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mypoisonedvine · 9 months

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PLEASE I HAVE A REQUEST:

Reader is deathly afraid of physical touch and she’s a student of Jonathan Crane’s. She begins to question whether or not exposure therapy is humane and decides to write a research paper against the idea of exposure therapy and Dr Crane plots against her and finds out her fear, inevitably forcing her to confront her fear with non/con(???)

I’m thinking totally brutal / slow burn and Jonathan is just a full psycho in this, not offering her any mercy. He Def does his research and Def traumatized reader

PLEASEEEEEEEEEE

(because this is just drabbles, I'm not going to be able to flesh this out the way you've envisioned, but I love the concept so I will do something based on it!) obviously this is dark, warnings for kidnapping and threats of noncon

haphephobia - the irrational fear or overwhelming aversion to physical touch.

You were far from the only psychopathology student who got into this line of work due to personal experience. Actually, more often than not, this interest begins for people with their own relationship with mental health-- maybe something as simple as a long battle with clinical depression, maybe trauma or abuse, maybe a history of addiction. You would hope that this made most of the students more equipped, more empathetic; that was true, but it also meant that there was a little more... instability among the cohort than you wanted to admit.

And yet, you hadn't even noticed that the worst of them all was right there in the front of the class, teaching.

"I read your paper," he explained, pacing back and forth, sparing long glances at you. "It was quite good. But your conclusions are weak."

Normally, if you'd been receiving this sort of feedback during office hours, you would just tilt your head and ask 'how so, Professor Crane?'

But considering you didn't even know where you were, strapped to an exam table in some dark basement, you weren't as inquisitive as usual. "See," he continued, approaching you, "if you want to disprove exposure therapy, you can't just do a systematic review of previous literature-- you need to get in the field, experiment yourself."

He lowered his voice as he stood closer to you, leaning over you, looking at you with a sort of fascination and pity.

"After all," he continued, "I'm a... fierce advocate of psychiatric experimentation."

"Yeah," you panted, the initial panic of waking up here fading into a general, steady terror, "I'm beginning to realize that."

"And you're always free to have your own opinion-- I think it's important that my students utilize their right to disagree with me-- but in this case, well, you just can't deny the results."

He was fucking smiling as he discussed it-- he was proud of what he'd done, of what he was going to do to you. "I can," you insisted, "if they're not ethical."

He rolled his eyes. "Always such a good girl," he cooed. "Let me worry about the ethics and you-- you can just worry about what I'm going to do now that I've got you tied up down here, where nobody will ever find you."

Bringing his hand closer to your face, you turned it away with a whimper. "Please," you whispered, "I-- you know I can't--"

"How does it feel?" he asked. "Right now, knowing I might touch you?"

"It's..." you trailed off, struggling to find a train of thought with him so close. "It's anxiety-inducing, obviously. It's dread."

"Filled with dread just because I'm getting close," he smirked. "You're in serious need of intervention, sweet thing. I can't believe you've gone without help for so long."

"This-- this isn't help, Professor--" you began to protest, but you winced as he gently brushed a finger over your cheek.

"You look like you're in pain," he noticed.

"It hurts," you hissed. "It hurts to be touched."

"Hurts how?"

"Like... like I'm raw all over. Like my body is one big burn," you whispered, eyes still shut tight as his hand moved down to gently caress your neck.

"And you've ruled out any medical cause-- an autoimmune disorder, hypersensitivity of the skin?"

You nodded, biting your lip to try to think of something other than the pain he was inflicting-- the pain you were totally helpless to. "There's no... physiological cause..."

"It's all in the mind," he finished for you, "and what a powerful mind you have. You're one of my best students, you know-- it's a shame you're limited by your fear. Fear of the truth, fear of breaking your precious ethics... fear of the future."

Your eyes shot open when his touch trailed down even further, toying with the neckline of your shirt; if any human contact was painful, you hadn't even prepared for the overwhelming anxiety of being touched in a way that had even the slightest sexual undertone. "Y-you don't really think you're that powerful, do you?" you pressed. "That you can take away fear?"

He shook his head. "No, dear, I don't have to," he replied. "I don't take it away-- I use it."

Just as his touch wandered, so did his gaze, and you shuddered under his dark stare as he started to properly grope you; his breathing picked up a bit, his lip twitched-- he even darted his tongue out for a second before smiling again.

"And now," he grinned, "I have you to use, too."

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #jonathan crane dark fic

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syn0vial · 2 months

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boba with a lightsaber in "legacy of the force"

highlights:

the fact that the scene starts with boba noticing that jaina is looking at him with "real compassion" and being like, "nuh-uh. absolutely not. putting a stop to this right the fuck now."

the way jaina draws her lightsaber all carefully like she's trying not to trigger Man With Notorious Beef Against Jedi, and he just pulls his own lightsaber out of nowhere like, "oh yeah i have one of those too :^)"

(i need everyone to know that this encounter was prefaced by an extended scene of beviin and medrit fussing over boba's shitty durasteel armor and basically forbidding him from going to spar with jaina until he swapped it out for something more lightsaber-resistant. so, after all this build-up of, "you CANNOT afford to take risks with someone wielding a lightsaber, what, are you TRYING to end up like jango," the fact that boba just casually pulls out a lightsaber of his own is extra funny to me)

(everyone is being so mindful of the fett family's traumatic history with lightsabers and meanwhile boba is just like, "EXPOSURE THERAPY OR NOTHING, LET'S FUCKING GO")

boba holding the lightsaber "like a hammer." can't decide if he's holding it like that bc it's genuinely more comfortable for him or if he's intentionally playing up his inexperience to get jaina to lower her guard.

the way he stalks towards jaina while letting the tip of the lightsaber drag against the ground. that's so menacing and i love it.

all that build-up and once he's in actual striking distance he just deactivates the lightsaber and sucker-punches her in the stomach LMAO

the fact that he uses the lightsaber as a FUCKING KNUCKLEDUSTER

he's such a mean and horrible old man. i love him <3

#boba fett #jaina solo #legacy of the force #boba‚ experiencing kindness and warmth from an unfamiliar person: i need to be an asshole right now immediately or i'll Explode #he does eventually warm up to jaina. only after he sees her protecting mirta tho :`)#that's the secret lol. don't be nice to him. be nice to someone he cares about

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slut4thebroken · 10 months

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Exposure Therapy pt. 1

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Your therapist tries a new method of treatment to help you with your fears.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, rape, non con, dub con, oral, p in v sex, fingering, fear play, crying, rape (again. I’m really emphasizing this lol), forced breeding, unprotected sex, threats of involuntary admission to asylum

Words | 3k

Notes | This is rape. Just straight up. Sure she’s attracted to him and trying not to think of it like that but it’s literally just rape. Final warning.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Prologue

You had been meeting with Dr. Crane for a few weeks now. You were mostly just talking, sometimes he’d have you try something to start to get you more comfortable living normally. But the progress was slow overall.

“There is another form of treatment we could try.” He suggested, setting his pen down on the notebook and giving you his full attention.

“If you think it’ll help.” You shrugged.

“Do you know what exposure therapy is?”

“Um… yeah. But isn’t that for phobias of bugs or heights?”

“Usually, yes. But those aren’t the only types of fear this technique can help with.”

“Oh… I’m not sure I understand, Dr. Crane.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” You nodded.

“In our first session you told me it feels like you’re living everyday waiting to become part of the statistic.”

“Yeah?”

“If you’re already part of the statistic, do you think you’ll still feel that way?”

“Um… I guess not? I don’t understand what you’re getting at.” He set his notebook and pen down on the coffee table, then stood up, making his way to the empty side of the couch as you stared at him in confusion.

“You’re lucky you came to me, you know. Most doctors don’t care enough to try everything possible to help their patients.” You gave a small smile in response, not able to talk before he continued. “In order for this to work you need to trust me completely, can you do that?”

“Yes, but I’m still not sure what it is you’re doing.” He stared at you for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh and taking off his glasses. He set them on the table, then met your gaze again.

“Studies show that patients who relive traumatic experiences in controlled environments can actually better overcome that trauma. Now in your case it’s slightly different because your fears were not born out of trauma, but I still think it can help.” He paused as he debated what to say next.

“With the kinks you’ve indulged in already, the environment might have been a little too controlled.” You furrowed your brows, trying to understand. “Putting you in a situation that is controlled, just not by you, should be effective.” He said, placing a hand on your thigh.

“Dr. Crane, what-“ He shushed you, slowly rubbing his hand up and down your thigh, each time getting closer to your skirt.

“You know, I thought about doing this at your house- maybe wear a mask so you didn’t know it was me. But that wouldn’t be controlled enough. So I knew it had to be here.” He said quietly, an unnerving smile on his lips. “With someone you trust.” When he slowly started leaning forward, you moved back until you were laying on the couch with him hovering above you.

“There’s nothing to be frightened of- I’m no heathen. This isn’t about committing a violent act against a defenseless woman, it’s about helping you work through your fears. I have every intention of making sure you can take me comfortably.” He maneuvered himself between your legs, your skirt rising as they parted. Your eyes widened at his words, finally understanding.

“I don’t- I don’t think I want to try this treatment.” You whimpered, shrinking back into the couch.

“You don’t know what you want. That’s why you’re here. If you knew how to help yourself, you wouldn’t have come to me.” He pawed at your clothes, pushing your cropped sweater up, then pulling your bra down beneath your breasts.

“If you behave, I can make this more comfortable for you. But if not, I’ll have to just get right to it, do you understand?” Your bottom lip quivered as you stared at him with wide, frightened, unable to move or speak. “Answer me.” He growled, making you flinch at the harsh tone.

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” He said simply, leaning down to take your nipple in his mouth. You laid there frozen, trembling beneath him, but despite your fear, you couldn’t deny the fact that what he was doing felt good. Maybe if this was someone else, someone you weren’t attracted to, then it’d be easier for your body to understand that this scenario was supposed to be bad. When his teeth lightly nipped at the sensitive bud, your breath hitched, making him pull back with a smirk.

“That’s it, see? Just let it happen and it’ll feel good.” He moved on to your other nipple, working it over in his mouth until he was satisfied. He pulled back with a wet pop and looked up at you through his lashes.

He moved down your body, but because of the small couch, decided to kneel on the floor. When he pulled you forward so your hips were on the edge, the movement caused your skirt to get stuck between the cushion and your ass, raising it even more, making your cheeks heat up. Your blush intensified as he pushed the fabric up until it rested around your waist.

“Shorts.” He said quietly to himself, placing his hands on your hips and tracing his thumbs over the fabric. “Do you wear this because you think this will help?” He asked, looking back at your face. You nodded silently, making his lips turn up in a small smirk. “Because of your obsession with statistics, you should know that clothing choices do not deter rapists.” He said, raising his brows questioningly.

“I know… it just makes me feel better.”

“So desperate for some semblance of control over your fears.” He chuckled quietly, making you frown in response. When he started pulling your shorts down, you grabbed his wrists. The look he gave you made you tremble even more, but you quickly relaxed your grip, letting him continue.

“Do something like that again and I'll skip this part, do you understand?”

“Please,” You whispered, holding back tears as he removed your shorts. “Please don’t do this.” You said through a sob when he reached for your underwear. He ignored you, pulling the fabric off your body and discarding it to the growing pile on the floor. You jolted when he suddenly swiped two fingers through your folds.

“See, you beg me not to, but you’re soaked. Is that why you’re so afraid? Because you know you’ll like it?” You clenched your eyes with a quiet sob and shook your head. When wet heat engulfed your clit, you choked on a gasp. He started out slow, licking and sucking delicately. You tried to control your hips and not let them buck toward the pleasure, but trying to do that as well as control your sounds proved to be a difficult feat.

It felt good. Honestly you’re not sure you’ve ever been eaten out this good in your life. He was almost as passionate about it as he was with his work. When he plunged two fingers into your drooling hole, you couldn’t help the low whine you let out. He looked up at you through his lashes, smirking against your sex.

Maybe if you just think of this as you finally getting to fuck the man who’s been plaguing your every thought for the past few weeks, then it won’t be as bad. After all, he did say he had no intention of making this painful for you. So it wouldn’t be too hard to think of this in a different light.

“You don’t seem scared anymore. Have you finally accepted it or is there another reason?” He asked, still curling his fingers against your walls.

“Maybe you’re dissociating to cope. Unfortunately if that’s the case… I am going to have to get you out of that state so you can experience the full extent of this treatment.” You stared at him almost blankly, trying desperately to not focus on his words.

“If this behavior persists in future sessions though, I might have to put you on antipsychotics.” That got your attention.

“Future sessions?” You all but scoffed, quickly closing your mouth after speaking to keep the sounds in.

“Yes, I’ll need to monitor you closely after this treatment. I think three meetings a week should be sufficient.” You swallowed down a whimper when his thumb started circling your clit, then forced yourself to respond.

“You seriously think I’m coming back here?” He swiftly removed his fingers, making you release a choked sound.

“If that’s the case, I’m afraid I’ll have to admit you.” He said, casually wiping your arousal off his fingers on your skirt.

“Admit me?”

“To Arkham Asylum.” He said simply.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Honestly, did you do any research before moving here?”

“N-no. I couldn’t afford to live anywhere else…” You muttered. He hummed in acknowledgement and stood up.

“Arkham Asylum is a psychiatric hospital in Gotham City, primarily housing the criminally insane. I am the acting chief psychiatrist there.” He shrugged off his jacket, placing it over the coffee table.

“I’m not criminally insane.” You said skeptically, rising to a sitting position just in case you’ll have an opportunity to run.

“No? That’s not what my diagnosis tells me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You spat, feeling your heart pound harder in your chest.

“Maybe you weren’t criminally insane when we first started our sessions. But yesterday you went through something traumatic that triggered a psychotic break, causing you to try to harm me during our meeting today.” You stared at him in shock, too caught off guard to say anything. “Which is why I’ve deemed you a threat to yourself and others and recommend immediate hospitalization for psychiatric evaluation.”

“You’re fucking insane.” You whispered, not sure what else to say.

“I’m simply a doctor who’s dedicated to studying the effects of fear on the human mind. And I have to say, I am very excited to study yours.”

“So- what, you’re just going to have me committed? As soon as I have the evaluation I’m going to tell them everything.” He let out a dark chuckle and gave you a knowing look.

“Truly brilliant plan. I’m looking forward to seeing how it works out when I evaluate you.” Any and all confidence or leverage you might’ve had was gone in an instant.

“Then… I- I’ll say I want someone else.” You said quietly.

“Were you not listening when I said I’m the chief psychiatrist there? I'm the one who decides who evaluates you.”

“But- that’s a conflict of interest.” He smirked as you floundered for a suitable threat.

“That’s the beauty of Gotham. Everyone and everything here is corrupt. No one cares if there’s a conflict of interest.” You let out a shaky breath, feeling trapped and out of options. “But don’t worry, I won’t start my research until you’re officially a patient. Today is just about your treatment.”

He was on you before you could even blink, pinning you down by your neck with one hand, the other opening his pants just enough to take his cock out. As you clawed at his arm and his face, you realized the consequences of anxiously picking at your nails- they did nothing to harm him.

“No-“ You cried, trying to push him away when the blunt head of his cock bushed your slit. “Stop- Help!” You yelled, making him tighten his grip on your neck and push down on your windpipe.

“No one can hear you so shut up.” He hissed, pushing his hips forward. Your body tensed at the pressure against your hole. When his length finally pushed in, you tried to let out a pained scream, but the only noise you could make was a pathetic squeak. He let out a low groan, closing his eyes with furrowed brows and opening his mouth in a silent moan.

“Fuck, that’s good.” He said through a moan. He continued pushing in until his hips were flush with your body. The pressure on your cervix was almost unbearable and you silently begged him to not stay here long. “You’re so wet. Why is that?” His voice was strained as he tried to control his arousal. His grip loosened on your neck and you took in a huge breath, then started coughing.

“Fuck you.” You rasped, throat a little sore.

“I always love the mouthy ones. Makes it all the more satisfying when they break.” He sneered. You sighed in relief as the pressure on your cervix decreased while he slowly pulled out. But as he slammed back in, you weren’t sure what hurt more: the pressure on your cervix or the burning stretch of your walls. His pace picked up quickly until he was pounding your abused hole relentlessly, even with your cries and pleads for him to stop. He shushed you, gently brushing your hair behind your ear, making you flinch away from his touch.

“Calm down. It’ll feel good once you relax.” He said, almost annoyed. You cried silently, arms laying limp by your sides after trying unsuccessfully to push him away for several minutes. You just wanted to get it over with.

“Fuck- this pussy feels good. When you’re locked away, I’m going to make sure we have daily sessions to continue your treatment.” You let out a choked sob and shook your head.

“No,” You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks, making him buck his hips even faster. “No- please.” You whimpered.

“Yeah. It’s not effective as a one time thing. This kind of treatment needs to be done regularly, in fact, we might have to have more than one session a day.” You sobbed silently, trying to just dissociate again or something- anything. But the brutal pounding of his cock made it hard to focus on anything else.

“I forgot to tell you- this treatment isn’t only for your fear of being raped.” You stared at him blankly as you processed his words, eyes widening once you understood.

“No-“ You said, much more assertive this time. But he was not deterred.

“Yes.” He growled, rutting into you animalistically as he chased his pleasure. “I’m gonna come in this tight little cunt and you’re going to take every drop.”

“No!” Your arms were active again, desperately working to push him away.

“If you behave and be a good little inmate, then maybe I’ll let you keep taking birth control.”

“Please,” You choked out, “Please don’t do this, Dr. Crane.” You cried, feeling the knot of arousal in your stomach, despite your words.

“As hot as the begging is, if you keep running that little fuck hole, I will take away your contraceptive privileges.” You had no reason to not believe him, so you obeyed, only letting out violent sobs. “That’s better. Good girl.” He groaned, putting a hand back on your neck. His hips snapped into you ruthlessly, your hole aching out of discomfort and desperation and your breasts moving embarrassingly with each thrust, adding to your shame. When he reached a hand down to your clit, you muttered out a quiet, “No,” and shook your head.

“I know you’re about to come. Just give in.” His fingers rubbed fast circles over it, making your hips twitch from the friction. And he was right. You were about to come, especially now that he was stimulating your clit. You tried to hold it, to not let yourself give him an obvious display of your unwanted pleasure, but it was useless. You came with a cry, this one more like a moan than a sob. His hips stuttered as your walls convulsed around him, but he never stopped thrusting.

After you finished, he removed his fingers and focused on his own orgasm, not needing much more before burying himself inside you, uncomfortably deep. Your sobbing intensified as you felt hot come coating your walls.

“Fuck- that’s it. Take it- take my come. Right in your fucking womb.” He growled, reaching a hand down to press on your lower stomach. “Can you feel how deep I am? Can you feel me right up against your cervix? You’re gonna have no choice but to get pregnant. Maybe not today… But I am going to knock you up eventually.” You let out a broken cry, laying completely still beneath him.

After coming down from his orgasm, he slowly dragged his cock out of you, then forced your legs open to watch his come leak out of your abused hole. He pushed it back in with a small smirk.

“We don’t want to waste any.” He explained. When he was satisfied, he rose from the couch, tucking himself back in his pants, then walked over to his desk. You watched through hazy eyes, blurry with unshed tears, as he searched for something.

I should try to run now, you thought. He’s distracted, I can probably do it. But your body could barely obey. With much effort, you rose to a seated position, trying to ready your wobbly legs to hold you up. Before you could though, he was already walking back to you, one hand pushing you back on the couch, the other behind his back. He clumsily righted your clothes as you laid there, defeated. When he brought his other hand up from behind his back, you stiffened at the sight of a syringe.

“What is that?” You muttered, trying to push yourself away from him, further into the couch.

“A sedative. Someone is going to pick you up and take you to a holding room. I should be there to evaluate you by the time you wake up.” You shook your head as your heart started pounding in your chest again.

“No- no, please. Please, I don't want to go.” You whimpered, flinching back when he grabbed your cheeks and turned your head to the side. Before you could react, the needle was already puncturing your skin. “Please don’t. I don’t wanna go.” You slurred, eyes growing heavy, and he shushed you gently.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Part 2

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #exposure therapy #crying #jonathan crane smut

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 5 months

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Could I request hcs of reader with an Iron hands who is a gentle giant and loves to battle against other trainers ( like nemona and penny) but arven is always on edge around the iron hands.. always thinking that it could hurt someone else like the other area zero pokemon hurt mabostiff. Reader and co tries to convince him that that this one's diffrent and would never do that to anyone?

((Generally fluff.. it doesn't need to be that angsty))

I love Iron Hands fr fr so thank you for this <3

My main one (who I affectionately named Raiden) is a tera raid powerhouse, but besides that I just,,,love my funky metallic futuristic Hariyama

.......

You often wonder if your Iron Hands had some kind of glitch in its system...

Because it's simply the sweetest fighting/electric type machine you've ever had the honor of capturing.

Its default expression is pretty much like "^^" 24/7.

When outside its pokeball, it's such a gentle giant towards the smaller Pokémon--whether they're on your team or out in the wild.

It absolutely loves comparing hand sizes with everyone (especially you, even though it knows very well that its palm size surpasses every single human's).

And of course, Iron Hands likes the thrill of battle, being all charged-up to fight whoever challenged you both.

Nemona herself is always eager to battle the Paradox Pokémon she witnessed you capture firsthand.

Penny gets a little nervous sending out her Vaporeon or Umbreon, knowing they'd get clobbered by a thunderbolt or drain punch easily.

But even outside of battle, Iron Hands is a kind and gentle soul around her Eeveelutions. They like to play around in the field, so they don't bear any ill will towards it.

The only person who feels genuine fear around it is Arven...and for good reason.

You saw it the moment Mabosstiff and Iron Hands stared each other down at one of the school's tournaments, with you taking one turn to boost its attack....while your friend remained frozen on the spot, suddenly unable to utter a command to his buddy.

He ended up running away, and the match was suspended, with you and the girls chasing him down to find him at the lighthouse.

Iron Hands is just stumped, confused as to why he looked so angry at it.

But you, Penny, and Nemona knew exactly what was up.

He was just scared of it hurting Mabosstiff (or other people) and making him weak all over again.

Of course, Arven was still traumatized by what happened during his first time in Area Zero--and being ambushed by a group of Iron Hands before you went up to the time machine certainly didn't help matters.

But you reassured him that your Iron Hands was nothing like those wild ones.

It was kind, loyal, and you've trained it well and understood each other...even though its origins remained shrouded in mystery (you had to lie about it being a Hariyama in a cool suit, but it took no offense to that).

The girls also agreed that it was good and patient in battles, never overdoing any attack.

Still, it's gonna take Arven some time to fully trust it, especially in a battle with Mabosstiff. So you just set up picnics and allowed Iron Hands to interact with his Pokémon, getting to know each and every one of them.

You even encouraged him to use the sponge on its metal plates, giving them a good shine.

With time (and more exposure therapy), he'll be comfortable enough seeing Iron Hands always at your side whenever he's making sandwiches or asking you for advice on his newest recipes.

#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon violet x reader #pokemon arven #pokemon arven x reader #arven x reader #iron hands #platonic #headcanons

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shojizbae · 1 day

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My Rave Babies

Spencer Reid x Reader

rave baby part two

For three weeks, your coworkers had been barraged nonstop about your scandalous habits. "So, listen to any good EDM?" or " Going to any parties?" had been ringing in my ears all week. The team had managed to sneak in puns during a case.

"Well, that sheriff was just raving, man." Derek leaned against the counter and brought a paper cup to his mouth

"Enough," I groan and toss my head back

"C'mon, you can't just tell us you used to go to raves and then not take us," Emily explains

"We are in the dead of the midwest. Will a serial rapist be on the loose, and you're thinking about going to a rave?" I fill up a paper cup with coffee

"Well, do you know of any back home?" JJ offers, sliding effortlessly into the conversation.

"JJ, you have kids," I whine

"Will can watch them for the night." She refutes

"I can't. I'm going back to the murder case before this town is traumatized further." It's a less effective duck-out, but it draws attention away. Hotch gives me a bit of a look as I rejoin a discussion with an exhausted look.

"I hope you didn't stay up all night partying." He teases

"No, I got a full night's rest. I'm ready to take this guy in." Deny. Deny. Deny.

The case came to a close two days later, with the man castrating himself and then slitting his throat. Unfortunately, the connection that all of the victims had was that they frequented the same club. An EDM / Rocker club with very Rave-like vibes. The jokes flew on the plane ride home.

"Alright, alright, fine. I'm going to call my old friend. She'll let me know what's going on in town."

"Really?" Morgan jumps at the statement

"Yeah, don't make me regret this."

It was four days later that a festival would be in town for the weekend. I informed the team that tickets needed to be bought. I also let them know they should be on high alert for roofies and perverts. Skimpy clothes and loud music were catalysts for freaks.

"So you're really knocking the dust off?" Morgan holds an FBI mug up to his lips. He's got an all too-full-of-himself grin on his smug little face.

"Yeah, you're coming too?"

"Yeah, so is Emily."

"And me!" JJ holds each of my shoulders, "I'm so excited, Will hasn't stopped ogling the outfit in my closet. He said he needed to borrow some floss and held it up on the hanger."

"Is anyone else coming?"

"Yeah, Penelope and Spencer," Emily says

"Reid?" I nearly snort my coffee out

"That's my name." He traipses into the kitchen and dumps half the can of sugar into his mug.

"I figured a rave would be a little out of your comfort zone. You're really coming?"

"I-i-It is. But I'm trying some exposure therapy."

"I thought that has been disproven." Emily counters

"Clinically, yes. But some of the results of those who have conquered fear through exposure therapy are too nice to pass up. You know, in recent studies-"

"Yeah, we get it you're going." Derek cuts him off

"So, have you picked out an outfit?"

"It's no Halloween, but I figured I should just wear what I always do."

"What?"

The night came faster than I had expected. One night, I was filling out a report on a serial arsonist; the next, I was tying myself into a bikini and zipping up giant platform boots. I put on a silky kimono to disguise the scandalous outfit. We all taxied to the nearby party meeting to get our tickets and a wristband checked. Emily and JJ looked phenomenal. Penelope was show-stopping, though. A galaxy-printed dress, giant boots, and fishnets, bejeweled with bracelets and a bucket hat.

Derek was primarily shirtless, though he found a neon fishnet shirt and tactical boots over some burning man cargo shorts. Finally, Reid was the last of the group. Surrounded by a thousand people in their skivvies, he stuck out like a sore thumb in gray slacks, a purple pinstripe button-down, and a sweater vest. The most crazy part of his outfit was his mismatched DC and Marvel socks.

"Wow, you look-"

"You look," I motion up and down at him. "You know, for the youngest on the team, you look like you're babysitting." He laughs, but it seems like he's shriveling on himself.

"Don't worry, you look great," I reassure and slide my hand up and down his bicep reassuringly. Even if I'm typically a touchy person that gesture might seem too forward for coworkers so I retract my arm awkwardly.

"Dang, (Y/n), where were you hiding that body?" Emily came and patted me on the ass and then slung her arm over my shoulder.

"Ok, tipsy, why don't we get you some water?" I unfurl her from me

"That sounds great," Reid clears his throat. "My throat is feeling a little dry." Emily wraps herself around me, and JJ slings an arm over Reid's shoulder. Morgan follows behind us, and we find some bottles of water that are way overpriced. Music begins to bump behind us, and I drag the group into the heart of the crowd. Morgan rears off when he finds some girls eyeballing him. Penelope follows Derek to a group of fun.

JJ and Emily stay close by but jump and sway with the thrumming music. Reid looks out of place like a black sheep.

"DOC!" I shout over the loud music

"Yeah!"

"You look stiff!" I jump around and scream at him.

"I'm not much of a dancer. Maybe I should just go home."

"What?" I stop jumping. C'mon, you've just got to feel the music." I take a step closer. Thanks to the giant shoes I wear, I'm much closer to his face than I usually am. I loop my fingers into the belt loops on his hips and take another step closer. "C'mon, man, you've just got to feel the rhythm." with my hands, I make him sway his hips to the beat. With a bit of encouragement, he starts to do so by himself.

"Ok, just jump around. Let yourself feel free." I twist and jump to the ear-splitting music. He raises his arms apprehensively, and I fling mine on top of him to show him it's fine. With my permission, he raises them and starts to flail freely.

"Alright, pretty boy, get into it." Derek teases

"Don't listen to him. You look great." I jump and swing my arms like a toddler. Lost in the moment, I spin around to show off my back and shake my hips. I lose my control and dance like a maniac. I back up onto Reid and sway with him. As I feel eyes on us, Reid jumps away from me.

"Are you two having fun?" JJ drawls

"Have you been drinking?" I shout

"A lot!" She responds

"I'm having so much fun. Why did you stop this?" Emily screams

"The hangover you'll have tomorrow? Yeah, have fun taking a jet ride with your ears trying to compress into your skull. And one time I caught a nasty STI from hooking up with someone in a port-a-potty."

"What ew," Emily fake retches.

"Don't worry, I took antibiotics." The music came thrumming through the speakers as a new DJ started their set. Immediately, I recognized her and started leaping like a manic shrimp. "Oh my god, I love this song!" I twisted around and grabbed each of Reid's wrists.

"C'mon, dance with me!" my mind disappeared in the bass. Nothing else mattered but the feeling of my feet pounding into the dirt and the occasional collision of Spencer's limbs. Slowly, the thrumming of the tempo migrated to my ankles.

"Alright, it has been a long time since I've danced like this. I need a break."

"Yeah, I don't think these are the best dance shoes either." there's sweat on his brow, but he holds up one of his feet to show off the brown loafers.

"Let's find the rest of the group," I whisper scream in his ear. In the proximity, I feel my torso press to his. I nearly roll my ankle and he catches me by my hip. He stands me back up and steadies my hips.

"Ok, let's get you to a cab," We find Derek quickly. He only has one girl who won't let go of his bicep tonight. Emily, JJ, and Penelope cling back to us, and we leave the grounds all slightly limping. We all file into a taxi and people filter out of the car slowly.

"I think I'm going to get out here and just take the metro home." JJ and I are the only two left in the vehicle as Penelope gets out of the car.

"What no, just stay in the car. I'll drive you home."

"No, that's far too much."

"I could drive you home." JJ offers as we turn down the corner of her street."

"No, you live further than her."

"Reid, I'll drive you home," I demand.

"Alright, you two have a good night." JJ slinks out of the cab, and we watch Will open the door, and she leaps into his arms.

'the kids are sleeping.' I read from his lips

"They're going to have a fun night." I snort. Reid shrinks on himself again. "C'mon, you've had to have some sort of fun like this."

"No,"

"No?" The cab takes us to my neighborhood, and we get out. Reid insists on paying the driver. I let him in and opened the front door. He takes the same space on my couch and groans from the pain. I bring two cans of lemon seltzer water and slump down with my legs across his lap on the couch. I crack the cans and hand one to him.

"Oh, thank you," he takes it, and I take a big slurp of mine. I extend a foot up and put my ankle near his face

"Could you unzip me?"

Uh, uh, sure." He holds my ankle and tugs the zipper down the inside of my calf. Once it's down, I use my other foot to push it off with my other foot. I hold up the second foot and he obeys, tugging off himself.

"Thank you, I roll, crack my ankles, and sigh in relief. "Whew, those were killing me." I start to roll down my thigh-high fishnets.

"Uh, would you like to go to the bedroom to get changed?"

"No, I'm fine like this." I pull the second sock off. I readjust the slipper kimono and tug one of my blankets up my shoulders. I twist around to lie on Reid's chest, straddling his leg.

"Uh, what are you,"

"I'm tired, Spencer." I dig into his chest with my own and loop my arms around his neck. I readjust myself even more around him. His tie stabbed me in my temple, and I tugged it off his chest.

"Uh (Y/n), what are you-"

"Calm down," I say, undoing his top buttons for the skin-to-skin contact my body craves. Your chest is warm." I cuddle into it and kiss his collar.

"I had a good night, Spencer," I sink further into his frame and pull the blanket on harder. I feel a hand thread its way into my hair but dreamland takes me away.

"I had a good night too."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #raver girl

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thatsonemorbidcorvid · 1 year

Text

“I read my colleague Hadley Freeman’s column in The Sunday Times this weekend in a growing state of shock. Hadley described how, on three occasions, a man had choked her in bed. I then read the section in Escape, the book she references, written by another journalist, Marie Le Conte. Le Conte writes that choking during sex was “mainstream” among those under 40. “If I were to rank it,” says Le Conte, “I would say it sits somewhere around the light spanking mark . . . not so out of the ordinary that you would mention it to someone.”

Readers around my age, 58, will appreciate how I felt. Never mind incorporating strangulation into sex, we belong to a generation where the “light spanking” Le Conte references is itself regarded as a bit weird, a bit pervy, a bit “why would you want to hit someone, or be hit by someone, in bed?” As regards throttling a partner, a phrase I am shocked to find myself writing, that belongs in my mind to the realm of bullies, abusers, thugs, misogynists, rapists. Very niche. Very sinister. Very illegal.

I would regard even pretending to strangle a partner as an outrage. If a male friend told me such behaviour turned him on, that friendship would end. If I contemplated doing it myself, I’d get therapy. And let’s be clear, the choking under discussion, which a study last year found almost 60 per cent of female students in the US had experienced, does not refer to play-acting, but actual hands round the throat, pressure on the windpipe, possible-loss-of-consciousness suffocation. WTF?

When I got to work yesterday morning three younger female colleagues — in their forties, thirties and twenties respectively — confirmed how widespread the practice is. I suppose when Men’s Health carries idiotic articles headlined “how to do choking safely, according to experts” I should have known asphyxiation-as-foreplay had become, if a long way from normal, then at least normalised. All three women said they had encountered it, along with being slapped, hair-pulled and spat on (eh?!) by male partners. None had welcomed any of these actions.

I should emphasise that these were not super-traumatic encounters with evil psychos, but otherwise consensual acts with otherwise normal blokes. Not pleasurable in any way, but not, I gathered, a massive deal either, such is the extent to which formerly minority, hardcore aberrations have entered the everyday bedroom experience.

The youngest colleague told me several of her female friends did enjoy the experience. I’m sceptical about that. I fail to see how partial suffocation by someone physically stronger, someone you don’t necessarily know well, with no help at hand, can be anything other than terrifying. I find it more likely that some young women, not yet fully confident, have been persuaded that being choked is not only not weird, but now a standard aspect of sex to which they ought to submit. Human beings are hard-wired for self-preservation: oxygen deprivation is something we desperately strive to avoid, not embrace. I’m in no doubt that the vast majority of women subjected to choking do not like it, to put it mildly.

What shocks me is why men, so-called normal men who aren’t sadists who ought to be locked up, would want to strangle their lover in the first place. Of course the easy answer is the malign influence of protracted youthful exposure to pornography. Such exposure has, it is argued, normalised sexual behaviour previously thought extreme. And yet it is possible to view porn without going anywhere near clips of men choking women.

A correctly socialised teenage boy in receipt of the correct moral guidance would shut down such content in a cold sweat should his cursor so much as inadvertently hover over a link. Yet evidently lots of boys and young men blithely consume the dodgy stuff, presumably not knowing it is dodgy. They then expect to mimic it when their sex lives begin to encompass people other than themselves.

Therefore, older people, parents, specifically fathers, are not doing their job properly. Shame on them. They should be telling their sons that all sexual violence is despicable, full stop. We’re not in groovy, liberal, “each to their own” territory here. We’re not talking dress-up or role play. We’re talking about actions which are at best distressing and degrading, and at worst deadly. This behaviour should not be up for discussion. It’s just plain wrong.”

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