even when they’re a gift, given to him by someone important, given to him as a symbol of something greater. He doesn’t like flowers, and that’s the story he’s sticking to.

He doesn’t know why. It’s not like it matters, anymore. He can like flowers all he wants, and no one will ever know.

He likes these flowers, at least. And the others seem to get that, because they don’t make fun of him for it. Wilbur pretends to, but pretending is pretending. Schlatt rolls his eyes, but leaves him alone. Mexican Dream compliments him on the garden he’s got going on.

He looks around. Every time he looks, there are more of them. It really is a garden, though instead of soil, there is only blinding white ground, impenetrable.

He doesn’t love them for themselves. Not really, though they do look nice. It’s the fact that someone is planting them, and thinking about him. Missing him. It’s probably Tubbo. This seems like the sort of thing that he would do.

The statues are a surprise, when they start popping up. They’re funny as hell, really, and also a bit weird. He appreciates the thought. But in the end, he likes these flowers the best. He can lie down and close his eyes breathe in deeply and pretend that he’s laying on top of his hill, the sun in his eyes and Tubbo coming down the way, his hotel rising to the sky just a bit down the path, and the world is good and the world is at peace and there is nothing to worry about, and all is well that ends well, and he can finally, finally live.

He does this, and then he sits up and lets the illusion dissipate. It is never wise to let himself dream for too long. Even if it doesn’t matter anymore. Even if he has more time to dream than he could possibly want.

He sits up and lets the illusion dissipate, and there is a new flower in front of him. This one isn’t planted, is just lying there, and it’s strange because it’s allium, puffy and purple, and it doesn’t match the color scheme of the rest at all. He picks it up gingerly, spinning it in his hands. And then sets it to the side again.

He watches for more allium, from then on. There never is any, though the amount of all the others continues to increase. And he keeps circling back to it in his mind, because it stands out, because it is different, doesn’t quite belong, and he’s not sure why someone would—

Allium.

There was an allium flower, wasn’t there? Before everything went wrong? He put it in the chest with all of the rest of the pilfered items, and he always meant to go back for it and all the rest, but that never happened, so for all he knows, it is in there still, lying undisturbed under the blackstone floor.

A single allium. He picks it up again. And there is a whisper in his mind, a whisper that is quiet and familiar and a bit choked with grief, and he knows, in that moment, that Tubbo isn’t planting these.

Have a flower, Tommy.

And he doesn’t understand, not really. Doesn’t understand why he would spend so much time on it, planting flowers for a dead boy who will never see them grow. Except, perhaps, for the reason that he is missed, that he misses him, and this is the only thing he can think to do. The only thing he can do.

He brings the allium to his face and breathes in. There is a smile on his face, slight and sad. Quiet. There is no wind here, so he must be imagining the breeze he feels, but he can see it in his mind: his bench, his jukebox, the sunset, and someone sitting by his side. For once, it isn’t Tubbo.

He hopes Ranboo knows that he’s thinking of him too.

[sortasirius]

“Unity” and the Broken Boys

BOY Y’ALL BETTER SIT DOWN BECAUSE THIS IS AS LONG AS CAN BE AND I TOOK OFF WORK TOMORROW SO I’VE GOT TIME

This is....one of the best episodes in the show.  Yeah, in all 325 of them, this is hands down one of the best.

First of all, stan Amara for clear skin.

That silent treatment babey, right out the gate with the Angst.  Tbh Dean deserves it.

“Like I said, killing Amara, Jack dying...that’s the only way.”

“The only way.  Our one shot.  Our Last chance.  You ever get tired of saying stuff like that?”

“We don’t have to like it, alright?  But you and me, we gotta get it done.”

Amara is such a welcome energy in this whole episode.  She’s warm and understanding, whip-smart and probably more powerful than Chuck.  I love her.

Sam is a wonderful, understanding, loving dad.  I love him eternally.  He loves Jack so much, he’s trying so desperately to do what’s right for Jack but also what’s right for the world.  Jack made this choice, but he can’t live with it.  How do you support your child when their life is at stake?

“Come on man.  Blindly following orders, lying to Amara, sending her to her death. Does any of this feel right to you??”

“It doesn’t matter how we feel!  You know what?  Stay.  Stay.  Someone has to be the grown up here.”

“Yeah well someone has to keep fighting for Jack!”

“He knows what he signed up for!”

“Last I checked, we don’t give up on family.”

“Jack’s not family.”

Y’all should have heard the noise I made.  What a fucking line.

“I know how you feel about the kid, I care for him too, I do, but he’s not like you.  He’s not like Cas.  He’s just not.”

“I’m- I’m ready.”

You can see the regret, the heartbreak in Dean’s eyes.  You can see how he wants to take those words back the moment he said them, and for Jack to hear them?  It’s unthinkable.

Sam and Cas I’m just so fucking emo dude.

“Sam, you stayed behind to find another way huh?  I woulda done the same.”

AMARA

First of all, LOVE this structure.

Amara and Chuck have such a fascinating dynamic.  Rob and Emily do a great job (as they have all along) by clearly being siblings but...heightened.  You can just tell they both exude power, and the other is the only one they consider an equal.

“You and Dean had that whole weird...thing.”

“That wasn’t you writing?”

“Ugh, not that part.  Gross.”

What I took away from this is what I’ve suspected all along.  They HAVE free will, just not total free will.  Dean and Amara’s connection wasn’t Chuck, there are parts of the story he didn’t write.  Obviously, this comes into play later. 

I also have a hunch that Chuck doesn’t write romance.  I also think that in particular will come into play.

“Balance.  Something we’ve never tried before.  Creation and destruction, light and dark, brother and sister united again, but on behalf of one world, this world.  True balance.  The way it was always meant to be.  But you can’t.  You only care about your pleasure, your story.  Well, I guess that makes you the villain.”

“Villains get all the best lines.”

We see again and again this season, Chuck is irredeemable.  He doesn’t care about the angels, he doesn’t care about the world, he doesn’t care about anything.  He is a petulant toddler who has broken his toys. And when he realizes he’s trapped, he gets angry, he shouts and screams, completely at odds with Amara’s peace.

“You can’t hold me here forever.”

“I can hold you long enough.”

DEAN

Pain is the name of the game in this section homies.  Because not only are we dealing with Dean’s pain, we’re also dealing with Jack’s.  Jack says he understands why Cas and Sam mean more to Dean, but Dean clearly doesn’t, he, once again, wants to say more, but is stopped, still stopped by his fear: his fear of not beating Chuck.

Alright guys, gals, and non-binary pals.  Let’s talk about Adam and Seraphina.

Adam.  The first man.  And Seraphina.  The angel.

“My old lady.  She’s the only one who could put up with me all these years.”

Yeah okay.  Volume at 100 I get it lmao.

But also: Adam wants God dead not because he and Eve were kicked out of the Garden, but because he went after their sons.  The theme of protecting the children strikes again.

“Killing God is your plan?”

“Yeah, Billie’s been giving us a hand but Sera and me, this is our baby.”

This juxtaposed directly with Dean’s own pain at what he has to do to kill Chuck, to gain his free will: the cost of his child.

Adam’s rib.

And who else might get his ribs hurt, only to be likely healed by an angel?

It’s fine, that’s fine.  I’m fine with that.

“Jack, I don’t know how to explain it but, when I found out about Chuck, it’s like I wasn’t alive.  Not really.  You know like my whole life I’ve never been free, but like really free.  But now?  Now me and Sam, we got a shot at living a life, without all this crap on our backs.  And that’s, that’s because of you.  So, I want to say, I need to say...thank you, Jack.  Thank you.”

I’m gonna have to do a separate post about just Dean in this episode, because there is so fucking much to talk about, but there are a couple of things that I think are important:  Dean realizes how wrong he was, to say what he said.  He knows that it’s not true, this is the way he’s always coped with loss, by pushing the person to be lost away, but for Jack to hear it?  He can’t stand for that.

And:

Dean has finally pushed through the barrier.  He won’t be quiet in the face of his doubts anymore.  This is a breakthrough for him, and, of course, there are more to come.

SAM

Sam and Cas, my chaos duo.

The box, the inscription, the door.

Death’s library, filled with dead reapers.

And there it is.  The Empty.

It tells Sam the plan, the plan for Billie to take God’s place.  For everything to go back to the way it’s “supposed to be.”

This has always been the game, since season 13.  This is the longest of long games.

Sam fuckin Winchester, lying his way out of a confrontation with the Empty like the legend that he is.

He comes back with a new purpose: to stop Billie’s plan, and here’s where we get to the heart of the episode and maybe the heart of the season.

“You hear that?  Dean, brought to the edge of doubt.  His sense of duty, his rage winning out in the end.  And poor Sam, always gotta know everything.  Can’t leave well enough alone.  This is my ending, my real ending.”

The gun comes out, pointed at Sam.

Hmm...what did I say during 15x05?  Oh yeah, this.

And:

Dean would never survive killing Sam, but he’s willing to do anything, anything to earn his freedom.  His ending, where one brother kills the other and then kill himself.

Why, you might ask, did Sam not mention that the angels would be sent back to Heaven, why does he not mention Cas?  I’ll tell you why, or rather, Becky will.

Plus, Dean looks back at Cas IMMEDIATELY when Sam says that, when he mentions Eileen, and THAT’S the first time he hesitates.  He can’t lose Cas.  But at the same time, he’s willing to do anything to have his freedom.

“Sam we don’t have a choice, Jack’s about to blow!”

“We always have a choice!”

You know me, just sitting here thinking about choice, the ability to choose, and how that translates to their free will.

And Sam...I don’t think there will ever be characters I love as much as these.

“I don’t care if Billie gets what she wants!  I don’t man, I’d trade it all, I’d trade em all for Chuck.  In a heartbeat!”

“What about me?”

“You’d trade me?”

“Chuck has to die.  He has to!  Otherwise he’ll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can’t live like that man, I can’t live like that, I won’t!”

“I know you feel like that right now, okay? I know you do, but you gotta trust me.  My entire life, you’ve protected me.  From Dad, from Lucifer, from everything.  I didn’t always like it, you know?  But it’s the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on.  It’s the only thing I’ve ever known that was true.  So please, put the gun away.  Just put it away.  We’ll figure it out, Dean, we’ll find another way, you and me.  We always do.”

Okay I feel like this is going to be one of those scenes that I cry watching for years to come.  Because fuck.  After fifteen years they finally admit that not only did Dean protect Sam from Lucifer, but he protected him from John.  John.  On a par with Lucifer.

Dean and Sam have, for so many years, sacrificed themselves for the other.  Dean’s demon deal, Sam and the trials, every season they have fought to see who can die the quickest for the other.  But this?  This is them fighting to stop the violence, to stop from killing the big bad.  This is them growing, in our eyes, in real time.  Sam has always been able to get through to Dean when no one else had a prayer, but for Dean to listen, for Dean to take his words to heart, to stop the hunt for Sam, for their family, that’s how you know they do have free will.

(Btw Chuck’s eye effect when he dusted Amara was sick as fuck but I’m emo for my boys so.)

Chuck knows it’s a loss, he knows that his story has, once again, been thwarted by the boys making their own choices.  And he’s pissed, but in his anger, we get a bomb dropped on us.

“Spare me your contempt Castiel, the self-hating angel of Thursday.  You know what every other version of you did after “gripping him tight and raising him from perdition”?  They did what they were told.  But not you.  Not the one off the line with a crack in his chassis.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

Also, just worth bringing up this one as well:

Every Castiel pulled Dean out of Hell.  Every one told him the same thing.  And yet, immediately, with this Cas and this Dean, something was different.  Because what has everyone seen about Cas, from the moment he met Dean?

And there’s our endgame people.  Laid out on the line.

But we ain’t done yet, fam.

We’ve talked about the handprint, but you know:

So there you have it, our prep into the “monumental” 15x18.  I have spec on that, of course, but I think a novel is long enough for this.

What to take away: Dean’s rage was always Chuck’s plan, they do have free will, their love for each other, for their family, is what will stop Chuck’s control, Death is about to come back with a vengeance, Cas’ deal is at play, and, most importantly, Castiel and Dean Winchester are a blind spot for Chuck, something he has never, not once, controlled.

[fruitcoops]

Hi, Eve

Rose here from yesterday, thank you very much for the Birthday message, I wasn't expecting you to read it let alone reply but I was looking for Coops kids Birthday fluff specifically. It doesn't matter if you don't have time however as I don't want to be a bother.

Hello Rose, and happy (belated) 20th birthday! Sorry for the wait--I really wanted to get this one right to celebrate such an important number. I hope your day was absolutely fantastic! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Stella is an OC

Combined with asks for Sirius lightly making fun of Remus' accent and Remus yelling at a game show (@nazar4114)

“Medusa!” Stella shouted with all the force in her thirteen-year-old lungs. Remus leaned forward on the couch. “Medusa!”

The front door opened with a creak. “I’m h—”

“Yes!” they cheered in unison as Nicole answered correctly. Remus turned and gave Stella a double high-five, feeling his heart squeeze at the vivid joy on her round face. “Good guess.”

“I knew she was gonna get it,” Stella said with a pump of her fist as she turned back to the show and folded her legs underneath her.

“Gonna,” a familiar deep voice mimicked from the doorway. Paper bags rustled before footsteps stopped behind the couch; Remus tilted his chin up without sparing a glance, and Sirius pressed a laugh-laced kiss to his cheek before dropping one on Stella’s head as well. “You sound too much like your dad.”

“Love you, too,” Remus said wryly.

“I’ll take ‘Myths and Moths’ for 400, please.” Nicole’s voice snapped his attention back to the screen, and Stella narrowed her eyes.

“Daily Double!” the automated voice announced. Stella gasped; Remus bit his lower lip. “This mythical shield was wielded by Athena, and is sometimes said to be made of goat skin.”

“Aegis,” Stella whispered, then raised her voice. “It’s the Aegis, Nicole. You know this.”

“We know you do,” Remus said, scooting forward. “You just guessed whose head is on it.”

Nicole’s buzzer went off with two seconds to spare. “What is the Aegis?”

“Hell yeah!” Stella whooped.

Remus turned to her and raised his eyebrows. “Excuse you.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you two going to do this the whole afternoon?” Sirius asked from the kitchen, obviously amused. “We might need to get the neighbors some noise-cancelling headphones.”

Stella blew a dark lock of hair out of her eyes as she flopped her head back. “It’s almost final Jeopardy, papa. We have, like, ten minutes.”

Sirius blinked at her, then shook his head. “I swear you two share genes.”

“Ope, you caught me,” Remus said over the noise of the commercial break. “When I was 20 and had literally never left Wisconsin, I went and had a secret kid in Maine who looks terribly like you just so that someone would watch Jeopardy reruns with me thirteen years later. Oops.”

“It’s the truth,” Stella said with great gravity. “I remember.”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered, though he couldn’t keep a smile down. He had never been able to hide around Stella, not once in the three years since they had adopted her. It was one of the things Remus loved most about him. “By the way, nobody under the age of fourteen is allowed in the kitchen for the next…hour. Ish.”

Stella squirmed around until she could rest her arms on the back of the couch. “What if I get thirsty?”

“I’m sure you can invoke birthday privileges and ask your dad to get something for you.”

“Birthday privileges?” Remus scoffed. “Nobody in this house has a birthday today. Yours was last month, and mine’s in March.”

“It’s my birthday,” Stella said.

“What? No, it’s not.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Your birthday is in June.”

“It’s today.”

“Or maybe July?”

“It’s today, in December, when there’s snow,” she insisted, throwing herself back against the pillows. “Come on, dad, that’s not funny anymore.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Is somebody too old to find their poor old dad amusing now? Can you go back to being twelve so somebody will laugh at my jokes again? I know, I know, we're super lame compared to all your friends’ parents—”

“So lame,” Sirius agreed from the kitchen.

“—but I like to think we get one more year of pre-teen cuteness before the teen angst takes over.”

Stella sat up again with a groan. Looking at her, Remus saw a mix of himself and Sirius that had always baffled him, considering they had adopted her comparatively late in her life; beneath it was something uniquely Stella. Maybe it was her double-jointed elbows, or the board-straightness of her hair next to their curls, but there was no mistaking that she was her own person through and through. He loved that about her. “I’m not going to be a terrible teenager.”

Sirius poked his head around the edge of the kitchen—his nose was adorned with a smudge of flour. “Can I record that for future use?”

“Non.”

“Ooo, using the French,” Remus hissed. “That transformation is already beginning.”

“It’s not like you were bad teenagers, right?” She settled upside-down on the couch with her flamingo-patterned socks high in the air.

“I almost convinced Grandma to let me dye my hair blue, but otherwise I was pretty good.”

“I was terrible,” Sirius laughed. “I didn’t talk to anybody for a solid three years.”

Stella frowned. “How? I think I’d die if I did that.”

“He’s stubborn,” Remus stage-whispered.

“I heard that.”

Stella suppressed her laughter as best she could, but she was about as good at hiding her emotions around them as Sirius was. She didn’t really giggle—the amount her voice had deepened over the past three years always gave Remus whiplash—but her laugh had the same cadence as it did the first day they heard it. While Stella had been quiet at first, it only took love and time to bring her out of her shell. Within a year she settled into their lives like she was always meant to be there.

A thoughtful look crossed her face. “This is my last year before high school.”

“Does it feel different?”

“Not really.” She paused, then shrugged. “And a little. I don’t feel older. It just feels like there’s stuff I won’t get to do anymore.”

“And a lot more you will get to do.” Sirius left his dishtowel on the counter before joining them on Stella’s other side. “You can drive soon, you’ll get a longer curfew, you get more freedom…”

“I guess.”

“What are you going to miss?” Remus asked as she toyed with the hem of her shirt. It was a basic Lions FAN jersey; he was fairly sure she bought it to be ironic. That, and she only wore one of theirs if she was upset with the other, or if one needed a boost at a game.

“I dunno.” A few beats of silence passed. “My classmates. My team. It feels like everything’s going to turn upside down.”

“You can still keep in touch with your friends, and I bet your team won’t be too different,” Sirius said quietly. “Even if it does, that doesn’t mean you have to give all of them up. People change in different ways. They come and go on their own time.”

“There’s going to be a lot of upside-downs over the next couple years, kid.” Remus offered her a smile. “But you’re going to be just fine.”

“You two sound like such dads right now.”

“This might shock you, but that’s because we are.”

The corner of her mouth tugged up and she lolled her head to the side to look at Sirius. “Is the cake done?”

“Fifteen more minutes.”

“Will you watch final Jeopardy with us?”

“What’s the category?”

“US Presidents.”

Sirius exhaled through his nose, but nodded. She grinned and turned herself upright to snuggle against his arm. “You just enjoy watching me lose.”

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

“Alright, is everyone ready?” Sirius called from the kitchen.

“On three,” Remus said, raising his phone camera. “One, two, three!”

“Happy birthday to you,” over a dozen voices sang. They were off-tempo and so out of key the composer was probably spinning in his grave, but Stella’s clear joy didn’t waver for a millisecond even as her cheeks reddened. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Stella, happy birthday to you!”

Finn, of course, dragged out the last note. So did Leo, Logan, Kasey, James, Lily, and Talker in varying degrees of awful harmony attempts. It was terrible, and beautiful. “Make a wish,” Sirius said softly as he set the cake down and stepped back. His eyes were the brightest quicksilver Remus had seen in many moons.

Stella closed her eyes, took a breath, and blew as hard as she could—the entire room erupted into cheers when all the candles went out. She was laughing and blushing at the same time when Remus turned the lights back on, though the humor won out in the end and she helped pass plates of cake to her many aunts and uncles. Like every year prior, Regulus managed to smear a bit of frosting on her chin, only to immediately deny it with great offense when she noticed. It was becoming a bit of a tradition—one that Remus never grew tired of.

I know what I would wish for, Remus thought as he looked around the table at their patchwork family. Celeste, Dumo, and his own parents had no doubt spoiled their first grandchild with ‘cusp of adulthood’ gifts, and Natalie and Lily would certainly steal her away after cake for some girl time. Finn and Logan would remain the fun uncles while Leo and Regulus kept their thrones as the cool uncles; Stella would interrogate Jules on the intricacies of high school for at least an hour before they destroyed everyone in a snowball fight. The world they built together had a place for everyone.

I would wish for this. This, for us, forever. It wasn’t a bad eternity to imagine.

[theperfectlovestory]

Even If It's Not

Summary: It’s always been a good day with Natasha, until Wanda found you

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader; Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Theme: Fluff, Angst

Tw: trauma, reaction to trauma, mention of death

. . .

Summary: it’s always been a good day with Natasha, until Wanda found you

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader; Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Theme: Fluff, Angst

Tw: trauma, reaction to trauma, mention of death

. . .

It was one fine day, like all the others for the past year. You woke up early, sunlight warmly casting on your face as it peaked through the opening of the curtain. You can hear birds chirping in the background, making you smile

You blinked the sleep away from your eyes, raising a hand to your mouth to cover the incoming yawn. As you move, a warm arm enveloped you, and you smiled at the sight of her

This side of her only coming out when it’s just the two of you

Your beautiful redhead sleeping soundly in your arm, head tucked comfortably in your neck. An arm and a leg on top of your body, clinging to you like a baby koala

You always can't believe that the famous Natasha Romanoff, feared by friends and foes alike in the battlefield, is one hell of a clingy sleeper

You turn your head gently, glancing at the clock on your bedside table

Time to wake up. No work today but you wanted to get some groceries to fill your stocks

You tried to gently wiggle your way out of Natasha's hold, silently cheering when you got out of bed without waking her up. Natasha's soft giggle prove you otherwise, making you pout

"I'll go back to sleeping then" she huskily said before hugging your pillow and burying her face in your smell, curling herself on the bed

You watched her body relax as she falls deep in slumber once more, smiling softly at how peaceful she seemed to be

"I'm going grocery shopping, want to come?" You asked Natasha in between bites, she looked up at you from the file folder she have

She's still doing reports, doesn't mean your on mission vacation, paperwork will do themselves as well

"I'll be wherever you are, detka" she smiled, sipping on her coffee "just let me finish this one and we can go"

You nodded, collecting the plates in front of you, Natasha pursed her lips, debating on wanting to wash the dishes herself since you cooked or finishing the report fast so you can go

You smiled, kissing her cheeks before taking the dishes on the sink. You hummed softly as you finish it up, Natasha, smiling while she listens. Whenever you are around, her paperwork doesn't feel as much a burden as it usually does

Done with the dishes, you went up to your room and changed into more appropriate clothes. As you put on your shirt, Natasha entered just fast enough to see what color of bra you are wearing underneath

She grin, standing behind you as she held your waist, kissing the side of your neck softly, innocently

Yet her intentions are far from one

"Nat" you warned as she nibble on your ear, she continued, right hand going up inside your shirt, your stomach now in full view of the mirror in front of you "we have to go" you moaned as she suck on the right spot under your ear, whining that you need to leave and she's messing up your hair...

"We can go a bit later" she answered, eyes meeting yours on the mirror "we can't, we have a reservation at that restaurant you like"

She grunted in your neck "I am not liking it very much right now" she muttered and you chuckled. Stepping forward before facing her

You pressed a gentle hand on her cheek "Come on, we rarely go out"

She looked at your eyes for a bit before giving up "fine" she softly answered, taking the hand in your face with hers, just as gently

. . .

"Can you pass me one of those bell peppers" you pointed at the container with 3 pieces of what you need. You smiled when Natasha picked one with just the right mixture of red and green. Small things like this are what you love about her. She only asked once and then remember it forever

"Is there a reason why you choose a combination of both and not just the green or the red?"

You thought for a while, blinking at the question you can barely remember the answer "I've always just done it because my mom does that too but I think it's because it's the most perfect condition to either store it or use it immediately"

Her mouth made an 'o' shape, signaling her understanding of the topic

"Oh detka, strawberries" her eyes sparkled as she put at least three packs of it in your cart, you giggled "isn't that too many?"

She looked at you, disbelief in her face "Do you know how much you devour them?" She asked and you chuckled "They're like your favorite thing in the world, you even prefer them more than my lips" she pouted, your fond smile never left your lips as you pulled her in for a kiss

"Now I know you are exaggerating, there is nothing more I love than your lips" you squint "well maybe except for your eyes"

You continued pushing the cart as her cheeks gets dusted in pink, you added a few more, items from the fridge isle before going on the dry goods

You passed by a small and portable fondue fountain, you eyed it along with the chocolates on the side

"Do you want that?" She asked, looking over your shoulder

"I'm interested," you hummed, "but is it worth it?" you sighed "we won't be able to use it as much when we get back to work"

"We can bring it there then and the boys and Wanda can have their fun, Wanda likes chocolate" at the mention of your bestfriends name, your eyes lit up

Now slightly more convinced

She leaned closer, whispering things you can do with the melted chocolate on the kitchen table. Your face blushed furiously as you hit her in the arm but despite that, you took a box and a bunch of carefully picked chocolate

She chuckled, eyes hooded with the thoughts too dirty to be even thinking about in the middle of the grocery aisle

You then looked around some more. Your list has been fulfilled but you opted to roam around to get some snacks or check new things the store has. Natasha obediently followed. Checking the items too and getting some that interests her

Mostly snacks

After you are satisfied with your purchase, you go to the cashier to pay. You will opt for a self serves but they only allow 20 items below, and your cart is obviously more than 20

The cashier greeted you with a smile, you doing the same. Making small talks to try and make the day easier for the kind worker. Natasha smiled admiringly at how easy you are to have a conversation with

The cashier is all smiles even after you paid and left

"I have always admired the way you do that" she said as she help you put the bag on the trunk of your car

"Do what?" You asked, tilting your head

"Talking to people, making them feel comfortable"

You nodded, humming as you continued with your task "It wasn't always as easy, but it comes with the job"

"I refuse to believe that you weren't always rainbows and sunshine" she argued and you chuckled

"Darling, I'm an introvert, the mere mention of conversation terrifies me" she looked at you dumbfounded for a second and you did the same just with an amuse smile instead

"Guess you learn something new everyday even when you are technically, already married" she muttered, closing the trunk "what else don't I know about you?"

She opened the door for you and you got in, making sure to shake of the bottom of your shoes to remove at least a bit of dust on it, Natasha smiled at the gesture

She closed the door once you are settled and got on hers, doing the same as you did before starting the car, making sure it's heat up properly first before starting to drive

You sat in silence for a few second as you think of things she doesn't know yet "well, I used to date guys" her eyes widen, looking back at you then back on the road

"Really?" She asked "what changed?"

"Nothing" you shrug "I just didn't realize I was into girls, the norm is being straight after all, but the first kiss I had with a guy was nothing compared to my first kiss with a girl"

She hummed, "and when was your first kiss with one?"

The conversation flowed seamlessly in your head, every smile and chuckles and groans she responded you with was embed in your memory

. . .

As per your usual arrangement, you and Natasha arrived at the restaurant at different times. Wanting to keep the surprised of seeing each other dressed up beautifully, knowing full well it’s to please the person who will be sitting in front of the other

You arrived in your newly bought shiny short dress with a lot of skin showing but still very decent. You’ve done your hair perfectly that it frames your face and your make up is a bit fiercer, bolder. You wanted to surprise Natasha, show her a different side than the usual girl-next-door

Her brow lifted up, lips in a side smile of surprise. You look edgier than her tonight and it’s making her feel all kind of things in her stomach

“Of course, I can’t go losing you to competition now” you smirk jokingly

She pulled your chair for you and you sat down, she leaned down and gave you one more kiss, not being able to resist the temptation of your red and plump lips

“Competition?” she chuckled, sitting down “We are married, detka, you already trampled all over them”

“Well, you never know”

The dinner continued with all playful banters, giggles and Natasha’s flirting techniques that you admit, did something to you. Not because of the lines, but because of who and how she’s saying it

 Along the lines, someone approached your table and that stopped you from talking to each other. You looked at the person and was surprised to see Wanda

“Wanda?” You called, standing up slowly as you take in her appearance

She looks tired, defeated, broken

“Y/n” she muttered, looking at you with sad eyes “Where have you been?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, lips into a gentle yet confuse smile as you held her arms “I’m on a break, but you know where we live”

“We?” She asked and you nodded “Yeah, with Natasha…are you okay?” you tilt your head to get a closer look on her face “Y/n…” she said, biting her lips “Natasha’s gone”

Your hand gripped the woman tightly as your mind reeled “Wanda…what are you saying?”

“She..” Wanda’s lower lip trembled, her eyes tight shut before she sighed, meeting you with her tired green eyes “She’s gone…she sacrificed herself for the world…don’t you remember?”

A chuckle left your lips, devoid of any humor. You stepped back, hands crossing on your chest “That’s a cruel joke, Wanda” you took a deep shaky breathe “I was just with her the whole time, she is literally right there” You pointed at Natasha who smiled at you like nothing is happening

Your brows furrowed and you were so focus on Natasha that you didn’t notice Wanda’s hand raised to your temple, eyes red and red wisp of energy flowing at the tip of your fingers

Your eyes widened in horror as the Natasha in front of you, smiling as lovely as you remember, slowly turned to ash, pieces of her flowing in the air. Your shaking hand covered your mouth to stop a scream that will never come, stuck in your chest like a painful rock that wedged itself in your lungs

Wanda moved further in your brain

You were back with Natasha in your dining room, eating breakfast and before she could kiss you, she disappeared again into ashes. The same thing happened to when you are on the grocery, before she can put the strawberries in your cart, her body flew away in the air, and the contents of the package spilling on the floor, strawberries roll on your foot as the scene changes again

This time, it’s Natasha and you sleeping on the bed, her arm and leg draped on your body. She tucked her head closer to your neck, this scene that you’ve been watching for the past year that brings you love and warmth and comfort now gives you dread

And pain

Your breathing has become shaky and erratic as you tried to forget the scenes before this one where she all but disappeared into thin air. As if noticing your discomfort, Natasha opened her eyes and called your name

“Nat” you managed to croaked despite the lump in your throat as tears well in your eyes

 Instead of asking the usual ‘are you okay?’ though, she smiled sadly, her face change to that time that happened a year ago

 Her hair in a braid, face white with worry and fear but she remained brave, determined “You’ll be okay” she whispered, hand caressing your face “You will be okay, my love”

 And then, as if the gods have cursed you to a life of loss and pain and suffering, you again, had to watch her disappear. Ashes taken by the wind, her smile never faded, not then, not now…and the three words you never thought would be the last, echoed in your memory

 You stood in front of Wanda, shoulders shaking from crying. Wanda pulled you close to her as she let you cry, whispering reassurances that she will always be by your side and yet, you can’t say the same

 “Wanda, you need to move on as well” Wanda’s tears started the moment yours stopped, you pulled away from her, but keeping her at an arm’s length “You deserve to be happy”

 Your face looked so peaceful despite what you just did, the scars from the battle scattered across your face and yet, to her, you were beautiful still. She pulled you closer to her, her body trembled before you and she watched, and felt, and embraced the feeling

 She whispered in your ears before your body truly disappears, just like Natasha’s “I thought I’m ready to let you go” she sniffed “But I was wrong”. Red magic surrounded the whole area once again, just like from when she arrived in the house you bought for Natasha and you

 "Even if you didn't choose me in this world too, I would just gladly be beside you. As long as you are here, I wouldn't care."

 And once again, you open your eyes. Natasha comfortably cuddled next to you as your lips turned into a satisfied smile…

 . . .

 A/N: "Even if you didn't choose me (don't love me) in this world too, I would just gladly be beside you. As long as you are here, I wouldn't care." (Credit to my wonderful angsty friend @my-wandering-rabbit for crushing my heart with this wonderful line and the title of this story)