#i don’t really feel the need to keep up in a sense
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do you believe me now? | 4
in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.
part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three
18+ (smut)
warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!)
a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses
(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!
“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”
You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.
“That one is complicated.”
You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.
“You don’t know.”
“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”
“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”
“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”
“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”
Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.
You look at it.
And then you set your phone down.
“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.
Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.
“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”
Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.
“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”
“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”
“Yes, I have.”
It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.
“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”
You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.
He looks good. Almost too good.
“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.
“Something… naked?”
His grin widens and he shakes his head.
“Me naked or you naked?”
Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Mm… why not both?”
“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”
The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.
“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”
He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.
“You sound sure of yourself.”
“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”
He grabs your wrist carefully.
“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”
“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”
He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”
Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.
“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”
“So business as usual?”
He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.
“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”
A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.
Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.
You cover his hand with your own.
“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”
Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.
“What? No!”
“Are you going to cheat on me?”
“Absolutely not, I—”
“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”
“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”
It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.
“Every time?”
“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.
“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”
You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.
“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”
“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”
You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.
“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”
Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.
“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”
You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.
“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”
He kisses your palm.
“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”
“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”
Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”
He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.
“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.
“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”
“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”
Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.
“You want to know what I’d do to you?”
“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.
“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”
As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.
“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”
You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.
“What are you gonna do after that?”
“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”
Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.
“Yes, please.”
He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.
“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”
“Why careful? I don’t want that.”
He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.
“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”
The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.
“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”
It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.
Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—
And then his phone rings.
You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.
He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.
“I’m sorry.”
Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.
“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.
If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.
“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”
He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.
“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.
You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.
“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”
He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.
“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”
You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.
Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.
“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”
“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”
You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.
But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.
Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.
In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.
“Spencer?”
“Hm?”
It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.
“I…”
Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.
He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.
“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.
“I forget.”
FUUUUUUCK.
Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.
He knows.
He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.
Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.
“Well, let me know if you remember.”
It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.
Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.
You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.
But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?
Maybe you have it all wrong.
Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.
You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.
24 hours go by.
24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.
Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.
Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)
Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.
You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.
“Hello?”
Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.
“Shit, did I wake you?”
“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.
“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”
“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”
“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.
“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”
A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.
“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.
“Oh. Is everything okay?”
“As much as it can be.”
“Right.”
More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.
“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”
“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”
“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.
“What? Why?”
“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”
Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.
“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”
Blood rushes to your cheeks.
“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”
Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”
“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.
“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”
When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.
“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”
“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”
You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.
“Guess whose bed.”
Silence.
“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”
“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”
“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”
“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”
Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.
“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”
“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.
“No, not you. You are always the exception.”
“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”
Spencer groans.
“You’re killing me.”
“What? What did I do!”
“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”
“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”
But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.
“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”
“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?” you frown.
“Tell me what this is.”
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.
“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”
Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.
“I don’t know. I miss you.”
He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.
“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”
“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”
“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”
Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…
“I’m not taking anything out on you.”
“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”
Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.
“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.
“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”
“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.
“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”
“I—”
“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”
The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.
“What… what thoughts?”
“None that you need to concern yourself with.”
“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.
“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.
“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”
“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”
“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”
“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.
Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—
“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”
“Take a wild guess.”
“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”
You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.
“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”
He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.
“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”
“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”
“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”
You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.
“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”
It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.
“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.
“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”
“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”
You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.
“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”
The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.
“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”
“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”
“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”
“Do we have to?”
The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.
“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”
“But you’re… you’re good, right?”
Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.
“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”
“And I’m good. So...”
“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”
You groan in frustration.
“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”
“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”
“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”
The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.
“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”
“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”
“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”
You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.
“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.
“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”
“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”
He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.
“You want me to come inside you?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.
—
On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.
“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”
“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.
“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”
You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—
“’M not.”
Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.
“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”
You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.
“Where are you touching?”
“Um—over my clothes.”
Cute.
“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”
It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”
He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.
“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”
Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.
“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.
“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”
“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”
“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”
He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.
“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”
“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”
The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.
“Did you find it?”
“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”
“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”
“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”
He gets the general sentiment.
“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“Mhm!”
“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”
“Yes,” you cry.
“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”
“Spencer!”
He knows.
“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”
The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.
“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”
“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”
“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”
He’s barely kidding.
“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.
“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”
You laugh. He blushes even more.
“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”
“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”
“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”
“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”
The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.
“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”
“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.
Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.
For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.
—
A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.
You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?
“Spencer?” you murmur.
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.
“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”
Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.
“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”
“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”
“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”
Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.
“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”
Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.
“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”
“But…?”
Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.
“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”
The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.
“You regret your first time?”
Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.
“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”
Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.
Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.
What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.
You want to scream bloody murder.
But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”
Maybe that’s worse.
Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.
“I didn’t realize you…”
I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.
I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.
I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.
If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.
“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.
More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.
“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”
Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?
What does one even wear to a breakup date?
“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.
Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.
“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”
“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.
“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.
So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.
“Goodnight.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid fic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic
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Just What I Needed(Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader)
warnings: handjob, ball/testicle play, softness, fluff, Nanami is a bit of a sub here, gentle loving
word count: 1k
pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader
summary: it's been a long week for Kento, so you surprise him with a handjob in the bath.
a/n: The artwork of Nanami in the onsen isn't mine, I couldn't find the proper credits! If someone knows who made this lovely pic of Kento, plz lemme know so I can properly credit them!!! Dividers by the lovely benkeibear!
Taglist: @beneathstarryskies @an-ever-angry-bi @seireiteihellbutterfly @namikyento @benkeibear
@kenpachisbrat @adharadotcom @heyitsd1yaa @darkstarlight82
Kento feels the weight on his shoulders. It’s been a very long day at work on top of a very long week. Everything that could go wrong ended up being catastrophic. He found himself in all kinds of problems and issues. Gojo had often leaned on him for a lot of things this week as well, and Itadori-kun had been eager to learn so many new things.
So by this point in Nanami’s week, he is quite exhausted. The only thing he’s looking forward to is spending the evening with you. That thought alone is what keeps him going. He takes the train home, wishing to be close to you as soon as possible. His mind is filled with thoughts of greeting you at the door, covering your face in kisses and hugging you tight.
The minute he walks through the door, he’s bombarded with soft kisses from you. His heart flutters at the familiar scent of your perfume, the way your lips seem to soothe his weary soul.
“Welcome home, Ken!” You cheerfully greet him.
His tired eyes meet yours and he feels himself coming back to life. “Good to see you, darling.”
You gently help him out of his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles before hanging it up on the peg at the door. Then he removes his shoes, slipping on the comfortable and well-worn house slippers. You lead him towards the bathroom, and this surprises him. He smiles and lets out a contented sigh when he notices the tub all prepared for him.
“I know you had a really rough week,” you explain as you help him out of his blazer. “I wanted to spoil you tonight. I’ve even prepared your favorite meal, it’ll be ready after your bath.”
Nanami swears he’s gone to heaven. He allows you to undress him, and he watches in awe as you make sure to properly fold all his clothing. Then you start kissing him, your soft hands caressing him all over. You’ve always made him feel weak in the best way possible.
Then once he’s completely undressed, you help him into the bath. You sit on a stool next to the tub, grabbing a soft cotton washcloth. Nanami sighs as the warm water and bubbles are already soothing him. His sore muscles begin to loosen as the water does its magic.
“Feeling a little better?”
Kento looks over at you, smiling shyly. “I am. You always know how to spoil me.”
You take your time washing and cleaning him. You use your fancy body wash, the one that smells like sandalwood, jasmine and vanilla. It invades his senses, making him feel so secure and safe in this bath. He doesn’t remember the last time he even allowed himself to feel comforted like this.
“You’re so precious to me, Ken.” You press a kiss to his temple as your hand wanders further down his body. “I need to make sure you’re well taken care of.”
He gasps the minute you caress his thighs. He feels his cock twitching to life. His amber eyes fill with softness and lust as you begin to gently begin to wash his dick. You smirk softly, letting out a girlish giggle.
“Does my sweetheart need a little TLC?” You tease him, but you’re already wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length.
“P-please, darling. Please don’t tease me,”
You lean over and begin to kiss him. He’s moaning as your hand strokes him slowly. The way you squeeze the tip gently every time your hand goes up, makes him shudder. Shivers run down his spine from the exquisite pleasure. He arches his back, desperate to feel even more pleasure.
The soap coats your hand so perfectly, giving it the most sensual glide. The bubbles cover his body, making him feel like he’s enveloped in the most cozy and warm hug. Then your other hand joins the other. First you stimulate the tip, making him moan. Precum dribbles from the slit, making things even more slippery. Then you drift down to his heavy balls that are just begging for attention.
“Poor sweetheart, you’re all pent up.”
Kento all but sobs the minute you begin to massage his balls. His cock twitches a few more times in your hand, reminding you of your first task. Slowly, you continue to stroke him. Kento lets out such cute moans and whimpers for you.
Your fingers tighten ever so slightly, and you speed up just a little more. His hips begin to buck up into your touch, begging and pleading with you not to stop. His cheeks and the top of his ears are flush and pink, his eyes are half-lidded and pupils blown with lust.
“You wanna cum?” you ask him, leaning in to kiss his lips.
“Please baby. Please please please,”
You continue to kiss him, your tongue gliding against his bottom lip. He parts his lips, groaning as your tongues touch. You don’t falter in your rhythm. It’s so perfect right now.
“Such a good man, you work so hard. You deserve some spoiling.”
Kento whines, “I’m—fuck, I’m close.”
You don’t slow down. You ever so gently tug on his balls, massaging them. Kento’s whines reverberate against the walls, and they grow in decibels as he gets closer and closer. You kiss him hungrily once more, praising him for being such a good boy for you. The minute you nip at his bottom lip, that’s all it takes for him to cum hard.
“Fuck! I’m cumming!” His eyes roll back in his head and his hips jerk with every spurt of hot cum.
Ropes of his seed begin to coat your hand. You feel every throb and jerk, and you even get to feel his balls draw up. You stroke him to completion, kissing him softly. You slowly pull away, giving him a few moments to breathe and relax before you wash him once more.
“You always know just how to make me feel better,” Kento says, smiling shyly at you.
“It’s because I adore you.”
#bacon.writes#nanami x reader#nanami x you#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk#jjk x reader#anime smut#nanami x y/n#nanami x reader smut#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x y/n#nanami fluff#jjk nanami#kento nanami#nanami kento#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jujutsu nanami#kento nanami smut#nanami kento smut#nanami smut#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami x you#kento nanami x y/n#kento nanami fluff#nanami kento fluff#kento x reader#nanami imagine#jjk imagine
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I’ve decided that from here forward I’m writing Tommy and Buck/Evan as long term canon. In the words of Buck himself “Who cares?!”
I get the feeling that Tommy is difficult to get really angry. Mostly based on his past. And his general roll with the punches attitude thus far. So I don’t foresee a lot of strife or fighting in his future with Buck. Except the first time Tommy experiences the after of that big marshmallow Evan Buckley doing something really dangerous and reckless..again.
And Tommy who never gets angry, who never shouts at Buck, who flew a helicopter into a goddamn hurricane in the middle of the ocean, really loses his shit this time because Buck cannot understand why Tommy is so upset that he dropped into a dangerous situation against orders AGAIN.
Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose to keep from shouting “Bobby told you not to go in. He told you not to risk it. That the floors were too unstable”
“There could have been someone left” Buck replies “Someone needed to check. It had to be me”
“Why? Because you’re fucking super human? The great Buck Buckley from the 118 who scoffs at danger, has survived a tsunami, getting trapped beneath a fire truck, throwing a blood clot, and was officially dead for three minutes after getting struck by FUCKING LIGHTNING!”
“How do you know about all of that?”
“That isn’t what matters”
“I think it is” Buck takes a step toward Tommy “Have you been stalking me babe?”
Noticing the mischievous smile Tommy shakes his head “Oh no no no. You are not going to adorable your way out of this”
Bucks shoulders sag and he sighs “I’m ok Tommy. Not even a scratch”
“I can see that” Tommy lets out a deep exhale “I understand the risks of the job. I’m not like your exes who would get all distraught over you removing a cat from a tree. But for fucks sake, you are worse than the EOD guys when I was in Afghanistan with the walking - or in your case running or jumping- right into the worst case scenario with no thought of your own safety” Rubbing his forehead he continues “Evan. You’ve got a savior complex and it’s noble and selfless..”
Buck cuts him off “It’s not a savior complex. I’m not stupid. I understand that sometimes no matter what you do you can’t save them. But sometimes maybe you can, and in those cases, I just make the most sense”
Tommy crosses his arms to keep from strangling him or kissing him stupid again to shut him up “How is that? How does you possibly dying make any sense?”
“They all have people that need them. They all have someone they belong to and..” he trails off with a small shrug
And Tommy hears the words he doesn’t say. He is…expendable. And just like that all of the anger drains out of Tommy to be replaced by a something else. “Evan” he says softly.
“I know” Buck interjects “I know that people love me and they would be sad, especially Maddie. And I don’t want to die. But I don’t want someone who has someone they need, and that needs them, to die either. I couldn’t live with that”
Tommy closes his eyes. This man..How can he be so adorable and selfless, yet so completely stubborn and a pain in the ass about his own safety?
Once he calms his thoughts and finds the words he wants to say, he opens his eyes to see Evan looking at him calmly. Like he expects Tommy to see the sense in what he said.
“Evan. I know we haven’t really put a label on this. On us. But that’s because I don’t want to pressure you. I’m the first man you’ve been with and you’re still figuring out who you are, and I understand that. But let me clarify something for you. I need you to come back to me. Ok?”
Buck blinks “Huh”
“I need you to come back to me” he repeats “Like Bobby needs Athena, and Karen needs Hen, and yes like Maddie needs Chimney.
“And Jee-un. Jee-yun needs her dad”
“Yes, and in that same vein, Christopher needs Eddie” he agrees, trying not to give in to his exasperation. “I need you. I am that person who needs you to come home Evan”
Evan stops whatever he was about to say. Startled awareness creeping into his eyes..Tommy sees a mix of emotions flit across his face. Surprise, joy, fear, everything just races across that expressive face and then Evan sinks onto the barstool at his kitchen island. His hands coming up to cover his face.
Tommy’s stomach clench’s. He pushed too hard, too soon “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I do care and want you to come home but..”
Buck looks up at him “Don’t you dare take that back”
“I’m not taking it back. I just don’t want to push you”
Something else crosses Evans face at that..but he tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth. “You aren’t pushing. You aren’t pressuring me. I am in this just as much as you. I just don’t know how to say what I want to say without it sounding lame and emo as shit”
“Did you just hear me? You can say anything to me Evan. Whatever it is”
Buck rolls his bottom lip between his teeth again. “I’ve never questioned why I do this…I mean it’s the whole reason I was born. To save my brother. To save Daniel. That’s what I do, that’s who I am. It’s why I became a firefighter. To be the one who saves people. The 118 is my family. And I would do anything to protect them from harm”
“I’m not asking you to stop. I would never ask that. I just want to remind you that you matter to a lot of people, and you also have someone who is waiting for you”
Bucks voice is thick “I know that. I get that. But…Nobody has ever. I have never belonged to anyone, like that”
In a sense of deja vu Tommy closes the short distance to Buck. Tipping his face up, he kisses him. Not soft and gentle like their first kiss in this kitchen. But bold and deep. Branding Evan with his mouth. Pulling back he says fiercely “You belong to me like that. For as long as you want..you belong to me and I belong to you, like that”
“I will ALWAYS need you to come back to me Evan”
#yes I called him both Evan and Buck#it makes situational sense in my head canon#yes this idea was part of my 3k word barf#but I’m breaking it up into bits#911 abc#evan buckley#tommy kinard#buck x tommy#evan x tommy#911 spoilers#bucktommy#kinley#this ship will be canon goddamn it#wrote this on my phone
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The Man 5
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen
Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
You double check the lock on your apartment door. Your paranoia buzzes like a broken radio. You pace around the cramped bachelor, thoughts strewn all around. One moment, you’re desperately trying to figure out what to do next; find a job, go home, call Bre and beg her to take you back. The next, you’re looking out the window, expecting a villain to be waiting outside. Every worry you have strings back to that man...
You manage to settle down enough to browse the scant offerings on Indeed. The work from home opportunities are questionable as you tap more information. Commission based... that’s not going to get you much. You send off a few applications for fast food joints, a quick solution just to you through, but you need something quick. Something today.
You give up and throw your phone. You stare at it as it lays screen down on the other end of the couch. You see it in that man’s hand as he flicks his thumb. Who does he think he is? The real question is, who is he?
You sigh and close your eyes, dragging your hands over your face. The more you think about it, the more it feels you were set up for failure. Why couldn’t Bre just warn you? Why couldn’t she tell you who he was? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?
The stale smell of espresso urges you from the couch. You shuffle into the bathroom and start the shower. You strip off your clothes, slightly stiff from the dried coffee. Your skin is sticky too in places and there’s a particularly crusty patch on your chest somehow.
You wash away the caffeine-laced christening. You linger beneath the water and let it slake over you. You lean forward, hands flat on the tile as hot rivulets wash over your back. Your muscles are coiled tightly. The stress of the day and those to come have you tied up like a knot.
When you emerge, you yawn, too exhausted to keep up the existential despair. You stagger into the front room and over to your double bed. You trade the towel for a loose tee and sprawl across the futon. You melt into it and close your eyes.
You’ll figure it all out tomorrow. Maybe. Hopefully.
Or maybe tomorrow will be even worse.
☕
You wake up to the creak of your mail slot and the metallic clunk of it biting down on an paper. You gurgle and roll onto your side, coughing dryly as you rub your forehead. Your head is thick and foggy from sleep. A slightly thrum pulses in your temple.
You hover at the edge of the bed, staring at the door, weighing the distance. You yawn and roll onto your feet. You pad across the apartment and pull the paper free of the flap. You open the trifold letter and your vision clears as the font comes into view.
The building’s letterhead makes you think it’s another notice for the fire alarm test but the bold captials across the top send your heart into panic. NOTICE TO VACATE. What? How? Your rent for the month is paid, plus first and last. How can they evict you? You didn’t do anything.
You look through the peephole. The hallway is empty. Dang.
You rinse your face and brush your teeth hurriedly. You pull on a pair of sweatpants and your slip-on shoes. You check the mirror and shrug. Good enough. You don’t really care right now. You need to figure this out.
You stomp down the flight of stairs to the building office and knock frantically until the door opens. The squat woman inside gives you a death glare. You wave the letter at her.
“I think there’s a mistake,” you say.
She grunts and stares back at you.
“I paid my rent, but this says I have to leave.”
“Lease violation,” she shrugs.
“But what-- I’ve been here only a few weeks? What did I do?”
“Read the letter,” she sniffs.
You furrow your brow and unfold it again. You skim over the words; ‘landlord requires unit for personal use’. Huh? They can do that?
“Personal use? But—But you leased it to me. My deposit--”
“Take it up with a lawyer. All there,” she taps the top of the paper before she swings the door shut in your face.
What the hell? This can’t be real. You’re in a nightmare. You’re not really awake. This is just one of those really deep dreams where you can’t throw a punch. Too bad you can’t throw one in real life either. Hard to test the theory.
You frown and make your way back up to your apartment. You leave the paper on the counter and brew a coffee from the single-serve machine. You hold your head in your hands, elbows on the linoleum, as you try to sort through it all.
The machine grinds and you stand up straight. You take your cup and go to the fridge. You pull out the carton of milk and tip some into your coffee. The chunks that roll out of the spout make you gag. Frig, expired. You dump the whole mug and leave it empty in the sink. Nothing is going right.
You pour out the sour milk and rinse away the putrid scent. You need to get food. You’re out of eggs too. Just a few small things for now. You have to count your pennies.
You put a bra on and pull on a hoodie. You make yourself decent enough to face the public but keep your sweatpants on. You’re just running to the corner store. You grab your wallet, phone, and keys and head out.
Your stroll down to the store is distracted. You should ask a lawyer but you can’t really afford that. You’ll have to try the housing board, see if they offer public services. You don’t really know about all that stuff.
You grab your staples without much attention. Eggs, milk, a loaf of bread, and some sliced cheddar. Grilled cheese for life.
You go to the counter and wait for the cashier to scan the items. You try to tap your card but it declines. You insert instead and put in your pin. Pin accepted, transaction declined. You grimace, face burning with embarrassment.
“Sorry, one sec, I’m gonna just check my account.” You back out of the way of the next customer and pull out your phone.
You sign-in to your banking app. You see the balance you expected. More than enough for your lot but there’s a little red exclamation mark next to the account number. You tap it and a new page opens.
‘Account locked for security purposes. Contact Bank Services.’
Oh my god! What more can go wrong? You tap on the little chat icon in the corner. The automated responses lead you in a circle and tell you to call the toll-free or go into the local branch. Ugh! But you need milk now.
A message blips across the top of your screen. It fades before you can read it. You pull down the menu and stare dumbly at the text sent from a private number, ‘morning, sweet lips.’
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#drabble#series#au#the gray man#the man
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Wanna Feel The Heat
Summary: your fathers always told you if you play with fire you’ll get burned, and with Joel you didn’t listen
Warnings: mdni 18+, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, dom Joel, security Joel, slight choking, minor spanking, dirty talk, a form of exhibitionism, praise kink
A/N: reblogs and comments are always appreciated and highly encouraged. If you wish to be added to my Pedro tag list don’t hesitate to ask it’s always open for everyone! Thanks so much for your continued support it means a lot to me! XOXO
Hall Of Hunks
Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989
Tag list for Pedro Pascal: @pedrohoe04 @k-k0129 @livingdeadmaria @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @milly-louise @kittenlittle24 @trisaratops-mcgee @subconsciouscollapse @hooked-on-penapascal27 @red-red-rogue @fellinfromthetop @drewharrisonwriter @vickie5446
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"Daddy know about what his precious princess is doing?" His words echoing in your ear the heat rising to your cheeks. Heavy hands gripping your hips so hard you could feel burning.
Your father was an important man, and therefore needed security to insure his safety. That's where Joel came in. Flirting back and forth with innocent touches then turning into him dragging you to the nearest bathroom. Should have your head bowed in shame for what you were doing, but instead you were bent over the sink letting him do whatever he wanted to you.
"His angelic daughter getting fucked by his security in the bathroom. So desperate to be fucked." Hearing him say it out loud was even hotter than you expected it to be.
"Hear how wet you're gettin." His southern drawl came out a hand coming down on your cheeks making you jolt as he snickers more to himself. "Gonna have this cunt achin' for days."
Joel shamelessly bucking his hips into your backside while watching you through the mirror in the bathroom. Forcing you to watch yours and his expression. Taking notice how his cheeks were bright red, and pressing his lips together when he felt himself getting closer. Everything about this was wrong yet neither one of you were doing anything to stop it.
"Should have you scream so daddy can hear." Continuing with the crude comments as he buried his cock deeper inside of your raw cunt. The thought of him running up here was terrifying. Not able to hold in the little whimpers and moans that escaped your lips. Joel knew this undoubtedly judging by the tears forming in your ears you couldn't handle that kind of pressure. "Don't worry sweetheart I don't wanna be interrupted."
"Joel please I'm so close." Biting down on your arm with frustration at how close you were wanting nothing more than to feel that warm feeling ignite all over your body.
"Got you right where I want you princess." Mocking you as he dipped down thrusting at an all new angle a loud gasp escaping past your lips. Reaching a hand to grab your neck and pull your head to look up at the ceiling. Grinding deep rotating his hips looking down briefly to see your slickness trailing along his length.
"Takin my cock so well. This cunt was made for me." Speaking confidently as he kept light pressure on your neck proud how easily you were submitting to him. Loving the sounds of your cheeks smacking against his thighs like it was music to his ears.
Joel could sense that you were struggling to release almost like you were fighting it. Reaching his other hand around to your front finding your sensitive clit rubbing fast circles coaxing the orgasm from you. Keeping your feet planted firmly on the ground as he rocked his hot body into yours. Your neck was starting to really ache, but you were so close you were powering through.
Body slumping against the sink hand falling from your neck as your body fell completely numb to your euphoric state. Cunt clenching his cock like a vine as you trembled and shook around him. Both hands held onto your hips as he continued to pump himself swiftly and deep. Not taking long before he was spilling his seed.
"That's a good girl. Such a good fuckin girl for me." Praising as he rubbed his hands up and down your back reaching a hand towards your puffy cunt to feel where you two were connected. Still trying to catch your breath as his finger collected both your juices on his finger.
It was something that snapped in you as he softly touched and caressed your body, and how his eyes looked at your body in admiration. It had you wanting more of him. Wanting to taste more and to feel more. Like the wild animal locked away in the cage was banging against the bars to get out.
"Good thing daddy didn't hear us after all." Joking as he smeared his finger across your mouth looking up to see the milky substance shine on your lips. A devilish smile appearing on your face as you licked it up shamelessly only to make Joel grin widely his cock twitching inside of you. "I see daddy's princess wants some more."
“Well I wouldn’t be doing my job if I wasn’t taking care of you.”
#pedro pascal#joel miller#Pedro pascal smut#Joel miller smut#Pedro pascal x reader#Joel miller x reader#Pedro pascal blurb#Joel miller blurb#securty Joel miller#Pedro pascal fanfic#Joel miller fanfic#Pedro pascal fanfiction#Joel miller fanfiction#Pedro pascal imagines#Joel miller imagines
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Bot Buddy being Rodimus's older sister and having a crush on Swerve
SFW, Platonic, Familial, Hinted Romance, Cybertronain reader
Buddy is a near carbon copy of Rodimus.
Key word ‘almost’.
Instead of sporting the red and oranges being her main color on her frame, Buddy has more blue tones with some yellow around.
That is where all similarities end.
Buddy being related to Ultra Magnus makes more sense than her being related to Rodimus.
“Hey Buddy! Watch this!”--Rodimus
Rodimus on the top of a tall shelf.
“Rodimus No!”—Buddy and Magnus
Buddy and Magnus look at each other in surprise.
“… I hate when you two do that.”--Rodimus
“Don’t care, get down here before you break something or hurt yourself.”--Buddy
“But—”--Rodimus
“Rodimus.”--Magnus
“…”--Rodimus
She was in fact close to him though.
Being a part of the Elite Guard for most of the war can do that.
The other part was stationed around communications and message relay for the Guard or the Wreckers.
That was where she first met Swerve.
It was purely by accident.
Swerve had been given the wrong number and connected her instead.
“Hello? How may I help you?”--Buddy
“You’re not Blurr. Who are you?”--Swerve
“You have the help line for the Wrecker’s and Elite Guard, do you require any assistance?”--Buddy
“Oh, no not really. I thought I had Blurr’s number. You know Blurr?”--Swerve
“Yes, I am familiar with the racer.”--Buddy
“Isn’t he the best! We were going to hatch a plan to build and run a bar when the war ended.”--Swerve
“Really? Blurr agreed to that?”--Buddy
“Absolutely! He even gave me his number, but I must have punched in the wrong digits and contacted you instead. Not that you haven’t been nice and all!”--Swerve
Buddy laughing a little bit.
“Its all right… umm… what is your designation?”--Buddy
“The names Swerve! And who might I be speaking with if you don’t mind?”--Swerve
“I’m Buddy—”--Buddy
“You’re THE Buddy!? Wow! This is just my day! I’ve heard so much about you and your work with the Elite Guard, The Wrecker’s…”--Swerve
Buddy gets a bit more comfortable on her end ready to continue this pleasant conversation with Swerve.
It was a slow day anyways… it felt nice.
That started a slow friendship between the two.
The chats had to happen on scheduled days since Swerve had a habit of talking too much and Buddy didn’t like to stop him.
Buddy refused to talk to Hot Rod about this.
Swerve was her friend.
Finally, someone that hadn’t been friends with Hot Rod before knowing her.
She was going to protect her friend’s identity as long as she could.
But of course, Hot Rod had a feeling his sister was hiding something from him and was going to get to the bottom of it.
Hot Rod dramatically draping his frame on Buddy’s berth.
“Why won’t you tell me!”—Hot Rod
Buddy rolling her optics.
“I’m not telling you squat Roddy.”--Buddy
Hot Rod suddenly sitting up.
“What if its… someone?”—Hot Rod
Buddy frame stiffens a bit.
“It is someone!”—Hot Rod
Hot Rod flopping on her back and starts popping her side annoyingly.
“Who’s the lucky bot who’s got my stuck up of a sister like this?”—Hot Rod
Buddy grabs his digit and slightly bends it backwards.
“Hey! OWW!”-Hot Rod
“Keep it up and I’ll bend more than your digit Hot Rod. Got that?”--Buddy
Buddy lets go of his digit and crosses her arms glaring at him.
“Fine, fine, I wont start talking about your secret—”—Hot Rod
Buddy judo flips her brother to the floor.
Hot Rod was over the moon hearing that there might be someone out there for his stuck-up sis.
Maybe it would help loosen her up.
Primus knows she needs to stop stressing so much.
Buddy just wishes that Hot Rod would drop the subject… but is secretly pleased to hear that he is happy that she found someone she likes.
…then came Rodimus Prime.
Buddy felt their sibling bond significantly weakened thanks to the matrix bonding.
Rodimus didn’t seem to notice but Buddy did.
But she refused to acknowledge it to him.
He was a Prime now, he had other things to worry about than her.
Just pushing through trying to get her work done.
Timeskip to the Lost Light…
Buddy was not aware that Swerve was on the ship until she got wind of the bar.
She walked in and zeroed in on the minibot.
Buddy walking over to the bar where Swerve had his back to her.
“Welcome to Swerve’s you see anything you like?”--Swerve
Buddy smiles a bit.
“Hmm… I don’t know you recommend anything Swerve?”--Buddy
Swerve stops cleaning the glass in his servo and turns around, wide eyed.
Buddy smiles a bit more seeing Swerve’s own face light up.
“Buddy!”--Swerve
Swerve reaches over the bar to hug his friend.
Several bots at the bar stop seeing the small bartender hugging one of the most strict bots on bourd.
“… 20 shanix that Buddy tells Swerve off.”--Skids
“Deal.”--Chromedome
“Domey--”--Rewind
“Wrong. 50 and she throws him out.”--Whirl
“She wouldn’t do that… right?”--Tailgate
Buddy hugs Swerve back while silent chaos ensues behind them.
So many bots thought that Swerve was going to die that day.
Rodimus had so many com pings within that hour.
He brushes the pings off like a rumor.
Especially when he hears about something potentially happening between Buddy and Swerve.
… That changes when Rodimus starts to notice Buddy hanging out more and more at Swerve’s.
This was the first flag to be raised.
Buddy doesn’t ‘do’ crowded bars.
But he brushes it off as Buddy finally letting loose.
Rodimus is talking with Drift when he notices Buddy at the bar.
“Isn’t it nice seeing Buddy happy?”--Drift
“Hmm? Yeah… but it’s a bit weird seeing her out here.”--Rodimus
Drift raises an optic.
“She doesn’t like big, crowded places, it’s ‘Too loud and too much engex being spilled all over’.”--Rodimus
Drift looking at Buddy happily talking with Swerve at the counter.
“Maybe she’s here for someone?”--Drift
Rodimus downing the rest of his drink laughing at the end.
“Ha! That’ll be the day.”--Rodimus
One time a rather rude bot had come to the bar and demanded to know why he was cut off from the drinks.
All while he was slowly tipping to the side.
Buddy tried to de-escalate the situation.
“Listen, we are all civilized bots here. Lets just get you back to your habsuite or the med bay if—”--Buddy
The bot looks at Buddy and spits in their face.
“Can it! Your nothing more of a has been-washout-guards-bot who is only good for a pretty paperweight!”—Random Bot
Buddy wipes the spit infused engex from her optics, glares at the bot harshly, about to unleash the Pits when she gets interrupted.
“HEY!”--Swerve
Swerve stands on the bar counter gaining some height, his servos shaking at his sides.
“Don’t you EVER talk to her like that! Now. Get. Out. Of. MY! BAR!”—Swerve
Buddy feels her spark skip a pulse looking at the mini bartender.
The bot tries to take a swing at him, but Buddy grabs the fist in her’s.
Buddy’s optics blazing in fury.
“You heard the minibot.”--Buddy
Buddy kicks the bot in the back of the knee and throws the frame across her shoulder.
Marching outside and kicking the bot several feet away from the entrance.
“Get. Out.”—Buddy
“… She gonna be my Amica.”--Whirl
“Whirl, not the time.”--Cyclonus
“Well, I can’t be her Conjunx. Swerve has that covered; this is the next best thing.”--Whirl
“Swerve does not—”--Tailgate
Whirl points at Swerve still standing on the counter with a lovesick smile on his face.
“…Maybe your right.”--Tailgate
“Tailgate, Whirl no.”--Cyclonus
“Hold on Cyclonus, they might have a point.”--Rewind
“Rewind—”--Chromedome
Cylcnous puts a servo on Chromedome’s shoulder shaking his helm.
Chromedome sighs giving in as Whirl, Tailgate, and Rewind scheming in silence.
Buddy managed to cuff the bot and send him to Magnus.
The bot never came back to Swerve’s.
Swerve has heart shaped optics behind his visor.
You’d have to be blind not to see his clear ‘admiration’ for the former member of the Elite Guard.
But he is convinced that all of this will pass.
It’s not like Buddy would actually have feelings for him.
Meanwhile Buddy has started creating Swerve/Love playlists in secret.
A secret that she is taking with her until she goes offline.
#transformers x reader#maccadam#bot buddy#idw mtmte#mtmte x platonic reader#mtmte x reader#mtmte rodimus#mtmte swerve
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coming to terms with godhood.
(a jack nichols aka ‘eyeless jack’ story)
the birth of a god is a painful thing. it feels like dying, more than anything. you’d think, after people having worshipped deities for so long, they’d warn you about how excruciating it is to become one. but they don’t.
that was something jack nichols had learned through firsthand experience. recently, in fact. but the worst thing, for him, wasn’t learning to readjust; it felt like all of his senses had been fundamentally rearranged, but that wasn’t what bothered him most. what bothered him most was the trail of bodies it left in his wake.
“burn in hell. ALL of you.” he remembered the words birthing into the open air, but not saying them himself. but he did remember pulling the mask over his face, and he did remember leaving a bloody jenny to die in the forest alone. he remembered kicking away her pleading hands as they pawed at his ankle, her last chance of making contact with her reborn god. only it didn’t feel like jack’s voice, coming out of him. it came from some place far deeper than his chest, and it gushed from his lips like the tar that leaked from his eyes. when he finally scrambled back to civilization, hastily stuffing himself into the nearest gas station bathroom to avoid prying eyes, he puked his guts out. it was an ultimately futile attempt to get that noxious tar out of his body.
it was poisoning him, he was certain. it felt like it coated every inch of his insides, holding back the air in his lungs and turning the food in his stomach to bile. he didn’t want to look in the mirror. he didn’t want to see the state of himself, what those people had done to him, but he needed to know.
he wished he hadn’t looked. because when he did, he didn't recognize what he saw.
beneath the mask, crusted with black tar, festered two black pits where his eyes once were. he was mesmerized by the fact he wasn’t doubled over with the pain of it all. thinking about it, he was just as mesmerized by something else, too.
how am i able to see right now?
it was something that hadn’t even occurred to him until now.
sight of chernobog, some rogue thought interjected. then, it came back to him. that was what the cultists had said when they gouged out his eyes and replaced them with…
i should not be as calm as i am, reflecting on this.
jack never had been the emotional type, but this was really pushing it. it was like that tar that covered his insides had dampened his emotions, too.
...or maybe he was just denying himself the time to truly reflect on it. a part of him felt if he did that, he might never get back on his feet again. he’d curl up in a ball and crystalize, and years down the line he’d be nothing but dust.
jack didn’t want that. it was like the mountain climbers he’d read about in one of his medical textbooks. he just needed to learn to acclimate to the change in altitude. this could be okay.
how to acclimate, however… that was a tough one. he couldn’t do it around people though, he knew that much. he needed to be somewhere isolated, somewhere he could collect his thoughts and keep anyone else from getting—
go back to the college, his thoughts interjected again. you don’t know what its like to be truly alone. you don’t want that.
jack blinked, but shrugged it off. in the gas station bathroom’s sink he washed his hair, matted with blood, and made certain to wash off any blood that pooled on the porcelain when he was done. he took the mask, cast aside amidst his previous puking session, and slipped it back on. he slipped the hood of his jacket up over it to hide his wet hair, too, and took one final look in the mirror.
it was months from Halloween. there was no way anyone was going to look at him and think ‘yep, that’s normal’. in fact, jack was pretty sure he’d already gotten a horrified look from a lady filling up her tank before he’d darted into the bathroom.
his only hope was going to be finding somewhere secluded to figure all of this out. maybe, when all was said and done with, he could make up the assignments for the last of his classes online. he was pretty sure west point had a program for that.
his uncle had a cabin in some backwoods area nearby, he knew. jack remembered when he was a kid, him, his parents, and his cousins would all stay there during the holidays. his uncle had a different house he lived in, too, so chances were, the place was empty.
and, it was only a few dozen miles north, if he remembered correctly. he was on the track team back in high-school. it wouldn't be easy, but it would be managable.
it was the best shot he had at figuring this all out.
it would have to work.
whatever it was that had happened with the cult, whatever it was that they did to jack, it would all be a distant memory in a few years. it wouldn’t get in the way of his medical degree, and it sure as hell wouldn’t get in the way of his life.
right?
#writers on tumblr#creepypasta#crp#creepypasta fandom#eyeless jack#jack nyras#jack nichols#not really proofread#i wrote this for fun#not planning to take it anywhere unless people really like it
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to everyone who has commented on the situation with paige and azzi id just like to say something
fans/people who actually have no clue and just know it happened and thats all don’t exactly feel the same empathy for the situation at the extent they would if they did know more, its a fact, people cant feel as bad for something if they dont know exactly what they’re feeling bad for. of course you can still feel extremely bad, a horrible and unforgivable thing happened but until you know what your actually feeling bad for its more like giving sympathy and condolences to a wall thats made of glass but its like the blurry type glass you cant really see through.
i dont reallt know if that made any sense but im basically trying to say that people who dont know and arent being informed since many people are staying silent in order to prevent spreading it, are like people who got told their dog went to a butterfly farm instead of being told it died. its like they were told a much much softer version of the real thing.
im not sure who or to what extent everyone on tumblr really knows about whats actually out there, but i just want ppl who only know the jist or general idea of what happened and even those who think they know or have seen all or most of it to know that it was actually alot that happened and the volume and extent of what happened was a really sickening thing to ever be informed of.
its insane paige was abt to come onto social media after just a weekend and be active, if you knew what i know then you would agree with me when i say paige is 100% only back on media rn to try and move peoples eyes past it and for pr reasons because thats whats best for the situation. she was most definitely not back after only a weekend ready to return to media just for the fun of it. they both are surrounded by a strong support system and while they may be smiling in the snippet of their lives we get to see, just know that putting up a strong front does not mean everything is okay and if u consider the extent of what happened it would be obvious that many signs point to them being very much not okay and that’s perfectly fine! they need time to heal from it and its not something you get over in a week. doing and feeling better doesnt mean actually being completely okay either healing takes time.
thank God its offseason and there isnt an actual full media spotlight on them right now, with how fast social media goes it likely wont be really talked about as a main focus in just a few weeks and its thankfully already starting to die down in just 1. i hope by the time the new season starts they feel alot better and the months will give them time to move past/through it and the world time to not remember or be focused on it.
im putting this on tumblr specifically because it is more of a hidden site compared to yk tiktok or twitter and likely wont spread anywhere crazy esp bc im keeping it low on actual details
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haiiii :3 can you perhaps do alex comforting you after you find out you guys are pregnant? >~<
ummm yes!!!!!! is that even a question!!!!
prompt: you find out you and alex are pregnant together
no warnings! fluff!!!!
you found yourself pacing back and forth in your restroom. you were practically biting your nails completely off as you waited. finally your phone timer vibrated. you sat on the toilet lid and took a deep breath.
the pregnancy test was laid in your hand. you slowly flipped it over and saw those two little lines. you didn’t know what to do.
of course you were ecstatic! ever since you got with alexis, you decided that you wanted a family with him. it was just… very unexpected and a lot earlier than you planned. you hadn’t even brought up family making talk with alex.
oh god, alex…
as if on cue, a light knock on the restroom door brought you back down to earth.
“baby? are you okay? you’ve been in there for quite some time…” he jingled the doorknob to let him in
you quickly looked everywhere for a hiding spot for the pregnancy test and the box it came. you shoved it under the sink and pulled yourself together.
you slowly unlock the door and put on a fake smile for your boyfriend.
“hi”
“what’s wrong? were you throwing up again or?” he asked, worry written all over his face
“no i was um pooping… i had a coffee earlier and it did not settle well in my stomach” you laughed, trying to seem normal. you needed time to prepare for the talk with alex. you had absolutely no clue of how he’d react to the news.
“i told you too much caffeine is bad for ya… well, sorry for interrupting you. i thought something was wrong. i’ll leave you to it then” he laughed lightly
and just like a god damn miracle, the box flopped out from under the sink. you should’ve cleaned that cabinet out a long time ago. it was so full that the damn pregnancy test just decided to show itself. your eyes teared up as alex walked forward and pulled out the test from inside the box.
“y/n… is this? is this real? please tell me it’s a prank..”
anger filled within you. he wanted this to be a joke?!
“i knew you would react like this! i don’t need you! i don’t need anyone! i can raise my baby alone!” tears were now streaming down your face as you spoke
alex had a sad look on his face. he stepped forward and grabbed your face in his warm hands. you sniffled and looked at him.
“baby girl… i never said i didnt want the baby. yeah, it’s a little bit early but i would never hesitate to raise a baby with you. i want to be the baby’s father.” he gently dried your face of tears
“you mean that?”
“of course i do y/n. you had me worried.. i thought you would force me to leave you or assume i wanted you to have an abortion. i want you and.. i want the baby” he smiled softly, relief evident on his face
“i guess i do assume the worst in situations like this. this is 100% your fault by the way! you can’t keep your hands off me!” you laugh, teasing your boyfriend a bit
“i guess you’re right on that one. but isn’t it your fault for being so sexy in the first place?” he smirked
“oh shut up!”
“but in all seriousness, how far along are you?” he asked, taking your hand in his
“i think three weeks? i haven’t had my period in three weeks and ive been pretty nauseous daily ever since”
“that makes sense. im really sorry for not being responsible and wearing condoms. but are you sure you want to keep it? i’m not saying i don’t want you to but i just wanna make sure you think about it, i mean a baby is a big decision” he rubbed your hand soothingly
“im really sure alex.. are you sure you still want me? i’m never going to have this body again and.. i’m scared of you losing interest in me after i have the baby” you said, feeling insecure about how much you’re going to change throughout this pregnancy
“is that what you’re worried about, mi vida? that’s got to be one of the silliest things i’ve ever heard. you being pregnant won’t stop me from loving you.. nor will it change my attraction for you, if anything, i find it really attractive..” he said, touching your smooth face gently
“you do?”
“i do. you’ll be carrying our baby. our baby.. the product of our love. you’ll have a growing being inside of you that’ll have both our features. and seeing a baby grow inside of you that’s mine and yours… that’s goddamn attractive if you ask me” he chuckled lightly
“oh alex” you let out a sob, practically jumping into his arms as he held you close to his chest
“don’t worry baby girl, we’re gonna be fine. i’ll do everything in my power to make sure you and our baby are okay and safe, okay?” he said with a kiss to your temple
“yeah… i’ll have the best man in the world helping me raise our baby..” you snuggled into him more
“you make it sound like i’ll be an amazing father. i mean i can see myself being the best father possible but i can’t say i’ll be perfect. i’ll definitely do my very best to be a good father because our baby deserves it” he explained, caressing your hair
“woah… daddy alex? that’s pretty hot, im not gonna lie. i kinda see where you’re coming from that me being pregnant is attractive to you” you pulled back a bit to look at him as you spoke. you saw him visibly freeze
“did you just… did you just call me daddy??” he blinked a few times, processing what you just said
“you’re already an amazing daddy to me, always taking care of me. i’m good practice, no?” you practically purred, loving the blush that crept out onto his cheeks
“th-that’s, th-that’s not what i meant!” he stuttered, very flustered,
“i mean yeah i take care of you and look after you to the best of my abilities… but d-daddy?” he continued
“i know what you meant alexis, i think i just have a lot of hormones in my body right now. i think… i think these baby hormones are making me feel stuff already. i mean, the thought of you being a father is really sexy… im definitely turned on, not gonna lie” you confessed, not even feeling embarrassed
“so daddy alex then, huh?” he smiled, the blush still bright on his face
“mhm…”
“i dont know what got into you but, hey im not complaining” he chuckles and wraps his arms around you
“you’re such a dream..” you sigh
“y tu eres la mujer de mis sueños, eres la cosita mas hermosa y perfecta que me ha pasado” he said lovingly to you
“god, im going to love you forever”
“i love you so much too, forever. this baby will definitely make that love even stronger”
“i agree, mi amor”
“by any chance, have you thought of any baby names? i know you said you thought about us having a family and stuff..” he asked randomly
“i have actually, have you?”
“it’s kinda weird but i have. for a boy, i think carlos or joan and for a girl maybe paz or xochil” he said thoughtfully and you gushed at the fact that he even thought of baby names
“those are actually really pretty. i was thinking for a boy, ezekiel or alexis jr and for a girl something like hyacinth or eliana” you said
“are… are you serious” alex asked, looking down at the floor
“yes, i mean its perfect. i’ve always adored your name and he could be our little junior” you shrugged as if it wasn’t the biggest compliment to alexis
“our little junior… that’s just… wow, i have no words” he smiled
“maybe if it’s a girl, she can have my name or something similar?” you said after a minute
“it’s settled then. if it’s a boy, alexis junior and if it’s a girl, she’ll have your beautiful name” he smiled, leaning in to give you a quick kiss
“then it’s decided” you agreed
“can you promise me something? well, two things” he asked
“sure baby”
“can you please promise not to stress yourself about this pregnancy? i don’t want anything bad happening to you or our baby..”
“yes alex, i promise”
“and also… please don’t stop loving me after the baby is born. i know it’s common for women to have postpartum depression and things like that or even resentment towards the father for getting them pregnant… but i promise to do everything in my power to ensure a good life for you and our baby. i’m going to do everything for us, y/n. just, please don’t stop loving me…” his gaze shifts to the ground once again
“ay mi corazóncito… i could never ever stop loving you. you’re the only person i want to raise a family with… you’re my family” you say genuinely
“oh my god… thank you amor. thank you for everything. i’ll take care of you, okay?”
“okay alex” you nodded and after a while,
“maybe… maybe we should celebrate” you say suggestively
“oh… you mean..” he said innocently
“yeah..”
“yes… we definitely should celebrate” he nodded
“well then get to it daddy, mommy needs tending to”
alex lifts you from the toilet seat cover and takes your hand in his. he leads you to your bedroom and he made love to you. he was absolutely gentle and just overall a gentleman, tending to your needs.
he was going to be an amazing father, that was for sure.
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The Knuckles Series - Review
Okay. So.
Finished the series.
I have thoughts.
First of all, it was fun. I view it as kinda filler episode material, that if someone watched just the movies they wouldn’t miss much. I watched it with my family and there were times we were all laughing and cheering and just enjoying the ride. It was silly and fun and Knuckles was adorable in every scene he was in.
That said, was it perfect?
No. No, it was not.
Here’s my take on some problems.
~ Setup felt rushed
We had the barest glimpse into Knux’s difficulty adjusting to a life on Earth, which, honestly, just made it look like he wasn’t being challenged enough. He can’t go from being on the run and fighting for his life at every turn to just sitting around playing VR and goofing off. That’s just not who he is.
Not to mention, his interpersonal skills are practically non-existent. He fought his whole childhood away. Presumably, anyone who came near him either wanted to exploit him, use him, or fight him. So he’s used to just doing things on his own, with no one to answer to, or take into consideration. That’s what I saw at the beginning—and honestly, it may have been easily handled had Maddie sat down with him and actually tried to get to know and understand him a little better.
~ Maddie
I felt for her, I really did. And I get that she was frustrated. Tom’s off who-knows-where, and she’s left at home trying to get the damage to the house fixed, while keeping tabs on three super powered alien kids, one of whom is actively attacking handymen, dragging a ton of dirt and sharpened sticks into the living room to make a warrior fighting pit, and dismantling the car to build himself an Iron Throne in the dining room.
She’s frustrated, and doing everything she can to keep herself from snapping. She didn’t sign up for this, but now has to learn on the fly how to deal with three very different, and very special needs kiddos.
But her referring to Knuckles as “our little red barbarian friend” kinda rubbed me the wrong way. He’s not a barbarian. He’s a warrior. He’s a traumatized kid who feels like the honor of his entire tribe rests on his shoulders. He’s struggling with this change and instead of trying to sit down and talk to the kid to explain how things are done on Earth, and see if there was some kind of agreement they could reach to keep them both happy, she just kinda gives up and walks away. Not very understanding, and doesn’t make her come off looking very good.
~ Pachacamac
Okay, this is just weird. Pachacamac, for those who don’t know, in the games is the warmongering echidna tribe chief who led the warriors in an assault to take the Master Emerald’s power for themselves. In the process, they enraged Chaos, the God of Destruction, who all but wiped out the Knuckles clan.
I know, I know, game and movie universes are different. The movie team has taken liberties before with certain aspects of Sonic lore, so this shouldn’t be any different.
Except it is. Canonically, Pachacamac is not a good guy. He’s not even a morally gray character. He is not an honored chief, who trained Knuckles and is now his wise spirit guide. He was the cause of the fall of Knuckles’ entire tribe, thanks to his greed and lust for power.
Making Pachacamac essentially Yoda is like changing Robotnik into a kindly grandfather figure. I mean, what??
The only thing I can think this harkens back to is Longclaw’s little hologram message from the second movie, in which she gives Sonic a quest to find the Master Emerald before Knuckles does. Which, okay, it’s a lost loved one giving a final message to help direct the character on a new path.
Except, Pachacamac isn’t a lost loved one for Knuckles. We did not see any interaction between Knux and Pach. We did see interaction between Knuckles and his father, who would have been a much better choice to send his son on a new path.
(I did, however, see this post that makes SOOOOO much sense in why Pachy appears to Knux, and instructs him to train Wade, specifically.)
~ The Master Emerald
Speaking of, WHERE IS IT? It was referenced numerous times, but never shown once. The absolute least the show could have done was show it well secured, with a Tails’ created security system in place. Show Knux meditating near it, or praying to his ancestors that they can rest easy knowing that the Emerald is safely back in the hands of the echidna once more.
The absolute lack of a presence of it is strange, considering the pursuit of it was what caused the near extinction of both the echidna and the owls. It was Knuckles’ focus for his entire life. Yet he simply leaves it behind without a second thought?
~ Wanda
OMG I hated Wade’s sister. Just, hated her. She was immature, abrasive, abusive, unnecessarily antagonistic with Wade (which seemed to be a life-long thing if the flashbacks are anything to go by) and just struck me as someone who was overcompensating for something. She’s a bully and it’s no wonder Wade is the way he is if he had to grow up with someone like her.
~ No Closure
We didn’t see them arrive back home, where Maddie would hand them their asses for just disappearing like that and not telling her. She was likely worried out of her mind the whole time. And I would have liked to have seen Sonic and Tails try to cover for Knux’s absence, in funny little brotherly shenanigans.
As I said above, I still found it fun. I loved Mother Whipple. I loved Knux’s interactions with her. I loved how Wade grew over their little trip. It was an enjoyable ride, and my whole family really had fun.
How would I have done it differently?
Well, that’s a different post.
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hello. um. sorry for disappearing for like two months. imagine me getting hit with a truck called “The Worst Creative Block In Your Life” and getting thrown headfirst into the gintama rabbit hole. it’s quite cozy down here. i think i need help.
anyways, have a bunch of accumulated doodles plus this terrifying kagura as apology tehe :3
#well tbh the trigun fandom kinda burned me out as well#i couldn’t really keep up so i just. didn’t lol#kinda hated drawing for a bit after that but gintama’s been really good for me in that way#while i still really really wanna draw for it and i have a ton of doodles for it#i don’t really feel the need to keep up in a sense#i can just enjoy it at my own pace#(at my own pace being binging like 10 episodes a day)#but hey i need to at least try and take it easy before college yk#but now im horrifically attached to the entire cast and will cry if this so called comedy series even becomes a hint emotional#so you know#the usual#thanks for sticking around regardless!#i know i kinda flip flop a bunch between interests#but im glad to know you guys still wanna stick with me through them all#ily <3#sakata gintoki#kagura#shimura shinpachi#yorozuya#gintama#ok bye
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it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now
#I think on another level he was sorta saying like ‘hey kiryu. you’re making it extremely clear that you don’t trust me and my intentions#and I’ve been trying to show you- over and over again- that I’d do just about anything for you and your safety#but I can’t just let my mask fall off in front of everyone- I need to keep up the unpredictable morally grey wildcard act for both my sake#AND yours. because disguising my helping you as crazy random violent outbursts and weird stalker behavior#is the only way I CAN help you. do you think it would go over well with shimano or literally anyone else if I was outright helping you out#of the kindness of my heart and fondness for you? stop being so fucking dense and look past the crazy wacky nonsense for a second and#maybe you’ll realize that all I do at the end of the day- really- is help you and put my own life and reputation on the line for you.#I am an honest guy when it comes to my real values and when I told you I wouldn’t let anyone kill you unelss it was myself- I meant it.#I’ve taken a knife and a bullet for you now. can you REALLY not see through the act yet? am I REALLY that unpredictable when you think about#it?’#that was a longer explanation than i intended but. it was difficult to put into words#I basically feel like it could be read as him implying kiryu shouldn’t backstab the people who put themselves on the line to help him#and/or pointing out that he’s never actually done kiryu dirty and has stuck to his word protecting him in the ways he can#trying to say yeah all this is a crazy act and all but when it comes down to it you Can trust me#it really makes sense when you think about it that he’d have to help kiryu/show affection towards kiryu in unpredictable convoluted ways#at that point in time because. I mean. there’s a reason he was the only person who showed up to welcome kiryu when he got out of prison#and that’s because A) he sticks to his word and his loyalty to people he cares about and B) no one else had the balls or the batshit insane#mask to wear to ward off anyone asking real questions like majima did. because ANYONE associating themselves with the supposed#patriarch-killer was a HUGE NO-NO at the time. someone important showing up for kiryu and welcoming him back outright could’ve caused#all-out warfare probably. except majima. because majima was dedicated and smart enough to use his widely-feared wildcard persona#(that everyone tended to view as incapable of having any Real agenda to worry about) to his And kiryu’s advantage#does that make sense??? I feel like it makes a lot of sense if you get it to click in your head#kazumaji#majima#kiryu#yakuza#kiwami 1#yk1#rambling
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i feel like the way ‘dogtok’/‘dogstagram’ talks about reactivity makes reactive dog owners feel a lot more ashamed than they ought to
#idk i just.. don’t really see anything to be ashamed about? and i hate the ‘your dog is reactive because you FAILED’ mindset#sometimes you do absolutely everything right and the universe still throws some shit at you that leads to reactivity#and it’s just a thing that happens sometimes#dogs are animals with teeth and claws and fur and tails#they shit outside and roll in dead things and sniff each others butts#and sometimes have big feelings about things#and that’s just part of being a little critter#it’s not a moral failing on anyone’s part that your dog is a dog instead of a cardboard cutout of a dog#not everything goes smoothly 100% of the time and sometimes you end up with an extra Thing that needs to be worked on#and yeah of course Working On It can be stressful. no one wants to see their dog having a hard time. which is exactly why we don’t need to#-be pushing the added stress of GUILT#it’s not helpful to anyone. it doesn’t prevent reactivity in the future. it just makes someone who’s already having a hard time have a-#-worse one#this is not a situation that needs blame#idk if any of this makes sense#my meds are making me a lil weird lmao#@ everyone who has a reactive dog: you’re doing a great job and if anyone tries to make you feel guilty#eat them#keep Workin On It and remember that Dogs Is Dogs#kill the goblin in your brain that tells you you’re the worst guy to have ever done it#you’re normal your dog is normal. give both of you a cookie rn
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I really need to get serious about personal projects again
#I think I said something like this last year too lol#currently in a weird headspace about it#the biggest reason why I lost focus on them was bc I prioritized engaging in fandom#(something that I never really did when I was focused on publishing a few years back)#so part of me feels like in order to make considerable progress on projects again I need to cut myself off from fandom#and I kinda have been weening myself off a bit from animanga but not really for that reason#it was mostly bc I was getting overwhelmed by how much I was consuming and I wanted to appreciate things fully#I don’t think I’d cut myself off from fandom completely either I’d still try to keep up with stuff#but the idea of not engaging in fandom anymore kinda.. scares me?#idk I feel like a major loser admitting this lol#it just feels like I’d lose a lot of connections with people#and would lose a lot of the love I have for stories if I’m not actively interacting with them :(#and then there’s also that stupid feeling of being a ‘fake fan’ because I’m not dedicating every single second of free time to fandom#which is dumb bc like I have a life and need to make money yknow I got things to do#im just Stressed bc I’m at such a critical stage career wise and im getting closer to 26 so hhhhh healthcare coverage will be up in the air#so I really can’t afford to dawdle#there’s just so much I wanna do and while I’m not necessarily racing to get it done I still want to take advantage of the time I have#but it also sucks feeling like I’m giving up a part of myself to progress on another part of myself#I don’t think any of this makes sense sorry I just needed to dump my thoughts bc I am Terrified™️#anyway personal projects! gotta get back to those !#blahblahbills#delete later
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like. okay. i have no real horse in the race of “which brother is the secret bad abuser” because the show does not actually care about that or think that either of them is actually treating each other that badly (except for when sam get manipulated, which is always his own fault and he should suffer for it /s)
but what i will say is that the way dean is written sometimes manages to make me more uncomfortable than any of the villains on this show. dean scares me. completely unintentionally, they did write a guy who only gets Worse over time, and it’s compelling, and it’s upsetting for me to watch.
#I don’t really mean this as a criticism because To Me it is just like. a part of the show.#it’s a feature. perhaps a Bethesda’s bug of a feature but. it’s a feature.#dean’s change in character feels natural. watching him get worse feels like the logical conclusion of where he’s going.#(the logical conclusion could also have been ‘dean makes an effort to not be so controlling’ but they didn’t do that. they leaned into it.)#so it isn’t much like. say. Lucifer. Lucifer is a character who just flips. motivations and character completely changed.#so disregarding his later appearances just? makes sense? to me anyway. that’s Not My Wife#but Dean’s character degradation is completely different in that it builds on what’s already there.#and whenever I write him I feel the need to. idk. grapple with that. with that potential to become Worse.#he is controlling! he doesn’t ever really trust sam that much post-s5! he does treat Cas his best friend like he doesn’t matter unless#he’s acting more human! these are just facts about him that show up long before the later seasons and idk! Dean is! he’s a lot!#he and Lucifer have a lot alike in the way that they’re driven mostly by love. and that love can easily go rotten. and it’s terrifying.#spn#dean winchester#sry watching s6 makes me think about. things.#actually no. not sorry. I’m going to get worse about this if I keep watching so stay tuned.
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hi so i just finished bridge to terabithia and now i’m unwell and my eyes are red because i’ve been crying before i’d even reached 20 minutes of it for i actually knew what was going to happen and by the time i reached an hour something something i just straight up sobbing screaming into my pillow. and now it’s 12 am and i’m still thinking about them. because god, look at them, how they were, the little world they lived in, wouldn’t you just love that, to run away, to escape, to grasp that childhood naivety and innocence that you lost a long time ago, to feel the sun in your skin and the air in your lungs and to paint fantasies and laugh and play and run hidden away from the world and find an old run down tree house and decided to make it your own little shelter and pin up canvases on the worn wood and paint and let your creativity goes wild and have someone understand you and gets you and do it with you, and wouldn’t you just love to have something so constant, so sincere, so genuine, so pure, so real, that there wasn’t anything else. if i knew i was going to cry this much, if i knew how much space this movie would make in my life, i wouldn’t have started this movie tonight. i would have been in peace on the floor of my room, not realizing how badly i actually want something like this even though i would never unironically admit this to anyone in my life or even myself when i’m outside of the familiar place of my mind, for that matters
#bridge to terabithia#how am i supposed to recover#i wasn’t planning to write a paragraph about it but yeah i kinda love this movie i guess#i needed a good cry and the universe didn’t stop me from choosing this movie i don’t know if that’s nice or simply mean#i was going to watch la la land after this but that’s not gonna happen now#i’m not reading back what i wrote otherwise i would just delete it because i’d think this movie deserves better more coherent thoughts#and i’d say that i’d just rewrite it tomorrow but then i wouldn’t#because nothing would ever beat the “everything i create has to be great or nothing” in me#and i never am proud of what i made unless it’s supposedly only for my viewing#so i actually don’t know if what i just wrote make sense but yeah#my eyes feel so weird right now#also the ending was definitely up to interpretations!! (spoiler alert* just in case)#i myself personally like to believe he dreamed up the last 30 minutes of it and didn’t even go to the museum#and so he’ll just wake up definitely shocked but then still find leslie in her house who was just about to meet him so they could go!!#and because the rope was cut off by the lightning from last night they decide to build the bridge so everyone could cross safe and sound!!#i like my ending better they really should change it#but no all and all the end was really beautiful#even though it took me maybe even an hour to get through it because i keep sobbing and have to repeat over and over to hear what they said#yeah okay anyways sorry for the rant<3#i’m not sure what this is#but glad i could get it off my chest#let’s see how to tag how to tag#movies#just#childhood#whatever <3#nadirants
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