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georgiapeach30513 · 2 days

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Inside Her Fantasy, Part 3

Summary: Ransom just wants to show you off

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings: language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.9K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Ransom watches Charlie run around the backyard. Her little legs look like a blur as she flails her arms around, letting out a yell of gibberish. She’s so tiny with such a huge personality, and a bit excited about her visitor that is only coming to see her and Maeve, so she says. He sighs, taking a look at his watch before he’s looking back at the tiny girl.

“What cha waiting on, Ranny?” Bucky teases, but Ransom swats a hand on his arm. “You got it bad. The sex that good?”

“No,” he answers flatly, still watching Charlie. Sex just hadn’t happened, and he didn’t even feel like he needed it. Just you. Eventually it will happen.

“You’re hoping it’ll get better?” Ransom looks towards his best friend and teammate, narrowing his eyes as he shakes his head no. “I’m not sure I follow here, brother.”

“She doesn’t have sex unless she knows it’s love,” Bucky’s mouth falls agape, but his wife playfully smacks his head before placing Nixon in his lap. “What?”

“Ran, I think that’s sweet. At least you know — well, you know,” Ransom’s brows furrows as he looks at the woman confused. “I mean that she’s not just jumping into this. She likes you, and you like her. And you know where you both stand, and you’re not letting anything physical get in between the two of you, and you’re not already bored with her,” Ransom doesn’t want anyone thinking less of you. He’s seen the media. He knows you’ve had various boyfriends, and he knows what everyone thinks. Clearly it’s not what he knows.

“She’s exciting though. I don’t like that her tour is taking her away from me, but it’s almost finished,” he looks back towards the little girl who had lost none of her energy. Opening and closing his mouth while he wonders if he should think out loud, or just vocalize what he’s thinking.

A whirlwind. That’s what the two of you have been. It had been somewhat difficult to keep the budding romance secret, but your team did everything possible for you to spend actual time together. And if you were overseas, it has to be FaceTime. Interference with his season was keeping him from going to you, but he would, as soon as the season was finished.

“I’ve never put this much time in a relationship, and I’ve never been more scared to take something public, while also wanting to protect whatever this is,” Bucky’s wife tilts her head to the side, placing a hand on her husband’s thigh. “I wanna show her off, but our time right now is special. It’s ours.”

“Your such a typical man.”

“Hey!” Bucky protests,

“It’s not a bad thing. Ransom is just feeling some type of way because he can’t let everyone see how happy he is, and who is making him happy. Ran, have you been listening to the game commentary? They know you’re happy. You’re playing better now than you ever have, and the Pats are set to win…”

“AHHH!” Both men scream, putting their hands over their ears. Giggling, Nixon joins in, and even Charlie stops running around to copy everyone’s movement. She had almost said win the Super Bowl, and it’s something neither men liked to say out loud. “It’s bad luck to say that, babe!”

“You two and your superstitions.”

“Shh! Mama, do you hear that?” The adults all freeze, but Ransom jumps up quickly. Jogging towards the gate because he knows that sound. That sound means you. “Daddy, can I say it?” He nods, and Charlie starts chuckling. Covering her hand with her mouth, trying to peak through the gate to see Ransom pick you up, and spin you around. “Yep, he’s got it so bad. Can she have a slumber party again? Can she sleep in my bed again? But instead of Ranny can I sleep in there? Can…”

“Charlie, shh, she really needs to try sleeping in a bed that isn’t a twin size princess bed,” her mother whispers, giving a look back to you and Ransom sweetly kissing before she’s watching her giggly daughter. Hoping Charlie doesn’t watch too long when you and Ransom deepen the kiss.

“He really likes her, mama. Look it, they’re still kissing,” she gives a point over to the two of you, and has to look away quickly.

“Charlotte Barnes, would you stop,” Bucky snickers, shaking his head at Nixon, but Charlie couldn’t be contained. Dropping her whole body on the ground in a fit of laughter. “You two, no. Now Nixie is gone, too. You three are rude. It’s sweet.”

“Daddy, sing that K.I.S.S.I.N.G song again!”

“Don’t you dare, Bucky! Charlie, you keep it up, and Ransom isn’t going to bring her over here anymore,” Charlie sits up a bit. Trying to contain her laughter as much as her little body can, but then she looks to see you jumping in Ransom’s arms. Your own arms wrapped around his neck, continuing the kissing.

“Can they breathe?” Bucky’s head falls back, and he howls in laughter, and the little girl’s chuckles begin again. It’s like a cycle between her and her dad. She just says what Bucky won’t.

“You’re ridiculous. I’m surprised you haven’t brought Maeve out of her hole with this incessant — hey, guys,” you bite your kiss swollen lips, and place your other hand on Ransom’s arm. Fully sinking into him. You didn’t think about the Barnes’ already being out here, and judging by the laughter they saw you and Ransom in just a tiny makeout session. You missed him, and missed his lips.

“Hey, it’s okay. Charlie’s used to seeing people kissing, huh, sister?” Her mom gives you a reassuring smile. Her and Bucky have been together forever, of course she saw them kissing.

“Not like that. Daddy, do you think some football man is going to pick me up and squeeze my butt like that?” Oh my god! Your cheeks fire up in embarrassment and you hide your face completely in Ransom’s arm. His meaty hand presses against your temple in an attempt to hide your burning cheeks, but you feel the rumble of a laugh in his chest. “You do know what a butt is for, right, Ranny?”

“Yes, Charlie, I know that butts are for pooping.”

Bucky clears his throat, as he stands up, saying your name with a friendly nod, “Someone else is very excited to see you again, aren’t ya, Nixie boy?”

“How did,” you never know how to approach the subject of Nixon’s legs. Strong little baby with no movement from his knees down. You could see the pain in Bucky and Sarge’s eyes over their littlest love not being able to walk yet. “I mean it’s not my business, but I — I’ve been thinking about him. And,” Ransom gives the hand he’s holding a slight squeeze, and you stop speaking. Waiting on his parents to clue you in on his latest surgery.

“He still doesn’t seem to have feeling in those legs, huh, Nixie. But he will. We’re going to see him running around like Charlie one day soon. You can hold him again,” just like last time, his nose scrunches up into the sweetest little smile until you reach forward, and pull him out of Bucky’s arms, and into your own. “There, now the men can…”

“Start up the grill, Bucky Barnes. Don’t stand there acting you think the women are going to do the work. I know our babies are hungry, and I’m sure you are, too. Where did you travel from?” Leave it to Sarge to make sure the men aren’t sitting around ‘watching’ the children while you and her cook.

“The last stop was Italy. I’ve got a few days off.”

“And she chose to spend it with us. We’ll play with the kids, you two men can cook,” she wiggles a finger towards you, and you follow her over to the furniture. Slyly looking back at Ransom with a smile. They didn’t treat you like anything but human here. The girls even felt more comfortable around you. “Bucky also makes a delicious margarita. Drink as many as you like, and we’ll make sure you and Ransom get home.”

“Oh, um — well,” you didn’t fully trust yourself alone with Ransom. At least with a pink canopy above your head you could let the hormones rage, and still want to talk with him all night long.

“Charlie’s princess bed still has your name on it. Just make sure you sneak in there after she’s snuck out, okay?” Nodding your head, you give Nixon a quick smooch to his chunky cheeks before you sit down with her, and you realize why she designed her backyard like this. Perfect view of the tall men, and of Charlie who dances around with her ribbon. Putting on a show for you, so you didn’t have to perform. Being with the Barnes just felt like that. No performance. Just you.

There’s something peaceful about this family. They’re normal, but completely get the public persona. They keep things simple, despite their mansion. They give their kids a beautiful life, without spoiling them too much. They love hard, and play harder. The simplicity of being here versus in a city or even on a tour bus is the most comforting thing, and you find yourself snuggling closer into Ransom.

Your legs drape over him as you listen to him and Bucky animatedly talk about the last game or practice. You didn’t even care what they were talking about as long as you could hear his voice, and feel his breath. Your hand rubs over his belly, and you wonder why you couldn’t have found him sooner. Of all the men you’ve dated, none were such a man like Ransom. He is bigger than any of your previous boyfriends. Taller, wider, all man.

Ransom is also successful in his own field. You didn’t feel you were competing with his fame. And he isn’t toxic enough to blame you for his problems or lack of recognition. And this little family — you want to be a part of it so much. Bucky just lets Charlie’s sleeping form squish up against him while he talks, while Sarge cuddles up so close to her little baby. The only person you hadn’t seen the whole day was Maeve.

But right now you hear her. Off in the distance, strumming a guitar, and the softest sweetest singing voice. A voice so tender you crave more. You look up at Ransom, and he offers a smile, but it’s Sarge that uses her head to motion where Maeve is. You hadn’t missed the treehouse on your first visit, but you’d assumed it was Charlie’s. She nods to you, and you get up from Ransom.

Your bare feet carry you softly up a treehouse you wish you had as a child. There isn’t even a ladder, but stairs instead. Her voice gets a bit louder, but there’s an edge of timidness to it. This girl has nothing to be shy about. People would sell their soul to get that soft of a voice.

Peeking your head through the door, you hear her growl in frustration, and lean over to scratch out a few lines before she’s back to strumming her guitar. Memories of you in a studio, even younger than her, doing what you loved, and now wishing you had a normal childhood. Wishing your dad wouldn’t have pushed so hard for you to be the star you are. But then, where would you be? It’s easy to take away moments of your life, but it opens up endless possibilities for your current present life.

You step on a wrong board, and Maeve turns around to look at you, her eyes getting wider before she looks back at her notebook, and sneaks it under her leg. “That board always creaks,” she answers plainly, starting to lay her guitar down.

“Please, don’t stop on my account.”

“I can’t compare to you.”

“The only competition you should have is with yourself. We’re all different. Different lives, different experiences. Those experiences give us our stories. And you take your stories and write?” She shrugs, and her fingers tap on her guitar a moment. “It’s a pretty place you’ve got here.”

“The house was dad’s first big purchase. He’d secured a great contract, and they finally felt comfortable buying the house. Mom was so scared of going back to where we were and in an apartment with Ransom,” you sit down across from her on another beanbag, ready to hear whatever story she wanted to tell you. Charlie never had to see her parents struggle, but Maeve was a part of it.

“I wanted a treehouse so bad, and mom told me to just wait, and we’d get some extra money. Ran, picked me up from school one day, and took me to this place, and he let me design it. Told me I could work it off in songs.”

“You’ve always liked singing?” She shrugs again, but picks up her guitar. Her fingers glide over the strings, and you can tell she tries not to look you in the eye much.

“I liked writing more. Most of the songs are different versions of lyrics to yours.”

“Like a parody?”

She shakes her head no giggling. Strumming a few chords when she looks up at you, “I simplified them for a kid. You would sing about love, I’d sing about playing in the dirt, or begging my dad to buy me a guitar. The melody had the same rhythm. And no, I don’t remember them. I’m sure they have videos of me. It was just us and Ransom for years. Him and dad were unstoppable in the game. Mom became more secure with our finances, and she wanted a baby. And it never happened. They tried, and they cried, and then that hellcat of my sister was born. I was able to bond with her because I could care for her. I’d sneak into her room and sleep on her floor, until she was the one sneaking in my room.”

“It’s a good thing, I guess. Where would Ransom sleep?”

She chuckles, finally meeting your eyes. “He used to sleep on our couch when we lived in an apartment. His chest was where I slept. Everyone took turns raising me, until Mimi stepped in,” you quirk up an eyebrow, wondering who this woman was. “Ransom’s mom. Dad’s parents helped when they could. Mom’s family wanted her to get rid of me, and then kicked her out. Mimi wanted to help, but they wouldn’t let her, so she helped with her time. Pulled some strings and got dad and Ran to meet the right people. He’s very important to us.”

“I can tell. He’s very important to me, too.”

”I can tell,” the two of you sit in silence for a moment. Assessing the situation as much as possible before you point to the notebook under her leg. “I’m just working on something.”

“Can I hear it?”

“It won’t be as good as yours,” you hope this is just a thing with you, and that she didn’t lack that much confidence. Being a teenage girl is so hard.

“Do you believe the words you wrote?” This time she doesn’t shrug, but nods her head. “Then it’s perfect,” deeply sighing she strums her guitar and her soft shy voice sings out a simple but truthful song about some stupid boy. No longer singing about dirt but about emotions and pain. Stopping abruptly in the song before growling again.

“I’m stuck right there. I just can’t get that part right,” you hum a moment. Had memorized the melody that she was playing before her mouth drops open, “You already know it?”

“Not really. But you had a good flow. I liked the bit of a breakdown. What if…”

“I got it!” She yips, going on to pick it up a few bars back, and adds in a cute little line before giggling, and scribbling it down. “Thank you!”

“I didn’t do anything, that was all you.”

“Hey, can you tell mom I’ll be down in about thirty minutes?” That is your cue to leave. You understand when you get in the moment, and need your space to let creativity strike fully. Taking your leave to walk down the stairs, and only Sarge is left putting away a few toys.

“Each man had a kid. Ransom took Nixon. It sounds really cute, but it’s just that he didn’t want to clean up this mess. Putting Nixon to bed is a lot easier than this. You want to grab that trash bag?” Responding with picking it up, you help her stuff the remaining garbage in there, and she chuckles. “I always thought you would be a stuck up princess.”

“Oh, is that what you really thought I would be?” Oddly enough people thought a lot of things about you, but you mostly wanted to be left alone.

“It’s not a you thing. A lot of celebrities don’t look at the wives of football players as anything of importance. I’m okay staying in the background. And well, you — you don’t know how to.”

“Ransom’s teaching me,” she offers you a genuine smile before closing up the shed of toys. “Do you like me?”

“I like you just fine, sweetheart. You gotta understand when he brought you to meet my kids and he shows you’re in a relationship. It's more personal. I have nothing against you in the least bit. But my babies are my priority. Especially the girls. Nixie doesn’t know any better. They loved you as someone they would never meet, and now they really love you as their uncle Ran’s girlfriend. Now can I ask you a question?”

Sighing, you nod your head. She meant a lot to not only Ransom, but his mom. You had grown to have a lot of respect for her, especially knowing what she went through to get where she is. “Do you care about him? I mean really really care about him?”

“Yeah, I really really do.”

“Good. Because that man has been good to me, my husband, and my children. He’s a big brother to me. They’re more than just teammates. They’re life mates. I will never get rid of Ransom, and he’s never getting rid of us. So what is this?”

Looking up at the sky, you try and think of the right words. Choosing to shrug your shoulders when you look back at her, “I don’t know. I like it. I like it so much, and I’ve never felt so — so free. Today was amazing, and we didn’t do anything. There weren't the cars, there wasn't the glamor and the drinking. But it was the most at ease I’ve ever felt. And I just want to protect it.”

“That’s good. Now, can I offer you a piece of advice?” You nod your head, trying to ignore Ransom who had softly said your name out the back door. “Take your time in this way. The moment you two go public you know what’s going to happen. Secure your emotions and relationship before that happens. Make sure he’s ready for your level of fame. This woman you were today is not the persona on the stage.”

She is right. You want to protect whatever is happening between you and Ransom keep the two of you in this safe bubble. You aren’t sure if you want to share him with the world. Just show him off a bit. When you’re ready.

Ransom whistles as he looks around the tight little area. Leaning over behind your tech who is only slightly annoyed, so he pushes Ransom away from him. “Please, don’t ask me what any of these buttons are for. It’s complicated. Sit in that chair, sit on the couch, or…”

“Do I get to go in there with her?” You giggle as the tech turns around to glare at Ransom shaking his head. “Why not?”

“Do you sing?”

“No.”

“Are you offering any sounds for the track?”

“I don’t think I am.”

“Then stay on this side. I don’t need your breathing in the background. Alright, the boyfriend is here. Can we go again?” You want to sing and giggle inside with that word, and Ransom straightens up his posture. That word is getting thrown around a lot more in your inner circle, and you’re loving it. You wait for the ticks of the snare drum before you start singing, and Ransom moves closer to the tech, furrowing his brows, but you’re too into the song.

“Who wrote this?”

“Maybelle Browning.”

“No.”

“Yes. Saw the sheet this morning.”

“No, she didn’t. Maeve Barnes wrote this. Hey,” he walks closer, tapping on the glass, and the tech glares at him.

“She can’t hear you.”

“Stop the recording now!” You glance up at the two men when everything halts. Putting up your headphones, and Ransom says something to your tech before barging into the studio. “What are you doing?”

“Recording a song that Maeve wrote.”

“What? H-h-he said that Maybelle dipshit wrote it. What is going on?” You feel a bit guilty for not explaining the situation to Ransom, but you weren’t sure he would know it was Maeve’s song.

“Ran, Maybelle Browning. M.B. Maeve didn’t want her name on it, but she sent it to me with a recording and said she wrote it for me, but didn’t expect it on the album, but then I asked her if I could record it roughly, and send it to her for consideration. She’s getting full credit. She wants this. I wouldn’t…what — did you think I was stealing from her? I wouldn’t. I adore that little girl, and Ran — don’t be mad.”

“Sorry, I’m very protective of — she gets writing credit? And paid?”

“She’s a minor, so I want her parents present when we discuss that with the lawyers, but if she wants it on the album, I do. But I want her full approval. It’s amazing. Ask Todd. Ran, she is incredible. Did you really think I would do that?” He shakes his head no, pulling you into his body. “You promise?”

“That’s just my girl, and I think she’s the best and deserves the world, so I’ll make sure she gets it. It’s not you, it's this life. I know how brutal things can be.”

“You’re talking to a girl who has re-recorded all my past songs, so now I have ownership of the copyrights. I will make sure she gets the best contract, but I won’t be the only artist that will want her lyrics,” Ransom pulls you back, looking down at you, and you want to melt into him. “You promise you didn’t think I would do that? If I can help her achieve a goal, I want to.”

“No. I think you get taken advantage of enough. I have this need to protect everyone I love — and care about,” he softly slots his lips against yours, and you return the kiss. Snaking your arms up around his neck before he lifts you up off the ground. Wrapping your legs around his waist when the tech leaves.

He might not have said it directly, but he said something. It is enough, you’d been feeling the same things. But now you just don’t know how you can keep this all secret. You want to shout to the world that Ransom Drysdale is your man, and you don’t care about the past drama of exes. You care about his smile, and his scent, his thick fingers entwined into yours.

Your fingers weave through his slicked back hair when he pulls off your lips. “Come to a game,” you smile, shaking your head no. You need to know he’s ready. Privacy will be a thing of the past. “Please, come to a game.”

“Ran…”

“No, excuses. I need you at a game. I need our dates not to be at home, or in recording studios. I need to…”

“Claim me?”

“Something like that. Please, I’ll have a comfy little box. Bring a friend, bring whoever. Just watch me play on something that’s not a television.”

“So you want us to go public before you’ve ever seen me naked?” You wiggle your eyebrows, giving him the sweetest smile. You’ve already decided you want to go. There’s nothing more that you want to do besides see Ransom play.

“If you want me to see what you look like naked, I’ll gladly look. But I can’t stand us not being able to be together in public. I want us to be normal, and do normal couple things, and ride off in a car after the game. Just me and you, baby.”

“You know when you’re with me things will never be normal, right? People are going to dig into everything you’ve done. All your social media posts, all your past girlfriends, everything.”

“I know, buddy, but I don’t care. What I care about is you and me. Why are you smiling at me like that? Is that a yes?” You shake your head no, grinning from ear to ear. That name. He wouldn’t know, “What?”

“You called me buddy. That's what my parents have always called me. It’s just sweet.”

“Ehh, I don’t share nicknames, Bud,” he leans back in, giving you the sweetest kiss before resting his forehead against your own, “So what do you say?”

“I’ll go.”

“Yes!”

“Under one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You come to Rhode Island and meet my mom afterwards,” Ransom gulps loudly, but nods his head. “Hey, I’ve been on your turf, and met the Barnes’, so now it’s your turn. And if you could not get hurt during the game.”

“No promises. It’s football, Bud.”

If silence was a sound it would be now. Putting on a bright smile, you let your bodyguards lead you to the designated area. It takes seconds for people to realize it was you, but it feels like an eternity. A simple outfit, but the Patriots jacket you’re wearing is obvious.

Smiling as you talk to the bodyguard on the right, trying to ignore the questions of why you’re here. “Didn’t Drysdale do an interview saying he was going to give her a bracelet with his number on it at a show?”

“She’s just looking for her next victim to write about.”

“Does she even understand football?”

“She’s made comments about Drysdale, and how he was hot. She always gets what she wants.”

“She’s got an 81 on her bracelet! Oh my god!”

It’s all in the details. Of course you are going to wear something that is a nod to Ransom. They just couldn’t see the other details. Holding your head high as you’re led into the box. Taking a deep breath as you look at Ransom’s stage. Everyone else could make your relationship ugly, but you didn’t have to. You are Ransom Drysdale’s girlfriend, and you’re proud of him, so you deserve to be there just like everyone else. Let the press speculate and gossip. You are here to see your boyfriend.

Trying to ignore the cameras is proving difficult. It is part of your job to notice them. Wishing they would put the cameras on the field. On anything but you. You just want to eat chicken tenders, drink beer, and hang out with the Barnes’. Is that so hard?

It’s everyone else on the team that notices you first. Bucky taps on someone’s chest, pointing up at the box, and even a little wave. It creates a dominos effect with the other teammates. Pointing, and crowing about how Ransom was able to wrangle you.

The coach hits Ransom on the shoulder, turning around to point at the box, and his crystal blue eyes spot you. His mouth turns up into that boyish grin, and he mouths, “I can’t believe she’s here,” winking a bit towards you. His focus completely gone as he smiles at you.

Everyone else’s pointing and comments fade away, and you only see that gorgeously handsome man. Your number 81. Normally you have constant flowing of words in moments like these. Trying to think of how you could tell this story with lyrics, but with Ransom there’s just him and an undeniable invisible string between you.

Each year up until this moment it has gotten shorter. Wound tighter as the two of you are pulled together. Now that string has wrapped around both of your legs, tethering you to the other. Everything else disappears but that string and Ransom. Even when you aren’t with him you feel the tug of needing to be with him.

No wonder you had bad relationships that you wanted to work, but something pulled you away. It was this amazing tie that was bringing you to right now. Right here with Ransom. The world may be watching, but all you see is him.

“I see you, Bud,” he mouths, and you get an ever bigger smile on your face. It’s like this love story was written by divine powers. And written just for you and Ransom.

“I only see you, Ran.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @pandaxnienke @kcd15 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @magnificentsaladllama @lokislady82 @rogersbarber

#inside her fantasy #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale fanfics #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fics #football au #singer au

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rainymoodlet · 3 months

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🌧 rainymoodlet is in full hiatus mode! 🌧

hoo... absolutely sick to my stomach writing this. ✌ for more information, please read below! thank you all for following my stories, loving my bachelor challenge, and loving my little pixels as much as i do. 😊

Well, my darling fellow simblrs... it's happened. It's been a bit of a long time coming over the past few months, but I've finally decided to put my blog into a permanent sort of "hiatus mode". I am a person who is riddled with executive dysfunction and lack of self-control, and I know that if I don't legitimately cut myself off from Simblr™ and the disassociation it's allowed me, I will. not. quit. 😅

I originally joined Simblr back in 2021 during a really difficult and isolated time in my life. I haven't been able to speak much to it because of the legal issues it's tied up in, but Simblr became my escape whilst in the throes of seeking justice against my abuser in a time where my entire family had abandoned me, and my fiance and I were living alone in my parents' house with only the two of us to swirl in deep and massive depression. Sims has always been my escape; from 2004 onward, it has given me narrative control and visual fantasy for as long as I can remember, and it will always be a deeply comforting and "safe" game for me.

But when I joined Simblr, it was out of many of the reasons that I think we can all relate to as writers and creatives. I had the idea for Loved by the Sun, and as I kept imagining and writing and building this world, I thought: "I deserve to show this to people. I really want people to see this. And I really want them to think it's good." I had been existing on the fringes of Simblr on my own personal Tumblr blog: I've seen countless legacies rise and fall, countless dramas spread out across blogs that are no longer active and haven't been for years. I wanted people to wake up and roll over and check my blog, desperate for updates, eager for more.

And more than anything, I wanted to escape the day-to-day hell I was living in.

But as the years went on, I've noticed that the excitement and creativity that drove my creation of my account has dwindled beyond measure. And I will put that on myself - starting a Bachelor Challenge like Kiss Me in Komorebi was one of the beginning nails in the coffin of my creativity and enjoyment of Simblr. I do not regret it one bit, and I am so grateful for the following it's gained and the genuine enjoyment you've all had with KMiK. It's my proudest achievement, it's pushed me to be a better editor and a better screenshot-taker, it's challenged me in my way of playing and it's introduced me to so many wonderful people.

But of course... I me'd it up. 😎

I've become obsessed to an egregious degree with the perception of my handling of this challenge. I want everyone to feel as though their sim gets enough screen-time, I want everyone to feel that the creative effort they put into submitting their sims was respected, and I desperately don't want anyone to feel left out or as though they're being ignored in favor of other contestants. It became so much less of telling Dan's story and journey, and all about how I was appearing as the Master of the Game.

And to be honest, my obsession with "staying relevant" in the fast-paced scroll of the Simblr Dashboard, believing you all would stop caring or stop reading if I didn't post as quickly as possible, was my own doom from the start, fkdfdjk.

In my life, I've had countless opportunities to turn my life around and start changing for the better. And time and time again, the energy that could have gone toward improving my situation or bettering my relationships has gone toward Simblr, and this online environment. I have practically no life beyond the screen: my days off are spent taking screenshots or spending four hours on builds that I still won't finish, obsessed over every angle, desperately seeking out that ~sparkle~ of simplicity and not-trying-too-hard I apply to all of your screenshots.

I am a dopamine and serotonin fiend, and though I can pinpoint in my life where trauma and isolation has pushed me to my online spaces, I was hyper-aware of the reality that in a few years, I won't be involved in Simblr. I won't be posting constantly, I won't care about the mods or the updates or the custom content.

And the stories I've written will be monuments to the time I've wasted, working on chasing the serotonin monster instead of bettering my own life and my own situation.

And now, I've got a real chance to do something better with my life. My fiance and I are at a crossroads of choice - we can change our lives for the better this year, or we can accept that the years of inaction we forced ourselves into out of the fear of moving forward have doomed us to a life we're not happy with. And I am one stubborn bastard when it comes to giving up.

The friendships and connections I've made here are some of the most meaningful in my life, and I hate that I've pulled back in the way I have. Along the way, it became much more about the notes, the numbers, the interaction, the reblogs over likes - and I lost myself and my friendships to my own mismanagement of my time and energy. I could spend five hours on one build, going from 7am to 12pm in a lightning speed of disassociation and obsessive Alt-clicking, and at the end of the day sit there and go...

What the hell have I done today? I could have messaged someone, I could have chatted with my friends, I could have done something. But no, I built a science lab, or a date location, and fretted the entire time until my stomach felt sick that it just "wasn't right" or wouldn't "look the way I wanted it to" in my screenshots.

I deeply, deeply love my stories, and I am so proud of them and what they've done for y'all and how you all have enjoyed them. I am incredibly lucky for the experience I've had on Simblr, and I know that there are plenty of blogs out there that sit with little interaction when they deserve so much more.

And yes, I will admit. The tendency of a 15-minute slapped together CAS edit of mine getting more notes and spotlight than the posts of my stories I've put legitimate effort into has fucked with my brain.

Simblr has changed from the story-laden place it was when I was following y'alls stories and legacies from 2015 onward. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that! Online spaces shift and change just as much as the social media sites like TikTok and Instagram, that go through trends and phases and fads and memes the same way we do. We are not above other social media in that regard, and I think there's a general sense from Simblr that we're some isolated island; we don't follow trends, we don't have fads, we don't have audio trends that get slapped on every other six-second video.

But I will raise you the Blender Phase and the Edit Phase as evidence every time.

I need to take some serious introspection time, and commit a lot of my energy to things that can bring me positive change outside of this online space. I hope to be able to come back as a better, healthier person, but to be honest, I don't really know when that will be. (Even this post is something I feel I have to do to be responsible, not just disappearing in the middle of this Challenge, leaving you all hanging djfh) I hope this doesn't come off as some high-horse rant, or leave a sour taste in y'alls mouths.

I just... I'll really miss this space. I'll miss the sims, I'll miss you guys, I'll miss your posts and your legacies and your sense of humor. I want to thank so many people, but I don't want to tag you all and shove this post into your activity streams dkfd.

I can't give any commitments to appearing more in Discord or even being present on this space - I've gone to the point of disconnecting the Chrome browser that's for rainymoodlet from my main icon bar, like I am going straight cold-turkey. I'll still be playing Sims, but I'm going to try and reconnect with it for myself - not for the screenshots, not for the stories, and not for the desperate want for people to understand what I'm posting or for it to make sense or satisfy, dfkj.

I am so, so incredibly grateful for every single one of you, and I hate to just drop this out of nowhere. But I need to do this, for me and for my future. And now I'm just sitting here like "Shannon, it's simblr, fucking chill." dkjfd I JUST... this space has done so much for me, and I genuinely feel a sense of loss in leaving. Especially in the middle of a story, fkgjfkg.

I really do genuinely love and care for you all. Please take care of yourselves, okay? Mama Shan does genuinely want the best for you, and I can't thank you enough for letting little old dorky ass me be a part of your community and your lives.

'Til next time, y'all. I'll see you soon. 💛

#txt #this will be my new pinned post.#going to go lay down on the floor for a long time now.#i feel sO SICK FUCK.#i really will miss you all so much. but i need to do this. it's like cigarettes at this point. if i don't go cold turkey... i won't quit.#i'll keep stressing abt how i'm not posting kmik or how i'm not interacting or how people are waiting and it will keep #affecting how i choose to spend my time and energy #and i just can't afford that anymore fff.#but ofc my blog will still be up!! you can still read kmik and my tjolc and everything i've posted #because gdi my contestants put a lot of effort into their sims and they deserve it #i hope i can come back to y'all in a better place 💛#2024 IS THE YEAR OF CHANGE MY DARLINGS AND I ALREADY WASTED JANUARY SO LETS GOOOO

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puppyeared · 6 months

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if escape rooms as team building exercises became popular im not sure if id be more excited or terrified

#if it isnt already anyway.. i can see it happening as a school frosh thing. idk if it would catch on as a workplace thing #i kind of find the concept of being locked in with strangers and working to find a way out weirdly exhilarating though #at least compared to icebreakers cause i dont have to spend 10 minutes racking my brain for something to blurt out abt myself #as a bonus u could like. put people into groups and give prizes to whoever escapes first second third etc. apparently they also do themed #escape rooms.. maybe let people pick a theme? or voluntary sign up? actually this would be really fun for smth like a blind friend date #although if i found out i was locked in a room with an online friend id be too excited to actually escape LOL #ive never done an escape room before so sadly i cant speak from experience. its like up there on things i want to try next to rug tufting #workshop and visiting new art exhibits or conventions. i seriously need to get out more if it wasnt for the horrors <- school and anxiety #i was planning to invite cass to a drop-in art workshop in town but neither of us could go bc typography is making us go thru hell and back #AND THEY HAD A BUTTON MACHINE TOO #im nostalgic bc i miss working in groups and not being awkward abt it or worrying abt schedule conflicts #i realized that i learn best in groups and its a little corny but i like sharing ideas and talking through a problem #in elementary i could just sit down with friends for review and come out of it energized *and* more familiar with the material #and i could technically still do it now. but as adults we're more picky abt who we work with on top of being way more busy outside school #maybe im lonely. im shy and grew up not talking to ppl unless i absolutely have to so its hard to make friends on my own i guess #only thing getting me thru it is telling myself that humans like helping and that my cringe is overblown in my head. but its hard #hence the escape rooms. i have been able to talk to 2(!!) people though!! mostly abt school stuff but im glad to be on friendly terms #i dont really know how to be happy these days cause im constantly scaring myself abt my portfolio and finding places to work #not being ambitious is part of not wanting to put energy into something that wont work out while also not having the passion to do literall #anything else.. i should probably talk to my counsellor ugh #yapping

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arsonist-chicken · 3 months

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hehehe fourth day in a row I've slept until 5pm because I fucked up my sleep rhythm staying up until 7am but probably more likely because of the ✨curses✨, but at least today I finally saw some sunlight again by walking to the store to still make it before they close. this is fine.

#the curses are mental illness aka depression or whatever idk man just give me some energy to be able to live my everyday life #i mean i thought i was getting sick on tuesday evening so i already planned to not go to uni on wednesday #also because i hadn't done a presentation but i really thought i was getting sick too #and it's been downhill from then #the last two nights i said to myself at lik 6am i'll sleep four hours now until 10 so i have the day to work and then can actually sleep #normal again but either i didn't hear my alarm or i turned it off and woke up again when it was still light outside #but close enough to already the sun setting that i was not gonna get any sun #the psychologist who did my adhd exam said i could start treatment with her but i'm a little wary of that #since my insurance still hasn't let me know if they'd partly cover that or if she's not in that system. idk how it works.#and also she's a psychologist not a psychotherapist #and no offense to my friend but i saw my friend studying psychology and becoming a psychologist after she finished her degree #and I don't think she'd be educated at all to actually offer therapy #she just does evaluations and such now but no therapy #and damn if I'm going to spend my emergency money on therapy because well it's not covered here then i at least want it to actually work #and actually be therapy. like working on the adhd and depression; not just an adhd coaching #that would have helped when i was in school or just starting uni but by now i definitely also need therapy for the depression that evolved #from all the issues. also maybe just brain chemistry idk.#mine

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slippery-minghus · 17 days

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hmm. had an actual conversation with nightmare coworker today that seemed mutually productive. she apologized for saying some bullshit that hurt my feelings and i clarified that my intentions are to help not to undermine her, and we both agreed that there's no competition against each other and that it's the lack of growth in our role that's the problem. it was...productive.

and further cementing for me that it is time to begin making my Exit. i will be sending out my resume to a few places this weekend.

i'm still processing the conversation, and am struggling to place myself in where i am responsible to better my behavior. because i genuinely don't want to be an ass, even though i really don't like this lady and will jump for joy the day i never have to see her again. she stated that she knows my intentions aren't to hurt her, and that she thinks i'm very kind. i apologized for if my behavior came off as undermining her, and said that my intentions are only to better my own growth—and that i know she's trying to succeed too. i validated her feelings, and complemented the effort she is putting in.

where i'm struggling with is: am i in the wrong/causing harm and needing to change if the issue is that her feelings are incongruent with what she knows of my intentions? her feelings are her responsibility (WOW i almost typed "her feelings are my responsibility". i feel like that's a freudian slip) and she states that she knows i don't mean to hurt her. i'm going to try to be more clear in wording my intentions with her (she feels like me trying to take work off her plate is to undermine her. when really, i'm caught up and see her getting overwhelmed, and i want to help and also have something to do since i'm bored).

but i'm really struggling to look at my role in this and pass judgement on myself. i can and want to do better, and i don't think i did anything wrong, but i'm always so hesitant to say it's not my fault or i didn't do something bad. like i can't trust my judgement on that. my intentions were good, her bad feelings are ones caused by her insecurities, which she more or less has expressed to be aware that they are not true—the hurtful thing she said to me, she acknowledged was said out of hurt and not what she actually thinks. so, is it fair to say i'm not the bad guy? i'm not in the wrong? i know good intentions that still result in harm don't absolve anyone, but when the things that are clashing are insufficient communication and reactive insecurities... i'm not a monster, am i?

#well. i AM probably a monster for how much i dislike this lady #but i don't ACT on it #and i genuinely couldn't care less about her. i participate in decent human pleasantries because i am a decent human.#and at work we're stuck together #the thing that's irked me so much about this conversation is just.. her self centeredness #that she thinks everyone is out to get her. to undermine her. whatever.#bitch nobody cares about you enough one way or the other to put in that kind of effort. i sure don't #i empathize but i do not sympathize. to feel that pit that makes you feel like the worst kind of center of attention #i get it. but genuinely you are not the main character and no one is going to spend their limited time and energy to slowly attack you #you are not the cat with all the knives pointed at it #it's a terrible feeling to feel like you are! but when it influences your behavior to the point that you are making snide comments #to people who have no option not to interact with you then uh. then you're in the wrong buddy #and the people around you (who cannot easily leave! bc work!) should not have to bend over backwards to assure you #that they're not pointing knives at you. to protect themselves from your feelings making you say mean shit #like yes. i can be more clear with my intentions. i'm generally not the greatest at that. but my baseline that i want to #modify my behavior from is NOT one that a regular well adjusted person would take as anything but kind #and if a regular well adjusted person got a little offput by me volunteering to take work off their hands we would've had a very chill #3 sentence conversation about it MONTHS AGO.#i understand and respect (even if i find it annoying and overbearing) the need for me to announce my intentions like im working in a kitchen #and saying 'hot water' or 'knife' as i move around other people but we shouldn't have reached this conclusion this way #and frankly who's to fucking say me being more clear with my intentions will only feed the flames of her thinking i'm out to get her!#'i caught up on my stuff and your plate looks full. i'm bored. anything i can do to help?' could be a pointed knife for all i know!!#and if it is- and my actions still hurt her in that scenario- am i still responsible for the hurt caused??#like WHERE DOES IT FUCKING E N D ?#personal #*exhales* okay i feel better now #i just hate talking about my interactions with her bc i just want NOTHING to do with it. i want her out of my head!!#but until i process it i can't let go #and i'm still going to have to go over all of this with my shrink tomorrow #it just makes me mad how much of my time this bitch takes up. i'm not getting paid to think about work right now!!!!

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ow-old-men · 1 year

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wouldn't it be so cool if when the pve for ow2 comes out the story and writing of it all is so horrendously bad that it has a reaction effect within the fandom that kickstarts people making their own versions of the game's story and soon there's fan comics that are 20x better than anything bl*zzard could dream of

I know this is somewhat a joke question, and yes- on the face of it, it would be

But in reality, that would not be the reaction to canon content being bad. Spite can only support you for so long - and more importantly, people are already doing just that; creating. If PvE comes out and is horrendously bad, people will be disappointed, they’ll be angry, they’ll post about how they feared this but had dared to hope, I’ll make a very big and funny and time consuming post writing a fake job application to the blizzard writers or some dumb shit like that. And then some of us will leave and some will stick around and make the same shit posts and drawings and what have you not

It’s all already there, you don’t have to punish yourself waiting around for something you don’t want

So sorry for being overly sincere, but if you want fandom to thrive, you shouldn’t sit around and wait for canon to write itself off for good, you should go out and look for the amazing stuff people are already putting out. Hell, you should make your own! Community and enthusiasm and love will always make better stuff than bitterness

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #gen not trying to be shitty anon #but like yeah #it wil eat all your joy if you spend your time putting a lot of energy into Waiting and Hoping #also at some point you have to just … find better media #I’m not joking when I say I’ve only stayed on ow for so long because I also consume and think a lot about Good Media #you NEED to let it go at some point #I know this is tumblr and we love saying shit about being motivated by spite #but if you have the choice between spite and literally anything else TAKE THE OTHER THING #it’s a good security net and if there’s nothing else absolutely cling on #but wild geese blah blah you don’t have to punish yourself all the time #find something the soft animal of your body ACTUALLY loves as it is right now #and let it love it #(also I will just say it in the tags actually; this is a kinda weird thing to say to a guy who has an does and will write fic?#i *am* making content it’s just not comics cause that’s not what I do #if you want comics you should violently support everyone who does some kind of sequential fan art they are real people #not creatures who will spawn en masse at some point in the future #I am already doing my craft at the level I want to for this fandom; you either read it or you don’t #but it’s weird being in my inbox wishing for another type of art)

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opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year

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...

#ok. so all my applications r submitted now. which is something bc at 7pm i didnt think it was going to #i mean. i did half ass the last one. like i wrote the personal statement and research statement in December as a draft #and today i was like oh fuck thats due tomorrow. fuck it. submit. i wish the project was in the US bc i think ive decided i dont wanna do a #uk phd but fuck it lets see what happens. if they want me then ill give minimal effort for the competitive selection process and anticipate #being cut early. i really didnt wanna do it. bc i just dont think i have the energy for the interviews if i get selected but since i didnt #want to that means i had to so here we r. i was kinda bitchy in the personal statement too bc they basically asked for everything in the #research statement so like y tf did u make me write 2 fuck off i spend so much fucking time on that bullshit #anyway. thats one less thing to worry abt but i did just realize i have like 3 days to completely overhaul my last manuscript #so uh thats gonna be fucking fun #sigh... and i try out measurements tomorrow so well see how bad this is gonna hurt :-P #jesus. i just realized im gonna have to intensely pay attention for like 8hrs tomorrow and then manuscript write into the night #fuck. and i need to go to the store agh #unrelated

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saintedbythestorm · 2 years

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Sure gotta love when people try to guilt trip you into seeing them.

Imma be honest, it just makes me want to see them less.

#yes manipulation tactics that the toxic half of the family would use all the time is absolutely going to change my mind #you'd think when this tactic has worked for years they'd realise it isn't working. but no.#maybe actually talk to me instead of just telling me who died or is sick every damn time and i want to talk??#nooooo gotta just sit and talk about how horrible everything is EVERY SINGLE TIME.#which is a great idea when the person you're talking to is already depressed and barely holding together 🙃#and if i do see them they get bored of me within like 20 minutes anyway and just walk off to watch tv #very worth all my energy for a few days as you can tell. 🙄#i just saw that the hasn't worked for years turned into has... too lazy to change it now. ty phone #like ffs i can't even be up on the right side of the day now a days ... just try and work with me instead??#maybe if you stop pushing and trying to make me feel bad all the time I'd called ages ago?#like I'm sorry but i ain't no therapist and you sure af ain't paying me so no i won't spend the little grain of energy i have on it #i hear enough of sickness death and misery every single fucking day... i do not need someone to put theirs on me too #and then expect me to constantly make them feel better about it. like i can't even describe how exhausting it is #and we tell em.... and they don't give a shit .#sorry for the rant but i just... i already felt so shit rn and now i get this too #like the past months stress that has ruined my brain ain't enough...or the super bad body ache ain't enough #or the super bad stomach isn't enough... or the lack of sleep and effed up day night cycle ain't enough #it's just.. i do not need this right now please stop... please stop..#i just stopped going 150% and pure survival the past 2 months.. don't start this shit now i literally cannot...#i am exhausted to a point I never thought possible... and it keeps going down cause it never let's up.#... i need a hug...#rant #ryder speaking

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heyitslapis · 4 months

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I don't have time for people who don't have time for me

#yes yes i know adult life leaves little room for spending time with people who you care about & even if we have time we're burnt out #but my whole adult life has been white-knuckled clinging to relationships or people that barely if ever send that energy back #as soon as theyre onto the next person that will entertain them. as soon as theyve found something to fill the time that i usually take up #as soon as theyve gotten all they wanted from me emotionally. as soon as its inconvient to see me. almost as soon as theyre bored #then suddenly its me waiting for a text. waiting for a day to hang out. hearing over and over again that yet another thing is more importan #than me. and i get it. life happens. schools important. work is important. rest is important. but at the point im at in my life #im looking for people who actually make an effort not just give months and months of excuses as to why they suddenly cant hang out #im a pushover. im easy-going. im a very understanding person. i get it bc theres also very few days per week that im free to socialize #but i cant keep letting myself act subservient to everyone else in my life. i always put my friends & potential friends so high on pedestal #i treat them & their time as precious. now i refuse to let someone do anything but the same for me. my time/energy/love is just as precious #i dont deserve only a text when you need something from me or just to act as a treat to tide me over until the next transgression #and i certainly am NOT going to be the person that you can stand-up and then expect to still answer your text. not anymore.#in prioritizing my mental health lately ive realized that this pattern HAS TO STOP. i cant allow myself to continue the same harmful cycles #i deserve better. i need better. i WANT BETTER #emma vents #vent tag #healing tag

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neverendingford · 11 months

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#tag talk #“I'm gonna spend all of today with you!” sorry you're 24 hours too late Ive already started dreaming of murdering people with my bare hands #should have picked yesterday when I wasn't uncontrollably seeing bodies dripping blood from the ceiling #anyway guess we go stone-faced today and question every single intention and context because I do not have the energy to figure out reality #please don't like this please don't respond obviously I can't stop you but I just want to complain I just want to scream #I just want to yell into the void can you give me that? I just need emptiness to scream into.#I don't want to scream into a pillow I want to scream into the endless sky.#I do not want to fill a vessel with my vitriol I want to dissolve it into a solution of sunlight and burn away the hatred I feel #I want to kill and maim and hurt. I want to be killed and be maimed and be hurt. I want to dissolve into nothing and make it all stop #I just want to be home I just want to be home I just want to be home I just want to be home #if you wanted to spend time with me you shouldn't have let me rot this long. if you move me I will crumble into punky wood full of woodlice #if you wanted to talk to me you shouldn't have left me alone inside the caverns of my fucking brain for so long #if you wanted me to be kind you shouldn't have asked for my fucking opinion #I will be normal again in a week but I am crumbling under this stress I am breaking and eroding and rotting away from the inside #it's super fucking cool how I can have the exact same experience seven years later that I did when I graduated.#congratulations you're now too old to hang out with your friends because they're two years younger than you and you're an adult now #congratulations you have to hang out with your peers who you've never connected with and always been seen as a freak to them #congratulations everyone is separating off into their friend groups and you're kicked out of your old ones so now you're alone #yeah this is a great graduation party you just sit in a corner and do nothing except wait for people to give you stale social niceties #everyone goes off with their friends and you're left to sit on the couch and read a book all alone #you'll never be invited and inviting yourself is rude so you just sit in the corner talking to yourself and fighting as your brain spins #growing up means growing out of what you know without ever having anything to grow into #growing up means being given responsibilities you've never been taught how to manage and you have no ability to learn on your own #growing up means all your support structures are yanked from beneath you because you're old enough to do it on your own now #thrown in the deep end because you should have learned to swim by now. everyone else did. why didn't you?#come on. everyone else can swim already. just try harder. stop faking it. you're just lazy. just ask for help - no I won't give you any #oh hey why are you so sad? you don't have any valid reason. stop trying to kill yourself you're literally fine just ask for help it's easy #fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck

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devildairymilkfairy · 11 months

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#super minor of an annoyance but why tf didnt they say something sooner??#like he wanted so so badly to play dnd yesterday #so we went ahead and bought food and drinks and now AFTER we got everything he says he doesnt want to play?#like u went to the store with us. you bought the food and drinks with us. why didnt you say something then??#we even got my friend some energy drinks cuz she wanted to stay awake enough to play #i understand. he felt excited yesterday and now today he just doesnt feel the same #but i just kinda wish he said something sooner #we kept asking him today when he wanted to play and if he still felt alright with it #but w/e it just kinda sucks cuz i was excited and didnt want to spend the day sitting on the couch again #i know im being selfish abt all this it just kinda frustrates me #ash rambles #plus everytime ive tried talking to him lately. like asking if hes alright #he just changes the subject and refuses to talk abt it #idk more shit is going on obviously i just wish hed let it out of his system by talking to someone #bleg whatever im just being selfish rn and need to go binge adve nture time till i dont feel upset anymore ://

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thewomaninlilywhite · 1 year

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being an adult is fucking hard

#like it can't be normal to struggle to exist in society as much as I do #like I've been trying to get like 3 diff types of doctors for YEARS now and i literally #just don't have the energy/focus to even remember to try looking #absolutely no motivation to look for work in my desired field #(although that's probably creative burn out)#always wanting to reach out to friends but not knowing who actually wants to hear from me and not knowing how to have a conversation #coping with losing friends #living with my parents jesus christ can't wait to move out but like i can't just live on my own #like why does it feel like i can't do things #i used to go into the city all the time in college and now it's like if i leave my house i will die #and not in the covid way in the way that like i feel like i'm trapped like al;ngdngs idk i feel like i need to ask permission for everything #like i literally don't so why does it feel so overwhelming to hop spend all day doing something i love in the city i love #and i love it 10x more than the dirty o like wtf brain #ignore me #let's chat #theatrically enchanting

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nereidprinc3ss · 8 days

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do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

part one | part two

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time.

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned.

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire.

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground.

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati.

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing.

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face.

“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy.

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep.

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes.

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment.

“But we made such good plans,” he laments.

You kiss his cheek.

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win.

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy.

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them.

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all.

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets.

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table.

His eyebrows raise.

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly.

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly.

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face.

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably.

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor.

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly.

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s a ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips.

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him.

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again.

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything?

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands.

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against.

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment.

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention.

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think.

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have.

“Do you want to?”

Woah.

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how?

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea.

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try.

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do.

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch.

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches.

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him.

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is.

The size sinks in a quick second later.

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response.

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening.

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch.

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath.

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed.

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously.

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre.

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation.

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh.

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong.

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head.

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him.

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it.

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out.

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours.

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs.

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident.

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you.

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped.

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is.

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought.

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?”

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers.

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his.

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek.

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind.

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower.

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears.

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate.

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again.

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away.

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile.

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers.

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible.

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him.

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence.

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets.

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can.

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips.

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing.

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt.

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer.

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance.

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom.

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?”

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls.

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck.

He really wants to tell you right now.

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest.

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated.

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him.

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going.

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face.

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now.

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw.

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again.

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him.

“Stand up.”

You frown.

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy.

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him.

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing.

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no.

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh.

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again.

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and his grip tightens ever so slightly.

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening.

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there.

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him.

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit.

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all.

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath.

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty.

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh.

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it.

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words.

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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stillfruit · 1 year

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no one would love me if i was a worm

#this is a joke but also i 10000% mean this and i will die alone never having known love unlike everyone around me #it really gets more difficult to accept being alone when you get older because your aloneness is constantly contrasted w everyone else #having parterns or otherwise active social lives with very close friends while you just? barely exist as a person to others #i flat out cannot understand how people grow to be close friends let alone romantic parters like what do you need to do? how is everyone #just doing it? talking to people? opening up? being an important part of someone else's life? i don't get it #i have friends at uni i can freely talk to people there and everyone is very nice and i have closer friends i hang out with but like #if i just disappeared one day there wouldn't be that big of a change outside of maybe a small adjustment period after which everyone would #carry on as before because i'm not integral to anything #that sounds super childish but i don't mean that i'm sad that i'm not the main character in other ppls lives. just that i don't matter #and while that's of course understandable and i'm not looking to changing that it's also undeniably sad #and because i am the only person who can do something about that i'm just stuck like this i guess #i want to ask my closer friends how good am i at masking everything but 1 it would be weird and 2 i don't think they would be honest #not because they don't like me but because they are nice people #anyway lately as i'm getting older and meeting new people things are just getting exponentially more overwhelming and it physically hurts #i know i'm just suffering because i put myself up in a position to suffer but also literally what else would i do #if i have any time to stop and think about things i will actually have time to get even more mentally ill #i'm not looking to die right now i have things going on i'm doing my silly little degrees and spending time with my friends but like #it's not forever and i'm not holding out any great hopes for what comes after #i know i probably should go and talk to the student health services again but honestly i dont have the time or energy #for that kind of process and i know i'm a terrible patient in therapy so what is there even to gain from that #shit talking

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meiieiri · 3 months

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𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 [geto suguru]

synopsis: suguru geto upped and left that day without a moment’s notice and he took everything with him — your heart, your soul — but as you look at the positive pregnancy test in your hand, you realize that he did in fact leave one thing behind.

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, angst, explicit sex.

a/n: i know, i know. i should be writing WE but this concept has been in my head far longer than WE and i just need to get it out there or else, i think i’m gonna go insane. if anyone wants to know the plot of this would have been fic, feel free to let me know lmao, of course it still involves gojo bc i can’t choose between the two of them since they’re both so baby girl—! also happy birthday to the loml, my pookie-wookie, honeybunch, suguru geto!!

It’s been a year since the happy side trip to Okinawa became a living nightmare that culminated in you, Suguru Geto, and Satoru Gojo on the brink of death and with many more scars than you could have ever imagined. The three of you had very different ideas on how to cope. Satoru spends the past year perfecting his cursed technique, often at the expense of his emotional well-being and energy but then again, after what Toji Fushiguro did to him leaving him with the trauma of being slaughtered without regard, it was only natural.

You and Suguru on the other hand retreated into yourselves; it was hard to believe that just a year before the two of you were a normal teenage couple who enjoyed walking the trendy streets of Shibuya in the weekend sunshine without a care in the world, whose only real problem is to decide where the two of you were gonna have your weekly dates.

Now, things were different. Rainclouds have gathered effectively blocking out the sun. As you sat on the desk reading through your textbook on reverse cursed technique, you glance at Suguru from time to time and you aren’t the least bit surprised to see him sitting by the dorm room’s windowsill, staring at the garden with an empty gaze.

You’ve had enough of this. This eternal state of limbo was tearing you and Suguru apart.

Slowly, you stand up from the desk, softly padding across the wooden floor to where your boyfriend is. It was the middle of the night, last you checked, it’s already nine in the evening. You should be heading back to the women’s dorms now but you couldn’t, not when things were like this, not when Suguru’s losing himself day after day, you can’t help him, you know that, but you could be there for him seeing that’s all you can do.

But even then, it’s never enough.

Your relationship with Suguru is like a lit dynamite stick, you know that it’s only a matter of time before it also explodes in your faces. So, Suguru takes the lead, like he always does, he’s so much wiser and stronger than you in every way though he doesn’t care to admit it, though he pretends he doesn’t know why you’re so dependent on him.

“I think we should break up.”

He says that while holding your hand. You saw this coming but just how long did you anticipate that the love of your life would eventually up and leave you? You squeeze his hand with every ounce of the grief you are feeling hoping it would transcend the confines of your skin and it would reach his heart. “Is that what you really want?”

“No.”

He stands up to meet your gaze, the throw blanket falling to the floor as he does. He leans in closer, his hand cupping your cheek with such tenderness and heartache that you feel your heart rise to your throat. Suguru is normally so gentle like a shower of midnight rain, but he kisses you like this is the last — it probably is. Lost in him, your hands trail over his chest, and he deepens the kiss hoping that you’d also understand that he doesn’t really want to leave but he has to. He can’t bear to drag you into his mess.

He could never do that to you.

You respond with a soft moan when Suguru slowly lifts your shirt over your head. He stares at your plump breasts for a moment, covered only by a thin lace-like material, before deciding that looking at you wasn’t enough. He has to take you, ravish you, fondle you, kiss you. Anything to let you know that he’s not doing this because he’s fallen out of love with you.

“Don’t leave,” you plead in between his soft kisses to your breasts, tears slipping from your eyes as he removes your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders which he was now kissing up to the crook of your neck. How could your hearts be so full yet so empty at the same time?

None of what happened should have caused this much heartache between the two of you. In fact, it should have made you rely on each more, right? It should have strengthened you not destroy everything you had: each other, the future you planned together.

Suguru doesn’t answer as he nips at your neck, sucking on the delicate flesh, as your forms gracefully fall on the bed, he stares at you with such love, such devotion, and you wonder why this should be the last time. His gaze falls to your vulnerable form, his cock hardening at the sight of your clothed pussy getting wet just from that. He grinds against you, sighing at the way you buck your hips to meet his wanting more of him. If this was to be the last time, then, you want to make it count.

“Suguru, I’m yours.” That’s all he needs to hear and he removes your underwear, kissing down your leg as he slips it off of you. He tosses it onto his nightstand, and he leans towards it to grab a condom from his drawer. You catch his hand. “Don’t. I want to feel you.”

Suguru’s eyes widen at your request, his lips eliciting short huffs of breath. He’s never fucked you raw before. “Are you sure?”

You nod against his forehead. “Please. Please fuck me, Su.”

Slowly, his hand guiding his tip up and down your slit, smearing your wetness along the base of his cock before slowly pushing into you savoring the sensation of your cunt squeezing around him as he stretches you with his girth. A deep groan betrays him and his mouth hangs open as your tight walls envelop him as he bottoms out. He takes a moment to collect himself, not wanting to cum right then and there.

“S-shit. Ah, you’re so fucking tight.” He allows himself a small thrust, the tip of his cock already nudging your sensitive spot, having memorized you after many desperate nights of lovemaking. His fingers grip the soft skin of your hips as he pulls out momentarily before pushing back in again more forcefully this time.

“S-su! Mngh—please fuck me—I love you, I love you, I love you,” you beg.

A tear slips from Suguru’s eyes, it was becoming more real now — this final goodbye. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he slowly builds up the pace of his thrusts, his cock bullying your cunt, driving himself in and out of your pussy, again and again. He brings your leg to his waist, holding it so he could angle himself better. “I love you too.”

You mewl as he pistons in and out of you, his balls slapping hard against your skin. “Sugu—ah! More—n-need more of you—“ You’re crying now, and he is too as he continues to ravage your pussy, his hand finds your other leg and he pushes your knees close to your chest, folding you into a deep mating press, slamming into your cunt.

“I’m yours. Always,” Suguru looks into your eyes amidst your desperate cries, your thighs trembling under his passionate gaze. He grunts when he feels the familiar tightening of your walls. “You’re close—fuck,” he takes this as an incentive to go faster, harder, and he fucks you in a way he never has before.

“So good—oh—“ you fall silent as he suddenly brings your hands to your clit, letting you touch yourself. You looked so beautiful like this, under him, your head thrown back against the pillows, your mouth primed in a silent ‘o’. He pants as he feels his balls tighten when your hips involuntarily buck into him as you climax. “Suguru!”

“Ah, baby…” He groans, the hot breath from his lips tickling your forehead as he rides out his high, spilling his seed into you not caring what the consequences may be. You did want this after all, and he did too. You feel full just from the sensation of his thick cum, he thrusts into you one last time, further smearing his release in your walls.

You sighed as he stays there, your weak and trembling arms coming up to embrace him. He strokes your hair, memorizing each lock, pulling out after a while. Suguru pulls you flush against his chest, the remnants of his and your release sliding down your thighs. “It’ll be okay,” Suguru catches his breath, kissing your temple. “Even without me. You’ll be okay.”

“I won’t…you know I won’t.”

“You will.” He says firmly. “I promise. You know me, baby, I never break my promises.” You feel tears well up in your eyes again and he tenderly wipes it away. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too.”

By the next morning, you already knew with the way the AC’s cold air nips at your skin without Suguru, your Suguru, there to embrace you that he’s already left.

Without a note, without a goodbye. Typical of Suguru who doesn’t want to stick around to see you cry.

You curl into yourself as sobs wrack your body, the promise ring Suguru gave you gleaming under the rays of morning sunlight.

A few years later, just as Suguru said, things did get better. You smiled as you arranged the last of the tempura into the bento box filled with soba noodles with nori and small containers of mentsuyu and wasabi. It’s amazing how much she takes after him. You look at the clock and your face pales. You’re running late, so, you head upstairs to speed things up a little. You creak open the door to see the little blessing of your life, the last gift Suguru ever gave you. She’s looking at the picture of you and Suguru which you placed in her room, and since you know it was highly unlikely she’ll ever meet your lover in this lifetime, you’ve decided you want her to know him if by his appearance alone and the stories you tell her.

“Riko? We’re gonna be late,” you gently reminded your four-year-old daughter. You shoot her a funny look when you see the haphazard way she placed her hair in a bun. She pouts as she tries to get it right again, looking at her father’s picture intently. “Sweetheart, are you trying to look like—?”

“Like papa,” she huffs cutely and you chuckle, moving to pick her up and sit her down on your lap. Kissing her cheek, you also gaze at the picture depicting a candid you and Suguru during your first year at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical College. He has his arm wrapped around your shoulder, winking at the camera as he kisses your cheek, a silent gleeful laugh on your face.

You look at her, a little confused, you gently smooth her hair before planting a kiss between her eyebrows. “And why do you want to look like papa?” Riko shyly looks away, her ears turning a little red as she blushes, a trait she inherited from you. You flick her nose, giggling. “Well?” Riko laughs at the playful gesture.

“…So you don’t cry anymore, mama.” Your heart seems to have stopped beating for a moment and a warm, tearful smile appears on your face, wrapping Riko in a bone-crushingly tender hug. “Love you…” she sinks into the warmth of your hug and you kiss the top of her head.

“I love you, Riko. So…so…much.”

At that, your little girl sighs in relief. “School?” she tilts her head and you suddenly remembered the reason you went upstairs. You had to get moving. Your eyes widened and you carry her downstairs, being careful not to jostle her too much. “My hair, mama!” she giggles at her still unruly hair and you grimace in embarrassment. Suddenly, the front door opens and Riko sees who it is, before you could grab the spare brush from your bag, she suddenly jumps out of your arms and makes a beeline for the door.

“Papa, papa!”

You turn around and though the sight pains you to this day, somehow, you’re starting to learn to live with the fact that things are always bound to change with time and that this is what Suguru would have wanted: a loving and complete family for his little girl. You wrap Riko’s bento and place it in her lunchbox before going to greet the visitor.

“Hi, babe.” He turns to meet your lips for a sweet kiss, balancing Riko in his strong arms.

“Good morning, Satoru.”

#geto x y/n #geto smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #geto suguru #geto suguru x y/n #geto x you smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto #geto angst #geto x you

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