#i just have a lot of thoughts. i find myself rambling a lot every time i start writing in tags oh dear

[todayisafridaynight]

I wanted to write in about my thoughts on Jo as a CSA survivor separately for a couple of reasons:

I already more or less have what I have to say on the topic in order thanks to talks with @starssystem and another friend [<3]

This is a massive tonal shift from anything else I could be discussing

This Is Massive In General For The Love Of God PLEASE Help Me

Obvious CSA CW for anyone else reading; I only discuss statistics, psychology, and the aftereffects seen in survivors here, but it's worth a warning.

With the disclaimers out of the way… I'd mentioned before I've only ever added one thing to Jo's background, and you were right: this is it! To me, there's so much thematic overlap in Jo's narrative with the experience of surviving CSA it's worth it to examine his character through the lens of that being the case. Of course, there are clearly-stated reasons for it all that Aren't That, but…

It's the pervasive guilt and shame, the lifelong secret that becomes too unbearable not to tell, the faulty coping mechanisms aimed at burying the trauma without having to face it, the reluctance to be sincere [vulnerable] and the lies and half-truths used to maintain the facade of invulnerability, the pursuit of power and control and the knee-jerk anger response when it's threatened, the pursuit of mastery over his body and the indifference to what happens to it. And the way a lot of it really does stem from a deeply traumatic childhood sexual experience from before either he or Ikumi understood what they were getting into, from before they could give informed consent.

Statistically, the further below the average age someone is for their first time, the likelihood of [at best] having been introduced to sex inappropriately and [at worst] having been abused at the time or earlier rises exponentially. Jo was 15 when Masato was conceived--possibly 14, since he was saying he "met" Arakawa at 15, and by then Masato was already born. To put this into perspective, since what ages register as concerning is largely cultural, the average age in the US and UK is 16-18. But in Japan, it's over 19.

To a Westerner [or even a heavily Westernized non-Westerner], having a kid at 15 is unfortunate, but not untenable; you've seen it on TV, you might know people like that, you might even be that kid or that parent. But in Jo's case, with him being 4 or 5 years younger than average, it's like if someone told you they had their first time--had a /kid/--at 13 or under. That's the equivalent discrepancy. That /is/ concerning, to me.

It's also something that's linked to negative outcomes in adulthood, partly because of the likelihood of forming bonds with poorly-adjusted peers. Jo specifically states he and Ikumi were only together because others who came from backgrounds like his own were all he had back then. [As an aside, it's interesting to see him instinctively seek out a relationship where his pain would be understood without having to say anything--or one where he could assume it would, at any rate.]

When it comes to his relationship with Ikumi, I've always felt there was this "adult dynamic" between them--in the sense it feels like one that'd be more fitting for adults to get into than a couple of teens. It was, based on his wording, a primarily physical relationship neither of them expected to last even if they were living together. To me, it's one thing if you're fully convinced you're in love or you're experimenting or whatever and that results in an unplanned pregnancy, but it's another thing entirely to have such a bleak yet objective outlook on your relationship so young.

And it didn't have to be that way. He could've been just like Arakawa, head-over-heels in love with this girl who was The Only Good Thing He Had Going, or something like that. But the sheer contrast between how Arakawa was crazy about Akane and never forgot about her for the rest of his life, while Jo more-or-less-clearly didn't have feelings for Ikumi and can't bring himself to remember her name after living with her for at least a year and experiencing life-changing events with her…

It's notable to me that Arakawa maintains an interest in women while nearly every in-character interpretation I've seen makes Jo averse to women. Obviously, we don't really know that; it's probably just based on his general attitudes, his contrast with Arakawa, and maybe his immunity to Charm. But I think there's a reason a lot of people pick up on it and tie it to trauma rather than/in addition to a lack of interest in women.

I've talked about this through the lens of comphet already [and Jo being gay or ace or both would present other difficulties], but I can't overstate how notable it is on its own. We see Jo's response to traumatic events, and it's to become preoccupied with them, to investigate further if he has any leads. That's why he remembers every minute detail of the night Masato was born and the time he saw Arakawa attempt to comfort Masato when he was crying and hitting himself. I think it's also why he gets as far as he does when looking into Arakawa's death, and why he entrusts the search to Ichi. He never seems to manage to block them out, even if that's what he'd rather do--even if that's what he thinks he's doing.

So if he "[doesn't] even remember" the name of the mother of his child, I get the feeling there's something more going on. Like I've [probably] said in the past, Jo genuinely sounds traumatized by the relationship as a whole. More than anything else he's been through, and he's been through a lot. It's often the case that CSA survivors who are also survivors of other trauma view it as worse than anything else that happened to them.

And that's not to implicate Ikumi at all, I don't think it's a case of COCSA--everything I've said holds just as true for her, and she had to suffer the additional trauma of an unwanted pregnancy and childbirth, at that. Rather, I think it would make sense for something like CSA, which often incontrovertibly reconfigures one's relationship with sex and love, to be a factor in why they rushed into a something physical before they were mature enough to handle it.

Some victims end up having perfectly healthy experiences, some victims end up avoiding them, some victims end up re-victimized, and some victims end up with a mixed bag--there's a lot of variation. But some victims do end up having relationships like this and making mistakes like this, because that's all they know, or because they want to heal but don't [or don't know how to] go about it in a healthy way, at a healthy pace. And I definitely think if you recognize that's what the basis of your relationship was, that it all comes back to something you'd rather forget, it'd make sense to want to forget the relationship as a whole.

To that end, it's possible to come away from a relationship traumatized even if no one did anything wrong. I've [probably] talked about how the way Jo comforts her at the station feels like he's doing it for her sake and pushing his own feelings down, but neither of them is really buying it. If that's a pattern in their relationship, perhaps he wouldn't have been able to communicate if maybe what they were doing was dredging up bad memories, if he wanted to stop but didn't think she did. So to go through with it, then get the news months later…

Either way, the fact Ikumi couldn't bring herself to tell him she was pregnant until nothing could be done would, for Jo, invariably cement the feeling he has no control over what happens around him. I think the sense of powerlessness he felt is why he blew up at her when she told him, because it's really the only time we see him lash out like that at her. At the park, he objects to going back for Masato, sure, but he's passive. And I think that unbroken pattern of powerlessness in his life [which CSA would only compound on] is why he's so reactionary, why he's so emotionally dysregulated, why he expresses his rage through what basically amounts to power-tripping.

But I do think Jo does have a great deal of awareness. A lot of his wording when he's telling Ichi about it borders on poetic, or at the very least candid and effective. That requires both prior reflection and a command of language. I think there's a lot he understands deep down, at least after sitting with it for long enough, but he isn't capable of voicing--or doesn't know how to voice--what's on his mind, most of the time.

So when he joins the Arakawa Family, when he rises the ranks and has that control back, his control has to be near-absolute. If it's undermined in any way--such as, for example, a certain someone failing to answer a call within two rings--he loses it. On the other side of the coin, I do feel a lot of why his devotion and gratitude towards Arakawa goes to the extent it does, why he's so comfortable with him, is because Arakawa gave him the safety of the Arakawa Family, gave him back his autonomy, gave him the environment--and treated him with enough humanity to give him the reason--to learn to regulate himself, to better himself.

And Arakawa /gets/ trauma. He really does. Aside from his own abusive background, literally the only time the word trauma comes out of any character's mouth in this series, it's Arakawa's. It comes back to Jo saying others who came from backgrounds like his own were all he had; that never changed, did it?

Lastly, For Funsies [<- LIE. COMPLETE LIE. TURN BACK NOW] I wanted to go through the items on this [CSA] Survivors' Aftereffects Checklist I could check off with near-certainty. 19/34, by the way, give or take. Now, as I said at the beginning, there are existing concrete reasons for why he has many of these experiences… but it's like the trans allegory with Masato, To Me… If I can check off over half the list based on a very limited backstory and an hour of screen time total, that's indicative of a notable overlap… TO ME…

Note that the book this list is from was published in 1990 and focuses on women's experiences. It was a huge step forward in giving survivors a voice back when a lot of existing research indicated CSA had neutral or even positive effects on children, but it's definitely a product of its time. With that out of the way…

Wearing a lot of clothing, even in summer […]

To be fair, most male characters in RGG are fully-covered and have near-unchanging designs, and it's winter in both 2000/2001 and presumably 2019, but… when it comes to Jo, it feels a little different.

He does have Some Heavage in his twenties [although the necklace takes the attention off of his actual chest], but as time goes on, he shows less and less skin and adds more and more layers. When he has the gloves on, it leaves no skin exposed at all, and there's this direct symbolic correlation with secrecy that isn't there for other characters. And if you're wearing three layers of leather [or even one], you can neither feel what you're touching nor feel anything touch you.

Pure Speculation, but I just can't really see him underdressed for any occasion… That's why his fit in Day with the Sun is funny as hell but also… yeah…

As a behavior, if it's rooted in anything, it's probably rooted in having to hide signs of physical abuse, of course--but then he kind of already had an excuse, with how he was constantly getting into fights. I guess it depends on the specifics, but I think it's interesting to consider this as one way CSA victims attempt to regain control of their bodies, avoiding emotional discomfort at the cost of physical discomfort.

Self-destructiveness

It's nothing super overt, but I see this most clearly represented in his second boss fight in particular; his willingness to wield a blade bare-handed while using enough force he could very well render his hand useless. I think it's potentially also evident in how he has severe cataracts he chooses to ignore and allow to worsen, despite having the reasons and resources to undergo surgery to restore his vision. In doing so, he literally and figuratively blinds himself to so much.

I also kind of think the assassination of Hoshino/the anonymous call and The Eye Scene are examples of self-sabotage. I mean, he literally was sabotaging himself in the former, but it's also the specific way he feels the need to be physically taken down in order to be stopped--possibly a holdover from RGGJo, who's only too happy to be beaten into a coma.

I don't know… It's hard to pinpoint, but I feel like he would be averse to most of the more "obvious" self-destructive behaviors--especially when he has people in his life who might notice and worry, like Ikumi and Arakawa. That and because many of them are addictive. He's seen what that's done to his father, and he's also developed this incredibly rigid sense of discipline he can't maintain if he doesn't have a clear head.

From how he talks about himself [as having lost his humanity and lived a half-assed life], I definitely think he's at the very least unkind to himself, but I also think he does externalize it by provoking others to harm him [in the case of physical fights] and reject him. Like he needs some kind of proxy perpetrator. For some abuse victims, this specific manifestation of self-destructive behavior is a way to regain control--whether or not you "deserved it" back then, you do now, as a direct, logical result of your actions.

Need to be invisible, perfect, or perfectly bad

I think each of these needs manifests in different ways for Jo. The need to be invisible can be seen with authority figures (mainly Aoki, but also Arakawa in The Yubitsume Scene, a little; how drastically he pulls back and tries to act "normal")--this relates to what you were talking about with being reluctant to intrude or take up space. If you fall under the radar, maybe you won't get hurt.

The need to be perfect can be seen in his seemingly "impossible" standards, I would say. Of course, because we see things from Ichiban's perspective, we tend to see them as unfair and often arbitrary demands. But they aren't arbitrary to Jo, are they? They're standards he holds himself to through and through. If you're good, maybe you won't get hurt.

The need to be perfectly bad can be seen in and relates to much of what I discussed under self-destructiveness [The Eye Scene and the way he antagonizes Ichiban specifically by making himself out to be worse than he is]. If you must get hurt, it can at least "make sense"--be "deserved."

Suicidal thoughts, attempts, obsession (including "passive suicide")

Obviously he's not like… Mine Levels Of Overtly And Consistently Suicidal, and he doesn't attempt suicide himself, but at the same time, I have to note his total ambivalence towards Aoki seeing him as a "bullet" (a kind of hitman sent on suicide missions). He agreed to what he himself viewed as a suicide mission and he didn't care what would happen to him afterward, as he says to Joon-gi, Zhao, and Adachi.

Aside from that, I certainly feel he's at least had passive thoughts like wanting to disappear or wishing he'd never been born. Y'know. Nothing concrete, but reflective of his mental state, and just as detrimental to dwell on long-term.

I think there's a sort of childishness [for lack of a better word] to thoughts like these [in that they're impossible], but also a level of maturity in that it probably doesn't escalate to something more actionable because he understands he has responsibilities he can't abandon. I think if he was ever seriously suicidal, it would be at the points of his life where he really didn't have any responsibility to anyone, like between Ikumi leaving and him joining the family, or after he was arrested.

Depression (sometimes paralyzing) […]

I'm trying not to over explain going forward because I Have BEEN Overexplaining It Is SUCH A Disaster… he's depressed If You Have Eyes And/Or Ears… I'll leave it at that…

Anger issues; inability to recognize, own, or express anger; constant anger […]

Lol

Rigid control of one's thought process; humorlessness or extreme solemnity

Relates back to what I was saying about how disciplined he is [and expects everyone else to be], but in general, he's incredibly, incredibly serious and focused. I don't think he's /entirely/ humorless [but then again, very few people are]; I just think his specific sense of humor is. Like. What Is Your Problem [I Know What Your Problem Is I Have Been Discussing It In EXCRUCIATING Detail But What The Fuck Is Your Problem]

Trust issues; inability to trust (trust is not safe); total trust; trusting indiscriminately

That's why he was planning on taking his secret to the grave, isn't it? It was only when faced with the realization it would soon be too late to say anything that he was able to tell Ichiban. He could've trusted Arakawa, should've been able to, but… in his mind he never could.

This book [and this checklist] is about "incest" actually, but it redefines "incest" to mean any instance of CSA perpetrated by any individual the victim trusts or has an expectation of being able to implicitly trust. Which… is most CSA as we understand it today, so I've edited some parts to just say that.

Anyway, I've never given much thought to the specifics of what Jo might've experienced--who did it, what happened, how long it went on, etc.--so there's no conclusion I can draw here [and elsewhere, I'm sure]… but even without that, to grow up unable to trust the one person who should be in his corner, his father, and to have his trust betrayed by Ikumi, it's no surprise Jo ended up like this either way. So… I'm happy he had the courage to tell Ichi, in the end.

High risk taking ("daring the fates"); inability to take risks

I think these are supposed to be mutually exclusive, but to me, Hoshino's assassination and Arakawa's assassination represent both sides of the coin, although they're not the only examples. There are risks Jo won't think twice about taking and risks that paralyze him.

Boundary issues; control, power, territoriality issues; fear of losing control; obsessive/compulsive behaviors (attempts to control things that don't matter, just to control something)

Lol…

Guilt, shame; low self-esteem, feeling worthless; high appreciation of small favors by others

Lmao Even…

Feeling demand to "produce and be loved"; instinctively knowing and doing what the other person needs or wants; relationships mean big tradeoffs (love was taken, not given)

I actually think this encapsulates a lot of what I've been saying about his work ethic, his ideas of discipline, and his relationship with Ikumi, but I also think it's why Masato took a liking to him. His attentiveness. It ties back into wanting to be perfect; when you're abused--especially long-term--you become attuned to observing and responding to any shifts in mood or tone. This is another area where I can't draw any conclusions relevant to my point, but it does certainly relate to his father's abuse, at any rate.

Abandonment issues

Kind of contentious… The anticipation of being abandoned by or losing someone he cares about appears to be worse than the actual experience. He's fine with Ikumi leaving him, and he's… not Fine With, but able to come to terms with Arakawa's death and Aoki's abandonment of him. At the same time, he really does try to make Ikumi's stay in his life comfortable, and he spends almost forty years doing his damnedest to keep his family together, whatever the cost. If I were to extrapolate from RGGJo, though, /he/ does have an obsessive, unhealthy attachment to Arakawa.

Blocking out some period of early years (especially 1–12); or a specific person or place

Ikumiiiiii that's what I'm SAYINGGGG

Feeling of carrying an awful secret; urge to tell, fear of its being revealed; certainty no one will listen; being generally secretive […]

Rofl Perhaps…

Denial; […] repression of memories; pretending; minimizing ("it wasn't that bad") […]

He admits to it himself. Not much else to say. Though I don't think he necessarily minimizes what he's been through by dismissing how bad it was; rather, he tends to overestimate his ability to move past it.

Pattern of ambivalent or intensely conflictive relationships (intimacy is a problem; also focus shifted from [CSA] issues)

Also kind of contentious… we don't see a pattern of romantic relationships, as I assume the author meant here, but at the same time, the romantic relationship and non-romantic relationships we do see fit this pattern. I guess I'd say I definitely think intimacy /would/ be a problem, and he /wouldn't/ be ready to address his issues.

Limited tolerance for happiness; active withdrawal from happiness, reluctance to trust happiness ("ice=thin")

The quote that prompted this ask in the first place. It's sort of connected to the point about humorlessness and extreme solemnity; if that was the "what," this is the "why." He doesn't know how to relax ["holidays don't exist" and all], he doesn't have much to be happy about, but even rarer is the occasion where he doesn't feel too conflicted in the moment to be able to enjoy himself. That's just how I see him.

[…] verbal hypervigilance (careful monitoring of one's words); quiet-voiced, especially when needing to be heard

EXACTLY what I was talking about in this ask, so I'm leaving that one up to past me…

......

... That's It That's The Essay I'm going to hibernate until Infinite Wealth comes out and somehow refutes my points but UNTIL THEN. Farewell, take care, and once more, don't worry too much about matching my energy… Like I Said if I were the one receiving this ask I'd just delete my blog, so… I'll just be happy to know you read it :] If That lmao

ok i read it :) 👁️👁️ READMYTAGSTHERESMORETHEREIPROMISE

#long post #cw csa #doublin up to add cw warnins in the tags just in case <3 lemme know if i should throw more tags down here..... im bad at cw tags.... #i forget my bookmark tag for asks from you i stg if i cant find this ask in the future im kmsing (in minecraft) immediately #snap chats #THE SNORT I MADE AT THE DEADPAN 'LOL'☠️ maybe i SHOULDVE put text In The Main Text i have A Lot of Thoughts.. #im leavin the main text empty since. ngl i was just gonna compare/contrast to myself again... and say a lot of what weve said b4.. #UNFORTUNATELY a lot of the things listed here uhmmmm Hm <3 Uh Oh <3 i do understand. Dare I Say personally. just a bit #I DO HAVE TO DISCLAIM ive never been a survivor of THOSE circumstances or really. any abuse tbh- brain just sucks and im a baby #and i cant say no BUT ANYWAY I HAVE REASONS FOR BEIN AN EGOTIST I SWEAR its cause I Somewhat had those exps/i understand them #i can REAAAALLLYY easily see where your points are coming from.... very easily even... like very in-depth.. #even if i didnt cry bout spilled milk every other day it IS clear to see the signs of abuse in sawashiro once you know them #i've def talked bout those aspects of him whether in tag rambles or in streams or have Attempted to express it via fics #so really the bits to chew on for me esp this time round is the more CSA aspects #tbh when it comes to bein unable to see him intimate or 'underdressed' i agree: incredibly hard for me to imagine #the thing with 'symptoms' of abuse is that they kinda overlap i guess ?? #in that regard it can either be a need to impress or protect himself/needing to be seen less #when it comes to doing certain things because of CSA i could see it as a result of another abuse too. if that makes sense #THOUGH THAT ISNT TO DISCREDIT THE IDEA nono cause there still exists the Now That I Think About It circumstances of masato #even if we look at it through Western Norms(TM) two- essentially homeless- kids having. A Kid is still bizarre #cause again teen pregnancies generally happen as a result of Bein Irresponsible With A Schoolmate- not that other situations cant exist #but thats the most common innit so. def an aspect to consider. All Things Considered. esp jo's self-separation from ikumi #BUT YEAH i feel like if i try to respond im just gonna end up typing up a textbook bout abuse since. UNFORTUNATELY #childhood psychology is my field of interest. and aint no one readin THAT phat thing. esp when ill prob repeat myself or you ☠️ #tbh remindin meself of when i said id write psyche papers on mine and/or jo.... oops 👀💋👀 savin this to steal notes from LOL #i hope yo know i WAS thoroughly intrigued reading this. As Ive Said childhood psyche is Literally My Field and this is v thorough and good #so im always interested in readin bout How X Caused Y in Z... very interesting many MANY things to think about.. ty... #forever cursed to be an idiot cause i really wish i could talk better and say somethin of substance.. ik you said its fine but still.. #im always open to chat bout this more if youd like PLEASE dont think my lack of Main Text is disinterest Im Just Stupid. But We Know That

[dailypokemoncrochet]

Tumblr is the best platform because I don't make a concerted effort to specifically gain followers or attention, and yet somehow people still find me amongst the billions of other posts. And SO many of y'all will leave little comments and expressions of affection on my posts or click the "like" button for my little crochets or smile when one of my pokemon comes up on your dash.

#text #i often think that every one on tumblr who would be interested in this project has already found me #but every day someone new finds something of mine and follows #and i read a shitpost that was like 'theres always other posts. literally a billion more' and that made me realize how small this blog is #and really how incredible that anyone's found it #which i might say a lot here im really not sure bc i mostly ramble like this on my personal but idk i wanted to say it here this time #been going Through It and years back on my personal and uhhh apparently i've had the thought #'i will crochet every single pokemon some day' multiple MULTIPLE times over the years even before starting this in 2017 lmao #and today i have hit the 100th of just this year #and it makes 543rd overall #and wow it hits different looking at those old posts when i'd made only an awkward clunky eevee with too big a body and now #idk im emotional so much has changed and so much is the same #and maybe it's dumb but i'm so in awe of myself for having made such progress in this One Thing #this one thing that is so silly and yet so meaningful #like all the shit going on in the world in my world #im still here in this tiny space able to do something i love and being able to share it #the thought is always the same the mood is always different and today i am choosing to make it comforting

[girls-and-honey]

Hiya honey girl!

How are you doing? ♥️

I feel gay today, and I don’t have anyone to vent to, so it’s gonna be you I’m afraid

I feel so gay, I spent half the day looking longingly in the distance, and *sighing* wishfully

Do you ever feel like that?

Last week I bought a red rose from a dude in the street and offered it to a beautiful lady singer in a bar, and even if I don’t particularly want to see her again, it still felt good to do something chivalrous and lesbiany you know?

I like living my life on my own, but some days I wish I could do those romantic things with somebody, like holding hands and cuddling, and walking along the river, and maybe kissing a little.

Even if I’m happy by myself, sometimes I still yearn for the day I’ll have my own lady to offer my roses to 🥺

inkaaaa hi hi <3

I'm doing pretty good, in drastic need of a weekend. almost there!

!!! gay vents are always welcome here! oh to look longingly into the distance whilst sighing wishfully...

do I ever feel like that YES absolutely in fact while pondering my response I did just that asjdfkl okay I might ramble in the tags but yeah completely relate to be happy with life on my own but sometimes wishing it wasn't just me yeah I'm definitely going to ramble in the tags

offering a beautiful lady a rose I'm 🥺🥺 sometimes you just have to indulge in chivalrous lesbiany actions this is unavoidable. manifesting this for you, I hope all your rose offering yearnings come true!

#this is so sweet and very relatable alksdfjs #only opting to ramble in the tags instead of the response bc I feel like this is going to get long lol you've been warned #but yeah. definitely do feel the happy by myself but sometimes wish I could be sharing that time with others #sometimes if i'm watching tv I'll wonder what new shows or movies I'd be watching if someone else was here #instead of the same eight shows I just watch on rotation all year (this is bc I like them btw. it's just hard to watch new shows #without external motivation to do so) #or when I'm working on the blanket that's been in progress almost two years. I wonder if I'd be making it in someone else's favorite colors #lot of little thoughts like this. some are fleeting and others I tend to get stuck on a bit or overthink #like breakfast for example. would I eat breakfast more consistently if I was also making it for someone else? what if they prefer to eat #the same thing every day? i need variety but I could make sure we always have their favorite fruit or put their cereal box out to make it #easier. or if getting the cereal out is part of their routine i can make sure their favorite bowl is always clean #i find myself wondering which of my mugs would be their favorite? which of theirs would be my favorite? #yeah i'm an acts of service person can you tell. also quality time... can you imagine the shared floor time conversations #a lot of the time I picture myself doing the exact same thing like watching tv and playing switch or practicing music or even working #the biggest different is just that someone else would also be here doing their own thing #to scroll tumblr in silence from the same couch... sending each other posts even though we're both right there. I do miss that #even chores would be more fun and go quicker I think. racing to see if they can do the dishes faster than I can fold and hang laundry #tidying and putting our things together in shared spaces. seeing them side by side just like we are #making the bed together and putting each of our stuffed animals on our own side #or maybe I'd just make it so they have one less thing to worry about #I think i've exposed myself enough alskdfj but there are quite literally hundreds more where those came from #anyway who wants to admit they have a crush on me (kidding) (ish) #asks #oops after posting this is looks like way more tags than I thought it would sorry anyone who made it this far

[tvrningout-a]

i meant for this hc to be two paragraphs, not 4 and counting

#ASDF EVERY TIME #i just meant to talk about how chiyo keeping secrets from delwyn damaged their bond bc of the stuff that happened with #his family and instead i'm diving into that AND why mal gets mad at her and leaves #i'm doing this knowing good and well that it's probably just me who is super invested :' ) but it's important to chiyo's dorverold au!! #the way her story progresses is impacted a lot by mal and del #anyway i'm just laughing at myself bc once again i find myself having a million words to say when i thought i just had a few asdfg #get ready to ramble | ooc

[noxtivagus]

4:44 am late night thoughts under cut bcs i want to talk so much but tags reached way above cap c:

#🤍 #🌙.thoughts #GENUINELY I'M DOING GOOD RN. DEFINITELY. /gen #i just have a lot of thoughts. i find myself rambling a lot every time i start writing in tags oh dear #these r very intimate thoughts of mine at this very late hour #i don't mind though. here online. maybe to whoever may read it they could see some part of themselves in it #i've always loved the ways n possibilities of how we may influence each other in this world #one reason why i write. & why i share. is to make my own opportunity of that possibility w others #sometimes actually w my attunement for these deeper intricacies in life i wonder if i'm even. idk normally fun to be around #but i've had ppl say i'm funny. i've made people laugh n smile. maybe that's proof enough for me that my existence #was loved in those moments. even now maybe for just. being who i am. maybe it really is true. #i find it hard to believe i don't think such beauty is meant for me. #but i think. ultimately. i do deserve the same things that. i think others deserve. i deserve it too. #yeah often i feel like i don't belong in this world but this is enough to keep me going. me. & you. #everything in my worlds. in this universe. & everyone in my life. yeah. life goes by far too fast for hesitation and regrets. #i think it's so beautiful how in a way. you n i. we're so similar yet so different. i wnt to learn sm more abt everyone/everything around m #i think i wna make a sideblog for stuff like this. i realize at heart i'm genuinely a person fond of sharing their thoughts n emotions #i've rambled to myself a lot before in threads in discord servers w friends. in my own discord server. & in tumblr tags #i'm not used to people interacting to it. or being necessarily listened to. or knowing that i am read and seen but i don't really need that #i live like this for me. first and foremost. this is one part of my own inner world #oh god usually i definitely don't talk this much though but it's really really late at night ( early morning ) #i'll try not to delete this when i wake up bcs even if i get shy or embarrassed then that'll change nothing deep down #n it's not like it'll directly impact my life yeah? i should have nothing to fear #that ffxiv friend i spent time with earlier today said they'll challenge their shyness #motivated me more to do the same. it's hard n it gets uncomfortable at times n i will experience drawbacks but #i will work hard to challenge myself & become a better person. to forge ahead as i always have. #this is part of who i've always been & part of who i'm growing to be. #why should i hide? in hindsight i will definitely learn to manage it better bcs i should keep my life more private to be safe but #rn tonight i don't think i'll worry. not now. THAT SAID THOUGH i will actually sleep vvv soon fr now c: #oh my god last thought though but i'm rlly rlly curious of others too.... but that's enough thinking for tonight. i will sleep Soon ><

[reidmotif]

Regret on the Rocks

Summary: Spencer finds himself at a bar being served by the girl who once broke his heart. Turns out she feels a lot more than just regret for letting him go.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Light Angst/Smut

Content Warning: drinking, Spencer is a little depressed, mentions of heavy bullying (specifically 3x16), car sex, female masturbation, Spencer POV, heavy kissing, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Regret is an emotion I’m well accustomed to. It’s not to mean that I’m unhappy with my life by any means, but I’m aware of the space between my current situation and the ‘beyond’ that could’ve been if things had just been different. 

If I’d never joined the BAU.

If I’d had a more conventional life in the first place.

If connection came to me as easy as it seemed to other people my age. 

But none of those things seemed to ring true, so I carried regret in me like a bruise of honor. Despite the regret, I faced it every day and lived to do it all over again in the morning. It didn’t mean it was easy, and today proved that. Today, it was hard going to sleep knowing I’d wake up to do it all over again. 

In light of this, I’d found myself in a bar, alone. The case we’d been working on saw little to no fruition despite our efforts, and it’d resulted in another body we couldn’t save. Another person I was responsible for. It weighed down on me more than I cared to admit. 

I found myself continually lost in my thoughts, navigating through the carefully weaved web of guilt and self-doubt, spiraling, until a much softer, surprised voice pulled me out. 

“Spencer Reid? Is that you?” She asks. I hear her voice before I see her, and I know that it’s the bartender stood behind the bar, and there’s confusion as I wonder who could’ve possibly recognized me in a rundown small-town bar.

I look up and meet her eyes, and it’s as if a flood of memories ensues. A flash of recognition crosses my face, and seeing the images playing in my head, almost akin to a film reel, slowly walking me through one of my earliest regrets. 

I was 15, navigating my senior year while being the youngest one there. Despite the oddness of my situation, it never crossed my mind that I shouldn’t have tried so hard to participate in the same social events as my peers. With the hindsight of adulthood, I now imagine that if I had withdrawn, spent more of my time alone than trying to not be,  the hurt of never being accepted would sting less, because I’d never had tried in the first place.

But I had tried, and she was the only one who got me. She was older, yes, and beautiful and popular,  but those didn’t matter half as much as the conversations we’d manage to have. She never seemed to take offense to any ramble of mine, and I’d feel my heart soar when she’d ask questions after my monologues, sending me the clearest signals of interest in what I had to say.

And as a lonely 15 year old? It meant the absolute world to have that. To have her as my friend.

And so, when it came time for senior prom, in the interest of at least trying to fit in, I asked her to go with me. As friends of course, but even then she shook her head, and ruefully told me someone else had asked her. I vaguely recalled the name she’d given me off of a football roster I’d once read while attending the school, and nodded. I understood. I was prepared for the rejection, in fact I’d already taken it the moment she said no. I was prepared to live with it.

Then came the week before prom. Being lured away from the safety of the campus, and onto a football field. Being tied to a flagpole, while everyone watched- and laughed. I remember seeing a face, his face, knowing he was the one who was taking her. Taking (Y/N) to the prom. 

I rarely dwell on the events of that day, but I do remember the regret. I remember wondering that if I’d just never spoken to her, I’d maybe have been less of a target. I wondered if maybe I’d never asked her in the first place, maybe our friendship could’ve survived the whole ordeal, but it hadn’t. She never spoke to me after that, her head hanging low as she continued to hang off of his arm, never sparing me another glance again. 

But here she was, glancing- no, staring at me, her eyes wide. 

“What are you doing here? Are you.. Did you always live here all along?” She asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft and mellow. She was loud back in high school, I remember. She had the best laugh I’d ever known. 

It takes me a second, but I give her a flat smile, setting my glass down. “I’m here for a case, actually.” 

“A case..?” She says, her head tilting a bit in confusion. 

Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah, a case. I’m an FBI agent. I’m here for a recent string of murders being committed in the area.” 

“Wow, FBI, huh? I never thought of you as law enforcement.” She says, her eyebrows raising. “Always thought you were going to change the world with that brain of yours.” She adds, a small smile on her face. My eyes narrow in distrust at the sudden compliment, unsure of her intentions. 

“I’d say I’m changing the world.” I respond, a little defensively. “I like my job. I like that I change lives by not letting them end.”

She immediately retracts her statement, vehemently shaking her head. “No, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I mean, of course you’re changing the world- I just thought you’d be doing more. Okay- not more. I just- Gah. I swear, don’t take it the wrong way.” She pauses, before gesturing to herself.  “I mean, I have no room to talk.” She says, the words a little rushed and frantic. 

“What do you mean, no room to talk?” I ask, squinting in genuine confusion. 

“I mean, I work as a bartender. I don’t know what I want from life, but it’s certainly not this.” She says, motioning to the shelves of drinks behind her, a little defeated. 

She’s so different from when I knew her. Self-assured. Confident. She seemed almost meek in this environment, and the only recognition of the girl I knew came from the small, embarrassed smile she gave me.

“Well. We’re a lot more alike than you think, then. Titles mean nothing.” I say, voice a bit quieter. “I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of, though. We’re just getting through life the best we can, right?” 

She nods a little, seeming to take comfort in my statement. “Look at you. You’ve still got the same sweetness in you from high school.” 

Stiffening at the mention of high school, I just nod and taking another sip from the glass in front of me, which was starting to empty out. “Not trying to be sweet, I think. Just honest.” I say, bluntly.

It’s mean, I’m aware. I can feel her trying, but I don’t want to offer her the same. I want her to feel awkward. I want her to know what she did was wrong. 

There’s a silence that passes through the two of us, before she breaks it with a continued gesture of kindness, turning around to fill another glass with my drink of choice and setting it down in front of me, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“For being honest then. Thank you.” She says, and her eyes meet with mine. I almost hear the unspoken apology in her voice, in the way her fingers slowly push the chilled glass towards my empty hand, in the way she bites her lip softly, waiting to see what I’d say.

“To being honest.” I say, raising the glass slightly and downing the drink a little faster than I intended, not wanting to think too much about the implications of the gesture. To know that she possibly had regrets too. That she might still have the goodness I once knew in her. 

“I have about half an hour left in my shift, but if it’s alright, I’d love to catch up properly.” She says, keeping her gaze trained on mine. “I’ve.. missed you.” She says, her voice soft. 

I don’t respond to her last statement, but I can’t deny the magnetic pull begging me to say yes to her request, to at least see where our lives had gone after our separation. So I nod, silently.

“I’ll be here.” 

I try to lay off the drinks for the next thirty minutes, opting to sip some water instead to clear my mind in preparation for the time I’d be spending with her. Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t have accepted the invite at all. It wasn’t that I forgave her per say,  but the curiosity to know her all over again was overwhelming, regardless of the pain she’d caused me. I’m once again reminded why “curiosity killed the cat” is such an overused aphorism.

She comes up to me thirty-six minutes later, and I hate myself for keeping track. She flashes me a small smile. 

“You waited.” She says, softly. 

“I said I would, right?” I respond, unsure why that would mean anything to her. I agreed to this. I wanted this, even if I could physically feel the inner turmoil brewing throughout my body. I suppose it didn’t show though, because she continued on, smiling. 

“There’s an ice cream place I like around here. Would you like to go?” She asks, and I see her teeth catch onto her bottom lip, the plumpness of the feature being exacerbated by the action, causing me to momentarily lose my train of thought. 

“Uh. Yeah, ice cream. Sounds good.” I say, placing my hands in my pockets. 

“Did you drive here? I mean- I hope not. You drank quite a bit.” She says, starting to walk to the exit of the bar. 

“No, no. My hotel is actually right here. I walked. Needed to get my mind off some things and I ended up here since it was convenient.” I say, and I feel myself falling back into that comfortable rhythm of just being able to speak freely around her. 

It’s like no time has passed at all, and yet I’m acutely aware that nothing is the same. That we’re avoiding a bigger issue at hand. 

“Yeah.” She murmurs. “The murders around here have been grisly, haven’t they?” She says, starting to lead me to her car. “I get nervous when I hear about that stuff, so I find myself looking away from the news more often than not.” She continues, quirking her mouth to the other side, as if she’s aware this isn’t the best course of action, but does it anyway.

“It’s cute.” I think.

I push the thought away. 

“Understandable.” I reply, nodding. “I don’t watch the news either. I mean- I do read the news. But I don’t watch it.” 

She starts the car, and I observe a hint of a grin on her face, her eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that makes my heart jump. “So you still like to read then?” She says, seeming genuinely happy I’d kept up the habit even after my youth. 

“Oh yeah. I mean, reading isn’t something I really ever let go of. It’s a good activity when you’re out on the road so much.” I say, feeling solace in talking about something I truly loved. “Sometimes I feel like books provide me with better stimuli than social interaction.” I continue, unaware of the implications of my words, and I only realize once I’ve seen her raise an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, but I mean. Friends are good too, right?” She says, a hint of concern making her way into her voice. 

I chuckle a little bitterly. “Probably. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I have my team, and I’m grateful but-” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know. It doesn’t come to me like that, you know? And I’m not bothered by it, but I don’t like to think about it.” I say. There’s a faint feeling of heat on my face from the honesty, but I continue to stare straight ahead, not wanting to see her reaction to my words. 

“You were a good friend to me, Spencer. Better than a lot of the friends I had in high school, and I’m not just saying that.” She says, softly. 

I respond without thinking, shaking my head with an embittered motion and a click of my tongue.

“Yeah, and look where that got me.” 

She’s a little silent then, and I refuse to say anything else. She’s the one who invited me here. I don’t know what she wanted out of this, but I wasn’t going to forego my own feelings just to spare hers. I was here. That was enough. I was allowed to say that. 

We pull into an empty parking lot, where I see the neon lights advertising an ice cream parlor, but we don’t get out. She turns off the headlights and blows a bit of air between her lips, placing her hands in her lap and turning towards me. 

“Spencer.” She murmurs, swallowing a bit. “I am so, so sorry for what I did in high school. I know I wasn’t there when.. You know when. And I know I didn’t speak to you afterwards, and I am so sorry.” She repeats. “I hope you believe me when I say I really did miss you. I was such an idiot back in high school, and nothing can repair that, but I missed you so much.” She says. 

I turn to her and can see the tears welling up in her eyes and feel my heart soften. It’s insane, the effect she can have on me, even years later. 

“Hey, don’t cry.” I say, immediately reaching over to wipe a tear from her cheek, my thumb swiping over the expanse of her smooth skin. “It’s just high school. It’s a long time ago.” 

“No.” She says, emphatically, shaking her head. “Don’t lie to me. What I did was awful. It doesn’t matter if it was long ago. You can call me a bitch. You can- scream or hell! I don’t know. You can be angry at me. You should be angry at me. I could never say sorry enough.” She says. 

I shake my head, all the previous resentment and bitterness dissipating instantly. It was a bit odd, feeling the emotions I’d long held onto even years after our fracture go away so quickly, but she was my friend. For what it had been worth, she had been good to me.  And right now, she was my friend, crying in a car, and the guilt and shame couldn’t be more obvious. 

I move to hold her hand, wanting to comfort her, rubbing small circles into the skin near her thumb, her fingers grasping over mine, almost afraid to let me go now.

“You’re right, in a way. What you did confused me and left me feeling really.. lonely. But now that I’m older I think I better understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact you hurt me.” I reply, and I see her jaw tighten, nodding and taking my words to heart. 

“But I don’t think I resent you anymore for what happened.” I continue, the words tumbling out. “Seeing you guilty and ashamed so many years later is just making me wish we’d talked earlier, so we wouldn’t have had to feel this way for so long. Maybe we could’ve.. I don’t know. Picked up where we left off.” 

She gives me a flat smile, tears still in her eyes. “Yeah? I’d have liked that.” She murmurs. 

“I mean it.” I say, flashing her a soft smile. I decided to lighten the conversation for her comfort. 

“Doesn’t mean I won’t call you an idiot for dating that prick though.” I respond, a little teasingly, hoping to get a bigger smile out of her. 

“Oh god.” She says, leaning back, laughing a bit. “Please do. God, he was so .. awful.” She says. “He wasn’t half as funny as you. Just.. boring honestly.” 

I smirk a little at the words, feeling a bit of pride but brushing it off with a shrug. “I mean, it's a cliche right? Beautiful, smart girl with the boring jock?” I say. “You and like, 6 out of 10 high school girls probably fall directly into that category.” 

She gives me a laugh at that one, a real one, and my heart soars upon the sound alone. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her.

 “6 out of 10? Where’s that statistic from? High School Girls Anonymous?” She responds, matching my energy and continuing the banter.

“Just trust me. I know these things very well.” I say, trying my best to sound as faux academic as possible, hoping to make her feel at ease, to fully let go of the tension from before.

“Well, then.” She says, softly, turning the conversation to be a bit more sincere. “I’m glad I don’t fall into that cliche anymore. I’m glad my taste changed.” 

I nod, surprisingly relaxing into the vulnerability of the words. “Yeah, it happens. Tastes do change throughout life, especially post-adolescence. One could denote it to the development of the prefrontal cortex, but I like to say it’s out of knowing what you want out of life.” 

“Have yours? I mean, your tastes. Have they changed?” She asks, her eyes boring into mine, and I realize that my hand is still holding hers.

I lick my lips and shrug. “Here and there. For the most part, yes, but I find myself clinging to certain aspects of my teenage self.” I respond, vaguely. 

She continues to look at me, nodding. “Mine have. For sure.” “How so?” I ask, my heart speedingbup. 

“I think I learned to like sweeter guys.” She says, softly. “Ones that don’t bore me entirely, and ones I actually want to spend time with. Maybe that’s a cliche in itself but..” She shrugs, ending off her sentence there. 

I nod, wondering where this was leading. Her eyes were trained on mine and I could feel my pulse quickening. Was she going to kiss me? Was I going to kiss her? Was I crazy for thinking that at all? What was happening here? 

“You said you still have certain aspects of your teenage self in your tastes.” She says suddenly, her face moving a bit closer to mine. “What did you mean by that?” 

I sigh, taking in the features of her face, and how they seem to be illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows of her car. She was so stunning, even now. Even after all these years, I couldn’t deny she’d only grown to be more beautiful.

 I lick my lips and nod. “I guess I just meant.. I still find you just as beautiful as I did back when I first knew you. Even moreso now, honestly.” I say, quietly. 

I can feel her breath hitch, and her own tongue darting out to wet her lips, mirroring my actions. Her gaze shifts from my eyes to my lips, and back to my lips again, and I’m extremely aware of what I want at this moment. 

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, my hand still in hers, studying her with a careful gaze. 

She nods almost immediately, and at the same time, we surge forward to meet the other’s lips, her hands immediately cupping my cheek and my hands moving to her waist. I hear the click of her seatbelt being unfastened, and suddenly she’s in the passenger seat with me, straddling my waist and continuing to keep her lips locked firmly on mine. 

It’s like I can’t get enough of her, my hands exploring her back, eventually lowering them to squeeze her ass, which elicits a low moan from her. I pull back a little, panting and see her eyes blown out with lust, causing me to groan from just how deep my desire for her ran in this moment. I let one of my hands to run over her bottom lip, pulling it down and letting it bounce back up, enamored by just how close she was. 

“Fuck.” I murmur, unable to contain my awe at her and without wasting a moment, she’s grabbing my hair roughly to pull me back in again to meet her mouth with mine. When given the opportunity from another soft moan from her, I immediately slip my tongue into her mouth, relishing in the way she grabs my collar and presses her body against mine, matching my enthusiasm one for one. 

It felt so good to be wanted by her.

She starts to whimper at the intensity of our prolonged contact, and the sound activates something primal in me. It was almost as if once I heard it, I couldn’t go back. Pulling myself back from the kiss, I start to trail my lips up and down her neck, leaving hot, wet kisses in my wake while she writhed in my lap, her fingers tugging on my hair in desperation. I played with the motion for a bit, testing out certain points on her, before finding that she’d moan loudest at a pulse point at the junction in which her jawline met her neck. I sucked on the spot, being sure to leave a large, dark mark.

I didn’t care what would happen after this night, but for right now, she was mine, and I intended to treat her as such. 

“You said your hotel room was nearby, right?” She pants, starting to move her thighs off mine. “We can go and-” 

I immediately wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back against me with a force that surprised even me, before gripping her hair and placing my mouth near the shell of her ear. I can hear her squeak at the motion, but her legs relax back into straddling mine. 

“I want you now.” I whisper, my voice hoarse and low. “We can go, if you’d like but- I need you now. I can’t stress that enough.” 

She melts in my arms as I say that, and a grin comes upon my face from the desire she was displaying as well. She nods quickly, before moving her fingers to my belt, and just upon hearing the sounds of the hardware moving, my head involuntarily falls back because- holy fuck. Feeling her so close to where my pants were now currently constricted nearly had me finishing right there. I could barely look at her without feeling overwhelmed. I feel my cock being pulled from my briefs, and I let out a moan. 

I look at her again, and she’s the picture of lust. Her pupils are dilated and her hair is messy, and her mouth slightly agape. She’s everything I want right now. All I want. 

“You’re so big.” She mumbles, leaning back, her hand wrapped around me, beginning to stroke me in a gentle, rhythmic motion. 

“Yeah?” I murmur back, breathing in sharply when her thumb runs over my slit, feeling the precum already dripping down my shaft. Even her hand is making me question if I’ll finish right here before ever getting to be inside her.

“Yeah.” She whispers, almost breathlessly. 

“You can take it.” I say, looking at her, and the girl looks like she’s about to moan off of my words alone. She licks her lips before responding, her voice a bit higher than before. 

“I don’t have a condom- but I’m clean and-” 

“Yes.” I respond immediately and she moves quickly. My fingers, as if possessed, move to unbutton her dress a bit, letting her breasts spill out (to my delight). The urge to strip her bare for me crosses my mind, but then I’m acutely aware that we were in her car, and the risk of being caught was far too high for the pleasantries I wished to indulge her and myself in, and I find myself slightly wishing we had gone to the hotel room. Next time.

Before I get too caught up in the fantasy of possibly ever fucking her again, I see her reach under her dress, presumably to move her panties aside and groan at the thought. My hands roam over her body to find her hips, slowly guiding her onto my cock, her walls squeezing around me tightly as her hips met mine. 

Her moans were sweet, but I found my hand covering her mouth quickly, watching as her eyes shone with pleasure with just the slightest movement from either of us. 

“Need you to stay quiet, pretty girl.” I murmur. “You can do that for me, right?”

She nods, eager to please, and I keep my hand on her mouth for a moment too long as I watch her eyes flutter shut, then open, her hands wrapping around my neck to stabilize herself. She starts moving then, lifting off until my tip is the only thing inside of her, before slamming against me, creating the best type of friction for both of us, causing there to be desperation for more. My hands rush down to grip her waist, and I can barely stifle my own noises from how fucking good she feels.

It’s a frenzy after that, and I match her movements with thrusts from below. I know it’s enjoyable for her, based on how hard she’s trying to not make a single sound, but still lets out the tiniest little whimpers and gasps when my cock grinds against her spot, and from the way her thighs shake every single time I disappear deep into her, a small bulge forming in her lower stomach every time I pushed into her. Every clench and squeeze of her cunt drives me insane, and I can’t help the low groan slipping out of me. 

Her movements get erratic, signaling her end, and I grin at how quickly I managed to get her there. My fingers move to stroke her clit in circular motions, savoring the way I could hear her whisper my name, grinding down on my dick and chasing the feeling of my fingers on her. 

“Close?” I mumble, biting down on her shoulder lightly, which causes a louder moan to slip out of her. 

“Yes. Yes.” She whispers, breathlessly. “Please, Spencer. Oh god. Please.” 

I jut into her more rapidly, continuing the motions against her, before her walls tighten and squeeze around me, and her cunt flooding the base of my cock. I continue to move like a man possessed, swallowing the moans of her orgasm with a messy kiss, before finally, I reach my release as well, coating her walls from the inside out. 

She pants for a second, collapsing against my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath, and I stroke her hair, attempting to do the same. She moans softly, her hands wrapped around me as her eyes flutter open and shut. 

“I was wrong.” She mumbles, nuzzling into my shoulder, kissing it softly. I’m unsure about the meaning of the words, so I quietly ask her. 

“What about?” 

“You’re incredibly different from when we were in high school.” She says, softly. 

“Good or bad different? I ask, a little self consciously, which is amusing considering I’m still inside her. 

“Good. Really, really fucking good.” She clarifies, quickly, with a dazed smile. I lean in, kissing her a bit more softly now, letting my lips languidly trace over hers. 

“You too.” I murmur, and I can feel her smile against my lips.

No regrets about this one. 

WOAHHH. oh em gee. a fic! so so so deeply sorry i didn't live upto posting more fics this december and january, but i swear i'm gonna keep trying to at least get two out a month. valentines day is coming up, so you already know i'm gonna try and write something fluffy and cute for that, so look out for that. as usual, thank you so so much for any and all continued support. it seriously means the world to me and i cannot say that enough <3 i hope this fic was enjoyable. like, reblog, comment, whatever <3 just ty for reading!! <3

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[buggachat]

To be clear, I goddamn hated the finale on first watch. I was withering in my seat. My heart had dropped to my stomach. I had no fucking idea what I was watching in that final scene lmao

and then Adrien said "when Ladybug gave me the rings—" and I was like— wait. LADYBUG? LADYBUG STILL EXISTS?

I THOUGHT THE ENTIRE TIMELINE HAD BEEN REWRITTEN 😭😭😭😭 I THOUGHT LADYBUG AND CHATN OIR DIDNT UFCKING EXIST uNTIL ADRIEN SAID THAT I WAS SO SO SO SCARED

and then I realized, oh wait. This isn't a complete utopian timeline rewrite. This is just a timeskip of a few months and Mme Bustier is just a kickass mayor. In fact, she's only mayor BECAUSE it's still the same timeline. And then I realized, hey, wait, if they didn't rewrite the timeline, then how tf is Emilie casually there with no questions?

And then I realized she was wearing black. And Félix was there. And I remembered Amelie exists.

Basically, I went into the finale chanting to myself "it's okay, it's okay... they probably wont bring Emilie back... they probably won't rewrite the entire timeline permanently.... right? please....", even though I didn't actually expect it to happen, but just because I was terrified that it could. And apparently that fear actually got to me so much that I misinterpreted the episode as being everything I didn't want it to be... when... it actually wasn't that at all

anyway, all of this is to say, everything in the episode happens so fast that it confused and terrified me at first. And when I realized what had happened, my opinion went from "my year is ruined" to "oh. well. okay. kind of disappointing, I guess". And then I kept thinking about it, and the ending, and all that is set up and rewatching the scenes and all the loose ends still in place and.... i realized I loved it?

like, every time I think about this finale, I love it more. every time i rewatch a scene, I get a little obsessed. this episode went from my nightmare to actually really really cool to me, and I'm still kind of reeling from it

Basically, this is why I've been kind of passionately defending the finale— not because I think people who don't like it are """dumb""" or anything, I don't blame people at all for that, and I totally get the confusion. I was confused too. And I know I'm not the only one who went in preparing themselves for the worst, or went in with very specific expectation on what will happen, because this finale has been long awaited for so long. I think everyone was shocked with how it ended. I think most people probably startled at Amelie's face (it's so easy to forget she exists....)

Anyways, I started this post basically as an apology for if I seem too aggressive or defensive about the finale. Because I get it! I get hating it! I get being disappointed or frustrated or confused! Part of why I'm so defensive is because I have all the arguments so ready on the tip of my tongue because I had the very same argument with myself already 😭 So I'm sorry if any of my posts came off as too aggressive and in advance for any future posts that might. I promise promise promise I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad for having bad opinions on the finale! I just think this episode is really cool and the fact I related to a lot of the nay-sayers makes it easy to feel so impassioned about it.

But this post is getting off the rails and I'm just gonna let it, because some of my regrets w my participation in fandom is that I find myself chickening out of actually talking about my thoughts on episodes a lot. I get kind of overwhelmed and overthink everything after I've posted it and I'm a shy person. But my inbox is closed and this is the season 5 finale and I want to ramble and ramble so I will allow myself this

Basically, I went in with some very specific expectations for this episode. We all know about the Hawkmoth defeat story. Many of us have read it in fics over and over again, it was teased in Chat Blanc, we all know what we expect, we all know our favorite beats from it.

And what actually happened....... met virtually none of those beats. (For me, at least).

Like, Adrien wasn't there for the final episode. At all. He was completely absent from the confrontation. He never found out his father was Hawkmoth. He got his rings, but he never found out he was a sentimonster. He is living in the dark.

Ladybug confronted Monarch... alone. Which is sad, when so much of the series is dedicated to the partnership of her and Chat Noir. Them against the world....... and Monarch was "defeated" with nary a Chat Noir in sight.

The whole entire "Gabriel is known as a hero" thing. I don't think anybody was expecting that. Absolutely shocking.

The fact Marinette would lie to Adrien like that. The fact she's keeping so much from him. The fact everyone is. SO MANY people in Adrien's life (Marinette, Plagg, Nathalie, Felix, Amelie, Kagami, probably Alya, maybe more I'm not thinking of....) are just... lying to him, now. He is so in the dark. He knows nothing.

But.........

I kind of like that I didn't predict nearly any of this. I like that it caught me off guard. I love how this show just completely baffles me at every turn, how it will present concepts and ideas to me that I've never read a fic about.

In retrospect, Chat Noir being absent from the final battle... makes sense. It actually makes a lot of sense, if I think about it, because... there is only one possible way that could've gone, right? Chat Noir would not be allowed to have the emotional implosion that he would have to have. This is devastating. This is SO devastating. This is the entire shattering of Adrien's entire world we're talking about, and Chat Blanc is the only real way for that to end. Adrien has an emotional implosion in front of Monarch, he gets akumatized, it turns into an emotion explosion, extinction event. The end. We've already seen it.

And........ even if it didn't end that way, even if he managed to avoid akumatization...... how could the finale satisfyingly end on that note? How could it end in any semblance of a "wrapped up" way, at the very start of Adrien's emotional breakdown? It couldn't. I wouldn't WANT it to. In retrospect, Adrien finding out his dad is Monarch and then.... what? The season ends on a close-up of him crying? The season ends with a time-skip to the new school year where they skipped his entire grieving period!? I would HATE that, actually. I would hate that. I thought I wanted it, but I would hate it. I would hate it so so so much.

What's kind of amazing is that the finale ended with Monarch being defeated.... but Adrien still has those realizations to make. He still has those betrayals to come to terms with. There is time for him to make these realizations, for him to come to these conclusions, perhaps one at a time, perhaps in a more controlled environment.... and that gets me far, far more excited for the seasons to come than an episode that tried to wrap it all up in the last 5 minutes.

Also, the reason Adrien didn't go to the final battle was because he feared becoming Chat Blanc. He didn't know the truth to it, didn't understand that literally, yes, that's what would have happened if he was there, even if he hadn't been under a nightmare curse. But he still knew. He still expected it. He willingly chose to sit it out, no matter how much he hated it, because he knew. And there's something kind of powerful to that, I think, of Adrien making a choice that is so unequivocally the Correct choice, even more than he realized. And the strength it took for him to make that decision...... damn.

As for the lies and the Gabriel statue? I... it's upsetting, but it's supposed to be. And I believe it. I absolutely believe it. I 10000% believe Marinette would keep the secret of Monarch's identity to herself to try to save Adrien the pain. I 10000% believe that the population could easily be led to believe a famous billionaire is a hero. I 10000% believe that Adrien would WANT to believe it. I 10000% believe Tomoe would take advantage of it.

And I can't wait to see that illusion crumble.

Also.... this is the beginning of The Lila arc.

And the Lila arc begins on........ Marinette telling the biggest, boldest face lie she ever told. The Lila arc begins on the most extreme city-wide illusion we've ever seen. It begins on such a huge fabrication and....

..... it's Marinette's lie.

............ and Lila knows that it's a lie.

I'm

!!?!?!?!

This is so fucking cool???? The irony here??? the deceit???? All these loose ends, all the possible confrontations, all the ways this could GO. I don't know where the show is taking this, obviously, because nobody ever can predict where this show is going apparently (and I love it for that), but oh my god. I'm imagining all the fics I could read about this. all the fics I could write. all the thoughts and scenarios that this finale has provided me with to daydream about as I go to sleep.

Adrien, going through the motions of life. Looking up to his father as a hero, despite the fact the last time he saw him, Adrien was sobbing, in tears, and cursing his name. Adrien, after all the abuse he was subject to, having to look up at a statue of his father and...... be forced to think that maybe he was wrong about his father. But he's not wrong. He WASN'T wrong. He just THINKS that he is. His father is going to continue to loom over his life in ways I never expected post-hawkmoth. Adrien's relationship with Gabriel has not ended, a new and terrifying and horrible new chapter of it has simply begun, and Adrien is still as manipulated by his father's ghost as he was by his father himself.

THAT'S. WILD!!!

also, Adrien now believes that MONARCH MURDERED HIS FATHER. Chat Noir now believes that his greatest nemesis KILLED HIS FATHER. CHAT NOIR, resident self-sacrificer, believes that HIS FATHER was a HERO who DIED FIGHTING MONARCH. Adrien thinks that maybe he should be more like his father— more like his father who died in battle. This is. Not Good. For Adrien.

And it's Marinette that started this. Well intentioned Marinette, who doesn't really understand the extent of the horrors. Marinette, Adrien's girlfriend, the person he trusts most. She did this.

And, I mean.... god. I totally get how this sucks for a lot of people, because it's objectively upsetting.... but I LOVE lovesquare tension. Season 4 is probably my favorite season for that reason alone (still mulling over if season 5 beat it for me). I love the relationship drama, I love that it's in character drama, I love how it fits everything we know about them sososo well, I love that it's horrible and it's terrible and it's awful and it's all because Marinette loved Adrien too much to want to hurt him.

I was worried no reveal would mean that season 6 would just be... what? adrienette fluff? not that I don't love that, but where's the drama? well. there it is. that's the drama.

I need to stop typing this. I know this is abysmally long and ranty and if you read all of this then I'm sorry. But I wanted to get some of my thoughts out.

But basically, I was expecting a lot of things for the finale.

In my best case scenario, it would somehow, miraculously tie up and address all the loose ends with Adrien's angst and character arc in two episodes.... and then end with me totally satisfied, ready to only half-heartedly watch season 6 like it was just a small dessert after the main course.

And I already described my worst case scenario (my first impression of the episode lmao)

But it wasn't that. I was expecting a series finale, but I got a season finale. And I love season finales. I love how they keep me wanting more. I love how excited I am for season 6, because in both my best and worst case scenarios, I honestly didn't expect to be. I love all the new ideas and thoughts and scenarios swirling around in my brain. And even if season 6 doesn't address some of the things I want addressed, I'm so excited to see the creative content in this fandom that DOES

#ml spoilers #ml s5 spoilers #ml s5 finale spoilers #ml re-creation #ml recreation #recreation spoilers #re-creation spoilers #I am SO SO SO SORRY that htis rant went OFF and I just rambled and rambled and I'm sure nobody will read this. however #sometimes I want to be silly. and my silly moment is rambling about my favorite show into the void on my tumblr #im not proof reading this so im so sorry if it's. um. all over the place and riddled w typos 😭 im vibing im vibing

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟲: 𝗴𝗲𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝘃𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲 & 𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘆𝘀/𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: george has created a serious problem. you two have been dating for over three years, and he fed from you the first time about three months ago. the problem lies within the fact that he conditioned you to orgasm every time he used you as his glorified high-class wine bottle. on second thought, that’s a pretty good problem to have; his thirst is sated, and yours is as well. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. not beta read. vampires. dubcon (from the inherent plot). safe, sane, and consensual though. coming untouched. no penetrative sex. implied sex. blood drinking. biting. mention of multiple orgasms. unnecessary world building. the grid & mercedes knows about george being a vampire. hickeys/love bites. bruises. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 4k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: george russell x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: prey • the neighborhood

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i guess i got too into the plot and lost myself in the exposition. i was originally going to delete the beginning ramblings of setting the scene and what not, but this would be like 500 words if i did that. for some reason, the entire grid knows george is a vampire? i couldn’t find the brainpower to explain who he’s hiding it from or how that would work in f1. the kink is more of the inherent tension from drinking somebodies blood. lol, anyways have fun reading 🫶🏽

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george had gotten enough schooling to learn what classical conditioning is. pavlov conditioned dogs to salivate at the sound of a bell ringing; a conditioned response. george may have done the same thing to you–he made the mistake of making sure you orgasm as he bites and drinks from you. now every time he feeds from you, you cum, even if there’s no sexual build-up at all; it could be the most bland feeding session and the minute his venom enters your bloodstream, you can’t fight it—he’s pavlov-ed his girlfriend. he should’ve never allowed himself to feed from you.

when george first met you, he was enamored with you from the start. after every morning run, he would end at a local coffee shop and you would already be cozied up in a corner seat working away on your computer. you smelled delectable, george quickly picked up on that. he was thankful the barista had already memorized his usual order, because he really wouldn’t have enjoyed explaining why his canines had elongated into fangs. he couldn’t handle the way your blood was calling to him and left the coffee shop as soon as he got his drink, running into several people on the way out. you would be in the coffee shop on two out of the three days he came in, and he would be a serious hazard to any customer who came in during the five minutes he was there. it was like this for two months and twelve days (not that he was counting or anything), until you weren’t in your seat one day. george sighed in relief, shoulders relaxing and the fixed grimace in anticipation sliding off his face—what he didn’t expect to feel is disappointment at the lack of your appearance and addicting scent. he dismisses the emotions, convincing himself that he’s just used to the constant repression of his instincts around you. he even takes the time to engage in small talk with the baristas; two months ago he was well-invested into their lives, he has a lot of catching up to do. he allows himself to be forced into a seat at the counter to drink his coffee and indulge in a few pastries that are definitely breaking his diet. it’s an off day for him, his only plans are to stream in the evening with the usual quartet, so he can afford to dine in this morning…and indulge in catching up on the coffee shop gossip, he’s only a man, alright?

george is halfway through his cup of coffee and laughing along to a story about how this adorable kid tried to buy hot chocolate with monopoly money when the entrance door jingles open. he chokes on his sip of coffee, almost spraying it over the counter in surprise as you walk up to the counter. he turns to look at you ordering at the register, to confirm he’s not imagining your presence and—you look amazing. you’re wearing flared black trousers with a short-sleeved, white, collared shirt tucked into them, elegant gold jewelry accented against your brown skin—you’ve dressed up today. it’s different from the usual hoodie and headphones george sees you wearing in that corner nook of yours; at least that’s his excuse for why he ends up staring you down. after finishing your order, you head towards your usual seat and end up making direct eye contact with george, because the universe hates him. he sees your attempt at a polite smile and his cheeks burn red at being caught, and jerks his head forward breaking his stare. he hears you continue to walk past him, and the barista stares at him disbelievingly, “mate…you fumbled that.” george stutters through a denial, but then he hears your footsteps stop—and he knows you haven’t reached the corner seat yet. he picks up on the sound of you turning on your heels and heading back in his direction, and he drops his head into his hands, resigned. 

“ah! someone’s taken your seat today,” the barista in front of george calls out to you—george narrows his eyes at the man in warning, “come sit at the counter then; you can tell me what you’re all fancied-up for.” the barista glances at george with a smirk, and he swears this may be the first time he bleeds a human dry.

you laugh and sit at the counter, one seat in between you and george. and george sighs in relief for the second time today; you’re wearing perfume and it taints the smell of your blood, enough for him to not start salivating, at least. its silent for a minute, and george can feel your awkwardness radiating. 

“so…” you question teasingly, “not in a rush today, then?”

george turns to look at you, shocked that you’re even talking to him—he never figured he’d be in a conversation with you. while your voice may have been teasing, your eyes are soft, warmed with kindness, and george melts. he manages to muster a tease back in your direction, “no, not today. but, look at you—in business casual attire, i was starting to believe you only knew how to dress in sweatshirts?”

you roll your eyes at him, and a smirk replaces your painfully polite smile, “ah? today must’ve not been the only day you’ve been staring at me, if you’re so familiar with how i dress…even though we’ve never spoken to each other before.” george’s mouth drops open at you checking him, and he can hear both baristas giggling behind the counter. and at that moment, george is pretty sure he fell in love with you right then—even though he didn’t have the balls to ask you out for another month and a half. 

for those weeks, every time george came to the cafe, you would wave him over to your table with a bright grin and invite him to sit down across from you. even on days when he really couldn’t afford to be late, he’d find himself sitting down to chat with you. instead of being early to zoom meetings with the mercedes team, he started being on-time, often enough for lewis and toto to comment on it. his only response to their gentle prodding at the change in his behavior being, “i added another mile to my morning run,” when he really was spending those minutes talking to you after his run. after he built up the courage to ask for your number (platonically, of course), he would show up to the driver’s briefings a few minutes late, rushing in yet tapping away on his phone struggling to hide the smile on his face. for all of his superior senses, he doesn’t notice how his grid mates stare at him like he’s lost his mind; eventually, one of the officials calls him out when he glances down at the notifications popping up on his phone screen for the fourth time in five minutes, “mr. russell, i am sure that whatever you find so interesting on your phone can’t be more important than our discussion about track conditions, can it?”

george flushed red (he knew he shouldn’t have fed until later) and stumbled through an apology. after the briefing ends, the drivers start teasing him for being ‘so unprofessional,’ and lewis doesn’t help when he reveals how george has started being late to mercedes team meetings, too. charles pretends to faint, alex gasps in horror, and lando’s eyes light up at the opportunity to be a gremlin.

“boysboysboys,” lando grins, gathering everyone’s attention, “i think it’s finally happened.”

george sighed, over the dramatics already, “what’s happened, lando?”

“you’ve managed to get yourself a girlfriend!” lando shrieks, his high-pitched laughter hurting george’s ears.

george flusters, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, “she’s not my girlfriend!” and, he’s only made it worse. 

alex’s eyes widen, pointing at george in shock, “oh my god—so you are talking to a girl!” george groans and spins on his feet to leave the room, ignoring the jibes and teases of the grown men behind him. 

later that night, his hotel room is infiltrated by almost half the grid (including fernando, for some reason), all seeming to rally behind their common goal of getting george to ask you on an actual date. they debase all of george’s points about why he shouldn’t ask you out—the main point being that he’s a fucking vampire—and ask him the one question that he’s been refusing to acknowledge, “you can smell how she feels—does she smell like she likes you?”

george hisses at them half-heartedly, more like a frazzled kitten than a terrifying monster, “yes, i’m already aware that she’s interested in me—that’s the problem! i’ve already led her on this whole time, and she doesn’t know that she has a crush on an undead, immortal, vampire!” the room quiets at his outburst, and he can only groan and drop his head into his hands. 

“so just tell her,” max states bluntly, not looking away from the fifa game he’s beating charles’ ass in. george stares at max, appalled.

“let her make the decision for herself, right?” max starts, pausing the game to look at george, “for some bizarre reason she likes you for who you are,” george scoffs, “so, just tell her from the jump—you’ve already led her on enough, so give her the opportunity to decide whether or not if she should date your lame ass.”

the vampire stares at max disbelievingly, “that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

the red bull driver shrugs, ears turning red under the surprised stares in the room, and quickly un-pauses the game and scores on charles. the monegasque screams dramatically, and the tense air is broken. george shakily sighs, anxious, and pulls out his phone to ask you on a date. originally, he was thinking about asking you through a text, but with almost every driver in the room disapproving of any way he goes about wording it, he bares his fangs at them, and steps out of his own room, to call you. 

the phone doesn’t even complete the first ring before you pick up, and a pleasant, “hi, georgieeee,” slips from your mouth; he can hear how you’re smiling through the phone. he banters with you for a minute, listening to how you're singing praises about his performance even though the actual race isn’t for another day. when the conversation dies down, he blurts out the question, “do you want to go on a—“

“i would love to go on a date with you!” you cut him off, eagerly, “i mean–sorry, yes. i would like to go out with you.” george laughs, relieved and comforted by the fact that you’re as gone for him as he is for you. he can’t even bring himself to be mad when he hears the men in his room raucously cheer.

and when george took you out for brunch to the same cafe, ignoring the baristas’ proud expressions, he realized he had nothing to worry about. the conversation flowed easily, he made you laugh and you made him laugh, and most importantly, he didn't think about draining you dry like a caprisun. you’ve ditched the cozy outfits and dressed up again—dressed up for him—and george is out of his running attire and fancied up; and you make a off-hand comment about how unnatural this feels, and george is reminded of the one important thing he was supposed to tell you. time has flown by so quickly while the two of you were hidden away in your preferred corner seat, and it’s become mid-afternoon. george surveys the surroundings briefly and is shocked to find that it’s only the two of you, and the baristas in the cafe; it’s the perfect time to tell you. 

when george states that he’s a vampire, you obviously think he’s joking, “well, you’re not burning in the sunlight, georgie–so i don’t believe you! i am afraid that if this is a kink of yours, i don’t see a second date in the future.” he tries to smile at your joke but it ends up as more of a grimace, and he exposes his fangs for you to see. he hears the breath catch in your throat, sees your eyes widening in shock, blown-out pupils shrinking in fear, hears your heart beginning to race in your chest, blood rushing in your veins, and smells your scent souring.

“george russell,” you whisper yell, glancing around anxiously, “what the fuck! i believe you—you shouldn’t do that in public! what if someone else saw?!” and that’s when he realized that sure, a small amount of your fear was from the confirmation that he is a supernatural being—but mainly that, you were afraid for him. and at that point, george knew that he could allow himself to be vulnerable with you.

and after three years together, he fed from you for the first time. a lot of planning went into the initial feeding: after the end of the racing season, a trip away just for the two of you, george would satiate his thirst with his usual blood donor supply, he wouldn’t drink more than six ounces from you, you’d eat a full meal and be properly hydrated, and of course, he’d drink from you when you orgasm. the bite hurts in the beginning—george has been told many stories from feeders—and the most common distraction to the pain is a simultaneous orgasm. you were apprehensive yet extremely willing to allow george to drink from you, and told him that you trusted him completely—you even sat through his numerous clinical rundowns of the plan without complaining. 

however in the moment, george diverted from the script. instead of having you cum once, george forced three orgasms out of you and bit you on the last one. he practically mauled your neck, chest, and hickeys throughout the night, as if he was teasing himself with the indents on of his teeth on your body before he bit into you. you couldn’t figure out if it was the venom from his bite or the multiple orgasms that had you floating pleasurably. george couldn’t deny that seeing you covered in love bites and his actual fang marks didn’t provoke a hidden possessive trait in him. the love bites he left on your body would fade within a few days, the bite mark would fade in around two weeks—and you told george explicitly that if he ever wanted to feed from you again, he’d be more than welcome to do so.

the vampire always thought that he was the one who was at risk for getting addicted to your blood; his greatest fear being that he wouldn’t be able to resist sucking you dry. however, it rapidly dawned on him: you’re the one who formed an addiction.

george always made sure his thirst was properly sated with his usual blood bags before he drank from you. over three months, he’d consistently make you cum whenever he bit you, whether it was with his fingers, cock, mouth, thigh, etc. but he never quite realized that he conditioned you into cumming whenever he bit you, until the singapore grand prix.

singapore was hot. it wasn’t hell on earth like qatar, but it was still fucking hot. and then, he crashed. as he made his way back to the mercedes garage (stomping under the force of his self-deprecation), he became increasingly aware of the tingle in the back of his throat; he’s hungry, he needs blood. he ignores his race engineer asking if he needs medical attention, and asks for a ‘juicebox,’ the codeword for a blood-bag. only to find out, he had his last one yesterday after qualifying—the hotter race weekends have him draining his supply quicker than usual. the vampire whimpers, and suddenly he’s bombarded by you speeding over from the back of the garage. you’re tugging his face down to eye level, worriedly asking if he’s hurt, but george can only register how alluring your blood smells. contrary to popular vampiric-belief (if that’s a thing, he has no clue), blood does not smell sweet. it smells metallic, and the overall scent is affected by water content and ph-level; you smell velvety, and absolutely perfect to george.

the vampire briefly reassures you that he’s fine, before he grabs you by the hand and turns to toto. george begs his team principal to postpone any of his post-race interviews for as long as he can so he can get a brief feeding in with you before he loses his mind any further. toto cuts george’s pleads off immediately and allows him to do whatever he needs; the brit's temper is short enough already, if your blood can calm his mouth toto will personally send you a brand new g-wagon. 

george pulls you along to his driver’s room, slowing when he hears how you’re tripping over your feet two match his speed. he shoves the door open, but kindly guides you with a palm on the small of your back into the room, before he steps in and slams the door shut, locking it with a quickness. he speedily sits on the edge of his couch, and pulls you onto his lap, staring up at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“love,” he starts, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip, “may i drink from you? i should’ve been smarter about preserving my supply, usually i’m more careful about it, but i think i was just overager with everything this weekend. i’ll only take a small sip, just enough to hold me over until we fly back home, yeah? i mean, if you’re uncomfortable, i will not drink from you. i should be able to wait—”

you cover the vampire’s mouth with a hand, and smile softly at him, “yes, georgie, you can feed from me. the whole point of drinking from me was to have me acclimate to the feeling for rare situations like this, yes? i’m okay with it, you can take as much as you need from me.”

george stares at you for a few seconds, for some reason, he’s surprised at your easy allowance, before he’s shaken out of his stupor by you waving a hand in front of his face.

“i won’t be able to make you cum—i need to get out there as soon as possible,” george rambles out.

“ok,” you state, looking at him oddly, “i’m pretty sure i’ll be able to handle it, and if not you’ll know before i do.”

the brit asks if you’re sure one last time, before he effortlessly stands up with you in his arms, spins around and places you on the couch, sitting you where he was. the vampire kneels in front of you, and parts your legs gently, before tugging at the waistband of your pants for permission. you’re still reeling from his easy manhandling (you forget about his superior strength, he never makes it obvious), and how he fell to knees for you—the duality of his actions has you embarrassingly hot. you lift your hips up allowing george to tug off your pants, and you see firsthand how he loses his train of thought. 

when george brings you along to a race, he avoids leaving marks in a visible spots, so unfortunately for him, your neck and torso are complete bruise free; the humid weather in singapore meant that you would be wearing tank tops or cropped shirts, so he can’t risk someone seeing a smidge of a bruise on your body; they wouldn’t understand. although, george could take his fill of marking you up on your thighs. the dark skin of your inner thighs is mottled with bruises from his lips and indents of his teeth, all in various stages of healing observed by the various shades of purple they’re colored in. george slowly presses a finger into one of the marks and smirks when a strangled gasp escapes you from the pressure. if the vampire wasn’t so focused on the scent of your blood, he’d probably notice how that motion alone already had you wet.

george buries his head between your thighs, close enough that you can feel the exhales of breath from his nose over your panties. you shift, squirming away from the feeling—this is about giving george blood, which he needs for sustenance, not for you to get turned on at, you try to remind yourself.  the brit halts your movements, his hands flexing around you only slightly. you try and buck your hips away to test his grip, and you don’t move a single centimeter. you glance down, making eye-contact with your boyfriend, and the teasing smile he’s hiding behind your thigh has your heart rabbiting faster, even though you roll your eyes at him. george begins to lick and nip across your thighs searching for the best spot to pierce your skin, and you are trapped in your own mind. you’re at the mercy of an immortal being, you have no chance of fighting him off if you needed to. of course, you’re very aware that george wouldn’t lay a finger on you, but your hindbrain runs off of instincts, and it’s telling you george is a predator and you’re clearly his next meal. the adrenaline thrumming underneath your skin causes you to start breathing a little heavier and you manage to wrangle the instinctual fear away to relax under him. george startles you from your thoughts when his cold hand leads yours to rest on the nape of his neck, and he pauses when he feels you jump underneath him. 

“hey, you can still say ‘no’ if you’re not ready for this yet. there’s no pressure, love,” george reassures you. the calming tone of his voice has no judgemental lilt, and his words soothe you enough to double-down with your agreement.

“thank you for doing this for me, love. as soon as we get back to the hotel, i’ll take care of you properly–i promise,” george praises you, “now, remember, this won’t take any longer than ten seconds. if you need me to stop beforehand, pinch the skin on my neck and i’ll stop, okay?”

you swallow, clearing your throat, “yes, george. can we start already? my nerves will scare me away if we wait too long.”

george nods, hands petting at your waist reassuringly, before he focuses back on your thighs. his nose tracing along your sensitive skin for a few more seconds, until he stops and nuzzles at a spot almost on the underside of your left thigh, close enough to your pussy to have the fear fade under the anticipation of pleasure. the vampire kisses at the spot three times, before he lets his fangs slide out with an audible shlick. he presses them gently against you skin for a few seconds before he bites down.

the pain isn’t from the invasion of his fangs, but from the spread of the venom. it burns as it spreads through your bloodstream; you imagine this is what boiling alive feels like. the feeling is immense but fleeting. the initial bite has always been paralyzing, but when george takes the first pull of blood, the venom must have reached your brain and taken effect, because the pain instantly switches to an immobilizing amount of pleasure. the scream that was originally building in your chest transforms into a keening moan, the burning pain no longer present.

you feel your core tightening as george continues to feast on your blood; thighs trembling in pleasure, eyes rolling back overwhelmed, and toes curling. it’s happening so quickly, quick enough that you don’t register that you’re cumming. waves of pleasure crash over you unendingly, and you’re unable to figure out why. every drag of blood george takes ruins any chance you have to think. the pleasure is so catastrophic that you don’t even register when george releases the bite. 

the vampire can only stare up at you in awe as your mouth parts, drool beginning to leak from the corner of your lips, your eyes slamming shut, and face scrunching from the force of the orgasm he ripped out of you. george soothes the bite closed with careful sweeps of his tongue, allowing you all the time you need to come back to him. he softly sucks a few more marks into the meat of your thigh before he fights himself away from cradle of your legs, brushing a kiss on your cunt over your panties.

the vampire slides his way onto the couch next to you, pulling you into his arms to allow you to shake through the aftershocks in his grasp. he presses kisses to your forehead, while he murmurs praises freely. while his mouth is running in one direction, his thoughts take a completely different turn.

he’s ruined you for any other person. he’s trained you to orgasm with a simple bite of his fangs. your body has correlated the painful spread of his venom with pleasure. george has tied you to him for the rest of your life. this is a huge fucking problem. his mind starts racing; if that’s the case he either needs to work that out of you, or he can never feed from you in situations like this again. you’ll be useless for the rest of the day, your brain has turned into jello. he needs to make sure that he manages his blood supply properly in the future, so he doesn’t have to drink from you where the media can discover how gone you are. 

george has no idea how he would go about un-training your…pleasurable…response to his bite. on second thought, george doesn’t want to change your newfound reflex. if anything, it’s like an equal exchange. the vampire satiates his thirst, and you satiate your thirst. george coos at you adoringly when he hears the near inaudible moans your breathing into his neck—yeah, he thinks you’ll agree with him when you’re aware enough to do so.

he finds himself tracing the fresh bite mark with a thumb, groaning when your hips grind against him in return. he fumbles his phone out of his pocket to tell toto he needs at least another twenty minutes.

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld@buendiabebeta@butterfly-lover@lana-d3l-rey@dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhaj@miahgonzalez16@jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic@sweetpiccolo-blog@my-ylenia @zaynzierulez@reblog-princess-blog @lovingaphroditesworld @katekipshidze @darleneslane @inloveallthetime

© httpsserene 2023

#george russell x reader #george russell x black!reader #george russell x you #george russell x fem!reader #george russell #george russell smut #george russell fic #lewis hamilton #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x female rader #formula 1 x black!reader #formula 1 x you #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 imagine #mercedes amg f1 #serene’s chapters. #⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1 #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: gr. #httpss :// kinktober 23 #f1 kinktober #formula 1 kinktober #kinktober 2023

[gatheringbones]

[“Later in the day, while Heather and I were making the bed and talking about the chores we needed to get through the next morning, she used a male pronoun in regard to me. “Well that’s gonna be weird, huh?” I said. “Not saying ‘he’ for me anymore.” “What do you mean?” she asked. “I mean I want to transition. I want to become a woman… fully.” She paused and fell silent. I think the revelation that I was a transsexual truly hit her in this moment. She slowly started to comprehend that this didn’t mean I’d simply be cross-dressing around the house. It started to hit me, too. I wanted to transition genders, and there was a lot more to that than just hormones and surgery. Neither of us fully understood what it meant yet, or where to start.

The next day Andrew and James met me at the studio to talk about plans around the album and the future of the band. Jordan came, too, as he was again filling in as our manager. Until then, I’d been telling them that I was writing a concept album about a transsexual prostitute—the metaphor behind the feeling of having whored myself out to a record label was thinly transparent since James, Andrew, and I were all processing our own post-traumatic stress disorder from the past couple years of music industry hell. Previously, I’d been able to sneak a few subtle metaphors about my dysphoria in here and there. But an album focused entirely on it? I didn’t know how to explain that, and the new songs were not sticking with the guys.

James could make out a few lyrics to the title track through his in-ear monitors: “You want them to see you like they see every other girl / But they just see a faggot.” “Hey, man,” he said between takes. “Are you saying ‘faggot’ on this song? It sounds like you’re saying it a lot. Are people gonna be cool with that?”

I realized that the reason the words weren’t connecting with them was that they didn’t have the context. So I came out with it. I didn’t mean to, I just wanted them to understand. I couldn’t hold back the momentum of the day before. Once the truth was spoken, it could be contained no longer.

“It’s about me, and how I’m a transsexual. This is something I’ve been dealing with for a long time,” I told them. Once I started explaining it, I couldn’t stop. It was like an out-of-body experience where I saw myself, but was powerless to hold back the flood of words. “I want to start living as a woman, and to be referred to as Laura. This is something I’ve thought about a lot and isn’t going away, so I might as well embrace it.”

No one knew what to say once I finally stopped rambling. The three of them just sat there in the studio control room, looking down at their feet or at whatever lit-up piece of audio equipment their eyes could find, focusing anywhere but on me. We’d had some heavy conversations over the years—emotional moments where we’d told each other off or outright quit the band—but nothing compared to this. Andrew’s usually warm smile was locked in since I started talking, and it looked like it was going to melt off his face. His skin flushed red, trying not to flinch. There was nothing any of them could say. I broke the silence by asking them to come smoke a joint with me. We got high standing in a circle in the open back doorway. “OK, well,” I said. “I guess that’s all we’ll do today. How about we try again tomorrow?”

We shared the most comically awkward group hug, a horrible mess of pats on the back and overly extended stiff arms. They left, and I locked the door behind them. Oh fuck, I thought. I called Heather and told her that I had just come out to them. It felt unreal to speak these secrets aloud, hearing myself verbalize thoughts that had only ever existed in my head.

The guys had an hour and a half back to Gainesville to think about all that had just been unloaded on them. James has since told me that as he sat there stoned on that long drive home, a lot of memories over the past 15 years suddenly started to make sense for him. My lyrics, my behavior on tour; one by one, he had tiny flashes of realization about me in this new light.”]

laura jane grace, from tranny: confessions of punk rock’s most infamous anarchist sellout, 2016

#laura jane grace #trans literature #currently reading

[solarmorrigan]

So this started out as some scribbly thoughts on FTM Steve and devolved a little bit into smutty Steddie rambling. As happens. So anyway, explicit text below the cut, click through at your own discretion, et cetera

Warnings(?) for some clumsy language and hints of period-typical transphobia; some discussion of Steve and Nancy together, but only for Steddie purposes. This is mostly just silly

-

“So, wait, you slept with how many girls in high school, and still managed to keep this a secret?” Eddie asks, brows climbing his forehead.

“Not as many as rumor would’ve had you think.” Steve shrugs. “Like maybe four? The rest, I just… didn’t discourage when they exaggerated. Helped my image.”

Eddie can’t help but snort. He’s glad Steve outgrew that image. “Still, four is a lot to keep a lid on. All of them agreed not to tell and then just – didn’t?”

“Actually, most of them never found out. It was only–” Steve pauses, eyeing Eddie cautiously, as if talking about his past female sexual conquests with his current boyfriend is fine, but what he’s going to say next will be a bridge too far. “It was only Nancy who ever knew.”

Ah.

Ah, yes. Nancy. Nancy Wheeler. Steve’s one true love.

Until now, Eddie fiercely reminds himself. He eyes the t-shirt that is very much his that Steve is very much wearing and slides over the jealousy to address his more pressing question.

“Okay, how did you have sex with at least three other people without them finding out you don’t have a–” Eddie stops short, fumbles for a moment, “a, uh, conventional dick?”

Steve snickers. “Nice save. And, uh – I never actually took off my pants. My talents are in other areas, and I always provided enough of a distraction that they didn’t seem to notice when I just… took care of myself.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Eddie, who can’t help but give him the laugh he’s looking for. “It didn’t say flattering things about my stamina, but multiple orgasms are a pretty good bribe. I got good reviews.”

“Huh.” Somehow, Eddie can’t help but feel impressed; he doesn’t quite understand why Steve had felt the need to do it at all—still doesn’t really understand Steve’s drive for popularity when he’d been in high school—but he can admit the skill in the subterfuge. “But you told Wheeler?”

He’s not sure why he’s asking. A part of him, he thinks, wants to make sure Steve had been able to tell her on his own terms, rather than having his hand forced.

Steve shifts, shrugs. He doesn’t look sad, but he’s maybe a little melancholy.

“Nance wasn’t… temporary, for me. She wasn’t a fling, and I didn’t want to hide from her. And it’s the same with you.” Steve’s gaze falls heavy on Eddie. “You are the… third? person I’ve ever told. I want you to know just– all of me.”

Eddie reaches out, grabbing for Steve’s hand; he’s pretty sure he’d be physically incapable of stopping himself from somehow touching Steve after an admission like that.

A thought is beginning to form, however, leading back to what had started this conversation in the first place. Eddie would bet anything that if Wheeler was the first person Steve told, then Buckley was the second.

And that meant only one person Steve had slept with had ever known all of him – but just how much of all of him had Wheeler been interested in?

“How’d she take it? Wheeler, I mean,” Eddie asks, as casually as possible while his thumb is still stroking Steve’s knuckles.

“Uh… pretty good, actually. She was kinda surprised, and she wanted a little bit of time to come around to the idea, but I think she was mostly just bothered that she didn’t figure it out before I told her.” Steve smiles, distantly fond. “But after that, she was cool. We didn’t talk about it much, but I knew that I could talk to her if I wanted to. I’d never had that before. It was… nice.”

It does sound nice. It had probably been the first time anyone had ever been close to accepting every part of who Steve is, and Eddie feels almost bad about turning the memory to sex.

Almost, but not quite.

“So… she was cool with…” Eddie’s eyes flash down below the belt, obvious and significant, “getting involved?”

A sly grin spreads over Steve’s face as he catches Eddie’s eyes. “Are you trying to ask what Nancy and I did in bed?”

Eddie throws his hands up in defense, forgetting for a moment that he’s holding one of Steve’s hands and pulling it up with him. “I’m just trying to figure out what I’m working with here,” he insists, smiling a little too hard to be innocent. “Now, you insinuated you have talents in the oral and digital departments—which I am very interested in, by the way—but what I want to know is what’s been done for you.”

Steve eyes Eddie like he’s considering whether or not to answer, but the way he’s licking his lips says he’s already decided, even if he doesn’t quite realize that himself.

“She… definitely didn’t mind being involved,” he says finally; there’s a slight stain of pink gathering at the tops of his cheeks that Eddie sort of wants to bite. “She would finger me. Sometimes she’d go down on me, but I think we both enjoyed it more the other way around. I think she liked seeing me get myself off while I did it, and I– definitely liked that, too.”

Eddie makes the mistake of imagining it: Steve on his knees, fingers buried in his cunt, wet and dripping, his hips jerking down onto his own hand, maybe kneeling between Eddie’s legs while he does it, maybe looking up through his lashes while he sucks Eddie’s cock.

A little noise escapes Eddie.

“How about… toys?” he manages after a moment. He’s leaning closer now, raptly watching the way the flush on Steve’s face darkens. “You ever try those?”

“I have a… a couple,” Steve says, voice gone low and rough, his eyes fastened now to Eddie’s mouth. “We didn’t use them together, though, they’re just mine.”

Oh, they’re going to revisit that. They are absolutely going to revisit that, but right now Eddie is on a mission. He won’t let himself be distracted.

He slides closer, practically on top of Steve now, one hand on his hip and the other spread warmly over his ribs.

“Never thought about a strap?” he asks.

Steve shrugs, not nearly as nonchalant as he’s pretending. “Thought about it, never quite got there.”

“Which way were you thinking? Would you have worn it? Or…” Eddie is going out on a limb here; just because Steve has a pussy doesn’t mean he likes the idea of penetration, but Eddie has a hunch. “Or would it have been the other way around?”

A sharp breath escapes Steve’s chest. “Do you want that?” he asks, soft, almost hopeful.

Eddie strokes a thumb across his ribs. “Want what?”

“To fuck me.”

This time it’s Eddie who goes breathless. “Is that even a fucking question?” he demands, and then, in case he wasn’t clear, adds, “I would want very much to do that, yeah. If you want me to.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would,” Steve says. “I mean, I know you’re strictly into guys, and I don’t exactly have… a conventional dick.”

“You’re not gonna let that one go, are you?” Eddie asks, eyeing Steve’s smirk.

“We’ll see,” Steve says, which likely means no.

“Fine. But Steve,” Eddie reaches up, cupping Steve’s face in his hands, “I am one hundred fucking percent into you. You are a guy. You are an incredibly hot guy whose pants I have been wanting to get into forever, no matter what you’ve got in there.”

Steve smiles, and Eddie caresses the corners of it with his thumbs.

“Well, you do seem to prefer the weirder shit, anyway,” Steve murmurs.

“Not weird. Different,” Eddie says, and Steve makes a face at him but readily allows him the kiss he presses in for after that.

“So have you…” Steve starts, once they’ve broken apart, “ever been with a guy with my, uh– sort of equipment?”

Eddie would make fun of how awkwardly the words had tumbled out if he hadn’t suddenly been feeling a bit awkward himself.

“Not, uh, exactly.” Steve raises an eyebrow at him and Eddie amends snappishly, “okay, fine, not at all, no.”

“But you’re open to it?” Steve checks, as if the way Eddie has pressed against him like a needy cat has left any room for doubt.

“More than open,” Eddie says. “I might just, y’know– need some direction? To start with?”

“Directions, huh?” Steve smirks. “I can work with that.”

Eddie has no doubt that he can – and that Eddie will enjoy every second of it.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #trans steve harrington #stranger things #solar wrote #let me know if there's something I need to tag this with that I missed #eddiesteve

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ok so, before the indigo disk released I heard there was going to be people with competitive movesets, so before it released I literally made myself an entire competitive team. IM A CASUAL PLAYER 😭😭 and I just think it’d be really funny that carmine and kieran would probably think i’m just gonna stroll up with my usual team but nope swords dance + scale shot 💃 if you could write their reactions to the new squad I just think it’d be funny lmao

(If you want the team I made for reference, it was koraidon, ogerpon, chien-pao, blood moon ursaluna, armarouge, and a shiny slither wing because I felt like having a shiny so I hunted one lol)

- 🪑🥚

Bro I went into the Indigo Disk 100% blind so you can imagine my shock when I realized double battles were gonna be everywhere </3

I mostly had a "fuck it we ball" mentality going through it (which made some battles go on for WAY too long), but later I taught my Ceruledge Poltergeist when I realized almost every NPC in the dlc uses held items.

Funny enough Ogerpon (with Spiky Shield) and BM Ursaluna were on my team. He was an absolute TANK with the assault vest and he knocked out Hydrapple with a Moonblast

Anyways enough rambling and onto the request!

......

Kieran

He was expecting your usual team when you started challenging the BB Elite Four, rolling his eyes at the thought of you trying to use the same old tactics to defeat him.

But he's changed. He's gotten stronger and wanted you to be surprised by what he can do now.

Instead, though, when you arrive to the championship battle...not only did you bring out Ogerpon with her teal mask to (supposedly) insult him, but you also had Chien-Pao, which may spell trouble for his Dragonite.

He'll admit, you were clever to bring a Pokémon who could lower the defense of all the others and cut their HP in half with Ruination..but he doesn't give up yet.

Seeing a shiny that looked like a Volcarona but fluffier was certainly bewildering--as is the Bloodmoon Ursaluna you managed to tame back in Kitakami and the Armarouge who sets up a Psychic Terrain to boost its Expanding Force, allowing it to hit two of his Pokémon at once.

Oh, and apparently you have not one but TWO Koraidons, with the one you brought into battle being more brash and a fierce fighter in its Apex build.

You set that one up with a Swords Dance + Scale Shot combo that absolutely kicks ass, somehow striking your opponents 4-5 times whenever you command it.

Kieran's certainly gotten smarter about his team, but so have you, and he's livid about it.

It was like you enjoyed knocking him down over and over again...yet he can't hear the reluctance in your voice as you utter the final move that finishes off his Hydrapple.

You knew you had to win. He needed to be humbled.

But it didn't feel good at all as you watched him crumble and Drayton rub his loss in his face.

Carmine

When you battled her, she (like her brother) expected to see some familiar faces on your team.

Yet you surprised her (in a good way, very much unlike her brother) with Ogerpon, and she smiles and asks if she missed her, with the legendary responding with a small hop and a happy trill....

Followed by a devastating Ivy Cudgel that lands a critical hit on her Pokémon.

Yeah, she can definitely tell you've been training the Ogre a lot, but she's proud of how confident she's grown nevertheless.

Seeing you have both Chien-Pao and another Koraidon working in tandem is impressive, especially with that Ruination + Swords Dance + Scale Shot combo you pulled.

BM Ursaluna and Shiny Slither Wing are the only two that genuinely shock Carmine, as she's only seen one in myths and the other....she's never seen in her entire life.

But after the trip to Area Zero, she understands Slither Wings better (although she's amazed you managed to find a shiny down there).

Either way, those two are powerhouses.

She remembered you talking about a little lonely Charcadet you found during an outbreak, and to see it has grown up into a mighty Armarouge was such a sweet thing to see.

You clearly took the time to plan out your team before coming to the Blueberry Academy.

Carmine found your battle to be fun.

Although she can't exactly say Kieran will feel the same way..considering Ogerpon is with you and you have some new tricks up your sleeve.

But she figured he oughta find that out for himself.

#hope you dont mind my interpretation of your team and their movesets ^^; #clanask #chair egg anon #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon kieran #pokemon carmine #headcanons #ogerpon #bloodmoon ursaluna #armarouge #chien pao #koraidon #slither wing

[thethirdromana]

Subscribing to Letters Regarding Jeeves and the Woman in White Weekly has left me preoccupied with the role of servants. So here's a bit of a ramble on servants - and particularly Dracula's servants, or lack thereof.

Jonathan comes from a time when being middle-class means having at least one live-in servant. But the number of servants per head of population in the UK was falling - from 1.38m in 1891 (4% of the population) to 1.27m in 1911 (2.8% of the population). That's why, in Jonathan's time, employing one servant means entry to the middle classes, but 30ish years later, the fabulously wealthy Bertie Wooster also has... one servant.

(To disgress: admittedly Jeeves is likely to be a lot more expensive to employ than the entry-level maid-of-all-work that a middle-class household would have, and there's also no indication that Wooster couldn't afford more servants, but I think it's still significant that he's happy with just the one. Wooster is gently snobbish about being appropriately dressed and going to the right restaurants and so on, but he doesn't see only having one servant as a problem.)

Dracula is a medieval nobleman. I don't know much about Transylvanian history but I would expect that in life, his castle would have been swarming with servants, both as a necessity (it takes a lot to keep a castle warm and clean, and its inhabitants fed), as a duty (to employ people from the surrounding area) and as a status symbol. And I would expect much the same to be true of a living nobleman on his country estate in 1890s Transylvania as well.

So why doesn't Dracula have any servants?

Well, obviously from a storytelling perspective, it's fucking creepy. I think the impact is lessened from a 21st century perspective because "there are no servants" is the default state for most of us, but this is the 1890s equivalent of being in a city and suddenly all the street noise goes silent. And I fear I am myself the only living soul within the place goes hard in any century. From Bram Stoker's perspective, I don't think this needs more justification and if I wasn't analysing every aspect of this book in the minutest detail I don't think I would give it any further thought.

The other obvious answer is that, being dead, Dracula doesn't need any servants. But I don't think that works. He may not need to eat or stay warm and presumably he doesn't produce any waste, but he still wears clothes that need washing and has horses that need to be cared for. Any old building needs an exhausting amount of maintenance just to keep it from crumbling. There's a lot of work that needs doing and I think we can assume that Dracula doesn't want to be doing it himself.

Perhaps he can't have servants. If serving at the castle means death (which presumably it does) then maybe the locals just refuse. And while Dracula has ways to pressure people, I can imagine that he would see that as beneath him just for the sake of having someone to wash his shirts. Maybe as much of that work as possible is done outside the castle, free of charge, by the terrified locals.

So then I find myself wondering, what is the state of the castle usually? Has Dracula spring-cleaned for his visitor? Has he brought the bed-hangings and linen out of ancient storage chests, replacing the moth-eaten ones that usually sit there, decaying? Has he dusted? There is an enormous amount of work involved just in getting the castle to the standard that Jonathan sees. Is there magic involved? Does Dracula usually live there like Sleeping Beauty with the castle crumbling around him? Or is the sumptuous luxury that Jonathan sees just an illusion?

#dracula daily #letters regarding jeeves

[moodymisty]

I mean you got anything sweet for Blood Angels...

Though my brain keeps jumping to Flesh Tearers but I feel like that's just me trying to get myself to write for Flesh Tearers (and Lamenters)

(Rambling idea below)

I mean lets be honest Blood Angels are ultimate predators for humans... being so handsome I mean Sanguinius was often called ethereal and other worldly with his beauty. So of course his sons are handsome and all so well bred for the arts... easy to lure in many humans to just listen to their prose or see their paintings.

Just don't show up during your period because suddenly a lot of the poetry is about blood or blood adjacent... they can't seem to find the right red paint... and why do so many of them look at you like they are dying of thirst?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: Do I have something for Blood Angels- BOY DO I! Enjoy! I didn't exactly do your idea but I've had this plot in my head for weeks and wanted to use it and you're ask was the only one that let me /sob Not my best work by far, but I hope you enjoy.

Relationships: Unnamed Blood Angel/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Oral, Period blood kink/menstrual kink that type of stuff, Is this too weird? maybe I dunno you guys all seem like freaks so hopefully this will go over well? If not I can just return to my dungeon

"Why are we going this way?"

This is a long way around, though some of the Red Tear's maintenance areas. He doesn't answer you however, and with disgruntlement you let the question lie as you return to more civilized parts of the Red Tear.

This whole interaction has been odd, since he had picked you up to escort you back from your duties. Normally he doesn’t act like this; He's stoic and lacks a good bit of emotion yes, but you almost feel as if now he’s taking you to your execution.

"I thought you were missing,"

You had jokingly said, walking closer to him. This planet had been pleasant enough after the Blood Angels brought it under the Imperium, but you're quite eager to return to Terra. Or at least the Red Tear.

He ignored your little comment and stepped closer, but you noticed his face change when he got close enough to touch you. His body became more rigid, and you furrowed your brow as you looked up at him.

"Are you ok?" You say as he clears his throat and nods stiffly. "Yes. We should return to the Red Tear. Our work here is done."

You look up at him again try and get any sort of hint as to how he's feeling, but he only has that same, stiff expression; Though slightly more irritated than usual.

You round yet another corner to see a group of freshly armored Blood Angels leaving one of the armoring rooms. They all perk up at the sight of you, staring at you like something fierce. You get more than a bit uncomfortable under their gaze, until your supposed guardian grabs your arm and swiftly pulls you down the hall past them. He glares at them to keep their distance, and you grab at his gauntlet to try and relieve some of the pressure. You're arm is in pain from how tight he's pulling you along, until you stop in front of a room he opens.

It's not your own, so you presume it's his. He shoves you inside.

"Stay here."

As a diplomat you technically reside outside the command structure of the Blood Angels, but no one in their right mind would disobey an astartes. Especially one that is looking at you with such fire in his eyes. He turns to leave, but your sudden question makes him turn towards you again.

"What is all this? Why are you-" He grabs you tight at the shoulder, and you gasp in pain as the force of it pins you to the wall.

"Why do you smell like blood?"

You pull at his hand and grimace in pain, and at his oddly specific question.

"What? It's just normal, It's that time of the-" He lightly shakes your shoulder and despite speaking relatively quiet, his voice still hits you in the chest with out seething it sounds.

"Every one of my brothers on this ship can smell you. You're lucky I got to you before one of them did."

Even if they did, why does he speak of it like something would happen? Like he avoided it for a reason? He's talking as if you would be in danger if they found you, for something seemingly so simple.

“What would happen if they did?”

You quietly question, watching the expression on his face instantly change. He looks conflicted, like he’s nearly lost in thought. For awhile you think you may not even get an answer from him, until you finally see his lips shift.

“I, assume you’ve heard mutterings of a curse in your time here.”

You have vaguely- even he had cursed it once. At the time you'd assumed it some sort of unfamiliar swear or perhaps just an odd phase adopted by Blood Angels, and so you'd paid it little mind other than the initial confusion. When you hesitantly nod, he continues.

“The curse is real. It has changed our legion. And,” You figure he’s about to speak a secret he shouldn’t to someone like you, so you stay quiet.

“It makes the smell of blood, tempting.” He continues. “It sates a hunger only we Blood Angels possess, and keeps us from going raving mad.”

He quiets, and you feels his gauntlets shift on your shoulders. He changes the subject to something adjacent; You assume he probably feels guilt for confessing a chapter secret to you.

“You’re not hurt?” He says confusedly. You aren’t particularly surprised he knows little about such things, though explaining it to him in this state would take far too long and be far too unfruitful.

“No. I'm fine.” He hums. You think you hear him mumble about hearing such a thing from somewhere, a woman's illness, and the comment would make you laugh if he wasn't looming down on you so intensely.

“Very well.” He shifts his jaw a bit, the scars along it shifting. He seems to have run out of things to say, though it also seems like he can't pull himself away from you. His throat and jaw are tightly wound, like he's holding something back.

“You want some… Don’t you?”

He seems surprised oddly enough; Perhaps by your bluntness and stupidity. Many legions would not take kindly to you assuming things about them, but Blood Angels are remarkably kinder. He is remarkably kinder.

“I," He grimaces. "I would owe you a great deal. Our superiors look at those with the Red Thirst as little more than a danger.”

The Blood Angels have been nothing but kind to you, in their own way. To even just be on the Red Tear is a safety and security you couldn’t repay.

It helps that it's him; You haven't ventured far around the Blood Angels ship alone, and you shamefully feel yourself beginning to get attached. If this curse can be sated by something so seemingly menial to you, then you have no reason to refuse.

“Ok.”

You move to take off your pants hands shaking just barely in nervousness, as he drops to his knee with one heavy thud. The sound startles you, just as your pants fall to the floor.

Once they’re off, and just your underwear remains, you hesitate for a moment. His stare is so intense, and you don't know how to describe it other than hungry. Given what he's told you, it makes perfect sense.

After what feels like and eternity of you being frozen, you finally manage to regain enough control to peel your underwear away. He viscerally reacts to the presumably iron filled scent, and the sight of blood against your now bare skin.

You see the way the knot in his throat bobs just above the black skinsuit beneath his armor.

With a speed that has you almost letting out a scream he grips your hips pulls them forward enough that the angle feels precarious, but he has a solid enough grip that leaves no chance of you falling. He throws your right leg over his shoulder next to open your thighs, your foot pressing against the front of his jetpack.

He hesitates for a moment, and you look away from the sheer intensity of his expression before you feel his hot breath on your skin.

You feel the moment he finally takes a taste and you can barely hold in a whimper, it coming out a tiny squeak as you feel the way his hands shift and tighten against your hips. Any hesitation he had is gone near instantly, as he presses his mouth against your cunt.

His armored hands grip at your hips with a strength that makes you ache and fear bruises, easily keeping your legs spread with minimal effort as his tongue laps at your folds. You can see the blood smear across his face, though he pays no mind. He acts as if this is the first meal he's had in ages, or the last he'll ever have.

But while perhaps your pleasure might not be at the forefront of his mind in his quite literal bloodlust, the way his tongue slips between your folds and teases you still makes shivers go up your spine. Your hands grip his hair and attempt to steady yourself, as his strength pushes you around. It's impossible to stop the way your hips push forward trying to get closer to him, gasping as he briefly brushes around your clit.

Suddenly however he pulls himself away, mouth stained much the same as your cunt and upper thighs are. You can see his eyes are glassy his throat bobs.

"I should stop."

He mumbles something to himself about loosing himself further to the Thirst, as if he's treading a line between sating his hunger or falling victim to it. You, perhaps stupidly, encourage him to do the exact opposite.

"No, no just, just a bit more,"

You breathlessly whisper and attempt to pull him closer. He silently resists for a moment, before the knot in his throat bobs and he returns his mouth to between your legs. You can't stop the loud moan you let out into the barren room, damning the consequences of anyone hearing you.

You're so close to that peak you only need a bit more, and the way his teeth scrape against your skin and nose presses against your clit gets you there. Your hands tighter in his hair and you inhale, trying not to cry out. But even after you start to come down he continues, his mouth overstimulating so many little nerves you feel on the edge of tears. Your face is hot as your fingers grip at his armor, desperately whining for him to simultaneously stop, and never stop.

He pulls away again, and gently emoves your leg from his shoulder to let you stand and wobbly attempt to yourself. Your knees feel weak and so many of your muscles are sore, even though he was exceedingly gentle with you.

Realizing his face is a mess, he uses the fabric of his cape to wipe it; How fortuitous the fabric is red.

"You should still keep clear of my brothers until this, passes. You never know how close one of them is to loosing themselves and hurting you." You'll heed the warning. If they're anything more than what gusto he already displayed, you wouldn't be surprised angels more lost to the thirst would be dangerous to you. He displayed a remarkable degree of restraint, you could tell.

Though, a curious part of your mind wonders what he'd be like if he hadn't.

"Do you at least feel better? I don't know how the Thirst works but," He nods.

"Yes. It is nice to not have my head so clouded. I... Thank you."

You smile, before accidentally letting more words tumble out of your lips that you should've allowed. It seems his presence always seems to makes you accidentally forget how to not act a fool.

"Always happy to help." He takes your phase at face value, though you suppose you wouldn't refuse him if he asked again. It wasn't as if this ended badly for you.

"You are kind, offering yourself to a Blood Angel. Not many would."

Beyond their sophisticated veneer they are still dangerous predators more than capable of killing you with the slightest motion, you understand why any few who learn about their supposed defect would fear them.

Maybe something is clouding your judgement, but you don't fear him; At least not yet.

Adjusting your clothing you watch as he rises to his full height, his cape flowing behind him. You grip your own fingers nervously and look around.

"But, would you mind bringing my back to my own quarters? I'll admit I have no idea where on the ship you brought me, and I'm still a bit woozy." He offers a gentle but stoic smile.

"Of course."

#space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[walkingintheheartbreaksatellite]

I’m Here, Right Here Pt. 1

(Harry Styles x Implied Bi!Fem!reader)

My take from when I first listened to satellite!

Y/N is Jeff's assistant and Harry's best friend. She's been in and out of relationships for one reason or another and is upset. Harry is hopelessly in love with her and she is too blind to see it.

Dating while traveling is not for the weak..

After yet another failed date, I return to my hotel room to find Harry propping himself against my door. He turns his attention to me and smiles when he sees me.

"Hey! Was looking for you. Thought you might want to get some dinner? Sushi and a movie? Haven't done that in a while.."

I sigh and frown, shaking my head as I unlock my door, Harry following me inside.

"That's really sweet, H, but not tonight. I'm honestly exhausted and all I want to do is shower and crash. Rain check? I promise we'll do it tomorrow."

He frowns before nodding.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?"

I sniffle as I pull off my makeup, trying not to cry.

"I just don't know what I'm doing wrong! Like this guy! His name was Todd... It seemed like we had a lot in common but halfway through dinner, he saw my tattoos and he started scolding me. Then he proceeded to tell me what I was doing wrong in my life, starting with my career choice-."

He lets out a laugh and shakes his head as he collapses on my bed.

"What? You want to be a music producer. I'd say you're heading in the right direction."

I groan and start to pull off my jewelry.

"No, because apparently, that's not a good career for a wife. Like, as if dude! I want things for myself. Im not gonna be some stay at home wife popping out babies, you know? H...Harry, are you listening to me?"

He doesn't answer but he lifts his hand up and gives me a thumbs up. I sigh and change my clothes in the bathroom before coming out and plopping on my stomach next to him.

"What do you think I should do, H?"

He sighs and he's quiet for a minute, his eyes looking anywhere but at me.

"You could stop... Take a break from dating."

I groan and plop my head into the bed.

"I'm not getting any younger! I want things sure, but I want to be happy too!"

He sits up, finally looking down into my eyes, a serious look on his face.

"Aren't you though? You've got all your friends. You've told me time and time again that the perfect one for me will come when I least expect it. So why not try taking your own advice?"

With that, he gets up and heads to the door. I frown, quickly getting up from the bed and chasing after him. I give him a pout and he sighs.

He gives me a small hug and leaves my room, not saying another word.

As promised, the next night, we get sushi and watch some movies. As I stuff my face with California Rolls, Harry continues to ramble.

"You've gone on a date almost every stop we've been on! Who does that?!"

He laughs and I can't help but shrug.

"Someone who just doesn't have any luck, I guess? Every date I've been on... No one really seems to stick out. And it's not like I'm not keeping my options open! But it's just... I don't know."

He nods in understanding before popping a California roll in his mouth.

"Are you gonna sue the dating apps like in that movie? What was it.. Love Guaranteed?"

I snort and choke on my food a little before shaking my head.

"No! That's just a movie! As if I'd meet some attractive lawyer and fall in love! Crazy talk! And what about you, Mr. Pop Star? You've been single for a while. Where's your love life going?"

He doesn't look at me but he shrugs.

"Dunno. Just kind of focusing on my music right now. Figured I've got time, right? No use in worrying."

He drops the topic and we hang out for the rest of the night. For the next week, Harry seems pretty quiet around me, and I'm not really sure why. Mr. Azoff gave me the night off, even though there's a show.

I had originally planned to go on a date, but my date cancelled, so I decide to watch the show. I stand next to Mr. Azoff as I watch Harry go up on stage.

"Why are you still here? Thought you had a hot date?"

I shake my head with a sigh, holding my sweater close to me.

"Cancelled on me. Thought I might enjoy watching him without having to run around for once."

He nods with a small smile. It's quiet for a minute between the two of us, until he says something I wasn't expecting.

"I've noticed you've been going on dates a lot... At least once every stop, if not more."

My eyes widen and I try to defend myself.

"Mr. Azoff-."

He frowns and shakes his head.

"Y/N, I'm not saying this as your boss. I'm saying this as your friend. You do it in your down time but we're all just a bit worried about you. This has to be a lot on you. Just... Talk to someone about it, okay? If you're doing it because you feel alone, don't. You have so many people who care about you. So just... Take it easy, okay?"

I nod and turn my attention back to the stage. Watching Harry up there.. No matter how many times I watch, he's always so captivating. I can't take my eyes off him...

After the show is over, Harry quickly takes a shower. I run out, offering to grab coffee for the band. When I come back, I get echos of thank you's and when I give Harry his coffee, he gives me a look of shock.

"Thought you had a date tonight? What are you doing here?"

He takes the coffee from my hand and I plop down next to him on the sofa, slipping off my heels before resting my feet on the coffee table.

"A bust. Yet again. Maybe next time will work, right? Aren't you the one always telling me to be optimistic?"

He's quiet and he simply stands up before he turns to face me, a look of anger on his face.

"Why are you doing this to yourself, Y/N? You come to me every time, crying for one reason or another how it didn't work out and you're so sad that you're alone! Did you ever think that maybe you're not alone?!"

I stand up and cross my arms, looking straight at him.

"Harry, you don't know what it's like! People like you! I have to work my ass off to make sure I'm appealing to others! I want more! I want love! Don't you get that?"

He shakes his head and walks to the door before turning around to face me again.

"Did you ever stop and think that maybe I might love you?! That watching you go on date after date is killing me?!"

My eyes widen and I stutter.

"H-Harry.."

He shakes his head once again, and stares straight into my eyes.

"It's always round and round with you! Like a fucking satellite! I'm just- I'm done Y/N. I've tried. For months. But I'm done."

He doesn't say another word as he leaves and I fall onto the couch, tears starting to fall down my face.

He was right there?

🚾 1283

Part 2

——————————————————

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Tag list

@be-with-me-so-happily @swiftmendeshoran

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#harry styles #walkingintheheartbreaksatellite #harry styles x reader #wattpad #fanfiction #harry styles x reader angst #harry styles satellite #satellite #harry edward styles #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #Harry Styles x reader fluff #harry styles fluff

[interroblog]

I started free writing last week and it tripled my daily word counts so I feel the need to evangelize 👀

I’m in the “figuring out what happens in this story” stage of plotting which is what it’s been really great for, but I can see it helping any time you need to solve problems or get ideas. Here’s the rules I use for myself, hopefully someone else will find it helpful

Write every thought. All of my free writing sessions start with a ramble about how I’m going to start free writing, then I write all the things I could explore until I latch onto one and go.

No thought is too undeveloped. Even if it’s a poorly written sentence fragment or idea about an idea… it might lead to something else, so it goes in.

Chase your ideas! If I’m writing about one idea and I suddenly get another, I’ll just immediately swap to writing about that. I can always finish that other idea later, but I know I’d forget about the new one. It’s easier to remember a half-written idea than a fully unwritten one.

Writing something doesn’t mean I’m going with it. I’ve written down ideas then immediately after added “But I don’t like that because (reason)”. It almost always leads me to writing about another idea that I like a lot more

Basically, it’s not about what you write. It’s about the ideas it leads you to. It’s so helpful for making me get out of my head and solidify thoughts so I can build on them. I’ll put three excerpts from my free writing doc under the cut to show off the different levels of “quality”

“there’s only one bridge into this area, it’s closed for flooding after snow melt. So that’s why they’re stuck in this area. Amp brings them back to his cabin? Doesn’t want to let a bunch of kids sleep outside. There’s two layers to his interactions, the truth that he would die for these fuckers because they are his family- and the lie he’s telling them. It’s the latter I’m trying to figure out.

they first meet him at the gas station, then later [note: here I skipped to the next line to follow a new thought I had, then never went back to finish this one because it connected back anyway]

They’re camping in the woods when they see something tall and inhuman. The moonlight reaches it and they see amp with a torch and a bag (torch??? Who am i) of food, fire starter, and a blanket (given to Saint, who then forces tab to share it with him because he feels awkward. Cuties)

He says he saw their car on the road, it’s march and he didn’t want anyone freezing to death. (There’s the hint that he didn’t just see their car but he knew to be looking for them. He didn’t just happen to have all that stuff on him, after all.)”

“time to free write 500 words real fast cause i wanna get to 2k. What are we working with. I think I’ve got some good stuff right now, it all just needs to fall into place. Let’s see how it goes, listing arcs.

There’s Saint’s arc which i still need to define more, it’s been changing a lot as the story develops which is good!! The goal!! I don’t want to solidify it too much, but it goes”

“let’s see… i really want it to build on itself, and the surgery stuff feels too out of place or like a regression, even though it’s literally the point of the story. Maybe it’s the fact they go home? I could try having the surgery take place in the underground with saint only thinking he’s back at a hospital- but that undermines a lot of the stuff with the parents if it isn’t real”

#mine #writing #writeblr #writing advice #wip: moon #this is for that one person that asked how I freewrite

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

The Lead Up And The Follow Through

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five , Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific Chapter Warnings: more sugar daddy Aaron, collaring (squeeeee) Aaron being a tease, reader getting dressed up, Haley and Jack mentioned, mentions of eating, alcohol, spanking, fingering (f receiving), orgasm ( f receiving) crying, after care, Let me know if I missed anything!

AN: There is a lot to unpack in this chapter obviously! The story will have about one to two more parts, I seriously can’t thank y’all enough for the support and love thrown my way, y’all make a girl cry 😭💜

4 Years Ago.

She stares down at the book in her hand, after hours of studying she can barely keep the words from swimming around the pages. It’s late, or rather early, her final tests in the afternoon and she’s cramming whatever she can in. Her anxiety peaking with each tick of the clock on the wall.

The last few years have all worked up to this point, graduating with her masters in child psychology and becoming an FBI agent. Years she has spent isolated yet focused on her one goal, her one chance to become more than what everyone thought she could be.

Y/n rubs at her eyes, taking a steadying breath as she leans back into the wooden chair.

‘I can do this, I can do this, I can-.’

A shrill noise interrupts her thoughts, her entire body jolting in a brief moment of fear as the telephone on the night stand continues to ring. Her eyebrows come together in confused annoyance, wondering who could be calling her at such a ridiculous hour. Stretching out of her chair she’s able to grab the receiver, barely registering the wobble of her chair as she settles back in.

“Hello?”

“Y/n?” A deep scratchy voice comes through, noises beyond the man’s voice making him a little muffled but utterly recognizable. Y/n feels her throat constrict, everything stopping around her, as her heart begins to pound. “Y/n, is dad. I need help. I’ve gotten myself in some trouble.”

She stairs ahead at the wall, unable to focus on whatever is being said as the blood rushes through her ears. Her hands begin to shake, the tremors going from light to violent in a matter of seconds as her father continues to ramble on.

“- I’m at the police station now, they aren’t letting me bail myself I just need you-.”

Y/n doesn’t remember standing, all she realizes is that she is slamming the receiver down with concerning force. Her chest rises and falls quickly, the room spinning around her as she stands rooted to her spot on the dingy hard wood floor of her cheap little apartment.

A million questions will bombard her later. How did he find her? Who tipped him off? When will he call again? But she can’t think of those things now, she can’t dwell on the unknown when the path of her future will be forged in just a few short hours.

Y/n forces her legs to move back to her desk, planting herself in her chair and picking up the book once more. The room doesn’t stop spinning.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Y/n taps her food against the polished floor, her lip worried between her teeth, her eyes darting to the door to the administrator’s office every few minutes. Not unlike the rest of the young adults in the hall along with her.

Some are playing it calmer than she is, then there are some who are practically in tears. A certain brunette is sitting across from Y/n with a wide smile plastered to her face.

“It’s okay, you know.” Melissa Pharway, the girl who peaked in high school and never grew out of her Queen-Bee phase, looks pointedly to Y/n, her shoulders back and her head held high. Y/n only glances her way, not bothering to entice Melissa on because she will do so herself. “Things like this are hard for people with your… background.”

Y/n’s jaw ticks, but she doesn’t respond. Only a few months into school had a rumor spread about where Y/n was from, then it had escalated into how Y/n was able to get into the schools, and things only got hectic from there.

She always thought things couldn’t get any worse after high school. Melissa has proven her wrong.

“It’s sweet, how hard you have tried, but as it’s been said before.” Melissa snorts at her own thoughts, crossing her long legs and leaning back against the cement brick wall. “Some people just aren’t mean to be here. And hey? If you fail? There’s always next year.”

“Y/n Smith?”

Y/n’s head jerks up, the admin, a very short round woman, stands by the door. Y/n stands, wiping her clammy hands down her pants legs before following the woman into her office. The name on the door reading, Suzan Mitchel.

Mrs. Mitchel takes a seat at her large desk, gesturing for Y/n to sit in one of the green wing backed chairs. Her office is decorated with nicknacks from the woman’s life, the walls a deep green and the hardwood floors stained nearly black. The room is honestly cozy, the walls lined with books, and photos.

“Now… You’ve had quite a go these past few years. Making near perfect scores in all of your classes, balancing training for the agency along with your doctoral degree in Psychology.”

Y/n nods her head, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes trained on the stacks of papers in front of her. Mrs. Mitchel adjusts the glasses resting on her nose before grabbing the first paper on the stack, her steely eye glancing up at the young woman in front of her.

“I’m pleased say it has payed off. You have made valedictorian.”

Y/n’s jaw drops, the first real sense of accomplishment rushing over her. She feels her eyes sting, and she forces herself to take slow breaths to control her emotions.

Mrs. Mitches laughs lightly, passing Y/n’s tests to her with a large smile. “It’s okay to celebrate dear. You deserve it.”

Y/n give her a stoic smile, her lower lip wobbling ever so slightly. “Thank you, ma’am, but the hard work is only just beginning.”

She thanks Mrs. Mitchel as she leaves the office, a confidence in her walk that she has never felt before as she passes the still smug smiling girl from earlier. A moment of bravado steals through her as she slows to a stop, leaning close to Melissa making the girls face scrunch in confusion. “There’s always next year.”

Melissa’s face falls completely, watching as Y/n straightens and marches off, her shoulders thrown back and chin lifted.

*~*~*~*~*~*

3 and 1/2 years ago

Derek Morgan scrubs at his face, staring at the screen in front of him with evident frustration. “I don’t get it.” His voice suddenly so loud beside Y/n makes her eyes flick up, but she says nothing as she continues to scan through her reports. “Strauss wants us doing all of this paper work for what? We never did any of this before.”

Y/n smiles slightly, leaning back in her chair as Prentiss chimes in. “What? Turned off by a little typing? Not enough action for ya?”

Morgan gives you a halfhearted glare, locking his hands behind his head as he mimics Y/n’s relaxed posture. “Now you know damn well I am a man of words.”

“And such big game.” The moment the words slip free of Y/n’s lips her face flushes a dark shade, Morgan’s mouth falling open as Prentiss cackles, slapping her hand over her mouth to muffle the noise. “I’m… I’m sorry that-.”

Before she can say anything else her cellphone rings and Morgan shakes his finger at her sheepish face. “Saved by the bell, girl.”

Y/n flips open her phone without glancing at the screen, pressing it to her ear. “Smith.”

“Y/n, oh thank God.”

Her eyes widen, Morgan’s easy smile falling as they lock eyes. Y/n quickly looks away but it’s too late, the man across from her has noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“I know you’re there look… I need you to listen to me, you dad needs a little help.” Dread drops hard in her stomach like a ball of lead, sending acid up her throat. Her skin is suddenly white as if she’d seen a ghost and Prentiss comes around the desk a the worry etched on Morgan’s face.

“Help?” Y/n’s voice doesn’t sound right to her own ears, distance and hallow.

“I need money, girl. I’m going to lose the house, you’re making it big now. I know you are, you can help your father after all the years I’ve spent helping you.”

Rage. Y/n feels her blood boil, her heart hammering in different parts of her body. She lowers her phone, holding it tight between her hands before snapping it at the hinges. Prentiss jumps slightly at the sudden action, Morgan’s eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.

Y/n stands on surprisingly sturdy legs, dropping the remnants off her phone into the black waste basket beside her desk before rushing off, leaving her coworkers dumbfounded.

Present Day

You’re up well before Aaron calls you, folding your clothes into neat stacks, trying to decide what will fit into your go bag, and what you will have to carry in the bags from the store. The ringer goes off, a short simple melody playing repeatedly until you pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Good morning.” His voice sounds thick with sleep. “Would you like to go get some coffee with me?” The thought of caffeine after being up most of the night, bulling through what was left of your work, and going back to Aaron’s text more times than you would like to count; sounds like heaven to your tired body.

“Uh yeah, I could go for a pick me up.”

There’s shuffling on the other end. “Be there in 15.” The phone goes quiet with a soft beep and you glance at the stacks on your bed. Disrupting your organization, you quickly find a pair of black leggings and a long merlot colored sweater. You change from your night gown, throwing your hair into a messy bun right as his knuckles connect with your door. You snatch your phone and wallet from the table before shoving your sock clad feet into your boots and pulling the door open.

The sight of Aaron looking down at you as soon as you open the door is begging to feel too routine. You close your door firmly then square your shoulders with a deep breath as you turn to face him. “Morning.”

Aaron chuckles and reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Sounds like your reporting to a firing squad.” You don’t want to say he is wrong.

“I just… I didn’t get a lot of sleep.” Aaron’s raised eyebrow makes you cringe inwardly, realizing you should have used another excuse that wasn’t breaking one of your new rules.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Just… I’ve been doing a lot of work.” You turn away, fidgeting with your phone and Aaron gives you a small grunt of disapproval, your shoulders tightening. “I’m going to go ahead and assume that’s three?”

“You’re catching on.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Despite the shine of the sun peaking through the clouds it’s still miserably frigid. You both pile into the car as quickly as possible, the first few minutes spent in shivering silence as you wait for the heat to kick in.

Aaron begins pulling out of the parking spot, navigating the parking deck onto the street, his hand resting on the center console close to your thigh. “What was it like where you grew up?” His question snaps your attention away from his long fingers and you scold yourself mentally, turning your gaze to the grey dashboard.

“Pretty quiet I suppose. I’m from a small town in Mississippi, so there were a lot of woods, creeks, things of that sort. My street was pretty sparse, house wise… could shout to your neighbor if you really needed them.” The memories that came along with thinking of your rule little farming town were a mixture of good and bad. Good things being the long days playing in creek beds catching frogs, hiking a little to far into the woods when the leaves changed colors; winter time wondering if snow would fall.

All sunshine before the storm.

Aaron hums beside you. “My home was very suburban. White House’s with white fences.” You look over, he’s smiling faintly and you can’t help studying the sharp angles of his face, the lines around his lips and the crows feet by his eyes. “My brother and I use to get into a lot of trouble, the big city just a half our away, always had our mother on edge.”

“That sounds nice, I guess where I live now is pretty much the low end version of that. There is a back yard for Bruce though, and that’s what really matters in the end.” You say with a shrug, watching the streetlights change. A wave of people cross in front of the car, some on their phones, some talking to others, but most of them with their heads down just trying to get where they are going.

“So you’ve had him since he was a puppy?” Aaron throws on his turn signal as the light changes, pulling onto a busy street.

“I found him when he was maybe two months old. There’s this park I use to go to back home, he came running out of the bushes at me, he looked awful and there was no way I was leaving him as the weather was starting to get cold. Took him straight to the vet and he’s been my boy ever since.”

Aaron glances over at you, catching your eye with a smile. “I’ve never owned any animals, unless you count Jack’s goldfish.”

The thought of SSA Aaron Hotchner leaning over a small fishbowl, shaking a container of food has you smiling. “Depends… have you taught him any tricks?”

Aaron laughs, the noise filling up the space pulling your own chuckle from you as he navigates the street, pulling over as a cozy little coffee shop comes into view.

Inside the air is warm and smells heavily of coffee beans and syrups, there’s a small line and behind the bar are workers hurting to and fro with smiles. The menu is above the register, the different selections printed in colorful chalk making both you and Aaron squint to read it.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, placing his hand on your lower back to usher you forward as the line dwindles. “And don’t just say black coffee.” Your glare is met with a sideways smile.

“Um… well something hot.” You can feel his thumb rubbing slow circles through your sweater, and you wonder if he realizes he’s doing it. “Caramel mocha, extra caramel.”

Aaron grins, pressing in closer to your side. “Sound sweet, like you.”

You scoff loudly looking up into his brown eyes. “Sweet like me? That’s like saying your a bag of sunshine and kittens, doesn’t fit does it?”

Aaron’s grin turns devilish, he dips his head to your ear, warm breath scattering across your cheek as he whispers. “Who said I was talking about your attitude?”

Blood pools in your cheeks, your eyes widening as Aaron straightens and nudges you to the counter. He graciously orders for the both of you, your tongue tied and thoughts boiling, but by the time you both sit at a small table all you can manage is; “That was low.”

“Low? Honey that was just me telling the truth.” He smirks at your glare, enjoying the stain on your skin and the way you squirm in your seat.

You fidget with your hands under the table, eyes dipping away. “That wasn’t supposed to happen…”

“The part where you slapped me or the part where we kissed?”

You gape, leaning across the table to whisper vehemently. “We didn’t kiss, you kissed me. And I didn’t slap you on purpose it was just… instinct. You startled me.”

Aaron scoffs light, his gaze flicking to the pick up counter as a young woman calls out another name. “Glad you didn’t have your gun then.” Before you can snap back Aaron’s name is being called and he’s leaving the table. Letting you stew in your anger as he grabs your drinks. When he returns you look up at him, simmering.

“You’re a jerk.”

“I’ve been called much worse, come on let’s go.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Why are we at a shoe store?” Your annoyance leaks into your words as Aaron leads you a few stores down from the coffee shop.

“You need shoes for your dress.” He murmurs, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I have some nice heels at home that would go great with the dress, I don’t need anything else.” You protest, spinning to face him. The street is pretty empty given its a Thursday morning, and you don’t have to fear someone over hearing any potentially scandalous comments.

“Those are at home, you need shoes for dinner tonight… unless you plan on wearing those?” He gives your warn in boots a pointed look, your eyebrows curling in confusion and annoyance.

“When did we agree to go to dinner?”

“When I bought you that dress.”

“That was never brought up!” You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration.

Aaron snags your elbow, leading you towards the doors. “Well it has been now. We are eating at 7.”

Silently you are screaming every foul name you know at him as the doors close behind you both. A happy voice greats you making your head swivel in the direction of the counters. “Good morning! How can I help you?” A young man, possibly a few year older than you leans on the counter with a toothy grin, his dark skin glowing under the fluorescent lights.

Aaron squeezes your elbow, encouraging you to speak. “I’m looking for a pair of heels is all.” The man’s smile doesn’t waver in the slightest as he stands up straight, beckoning you with a long arm.

“Right this way ma’am.”

“You go ahead, I need to run next door and pick something up for tonight.” Aaron turns away from you and you spin around, your hand resting on your hip as you point your coffee at him.

“First you surprise me with a dinner date and now you’re being secretive?”

Aaron throws you a wink over his shoulder as he leaves the store, the mental image of you hurling your drink at the back of his head leaving your hands trembling.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The store clerk, Donavan, was more than happy to show you the different types of heels he had in stock. He was sweet and genuine, if a little too talkative. You’re sure he wins over every customer that comes in with his charming attitude.

By the time Aaron has made it back you’ve settled on a pair of black strapped heels, nothing too over the top and you can wear them with anything. Aaron meets you at the register, wallet in one hand and a small white bag in the other. Your eyebrows raise.

You thank Donavan again as you both leave, stepping back out into the cold. You can’t take your eyes off of the white plastic bag, your curiosity to enticed. “What is it?”

“Hmm?” Aaron replies, pretending not to notice your obvious stare.

Rolling your eyes you drop your empty cup into a trash can as you walk by, moving the shoe bag to your free hand as you gesture to him. “The bag. What is it?” Aaron ignores you as he fishes for the keys in his oversized coat, your annoyance flaring. “Aaron?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know?” The cars alarm beeps once as he unlocks it, walking around to pull your door open.

“Satisfaction brought it back.” You finish pointedly, climbing into the passenger seat. Aaron grins down at you before dropping the bag into your lap. He shuts the door and you wait tensely until he’s in the driver seat to open the gift.

Inside is a large red velvet box, the kind only used for jewelry. Tentatively your fingers trace over the lid before you glance up to Aaron, he’s leaning casually against the center consul, but something is swimming in those dark irises. “Go ahead.”

You stuck in a breath and flip the lid, only to have the air stolen from your lungs entirely. A beautiful silver necklace lays atop white fabric, a circular pendant in the center, encrusted with black gems. Looking closer you can see the chain is weaved with black as well. Your finger traces the cool mental in awe.

“Aaron… this is…”

“I hoped you would like it.” His voice is warm and thick as he watches you pluck the necklace from the box and lay it out in your hand.

“I do… I mean it’s so pretty…” You didn’t own jewelry, not that you didn’t find things pretty, it just was never a for thought with the line or work you did. “Thank you.” You go for the clasp and your eyebrows draw up, an even smaller circle is at the back, a hexagon pressed in it and you turn it over. “How do I unclasp it?”

Aaron reaches over, taking it from you gently along with the box. “You’re welcome, you unclasp it with… this” He pulls out a small tool, and your confusion only grows at the sight of the Allen Wrench. “When most Doms and Subs get into a relationship, or a contract, the sub will usually wear something that signifies that, along with other things. Some wear bracelets or anklets. Some have more prominent pieces like leather collars. This though, is plain enough that no one will question it, but still hold that same significance.”

Aaron unscrews the small bolt, laying it in his large palm, his eyes swirling with something that makes every never in your body fire all at once. “You’re… collaring me?” The disbelief in your voice doesn’t waver him for a second, he simply nods. Your face scrunches up, ready to reject the idea.

“Think of it this way. It will help remind you that I am here for you, you have someone to lean on, to trust in, to go to when you need it. It’s just as much for you as it is for me.”

Your heart pounds in your ears, your attention hyper focused on the delicate chain as he holds it up, the metal catching the sunlight. You don’t say anything in response, you know you’re supposed to be compliant, this is what you’ve agreed to after all; but you can’t stop the feeling of your mouth going dry and your hands beginning to shake.

“So… you want me to wear this all the time?” He nods again, watching you closely. “But I mean… it’s delicate, what if it breaks? And-and everyone knows that I don’t wear jewelry, what if they start asking questions?”

Aaron suddenly squeezes your hand gently, the anxious look on your face pulling at his heart. “You can always lie, say it came from somewhere different, and as this relationship grows we will find things that are more appropriate… but for now, it would make me very happy to see you wear it.”

You mule it over, wagging a silent war in your head as you stare up at him. Slowly you turn away, tilting your head down to make it easier. Aaron slips the chain around your neck, goosebumps rising along your flesh as he fiddles with the lock. A moment later the pendant rests against the base of your throat, a little heavier than you expected.

“Let me see.” When you turn back you fight the urge to shy away from his stare, his eyes molten and turning with lust as his gaze travels from the necklace to your face. “It suits you.” Aaron whispers.

“Yeah well… You have good taste is all.” You mumble, fiddling with the bag in your hands, unsure of what you do with yourself. Warm fingertips press into the sides of your jaw, turning your gaze back to his. Aarons even closer now, practically leaning across the console, the tilt of his lips challenging and dangerous.

“Gonna be my good girl tonight and wear it for me? Give me the chance to show you off.” The drawl of his voice makes your breath hitch, arousal suddenly racing down your spine to settle between your hips. Aaron watches the way your eyes suddenly dilate, the inky blackness expending over the pretty color of your irises. You’re unable to explain the affect of those two simple words as your thoughts slow, your head becoming a little heavier in his palm, but Aaron does. “What do you say?” He prompts with amusement.

“Yes… I mean, no… wait-.” You mentally kick yourself, squeezing your eyes shut to block out your distraction as your gather your scattered thoughts. Aaron chuckles and you wonder if your skin feels as hot under his fingertips as you think it does. “I’ll… I’ll wear it.”

Aaron’s smile only widens, pulling you in across those few mere inches that separate you, pressing a chaff kiss to your lips. “Good girl.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun has started to set outside the windows when Aaron knocks on your door. You’re already standing on the other side, have been for minutes, trying to gain the nerve to actually go through with this. A part of you wants to run and hide under the covers, but you reach for the doorknob anyways.

Aaron glances up from his watch, his eyes widening as he takes you in. You’re radiant, decadent, beautiful, bewitching. Ever name he could possibly think off wouldn’t even come close. Your hair is swept up, a few strands framing your face and showing off the necklace, the only piece of jewelry you have on. The dress is more beautiful now than in the store, the sunset from behind you casting you in a golden glow as you look up at him from beneath long lashes.

“Breathtaking.” His voice is deep and warm as he extends his hand for you. He’s wearing a fitted black suit with a white shirt, classic but striking on him, his raven hair brushed back but the stands at his hairline have slipped forward.

“Thank you.” You place your hand in his, letting him pull you into the hall, where anyone and everyone can now see you. The butterfly’s in your stomach haven’t stopped since you got dressed, and they are only getting worse now that you will be seen in public. Apart of you knows that there isn’t a soul in Boston who knows what is going on, but every time you have stepped out of your hotel you feel as though everyone is privy to your dirty little secret.

“Let’s go eat.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Like everywhere else Aaron has taken you the last few days, the restaurant he choose is upscale and beautiful. Deep red walls, with golden candelabras and sconces, white table clothes adorned with flickering candles and small vases of lovely flowers. The chairs are comfortable as Aaron helps you sit, your eyes roaming the room in amazement.

The restaurant isn’t crowded, having just opened its doors for the evening, but even then the tables are set far enough apart that there’s no fear of being over heard or disrupted. Aaron smiles as he watches the awe struck look on your face, your gaze fixated on the glass dome ceiling you’re seated under.

“This is… wow…” you laugh breathlessly, unable to find the right words to describe what you are seeing.

“It is… It’s one of my favorite restaurants, actually.” You finally pull your attention from the stars beginning to pepper the night sky, catching Aaron staring unabashedly.

You feel your skin heat under his gaze. “So you come here often then?”

“Any time I am in Boston.”

A man in a dashing suit suddenly appears at your side, a smile on his face and two large black menus in hand. “Good evening, sir and madam. Welcome to Deuxave, my name is James and I will be your server for this evening. May I get other of you started with a drink?”

Aaron gestures for you to go ahead. “Water, please, with lemon.” You smile up at the blond man who nods in return before turning to Aaron.

“I’ll have the same, and a bottle of Chardonnay, please.” James dips his head again, placing your menus down before swiftly turning on his heel. Aaron pauses for a moment, almost looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to ask if you liked wine.”

You laugh lightly, a noice Aaron savors. “Well, luckily for you, I do enjoy a good white wine. Mainly, though, I stick with water and teas.”

He grins, the flames from the small candle casting shadows across his face, deepening the rugged look he already has. “Good to know.”

A short pause follows as you both regard each other, both of you looking like you are ready to ask a million different questions, and you’re the first to break the ice. “So… how many… relationships have you been in like… this?”

Aaron opens his menu and you follow suit, trying to force down the knot of nerves in your chest. “Three, but I was much younger, and they were already into the lifestyle I was.”

You nod thoughtfully. “Is that… Is that how you meet Haley?” You purposefully keep your gaze glued to the menu, staring at the words but not comprehending anything they say. The knot only growing heavier with your bold questioning.

“No, actually when I meet Haley I completely erased that part of my life. She wasn’t comfortable or understanding of it.”

“Oh.” You dare a glance his way, his expression impassive as he stares at his own menu. “That must of been difficult then. Just getting rid of that part of yourself.”

“It was, but that’s what you do for people.” That you love.

You chew on your lip, needing to change the subject. “What made you decide that you wanted back into it? And why me?”

Aaron licks his lips, contemplating, and your gaze follows the movement. “Because of you. When I saw you that morning on the plane, I only knew you from your file and background records, but watching you squirm and fidget seated between two men when you were so much more lively alone with JJ… something drove me to figure it out. The longer I got to know you, I began to realize you were struggling. You hardly showed emotion but fought to include yourself in the conversation because you feel you have to. Cases with children hit you hard because you’ve had some form of child hood trauma you aren’t willing to unpack, making your soul focus be the case and you neglect yourself. The darkrooms, the hesitation to request something from someone that could be seen as inconvenient-.”

“Okay, okay.” You breath, waving your hands before dropping them into your lap, picking at your already too short nails. “I get it… I didn’t realize I was so easy to read.”

“You aren’t but it’s my job to look for the inobvious. Once I did that it just started to fall into place, I wanted to help you and I could only think of one way how.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your stomach tumble but before you can reply James has returned with your drinks in hand. Once everything is situated on the table he pulls out a little note pad and pen. “Have we looked over the menu or do we need some more time?”

“Oh um…”

“May I?” Aaron asks, and you look up surprised before nodding. “We will have one Spiced Long Island Duck Breast and one Cast Iron New York Strip, medium rare please.”

“Excellent choices.” Once James takes the menus Aaron gives you a sheepish smile.

“I figured we could share.” Your own smile creeps up and you nod. “So… may I ask you some questions now that you have asked a few?”

You knew this was going to happen eventually, but no matter how much you thought you prepared yourself you still feel your heart drop. “Well, it’s only fair.”

“What makes you afraid of the dark?”

‘Oof, okay right to it.’

“Well… it’s not a fear so much now… it’s just very suffocating.” You answer evasively, watching as Aaron pours you both a glass. You swirl the golden liquid before taking a sip, the flavor bursting across your tongue.

“How long has it made you uncomfortable then?”

“Since I was a child.” You shrug a shoulder. “I don’t let it impede on my job though, that’s all that matters.”

“Deflecting isn’t the way to deal with things, Y/n.” He chastises gently. “I won’t judge you, you should know this.”

You stare at the liquor in your hand, watching the low lighting bounce through the glass with the small twists and turns of your wrist. You can feel heat crawling up your neck, as a sickening feeling tears at your stomach, setting you on edge as memories wash over you.

“I was… I was locked into a very small dark space when I was a child…” You don’t need to look at Aaron to know his eyebrows have creased, his eyes squinting in concern. “Ever since then I just found it to be-.”

“Suffocating.” He finishes, his voice soft yet deep, your eyes refusing to meet his intense stare, but you can feel it on your skin. Assessing, calculating, piecing together more about you than you would like.

Before either of you can speak again, James is back, carrying to steaming plates along with his chipper attitude. “I hope you enjoy.”

The next hour is spent talking about much milder topics, picking off of each others plates, sharing old stories and genuinely getting to know one another. You find yourself smiling easier, listening to him talk about his home, his son, his life before the BAU. You share stories of school, the couple down the street that are like your adoptive grandparents, and the books you are currently reading. It’s nice and slow and easy, something you never expected.

“Do you want to get any dessert?”

“Oh, if I take another bite I’ll pop.” You sigh, setting down your third empty glass of wine, feeling the alcohol in your system.

Aaron smiles, standing from his chair with a slight groan. “I’ll be right back, then.” You watch Aaron as he leaves, your eyes again dipping down to his ass and you have to giggle a little at the inappropriate thoughts filling your head.

“Here you are, miss.” James is suddenly beside you, laying the bill book on the table.

“Oh thank you so much. Everything has been wonderful.” You give the man your best smile and he grins back before ducking away. Your eyes go to the little book, your curiosity getting the better of you. Pulling it to you you flip it open and your stomach plummets. ‘$155’ not including tip.

You feel panicky, despite the reassurance of Aaron telling you money isn’t an issue, all you can think about is how much he has spent already. On you none the less. You want to show him you can contribute too.

Mind made up you reach for your wallet, unzipping it to look for your card when suddenly someone is clearing their throat, making you jump in your seat.

Aaron is looking down at you, eyebrows pinched and feature’s suddenly stormy and you really feel your stomach drop out, unease curling in your guts. “What excuse would you like to give me this time?” The rough edge of his voice drags along your skin and you feel suddenly very small sitting below him.

“I… I wanted to repay you for… the clothes and…” Your fingers flutter to your necklace absently at the disappointed look he gives you.

“Up. We’ll pay and then talk about this in private.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Aaron doesn’t speak on the way back to the hotel, though his face and body are relaxed his hands are white-knuckles on the steering wheel. You fidget in the passenger seat, brushing away loose strands of hair, or plucking at the necklace the longer the silence stretches on. By the time he pulls into the parking deck you feel like your on the verge of a conniption, the fun bubbly feeling of the night dissipated into cramping dread.

He still walks around to your door to help you out after the car has been parked, but as you start to speak he holds up his hand, silencing you. Regret swims through your belly as he leads you inside and to the elevators. He presses the button for the sixth floor, two above your own, your eyebrows creasing.

Lacing his fingers through your own, he pulls you down the hall, stopping in front of a door reading 112. “Aaron?” He doesn’t give you a reply, fishing for his keycard then pulling you inside when the light flickers from red to green with a little beep. You quickly scan the room, the layout the exact same as your own, as Aaron leaves you by the door, shrugging out of his suit coat.

“Are we- are we going to talk?” You can’t tune out the nerves rattling your voice, he glances at you briefly over his shoulder as he undoes his tie, pulling it over his head.

“We are.” He finally faces you once again, his expression hard to read. “We’re going to talk about what will be the appropriate punishment for how you have acted, thus far.”

You didn’t think it was possible for your muscles to tense any further, your heart picking up speed as the thought of running passes through your head. “But… I’m new to this. Doesn’t that allot for some leeway?” Aaron cocks a dark eyebrow, maybe a little stunned, or annoyed, by your bold suggestion.

“Leeway? Darling, I don’t think you understand.” He stalks forward and your fight or flight kicks in, irrationally you move farther into the room, avoiding his advance, your eyes never leaving his. “If I don’t hold up my end, then who’s to say you won’t continue to just break the rules? Act out? You have to be reminded that what you do effects not only yourself but the others around you.”

“Okay, I understand that I messed up, I just… I wanted to return the favor, I’m not use to this.” You gesture in the air between the two of you as you continue to circle away from him as he advances. Aaron’s expression doesn’t change, only setting you more on edge, a cold sweat building under your clothes. “I’ll listen better, I promise.”

Aaron chuckles, a deep dark sound that chills your bones and yet sends a twisted thrill down your spine. “Oh baby girl, that’s not how this works.” He moves closer and you back up, jumping when your back brushes the curtains to the window. “Come here and we will talk.” He cocks a finger in your direction, beckoning you, and you feel the air in your body stand still at the gleam in his eye.

“J-just talk?” You take one tentatively trusting step forward and it’s all the opportunity he needs. Aaron leans forward, snagging your wrist and pulls you between his thighs as he sits on the edge of the bed, steadying you as you wobble in your heels.

“As much as I would like to disagree, you aren’t wrong, being new to all of this does grant you a little leeway.” Then suddenly your view is flipped entirely, you’re no longer staring down at chocolate brown eyes speaker with gold, and hard set features. Instead your hips are pressed into his large thigh, your face smushed against the comforter. “So I will go easy on you.”

That’s when your struggle commences, the adrenaline in your veins kicking you into gear as you plant your hands and push against the bed, desperate in your attempt to get up. But Aaron’s hand is suddenly planted against the back of your neck, his free leg thrown over yours, caging you in and you feel the wild thump of your heart rocket into over time.

“Aaron, let me up!”

“I plan to, but you’re going to listen to me first.” His other hand smooths over the curve of your ass, paralyzing you as the foreign feeling washes over your fraying nerves. “Good girl, just calm down and listen to me.” His honey dipped voice combined with the simple nickname makes your thighs squeeze, your thoughts scatter, and Aaron doesn’t miss a second of it.

“O-okay.”

Aaron stays quiet for a moment longer, watching his own hand brush up and down the swell of your ass, need unfurling in his belly. “You’ve broken a few of your rules, and then there’s the matter of you slapping me.”

“I really didn’t mean to…” You whisper meekly, staring at the curtains across from you, trying to shift your head where he has you pinned at.

“Yes but you never apologized either.”

“Oh.”

“So I think you will find this fair. We will keep it simple, your first punishment is that I will choose your clothing for the next week, starting tomorrow. Deal?” Your face burns, much like the area between your legs is starting to. You squirm against his thigh before nodding your understanding. “I need to hear your voice, little one.”

“Y-yes.”

He squeezes your thigh in approval, resuming the slow stroke. “That will cover all of the minor mistakes you have made. As for the slap, and you trying to pay for dinner… I’m going to spank you.”

Your panic explodes in your chest, your fight returning with a vengeance only to have Aaron’s grip tighten, his leg pressing down heavier. You knew Aaron was strong, had witnessed it many times, but this felt inhumane as you squirm and kick what little you can. “Don’t you dare-.”

“Your safe word is red. Say it at any point and everything stops.”

“W-what?” You don’t have time to process what he said before a sharp slap is delivered to your ass. You yelp, your hand finding his knee and crushing his pants leg in your fist as you jolt with the shock of it.

“Aaron!”

Two more are delivered in quick succession, pain growing quickly as your skin stings and burns through your dress. “I don’t make these rules passively, they are for your benefit and mine. What I say goes.” Three more follow his reprimand, and you twist your face into the bedspread, whining loudly as tears collect behind your eyelids.

“Q-quit!” You gasp as he lands a particularly painful spank to your right cheek, the burn of it traveling up your spine making you feel ditzy, then back down again to pool in your panties. “It hurts!”

“That’s the point, baby.” You shake against him, squirming relentlessly only causing his fingers to travel into the hairs at the base of your skull, twisting there and pulling your head up, immobilizing you. “Keep fighting me and I’ll double it, do you understand me?” Three more follow and you can’t help but to cry out, the noise bouncing off the walls and you wonder briefly if there’s anyone who can hear you through them.

His threat breaks through the frenzied mess in your head, your body going slack and he eases his grip on your hair, letting your head rest against the comforter. “Shh, good girl. You’re doing good baby.” The praise in his sultry tone makes a moan well up in your throat, and your helpless to stop it. Aaron grins, his hand trailing down to your thigh, slipping into the slit of your dress, pulling the material up to pool around your waist.

“N-no, wait…” Your protest is weak, but you don’t move to cover yourself from his steady gaze, embarrassment settling in your belly as his hand glides over your bare skin. Aaron groans softly, watching your leg twitch slightly as he brushes his hand again over your tender skin.

Aaron lands another forceful smack to the cup of your ass, and you squeal. You press your hand against your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut as the warm feeling in your stomach slowly grows into a blaze. “Let me hear you sweetheart, you only have a few more to go.”

You shake your head, defiant and unyielding, but only until his palm connects with your skin once more. Your hand does a poor job of muddling your shrill cry, pressure forming in your throat and behind your eyes as the first tear finds its way through your closed eyelids, trailing down your cheek. Your thoughts are pulled into a thousand different directions, the pain tugging them one way, while the throbbing of your clit sends them the other. Your arousal is slick against the inside of your thighs, and you squirm at the feeling.

“Easy baby, you’re taking your punishment so well.” Two more follow and you sob into your palm, the noise unmistakably in the otherwise quiet room. “I know baby, just one more and we’re done.” Aaron’s own palm stings, but his gaze is fixated on the shape of his hand print forming on your once creamy cheeks, with each shudder and twitch of your hips he can feel his cock hardening to the point it’s almost painful.

His promise though does little to quell you anticipation, your body tensing to the point it hurts, fingers having lost their feeling minutes ago from your iron like grip on his pants. Aaron drags it out, brushing his knuckles along the back of your thigh, his fingers scratching softly at your neck where his grip has loosened; your struggle having died to nothing.

The last smack is the most painful, his arm having been drawn back, putting more of his weight into it and you nearly scream, his hand landing more on your thigh. Tears rush down your cheeks, trailing dark streaks of mascara and eyeliner, your embarrassment consuming you like a fire, because as much as it hurts, your body is humming with need.

Aaron makes a sound that is more akee to a growl, his fingertips brushing the growing pool of arousal on the soft skin of your thighs. “Oh baby… you’re absolutely soaked.”

You shake your head aggressively in denial. “No… no it’s not what you think… I’m not-.” Aaron only shushes you, fingers slipping further between your shaking thighs, trailing over your damp panties right along your slit. You gasp, the soft sound followed by a deeper moan, as the pad of his middle finger circles your clit.

“I told you some people like this, baby.” His voice is octaves deeper, your hips bucking at the sound as he continues drawing slow, tight circles over your bundle of nerves. “And you really like this, don’t you?” His question is left unanswered as he add another finger, your jaw falling open with another needy moan.

Aaron’s movements are steady and precise, never faltering as his thumb scrapes down the edge of your thong, easily moving it to the side. The new view has his mouth salivating, your pussy glistening with arousal in the low light, and as he presses the solo digit against your puffy lips you moan louder. Your hips rock back subconsciously, your hands flexing where your anchored to; and all Aaron can think is that he will do anything to hear those pretty sounds for the rest of his life.

“Oh fuck… Aaron…” You gasp as his thumb dips in and out, the pace of his fingers speeding up. It’s shameful, sinful even how quickly you feel your body coming to its peak just from his expert fingers. Quicker than you’ve ever gotten yourself off and under the mushy part of your thoughts that are too far gone you wonder how he knows your body so well.

“That’s it, take what you need baby.” His cock twitches in his slacks, your hip rubbing across him with each twitch and jolt of your thighs as you rock yourself against his hand. He can feel the clench of your cunt more frequently, your orgasm right there. “I want to see you cum for me, you can do that can’t you? Cum for me, baby.”

You physically feel yourself topple over the edge, you body going still with a whimpering cry as your orgasm floods you like a tidal wave. Aaron’s praising you from above but you’re too far gone to recognize what he’s saying as his fingers haven’t stopped, making you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible.

It’s only when you start to plead with him, your voice wispy and tired, does he ease off. He gently moves your panties back into place, before he leans over you, tugging your shoes off and letting them land to the floor with a soft thud. “Do you think you you can stand up?”

Your brain hasn’t caught up yet, your thoughts empty from your head, but you let Aaron guide you to your feet, your knees wobbling and he holds you still for as long as you need. He rubs your hip with one hand, the other resting on your waist as he looks up at you. Your eyes are red and glassy, your makeup ruined, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

Aaron takes you into the small restroom, letting you lean against the doorframe as you watch him absently. He wets a rag and adds a little soap before gently wiping away your makeup, one hand holding your chin as he works. You don’t say anything, there’s nothing you can conjure up so you both sit in silence, the only sound is the small sniffles you give.

He throws the rag into the sink when he’s done, pulling you off the wall and turning you around. He unzips the back of your dress, laying a kiss to the exposed skin of your shoulder before he steps out of the restroom, returning moments later with a big white t-shirt. He hands it to you, stepping out again to let you change in private. Your body goes through all the motions but your mind is left far behind as Aaron guides you out of the bathroom and to the bed.

Gingerly you climb in, not realizing how exhausted you truly are until you settle against the cool pillows, your eyes falling shut with a heavy sigh. Soon the other side of the bed dips, a warm body pressing against your back and an arm wrapping around your waist, securing you against him.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I know this took absolutely forever please don’t crucify me 😂 thank you once again for all the love and support that has been shown for this series! Please if you’d like to be tagged you can comment below or message me directly 💜💜 much love and appreciation

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