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incognit0slut · 2 years ago

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MASTER OF PERSUASION

Part 4 of kinktober | main masterlist

meandom!Spencer/Hotch x fem!reader; Threesome, creampie, dumbification, degradation, brat taming, abuse of power, edging, dubcon

Your involvement in a heinous crime was questioned by the two FBI agents who were eager to do anything to get you to talk.

Words: 6802

a/n: This one is dedicated to my nasty, touch-starved btches who secretly wants to be manhandled by two older men. Enjoy this pure filth🫶

YOU WERE FAR FROM BEING A GOOD PERSON. From the surface, you seemed like a normal, typical woman, just one of the countless faces within the crowd. But when the doors shut behind you, you find yourself involved in endeavors you should never have pursued in the first place.

You knew too much. You were acutely aware of how many crimes happening in your vicinity. The number of deaths resulting from these heinous acts should be enough to terrify you, but it didn't, because unbeknownst to your peers, you were one of the reasons why they happened.

Although you never played the role of the perpetrator, you were the person these criminals came to for information. You were good with technology, you could hack into any secure system in the blink of an eye. It was almost as if you were a deity of the dark web, a mastermind whose mere presence served as a godsend to those carrying out these crimes.

It was easy money; you gave what they wanted, received what they paid you, and most importantly, you made sure to never look back. You always wiped everything out after each job was done, but somehow, after working on so many deals, your luck finally struck out.

Somebody hacked into your system—no, somebody good hacked into your system. This person knew what they were doing. They managed to hack through your firewall and retrieve a few of your data while also discovering your identity.

You honestly wanted to praise whoever was on the other side because you had never encountered someone who could match, if not surpass, your own skill. But it wasn't until you heard the loud banging on your front door, followed by people in uniformed vests rushing in and pointing their guns at you, that you finally realized who had breached your system.

It was the FBI.

So that was how you found yourself sitting inside an interrogation room hours later with two agents across from you. A very tall, intimidating man stood at the corner, his arms crossed as he watched you silently. Dr. Spencer Reid was how he introduced himself, and the way he emphasized the title in front of his name, you were certain he was the type of person who took extreme pride in his intelligence.

He seemed a little too cocky.

Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, on the other hand, was hard to decipher. The older man appeared somewhat guarded as if his job had forced him to put on a facade devoid of genuine emotions. Maybe it did. He was, after all, a federal agent. Both of them were. These men were probably taught to master the art of maintaining an inscrutable poker face.

Nevertheless, they were both intimidating, and you wondered to yourself, was good cop bad cop not a thing anymore? Because as far as this was going, none of them seemed inclined to make things easy for you.

The man in front of you cleared his throat, his voice was a well-practiced blend of authority and curiosity. "You've been quite elusive, haven't you, Miss Y/L/N?"

You leaned back, studying him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers tracing the edges of the table with a cool, almost casual detachment. "Elusiveness is a matter of perspective, Agent Hotchner. I prefer to think of it as adaptability."

"Adaptability?" He leaned in closer, his sharp gaze never wavering. "You've made quite a name for yourself. You've infiltrated government agencies, stolen classified data, and even orchestrated financial heists... Impressive, I must say."

A faint smile danced upon your lips, revealing just a glimmer of amusement. "I simply explore the hidden avenues of the World Wide Web. It's not about the thrill; it's about the knowledge."

His eyes narrowed. "But your actions have consequences. You've caused quite a chaos, don't you think?"

"Consequences are a part of every action, whether in the digital realm or the physical world. As for chaos..." You met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Well, sometimes chaos is necessary for evolution."

He leaned back, his expression unyielding. "Evolution or anarchy?"

"As I said, everything is a matter of perspective, even anarchy," you replied, your voice smooth as silk. "In the grand scheme of things, I'm just a catalyst. Society's flaws were there long before I came along."

The man in the corner took a step forward. His eyes bore into you with resolve as if he had grown weary of the ongoing debate. "You've had your say," he interjected with a steely tone. "You know why you're here. Our victim's files were found on your computer, we need to know who requested them."

You met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and amusement, unfazed by his direct approach. "Doctor Reid," you said, your voice laced with a hint of mock surprise. "Always chasing ghosts in the machine, aren't you?"

His expression remained composed, his intellect undeniably sharp. "We're not here to discuss my pursuits. We're here to talk about the life you've disrupted."

"Disrupted? I'd say I've merely revealed the cracks in the system. Your victim, as you call them, was a casualty of a much larger game."

"Games have rules, Miss Y/L/N. You seem to operate outside of them."

"Rules are made to be broken, Spencer," you retorted, your tone cutting like a blade through the air. "I can call you that, right? I hate having to speak with such formalities."

"It's Doctor Reid," he corrected. "Tell us who you're working for."

His unwavering determination was met with a subtle, knowing smile from you. You leaned forward, your eyes locking onto his with a hint of intrigue.

"I don't know, Spencer," you began, your tone slightly softer, as if you were letting him in on a secret, "The digital world is a labyrinth of information. Files come and go, they disappear and reappear... It's like trying to catch a shadow in the dark. It's useless."

He addressed you with a cold stare. "You're playing a dangerous game here."

You raised an eyebrow, your voice honeyed with allure. "Oh, I'm well aware of the game we're playing. But don't mistake my refusal to cooperate for arrogance. It's just that some secrets are meant to stay hidden."

The room seemed to contract, the air thick with unresolved tension. Aaron cleared his throat and your eyes fell back on him. "Miss Y/L/N, give us a name and we can make things easier for you. But if you don't cooperate..." His eyes traveled down along your body, the goosebumps rose on your skin in response to the heat of his gaze. "I'm afraid we have to resort to extreme measures."

A brief pause hung in the room. There was something in the way he was staring at you. He was looking at you with a profound determination that seemed very different from the way he assessed you before. Under the weight of his scrutiny, you felt your body growing hot. Your breath hitched, and a flush of warmth crept up your neck and tingled in your cheeks.

You regarded him for a moment before you finally spoke, your voice calm but tinged with a hint of defiance.

"If you think you can break me, Aaron, you're gravely mistaken. But if you're interested in the name..." you leaned back, crossing your arms. "I guess you'll have to earn it."

The tension in the room escalated as your words hung in the air. His jaw clenched, and when you thought you had won the upper hand over this battle of wits, he surprised you by waving his hand in the air, and Spencer came forward.

It was as if they had planned this. The way Aaron instructed his partner to move seemed rehearsed and calculated. Spencer walked over to you and before you could register what was happening, he grabbed onto your arm and wrenched you out of your chair with a force you didn't know he possessed.

Your voice carried a mix of anger and frustration as you protested, "What the hell are you doing?"

You suddenly felt him run his hands along your arms. "Checking for weapons."

The scoff you gave him was loud. "Oh, now you're treating me like a criminal?"

"It's a mere precaution."

And then you felt it, the way his touch lingered on your body. It was far from any normal search. His hands felt warm on your skin, even over the material of your shirt, as he continued to pat down your arms. There was a certain roughness in his movements as he slid his arms around your backside and you couldn't mistake the way he gripped your ass more than he should probably have.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered under your breath. "You won't find anything."

"I'll be the judge of that." He slightly shoved your shoulders. "Put your hands on the table."

You reluctantly did as you were told, silently gritting your teeth. His hands moved with purpose, and as much as you wanted to stop this questionable act, your body was reacting in a way that had you questioning yourself instead.

Why was your heart beating so fast as he stood behind you? Why was it getting so hard to breathe when his hands slipped around your waist? And why did it seem you were anticipating more when his palms slightly hovered over your breasts?

"Is this really necessary?" You asked quietly, trying to act as if his rough hands on you weren't affecting you. "This feels more like an attempt for intimidation."

You could practically hear the smugness in his voice as he asked, "Are you intimidated, Miss Y/L/N?"

You liked to think that you weren't, but honestly, you didn't know anymore. You had tried your best to put on a mask to avoid appearing weak, but as he started to squeeze your breasts in the palm of his hands, it finally dawned on you what was happening—You were finally caught, there was a high chance of you ending up in jail, and now a federal agent was touching you inappropriately, groping you in a crude form of patting you down.

And to your dismay, you actually liked it.

But you had too much of a pride, that was why you found yourself lying through your teeth. "No."

Spencer hummed a reply as if he didn't believe you. He squeezed your breasts through your shirt again, palming at them as he slightly felt your nipples stiffen through the material, and he couldn't resist rolling them as his touch continued lower. Your breath hitched as he mapped out your curves, one of his hands delving between your thighs before he stopped right at the center of your heat.

You let out a gasp.

"I-Is this even legal?"

Your mind went blurry as you felt his fingers touching you through the thin fabric of your pants. "Are you questioning how the law enforcement works?"

You couldn't answer him. Not because you didn't want to, but because you weren't able to form any coherent words as he continued to palm your sex, his fingers continuing to rub you. You were suddenly so focused on the way he was touching you, your head hanging low as you felt the sensation throughout your body, that you didn't even hear Aaron calling out your name.

It wasn't until Spencer retrieved his hand from between your thighs, and yanked your hair from behind, that you were forced to meet Aaron's gaze. "He called you," Spencer mocked, tightening his grip.

Aaron leaned forward, assessing the way you were arching your back with both of your hands planted on the table. "You have two options. One, we can play nicely, you give us a name and we'll go easy on you." His voice dropped lower as he continued, "Or two, you keep with this attitude and we might have to coax the answer out of you."

You locked eyes with him, a silent challenge burning in your gaze. Despite being in this vulnerable position, there was an undeniable strength in your stare, a refusal to surrender to their intimidation. Aaron met your gaze with a profound understanding.

"The hard way it is then." You saw him lean back in his chair as he crossed his arms, the subtle movement actuating his broad chest. "You know what to do, Reid."

There was nothing remotely gentle about the way Spencer handled you after those words. He shoved you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you gasped, your body pressed against the cool surface of the table. Somehow between your struggles, he managed to slide his hands around your waist, unbuttoning your pants before pushing them down your legs.

The air hit your bare skin, and even when you felt the cool breeze, your body was seething with fire, burning through your veins. The warmth spread along your cheeks as you realized you were wearing your skimpiest underwear, a flimsy material of dark lace that barely covered your sex. He gripped your ass with the palm of his hands, fingertips digging into the plush skin as he spread you apart.

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing?" You felt him shift behind you and you imagined him kneeling right in front of your heat. The moment his knuckles brushed along your wet patch, your hips bucked involuntarily. "She's wet, Hotch, I think she's getting a little too excited."

"I'm not surprised," the older man said. "She does seem like a slut."

Your head snapped at him. "I am not a slut."

"Oh, you are a slut." He leaned forward and reached out his hand, holding your chin in a vice grip, forcing you to look at him. "And we'll prove you how much of a whore you actually are."

Right on queue, a surprised gasp left your lips when Spencer's large palm burned your skin, giving your ass a harsh slap. The sound echoed in the room and he repeated the motion, watching in satisfaction the way your ass rippled for him. You fell into a false sense of security as he began to soothe his hand against your burning skin before pulling back to give another loud smack, and your mouth fell apart in pleasure.

"Not a fucking slut?" Aaron taunted, his thumb brushing on your lower lip. "That's the most farfetched lie you told us ever since you walked through that door."

You glared at him, but your defiance slowly shattered when you felt Spencer pulling down your panties over the curve of your ass, slipping them down your legs. The evidence of your arousal stuck onto the fabric and you felt your cheeks going warm in embarrassment. Spencer sucked in a gasp as he took in the sight of your lower half completely naked for him.

"Barely even touched you and you're soaking wet," he murmured, letting his thumb brush over your pussy, gauging your reaction. Your nose scrunched as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side, yet you could still feel his touch everywhere.

Each downstroke he made gave a light pull against your clit without giving any direct contact, and each time his fingers came back up, he slowly spread your folds open for him, briefly allowing your slickness to come in contact with the cold breeze of air.

Your mind became hazy, and just when you thought your body couldn't react more to his touch, he slipped a finger between your folds, feeling your slick against the dainty flesh. The motion caused your hips to buck erratically and your hands immediately reached up to grip onto the edge of the table.

He slipped deep inside you as your arousal coated him, circling your tight entrance as he felt the way your walls fluttered around the tip of his finger. He let out a low grunt as he felt how tight you were around him, curling at the knuckle while he began to drag his calloused pad against the soft spot inside you, making your body shake just from the mere contact.

The subtle reaction didn't go unnoticed by Aaron and he watched as your eyes glazed over. He couldn't stop himself from smirking, his features revealing a hint of amusement.

"You're enjoying this too much. I'm starting to think you're keeping your silence for the sake of this." You moved your head away from his grasp, only for him to grip your jaw harder. "Don't fucking move. Keep your eyes on me while he fucks your tight little pussy."

You never thought you'd be hearing such crude words from him, not with his stoic demeanor and polished facade, nor did you expect your body to react the way it did when those words filled your ears. You couldn't help it, your body betrayed your mind as your cunt continued to throb between your thighs. You could feel the desire building inside you, threatening to burst as you felt your body shake, and Spencer was well aware of this as he felt your walls clenching around his finger.

The laugh coming through his lips rang in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. "She liked that."

Aaron raised his eyebrows at you. "You like it when I talk like this?" He taunted. "You like it when I tell you how much of a slut you are taking his fingers so deep inside you?"

Your eyelids dropped lower at his words, and right at that moment, a lewd squelch filled the room as Spencer slowly slipped another finger into your dripping cunt, stretching you out as he began to thrust them inside you at a steady pace. Your body quivered as your breath quickened, and you found yourself grinding against his touch, desperately trying to get him to press the same spot inside you.

"Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers," Spencer cooed, his free hand smacking your bare ass again, and you found yourself arching your back. "You really are filthy."

Aaron laughed. "Acting like you didn't want it a second ago." He gripped your jaw tighter, forcing a gasp out of you at the subtle pain. He took advantage of your opened mouth by slipping his thumb inside. "Suck on my finger, Sweetheart."

You didn't know which one surprised you the most, his sudden term of endearment, or the order he gave you. You hesitated, because the moment you willingly sucked on his finger, you knew you would lose. The moment you followed through to his demand, he would have the upper hand and you would simply be the pawn in this game.

Aaron, as you realized, wasn't a patient man. His other hand reached for your hair and then, with a sharp and sudden yank, he tore at your hair. "Don't make me use more force than I already am."

Your roots tingled, your scalp throbbing, and a few tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, and leveled your gaze at him.

He pulled your hair again. "Suck."

The pain was so much for you that you found yourself wavering. You swirled your tongue around his thumb before closing your lips and sucking with an approving hum. A husky moan was pulled from deep within him, overwhelmed by the feeling of your mouth on him, and, especially, the sight of you. "That's it," he praised you. "Suck on it as if you're sucking my cock."

Your walls clenched again. A sound of pleasure erupted from Spencer as he felt your cunt sucking in his fingers, and without warning, he pumped them into you with so much force you couldn't stop yourself from moaning this time. He laughed, as did Aaron, and your body shook as you felt that familiar sensation tightening along your body.

The room around you seemed to blur and melt away at the pleasure coursing in your veins. It started in the pit of your stomach, a warm, liquid sensation that spread like a slow-burning fire, radiating outwards in waves. Your hushed moan was muffled by Aaron's thumb in your mouth, but the sound of your pathetic whining didn't go unnoticed by both men.

You were so fucking close you could feel every nerve in your body on high alert. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and your body quivered with the intensity of the sensation. Your eyes fell shut as the lewd sound of your arousal filled the room, and just when you were about to let go, Spencer suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, wrenching away that peak of pleasure you were desperately chasing.

Your eyes shot open, dilated pupils now wide with shock and confusion. Aaron met your gaze with amusement, a sadistic smile dancing on his lips as he pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop. "Stupid girl, thinking we'd actually let you cum."

The abrupt contrast between the heights of your pleasure and the stark void that followed was jarring. But before you could comprehend your disappointment, you heard a shuffle behind you followed by footsteps circling you. Spencer finally came back into your line of vision and with no one standing behind you, you tried to push yourself from the table, only to be shoved back down by Aaron.

"Fucking stay where you are," he commanded, his sharp voice piercing right through you. Your eyes were fixed on him, gaze unwavering as he slowly rose from his seat. And then suddenly he was the one behind you, and now Spencer stood right in front of you, looking down at you with amusement.

"You know," he started, his fingers trailing the side of your face. You moved your head away from his touch, but unlike Aaron, he didn't force you to look at him. He merely chuckled as he continued, "You wouldn't be in this position if you had given us the name."

Hearing this, you finally glanced up at him. The self-confidence he carried was starting to annoy you and you couldn't stop yourself from spitting venom, especially when he had ripped away the pleasure thrumming in your body. "I told you to fucking earn it."

The remaining air was knocked from your lungs when the palm of his hand collided with your cheek, your head jolting to the right from the force of the impact. Bright white stars danced behind your closed eyelids, and for a second you thought that you were dizzy from the shock. But then you felt it, the pressure that had been building in your core giving way, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

"Dirty girl," he taunted. "Here I was trying to shut you up and you actually liked that? You like being slapped around?"

You remained quiet, looking away from him.

"And don't worry, you will tell us by the end of this." You faintly hear the sound of metal ringing in your ears. Your eyes fell back on him and your heart sank when his hands moved down to his belt, unbuckling it as he let it hang around his hips.

His fingers moved to unbutton his pants before tugging down the fly. The sight of his hard cock tenting beneath his briefs had your cunt clenching in anticipation, as much as you hated to admit it. Then his thumbs dipped into the hem of his boxers, tugging the fabric down, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He was bigger than you'd expected. He was thick and solid, veins danced along his length and the droplet of wetness on his tip was too mesmerizing you couldn't look away.

He wrapped a fist around his length, hissing in relief as he made his way towards you. "Now let's put that filthy mouth of yours to good use." He pressed the head of his cock against your lips, half-lidded eyes gazing down at you as he leaned forward. "Open."

The musky scent of him overwhelmed you as you breathed in and you involuntarily opened your mouth wide to accommodate his girth. The flat of your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock as he gave soft, shallow thrusts inside your warm mouth. His fingers held onto your face as he watched his length disappear inside you.

"God, look at you—" Spencer rasped, his voice sounding strained. "Good fucking girl."

Each roll of his hips has more of his thick cock slipping inside your mouth. His palm moved to the back of your head, holding you steady as he forced his length further down your throat, watching as your cheeks darkened and your eyes watered. Your hands moved up to push at his thighs as you struggled against his grip, the desire to breathe overwhelming as you tried to push him away.

You suddenly felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen and you began to cough and splutter around him, your throat constricting as the sensation flowed directly through his cock. The sensation made him groan out in pleasure as he finally eased his grip on your head and leaned back, allowing you to breathe as you continued to splutter, drool dripping down your chin as you gulped for much-needed air.

Your head felt delirious. You were too focused on catching your breath when you unexpectedly felt something thick pushing into your cunt in one swift motion, knocking you over as you let out a scream.

"Hotch," Spencer laughed, tightening his grip on your hair while he positioned his cock back onto your lips again. "You shocked her."

Aaron merely grunted a reply as he held onto your hips and started to thrust his cock into you. His thickness sent a ripple of pain between your legs. He was definitely bigger than anyone you'd been with before, your breath coming out in soft, shallow pants as he drove more of himself inside your tightness. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip as a dull ache filled your body, trying to ignore the pain as he continued to stretch your tight heat.

There were no words after that, the room was hazy with desire as the heat built within the small space. The two men focused their attention on your body as you took them at the same time. It was filthy, depraved, and something you'd never done before. You never thought you would be in this position, nor did you think you'd actually enjoy being used like this.

Because you did, you really fucking did. Your entire body felt hot, a scorching fire flowing through your veins as you embraced the sensation, an indescribable pleasure taking over as Aaron's cock curved towards that delicious spot inside you with precision.

Your body was pressed against the table, sweaty and exhausted. It was torture, the way he was slamming his cock inside of you at the pace that left you breathless, it hurt and burned with pleasure at the same time. Each thrust had you hanging on the edge of release, unable to think straight as your mouth continued to mindlessly babble around Spencer's cock.

Every so often he'd hold the back of your head securely so you couldn't move away as he continued to bury himself in your throat. A pleased sound escaped his lips as you started to choke around his girth. It felt like you were starting to drown yourself as he shoved into you ruthlessly. Your lungs cried out for air as you began to feel woozy from the lack of oxygen, desperately trying to breathe through your nose.

"Fuck," he hissed, finally easing his hips back to give you relief. You spluttered as you gasped for air, a mixture of his arousal and your spit dribbled down your chin. "So fucking messy."

You tried to calm your breathing, but it didn't take long for your brain to turn into mush again because Aaron snapped his hips, pulling a moan from your lips as he started a harsh pace. Fingertips dug into your hips as he buried more of himself inside your tightness, your inner walls pulsing around him.

His thrusts were hard and you were certain you'd have marks on your skin from the way he was rutting against you, a dull ache panging inside your lower half. Your mouth fell open in a constant moan as you tried to hold your body up against the table. A throb coursed through you as you tried to hold onto the edge, your breath coming out in harsh pants. You were so desperate for your release, your body so close to coming undone.

"Fuck, Sweetheart, are you going to cum?"

You mumbled out a garbled reply as he continued thrusting into you relentlessly, your fingertips digging into the table as you felt his cock dragging against your inner walls. Aaron grunted at the sensation of you clenching around him. His eyes drifted down to where your bodies were connected and watched the way his cock slid in and out of your tight cunt.

He was on the edge of his release, you could tell by the way he thrust into you desperately. You prepared yourself for your own pleasure, your hips moving involuntarily, meeting his erratic movement, as you seek more friction from him. You whimpered, feeling his fingertips dig into your skin almost painfully and you felt the familiar sensation traveling along your body. Fuck. Fuck yes. You were finally going to—

A drawn-out whine left your lips when he pulled his cock out from your tight heat. The sudden emptiness had your body shaking violently. It wasn't until you felt a streak of wetness spluttering on your back that you realized he had reached his own high without letting you reach your own.

"Shit," he gasped, slapping your ass as he watched his own liquid seeping down the curve of your back. "That was incredible."

You groaned. Fucking selfish man.

"What was that?"

It then dawned on you that you actually mumbled those words out loud. You shook your head and he groaned at your lack of words. "That didn't sound like nothing."

And suddenly, as if you weighed nothing, he grabbed onto your body and turned you over, pushing you onto your back. You were too weak to even fight him as he shoved your pants off your feet before spreading your legs apart. You watched as he leaned down and a long string of clear liquid fell from his lips toward your cunt, letting it trickle down between your folds.

"Knew you were a slut," he hissed, before straightening himself and tucking his cock back in his pants. Your eyes drifted toward him. He was big, just as big as you felt him inside you. But it wasn't his sheer size that surprised you, it was Spencer standing by your feet that had your heart peaking up its pace. Aaron smirked as he stepped back and Spencer quickly took his place between your legs.

"Look at you still holding back," Aaron taunted, genuine curiosity lacing in his voice as he paced around the room. "You're worn out. You're filthy. Aren't you tired of playing this game?"

You looked over at him tiredly. Amidst the pulsing waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, you fought to maintain your focus. "Y- You haven't done anything m-much to earn—"

His laughter sent a chill through the room. "Oh, Sweetheart, you think you're winning, but you're not." He then locked his gaze on you. "Trust me, we already have you in the palm of our hands."

You tried retorting back but the once-sharp edges of your concentration began to blur when you felt Spencer's throbbing cock right between your pussy. Each pulse of pleasure sent tremors through your resolve as he eased his hips back to drag the thick, swollen head through your outer lips. His eyes focused on the way you spread for him as though inviting him inside.

"You're already fucked out," Spencer murmured, dragging the tip of his cock through your wetness, feeling it catch against your tight entrance. "Yet look at you swallowing me."

He let the underside of his cock split your folds open, resting it between them snugly as he let out a low groan at the heat radiating from your core. The sinful noise that left your lips had his cock throbbing painfully, the thick veins protruding from his length. He angled your body against him, pushing more of his thick girth inside your trembling body, feeling the way you squeezed around him as he stretched you out.

Spencer pressed his fingers into the curve of your hips as his gaze flickered between your face and his cock splitting you apart. You gasped, your breaths growing more erratic as he managed to push all of his length inside you. He ran his hand over your abdomen as he tried to feel his cock inside you, pressing against your pelvis as he pulsed at the sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he growled, "Taking me so well."

And then he slowly dragged his cock away from you, keeping just the tip in your entrance before plunging back inside in a harsh, jarring movement, jolting you in surprise. You arched your back and tipped your head back in pleasure, just to find Aaron towering above you, looking down at you with an eerie smile.

His fingers trailed down your shoulder blades before they hovered at the buttons on your shirt, slowly unbuttoning them. "I think it's time that you give us a name."

Your body writhed in response to the waves of sensation as you tried to ground yourself. But it was hard to keep thinking straight when he grabbed onto the underlayer of your bra and lifted it over your chest. The way your perky breasts spilled out from beneath the fabric made both men hum in satisfaction.

Calloused palms grabbed onto your breasts and your eyes rolled at the back of your head at the sensation. His thumb brushed against your soft nipple, watching as it began to rise to a stiff peak as he mimicked the action on your other breast, all the while as Spencer began thrusting into your cunt at a painfully slow pace.

"Come on, Sweetheart, don't you want to cum on his cock?"

"Fuck," Spencer grunted, feeling you clench around him. "Keep talking to her."

Aaron chuckled as he continued playing with your breasts. "It's torture, isn't it?" He closed his index finger and thumb around your nipples, pinching ever so gently. You let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes as arousal flushed through you. "Give us a name and we'll give you what you want."

And then you felt Spencer rocking his hips at a steady rhythm, burying himself deeper and deeper before he slowly began increasing his speed. Your body jerked wildly each time he pushed deep into you. Noticing this, his thumb moved to your clit as he pressed messy circles against the sensitive nub, twisting it beneath his calloused pad. It felt too good, so good that you could no longer hold back from moaning out loud.

Your cries of pleasure snapped him into action and his hands moved down to your ass, holding you up to him as he started pounding harder into you. Your head fell back, chest heaving up and down, and that was when you felt Aaron closing his lips around one of your nipples. You writhed, your body thrashing underneath both men. Your senses reeling, the warmth of multiple hands on your skin sent jolts of electricity down your spine, igniting a wildfire of pleasure within you.

Aaron pulled away from you and your eyes flickered open at the loss, only to be met with Spencer hovering above you. Your eyes swept over him, and you looked down where you were joined, watching how his hips moved in constant thrusts. He was enjoying this, you could tell by the way his fingers burned your skin and the occasional grunt escaping his lips.

At the sound of his voice, you looked up at his face, glistening with a sheen of sweat while his messy hair tousling over it. The moment your gazes met each other, something inside you snapped. The muscles in your core began to coil, tightening and constricting around him right as your climax slowly pushed through the fog inside your head. Spencer felt it too, and he suddenly slowed his pace, throwing you a cunning smile.

You felt your resistance starting to crumble. The intensity of your pleasure grew almost unbearable, and you could no longer deny it. Your eyes welled with tears at the overwhelming sensation, and the thought of having your orgasm ripped again from you seemed like another torture you didn't want to endure.

You were going to regret this. You definitely would. But you couldn't dwell on the consequences of your actions when desperation coursed through you like a fever, an all-consuming hunger that you couldn't deny. Your body ached for release and craved it with an intensity that was maddening.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and then your eyes, wide and filled with desperation, pleaded with him silently as you found yourself finally giving in, muttering a name you had tried to keep to yourself. A name involved in the crime these men had been pestering you for. A name that had Aaron smirking devilishly as he leaned over to you, brushing his knuckles on your cheek in a caress that was so foreign.

"Good girl," he mumbled, his voice lacing with satisfaction at the way you finally crumbled. He was right, you were already in the palms of their hands, it was simply a matter of time until you caved in. "Good fucking girl."

Once you surrendered, you couldn't stop the whine falling through your lips. Your desperate moan rang deeply in the room, snapping something primal inside Spencer, and he trusted his hips into you roughly. A gasp escaped your lips, legs falling open wider as he split you wider than you already were.

Your mind went absolutely numb with pleasure as he kept rutting up inside you, your body becoming nothing more than a mess, overtaken by a wave of sweat and erotic bliss. You felt yourself trembling, your breathing becoming more ragged as his thrusts became sloppier.

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, noticing the way your mouth fell open as pleasure engulfed you. "That's it, baby, let me fuck you dumb."

You cried out, babbling incoherent sentences as he thrust harder, grabbing your hips and tilting into you slightly, making him go even deeper as he moved with you.

"Go on, cum on my cock," he growled breathlessly through his rapid pounding. "Let me feel you."

“Fuck—” You cried out for him, your overstimulated body shaking beneath him. Wave after wave of pleasure came rushing through your body, erupting in the most intense way. He watched the way you convulsed beneath him in your release, watching the way a white, sticky liquid circled his cock every time his skin brushed your inner walls. His thumb was unrelenting against your clit and you tried to angle your body away from his touch, the pleasure too intense as your lower half throbbed around him.

You continued to clench around him between your bliss, your legs trembling from the position as he arched his back, focusing the power of his thrusts straight into your tightness. A shiver burst through you at the sensation. And with one final thrust, his whole body tensed. He pushed forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, spreading his warmth in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips.

You were breathing hard, trying to regain your composure, and a moan left your lips when he finally pulled out. Cringing at the fluid slowly leaking out of you, you tried to close your legs only to be stopped as he gripped the back of your thighs, spreading your legs apart to expose your body. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release.

“Look at the mess you made." Piercing eyes watched you as white liquid trickled down your ass. A feeble mewl left your lips as his thick fingers moved down to catch it, deliberately pressing against your folds as you wriggled in his grasp. A laugh left his lips as he dragged the string of wetness along your sex, pushing it back inside you.

"I think I ruined her."

Aaron's laughter filled the room, and just as you were about to push yourself off the table, you felt him grasping both of your hands, pushing them above your head. Your eyes widened in shock. "Wh-what are you doing?"

Then you felt it, the cool metal wrapped around your wrist, sinking into the flesh of your skin as you tried to move from his grip. An unexpected panic surged within you. "Sweetheart, we know you're involved in more than one crime." The soft click of the metal lock was loud in your ears. "You need to give us more names."

Your body, still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure, now felt more exposed than ever. You looked up to find both men staring down at you, and at very moment, you realized, as you felt the handcuffs digging into your wrist, that you were going to be here for a very long time.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut

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scientia-rex · 1 year ago

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You want to know what will always be bullshit? Anything that claims you are Just Lacking This One Thing and you need to take high doses of it, unless your allopathic medical provider literally tested you and told you that. Damn near every study we’ve ever seen of taking high dose supplements of anything you’re not actively deficient in shows that it’s either useless or dangerous. It’s worse than doing nothing, because bare minimum you’re wasting money. High doses of niacin, vitamin C, vitamin D, vitamin E. High doses of calcium. If it’s been well studied, there are usually consequences to taking a whole lot more of something than your body was ever meant to have.

Don��t believe anything about your health that seems too good to be true, especially if a supplement company is going to make money off your belief in it.

(Obligatory note in case this escapes containment: I’m a medical doctor with a master’s in a research field who used to work in human subjects research management and regulation. I know the research better than 99% of you. If you want to argue, bring high-quality research citations where the data actually support your argument.)

#the attending dr. kristophine

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itisformythesis · 11 months ago

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Please take this survey for my thesis!

What is this thesis?

I am a sociology student preparing to write my thesis for my masters degree, looking at Goffman's dramaturgical theory and applying it to fanfiction writers and their relationship with sharing their writing.

How can I help?

If you write fanfiction (or have in the past), fill out this survey! It's entirely anonymous.

If you don't, please reblog this post, or share the link! I need as many responses as I can get!

If you'd like to additionally help, I am also looking for interviews (via zoom unless you reside in my state and want to meet up irl), or if that's not your thing, an extended version of this survey with more written out answers, to explain nuances.

If you're curious in this process and would like to read it/view results at the end, follow this blog! I made it just for my thesis posts. Additionally, all questions can be answered through my email listed there, and also the ask box of this blog.

**if you are under the age of 18, unfortunately you can not participate due to the level of IRB approval I received. Please share it though!

#housekeeping #polls #survey #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ff.net #fan fic writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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holbrk · 2 days ago

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Chapter 1: Small Town Lovin’

Pairing: Ted Garcia x f!Reader Warnings: (MDNI) explicit sexual content, including graphic descriptions of consensual (protected) sex (p in v), a power dynamic between a public figure and a younger professional (slight age gap [mid 40s, early 30s]), alcohol consumption, emotional isolation stemming from the pandemic and includes a light parental reference during a sex scene, dirty talk, fluff and angst!!, mild dubcon, HE'S THE MAYOR, and some sweet talk. Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: After a long week and one too many drinks, an unexpected encounter with Eddington’s enigmatic mayor, Ted Garcia, turns into something far more intimate than small talk. What begins as innocent flirting at a quiet bar unravels into a night of raw honesty, physical hunger, and surprising emotional connection. Behind his polished charm and political title lies a man longing for something real and just a little more. Notes: This is chapter one of this series! You can find the master list here to read the rest of the series as its posted. There are NO SPOILERS for the movie Eddington in this fic.

♡ MASTERLIST ♡

“Excuse me?”

His voice was low and smooth, almost velvety. The kind of voice that didn’t need to rise to command attention. It slipped beneath your skin, raising the hairs at the back of your neck. Your hand paused mid-air, fingers slowly lowering your glass to the bar top with a faint clink.

Ted Garcia.

The Mayor.

His face was impossible to miss — plastered on billboards, news articles, and the side of city buses ever since the pandemic. He was the man who’d saved Eddington, the golden boy who revived its dwindling population and breathed clean, green life back into its weary bones.

You cleared your throat, swiping your thumb across your lips to catch the last bit of gloss from your third drink. The stress of the week still sat heavy behind your eyes. New boss, more responsibilities, endless paperwork — and now a conversation with him.

“Yes?” you managed, batting your lashes with an effort that felt part instinct, part performance.

His smile came easily, comfortably, as if the bar were his living room. He took the barstool beside you without hesitation, like he’d already decided he belonged there.

“Sorry, couldn’t help but notice the pin on your bag — Clean Source Energy, right? You work for them?”

Your eyes dropped to the small enamel pin, fingertips brushing over it without thinking. It was rare you carried your work bag around after hours, but tonight you’d come straight from the office. Your hair was still pulled into a high ponytail, flyaways curling around your temples and ears, the remnants of a long shift clinging to you like static.

“Yes,” you said with a small nod. “I’m a data analyst there.”

He nodded at your words and then extended his hand. “Ted, Ted Garcia.”

You took it and shook slowly, introducing yourself.

A beat of quiet passed — just long enough to be comfortable, not long enough to escape the feeling that he was assessing you.

Then Ted lifted a hand, gave a casual wave, and as if summoned by magic, two more drinks appeared in front of you. Another for you and beer for him.

“Y’know,” he began, picking up his glass, “I was the major voice that pushed to get that center built here. Along with a few others, of course.”

He took a sip, his eyes never quite leaving yours — though they dipped, briefly, to the neckline of your blouse. The white fabric hugged your figure in a way that suddenly felt more noticeable under his gaze.

“I see a lot of promise in Eddington,” he added, his smile shifting just slightly, as the foam from the beer clung to his mustache. Something more personal began to curl at the edges. “I’d even say I’m pretty good at judging things in a general setting. Especially character.”

Was he flirting?

Surely…

You took a slow sip of your drink, the glass cool against your lips as you leaned into your elbow on the bar top. Maybe you’d entertain this just for the hell of it, or maybe out of curiosity. Ted Garcia wasn’t known for being social. He kept mostly to himself, especially after what happened with his wife. He was always juggling the impossible: running the town, raising a teenage son, keeping Eddington afloat. But still… he was the mayor. Influential. Wealthy. And, undeniably, stupidly handsome.

You let your voice dip, your tone playful. “And what does my character say, hm?”

As you spoke, your fingertip traced the rim of your glass slowly, deliberately. You saw his eyes catch the motion and then came that smile. The smile. The one splashed across campaign posters, on town hall murals, on local news segments. His signature. Practiced. Perfect.

Then his hand drifted, soft and slow, until just his fingertips brushed your thigh. Barely there. Almost polite. But you knew better. He wanted more.

“I see a woman with ambition,” he said, voice warm, confident. “A woman who keeps her cards close. Strong. Self-contained. And quite frankly…” He let out a breathless chuckle, leaning in, “…the type who wouldn’t care if I walked out of here right now.”

He paused, smirking as if reading the thoughts flickering behind your eyes.

“Hell, something tells me you kind of wish I would. Just… kind of.”

You wet your bottom lip, smoothing away the dryness as your gaze held his. You were reading him now. Every word. Every flick of tone. Every subtle challenge.

“Seems a bit unprofessional,” you mused, lifting your glass again, “to hit on a local woman in a very local bar… where anyone could see. Could be scandalous, no?”

The edge of your voice curled around the fire you were stoking, just to see how hot it could burn.

Ted finished the rest of his beer in a long, slow swallow and set the empty glass down with finality. His eyes never left yours.

“I’m a very transparent man,” he said, voice lower now, closer. “I’m a go-getter. I see something I want — and I don’t hesitate.”

He leaned in, slow and deliberate, until his face was only inches from yours. His eyes, a deep, soft brown, and entirely focused — locked with yours like he was trying to memorize every detail.

“And I don’t give a damn who spins what story,” he continued. “Right now, I’m having a conversation with a beautiful woman.”

A pause.

“That’s all they need to know.”

The jukebox hummed softly in the background, Katy Perry’s voice spilling into the corners of the dim bar like a memory half-remembered. You swirled your tongue behind your teeth, tasting the last of your drink as the tension between you and Ted thickened — taut, unspoken, electric.

Your glass hit the bar with a soft clink and your hand reached for your bag, fingers curling around the strap with casual intention.

“So… what is this, exactly?” you asked, eyes flicking to his. “You’re not really planning to take a stranger to your home, are you?”

Ted watched your every movement and just as you began to rise, his hand reached for your wrist — not forcefully, but gently, like he didn’t want to stop you so much as slow you down.

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

The question hit harder than it should have.

Your eyes widened, blinking. Was this not just a one-night thing? His intentions had seemed obvious or maybe… maybe you’d misread him completely.

“I don’t think I’m a three-star motel girl, if that’s what you’re implying,” you said, half-defensive, half-teasing. You couldn’t help but notice how warm his fingers felt against your skin, how careful he was with his touch.

Ted chuckled — a real laugh, low and warm and stood alongside you.

“Then I’ll get us a cab,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours. “And you can see where the Mayor lives.”

He took charge with ease, but never with arrogance. You watched the way he dialed, the way he guided you out of the bar with a hand at your back, the way he opened the cab door for you like it was second nature. Every gesture was controlled, deliberate. Gentleman-like.

The ride was quiet, but not awkward. Intimate in its restraint. He didn’t boast. Didn’t fill the silence with tales of his accolades or power. Instead, he asked about you; your job, your life, your dreams. The small things that too often got overlooked.

You could tell he wasn’t just chasing pleasure, he was chasing connection and that realization tugged at something deep in you. Something soft.

The pandemic had broken people in ways no one liked to admit. All that isolation. The loss. The quiet grief of being alone. Why deny him, deny yourself something that had been taken from so many? Something human.

The cab turned up a long dirt road, tires crunching over gravel as the landscape opened around you. Rolling desert fields stretched out beneath a lavender sky, cacti scattered like sentries across the land, and distant ridges of mountains catching the last gold of dusk. You’d forgotten how beautiful New Mexico could be when the world slowed down.

Ted stepped out first, then offered you his hand as he waved the cab off into the dark.

His home was modern, with rustic bones. Steel lines softened by weathered wood, leather furniture worn in all the right places. Campaign signs and papers were scattered across surfaces like leaves in the wind, but the mess was lived-in, purposeful. Not careless.

It felt like someone’s real home. Not a staged house for a man in power.

Not just the Mayor’s house. His.

You noticed the photos first. Frames perched along the mantle, scattered across bookshelves and side tables. Ted and his son, Eric. Smiling at baseball games, standing in front of a freshly cut Christmas tree, riding bikes on some dusty trail. It made you smile, involuntarily. There was a warmth to them. A tenderness you hadn’t expected. Even if some of them were staged.

Eric wasn’t home. Off with friends, apparently, visiting colleges out west. Ted had his own quiet reservations about it — he’d chosen a school for himself, carefully, lovingly, for his only son. But still, he let Eric go. Let him be. Maybe that was love, in its hardest form: loosening your grip even when it hurts.

He offered you a drink. You accepted.

The two of you made your way to the couch, and he settled in beside you, one arm draped easily over the back, his body turned slightly toward you. You felt his gaze, felt him taking you in.

The lighting was softer here — golden, steady so unlike the pulsing bar lights you'd just left behind. The contrast made everything feel slower, more intimate.

Ted parted his lips like he was about to speak but you beat him to it. You leaned forward, setting your beer carefully on a coaster on the coffee table, then turned to face him fully. Shoulders squared. Hands on your knees, firm.

“Okay,” you said bluntly, eyes locking with his. “So what exactly is happening here?”

Your voice was steady. Clear. This was Ted fucking Garcia — the mayor of Eddington. You were in his house. Drinking his beer. Letting him charm you like you were just another evening distraction. Surely, he wanted something. Anything.

Ted let out a soft chuckle, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. He placed his beer beside yours, the bottles clinking gently as they touched and leaned back into the couch with a casual shrug.

“Is just having a conversation really so bad?”

Your eyes trailed over his outfit — the brown blazer, the bolo tie, the shirt patterned with tiny horses, tucked neatly into a pair of faded white-washed jeans. Scuffed Nikes on his feet. He looked like someone’s dad trying to dress up, but refusing to let go of comfort.

Fuck, you thought, biting back a smirk. He radiates Dad energy.

And somehow… that made him more dangerous. More… enticing.

You pressed your lips to the side, curious. His words echoed in your head, turning over like slow wheels on wet pavement. Maybe this was all he wanted — an empty house, a quiet evening, a little warmth to chase away the stillness. Maybe.

“Fine,” you said at last, the word slipping out with a quiet sigh as you sank deeper into the couch.

Ted nodded, mirroring your movement, his posture easing as he leaned back beside you but his gaze never strayed. He kept his eyes on you, studying you in the soft hush between sentences.

His fingers moved idly along the back cushion, slow and searching, until they found a lock of your hair spread out against the fabric. He touched it gently, his thumb brushing the strands with just enough pressure to be noticed, but not enough to cross a line. A deliberate restraint.

You crossed your arms over your chest, the motion subtle, but purposeful. The swell of your bust lifted beneath the curve of your arms, and his eyes — God, his eyes, they noticed.

Of course he did.

“It’s been a while,” Ted said finally, his voice lower now, more intimate. “Since another woman’s been here. Since I let myself…” His gaze dropped to the lock of hair he was still toying with, wrapping it slowly around his thumb, his fingers brushing it like it was something fragile.

“I’ve been so focused… on the job, on Eric. On keeping everything moving.” He paused, thumb dragging gently over the strand before letting it fall. “I think somewhere along the way… I forgot about my own happiness.”

You furrowed your brows and turned your shoulder into the cushion of the back of the couch, as if trying to hide from the truth of his words. You related a bit too much. Work had consumed you completely. These days, your life was a pattern of coming home, trading your work clothes for something soft, curling up with your cat, and binging crime shows until sleep overtook you. Love was a language you'd long forgotten how to speak. Too easily abandoned.

“Sounds like me,” you murmured, your voice low, almost ashamed of the admission.

Ted noticed the shift immediately. His hand moved from the back of the couch to your shoulder, his thumb pressing into it with quiet pressure — firm, grounding. You felt the heat of it bloom through the thin fabric of your blouse, your breath hitching ever so slightly.

“I don’t want to be that guy,” he said, voice softened, “but I think that’s why I noticed you… back at the bar. Why I couldn’t look away.”

Your pulse picked up beneath his touch and your eyes dropped to your hands folded neatly on your knees. Without thinking, you moved one to his — fingers brushing over his jean clad knee like a quiet invitation.

Ted's brows lifted, caught off guard. This was the first time you’d touched him all night, and for once, the calculated mayor — the man who always had a plan seemed to forget what came next.

You could tell.

So you took control.

You shifted, slipping off your flats beneath the coffee table. Tucking your legs beneath you, you turned toward him, elbow resting on the back of the couch as you leaned in closer — close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.

“So… just conversation, huh?” you whispered, your voice velvet-smooth. Your lashes dipped low, fluttering like a spell meant to unravel him.

Ted’s hand slid from your shoulder to the curve of your jaw, thumb grazing your skin with a kind of reverence.

“I’m letting you lead this,” he said, his voice quiet, with a breath of something like need in it.

And just like that, you climbed into his lap — slow, deliberate. Straddling him, your knees sank into the couch on either side of his thighs. Ted kept his hands hovering at first, hesitant, waiting for your permission. So you guided them to your hips, settling them there, grounding him in this moment.

Neither of you broke eye contact.

“You’re even prettier up close,” he breathed, eyes fixed on yours like he was looking at something he hadn’t let himself want in a long time.

Then your lips found his.

The kiss was urgent. Starved. Like two people chasing salvation in each other’s mouths. A collision of loneliness and heat.

His hands slid beneath your blouse, fingers trembling slightly as his thumbs grazed the bare skin of your waist. The touch was tender, but desperate like he was afraid you'd vanish if he didn’t feel you properly, if he didn’t hold on.

Soon, he lifted you into his arms, the couch forgotten entirely as he held you tightly against him, lips still locked with yours — hungry, insistent, guiding you both through the quiet corridors of his home like he was following instinct alone.

In the soft hush of his bedroom, he kicked the door just barely ajar and laid you down on his perfectly made bed. For a fleeting second, you took in your surroundings — simple decor, western accents, and subtle touches of warmth that revealed more than he ever could in words.

He hovered over you, his breath warm against your neck as he found the fevered beat of your pulse and pressed his lips there, tender.

“Tell me,” he murmured, a request.

“Keep going,” you breathed, giving him permission with just those two words.

And he did.

There was no hesitation. His body molded to yours like it had been waiting — aching, for this moment. His thoughts tangled between disbelief and desire. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let himself be soft with someone. Or the last time someone as striking as you had found their way into his bed.

He pulled back just enough to shrug off his blazer, tossing it carelessly aside. Then came the bolo tie, slipped loose from the collar of his shirt with practiced ease. He returned to you almost instantly, his hands greedy now as they pushed your blouse up, fumbling slightly at the buttons until the lace of your bra came into view — white and delicate, the faint contrast of your areolas just barely visible at the edges.

A low, guttural sound left him — raw, unfiltered. It wasn't lust. It was awe.

His thumb traced along your exposed skin, pushing the padding of your bra aside to fully uncover your breast. But instead of diving in, he paused.

You watched him, the moment suspended between you both. His eyes lingered on you like he was seeing something sacred. Something he'd convinced himself he'd never deserve again.

His lips parted, trembling slightly like he was whispering something just for himself.

“Ted?” you said softly, trying to pull him back from whatever thought had taken him so far away.

His gaze snapped up, locking with yours. A slow smile spread across his face, and then he lowered his forehead to yours, breathing you in.

“I want to do…” he paused, a shiver in his tone, “...completely and utterly obscene things to you.”

His confession cut through the air like heat lightning. It was dirty, yes — but not careless. It was filled with longing, with desperation, with an ache.

Your breath caught.

Goosebumps chased across your skin like a ripple of electricity, and suddenly you were trembling not from fear, but from the magnitude of being wanted that deeply.

“Please.”

The word fell from your lips like a whispered prayer and it was all he needed.

Your clothes were gone in moments, stripped with aching urgency, leaving your bare body exposed to the heat of his rough, capable hands. He touched you everywhere he could — grazing, gripping, palming every inch of you, his touch alternating between reverence and hunger. His fingers mapped the curve of your hips, the softness of your thighs, the dip of your waist as if trying to make up for some kind of lost time.

Soft, breathy sounds escaped you, tiny cries that built in intensity as he revealed more of himself. His body wasn’t sculpted — he was average, but grounding. A comforting fullness to his stomach, real and warm, with a dark patch of hair just above his hardened cock. A trail of it meandered up toward his navel like a quiet invitation.

Ted paused, his chest rising and falling with restraint, his eyes clouded with lust as he looked down at you.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he murmured, almost bashful, “but I think I need to get a condom… from my son’s room.”

You blinked, then burst out laughing — genuine, unexpected. It made him snort, and with a chuckle, he buried his face between your breasts, letting the sound of your joy vibrate against your skin. “This is either going to be the most humiliating thing or the most materializing thing from tonight, because if I go in there and he has none, that means my son is having unprotected sex and I need to have a serious talk with him… thus leading to the conversation of how his Dad needed to borrow one.” He mumbled into your sweet skin. The tension between you broke, replaced by something looser, more intimate. The heat lingered, but now it was threaded with laughter.

You watched him pull back, his expression sheepish, as pressed his palms together in a mock-apology before slipping out of the room.

Propped up on your elbows, you took in the space around you — his bedroom, warm and masculine. Earthy tones, aged furniture, and just enough detail to say this is who I am. Simple. Quiet. Lived-in.

He didn’t keep you waiting long.

When he returned, the condom wrapper was already torn, dangling between his lips as he moved quickly toward you with a familiar spark in his eyes.

“Thank God I raised him right,” he mumbled through the foil, grinning as you laughed again.

He hovered over you, the tension mounting once more. With practiced ease, he stroked himself a few times, and your gaze followed the movement — mesmerized by the sight of his flushed, uncut cock, a bead of precum glistening at the tip like a drop of anticipation.

Ted let out a low moan as he rolled the condom down over his length, careful and slow. Once it was snug, he looked down at you, drinking in every detail — your tousled hair, parted lips, the look of need in your eyes.

“Can I try something?” he asked, voice barely a whisper, tremulous with need and hopefulness.

You bit your bottom lip and nodded, breath shaky. "Yes."

That single word — soft but certain — was all the permission he needed.

With a quiet groan, he shifted onto the bed and reached for you, his large hands wrapping around your arms. Gently, he tugged you down with him until he was lying flat on his back, guiding you to straddle him — not facing him, but in reverse.

“Get on top of me… backwards, baby. Backwards.”

Your brows moved in confusion, but you obeyed, shimmying your hips as you turned around. His hands were already on you, guiding you down until your back rested against his chest. You stared up at the ceiling, heart pounding, unsure of what he had in mind — until his arms slid beneath your knees.

With a sudden, skilled motion, he curled you backward, pulling your legs up and over, folding you into a full nelson.

“Ted!” you gasped, your voice part shock, part thrill. Your body arched unnaturally, your thighs parted and lifted high, your feet pointed up.

“Shh… trust me,” he whispered beside your ear, his breath warm as he blew a few strands of your hair out of his face.

He held you there, perfectly positioned — your head cradled in the flat of his palms, your legs stretched wide and drawn back. You felt the strength in his hold, the intensity in his breath, the sheer intimacy of being so utterly exposed and claimed.

All you could do was breathe and watch — while his thick cock aligned with your aching, wet pussy.

“It’s gonna feel… f-fuck, it’s gonna feel so good,” he murmured against your skin, voice trembling with anticipation. “Just trust me.”

Then, with one slow, deliberate thrust, he angled his hips upward — his tip parting you, gliding in with a precision that made your body jolt.

You jolted as he entered you fully, but Ted didn’t let you go. He kept you bent, folded tight in his hold, completely at his mercy.

A deep groan spilled from his lips as his head pressed back into the pillow. He angled his hips again, digging his heels into the mattress, and drove himself to the hilt.

“God… tight — shit, you’re so tight,” he whimpered, his voice low and ragged with awe.

The praise burned through you like wildfire. You flushed, warmth rising to your cheeks, and moaned long and deep — your voice trembling with the sudden, overwhelming fullness. It had been so long since someone had filled you like this.

The bed started to creak beneath you both, the headboard tapping rhythmically against the wall. Ted held your body locked in place, his arms strong around your bent frame, while his hips moved with force and purpose, thrusting up into you again and again.

You sobbed out soft cries, your voice catching as pleasure built and your limbs trembled. Every thrust made your body jolt, and in this position, you couldn’t look away — you were forced to watch as his thick cock disappeared inside you over and over again, stretching you, owning you.

He groaned louder now, the sound guttural, primal. The veins in his neck pulsed as sweat gathered along his temple. His hips slammed upward with growing urgency, the force of each thrust making your ass ripple against him.

You gasped, struggling to speak, your voice trembling with pleasure. “W-What is this… this position — I’ve never…”

Your eyes threatened to roll back as he drove deeper still, his cock reaching spots that made your toes curl. Each push felt impossibly deeper than the last, your back beginning to ache from the tension but your body helplessly clinging to the pleasure.

Ted didn’t stop. He fucked you with reverence and ruin in equal measure, like he was trying to imprint himself into your memory forever.

One of his arms slid out from beneath your knee, letting your leg fall open at an angle. He snaked the same hand down your stomach, pressing it flat against your belly before it dipped lower, finding your clit with practiced precision.

You cried out, “Ted!” — your voice strained, overwhelmed. Every nerve in your body sparked alive, already overstimulated, but that was exactly what he wanted.

His hips kept a brutal, unwavering rhythm as his fingers began to work tight circles over your sensitive nub. The contrast between his thick thrusts and the focused, maddening pressure on your clit made you shake.

“C’mon,” he groaned, his voice cracking with need. “Need to feel you squeeze around me… please, baby.”

The plea in his tone bordered on desperation, but it still carried a raw authority. “Come for me,” he begged, breathless. “Please. Right now.”

You whimpered, trying not to throw your head back for fear of colliding with his — but it was impossible to stay still. The sensations clawed at your insides, made you writhe and squirm against him. Your toes curled so tight they cramped, and your hips bucked against the hold of his arm.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna —” you stammered, the words tumbling out between hitched gasps, each syllable broken by his thrusts and the relentless roll of his fingers against you.

And then it hit. Your orgasm crashed into you like a tidal wave, blinding and hot and earth-shaking. Your body locked tight, your breath caught in your throat, and your walls clenched down hard around him.

But Ted didn’t stop.

Even as you cried out and trembled through it, he kept moving — kept fucking you through your release like he wanted to feel every ripple of it echo inside you. His pace unrelenting, your pleasure stretched until it bordered on unbearable, and still he held you in place, moaning into your skin like he never wanted the moment to end.

With a swift, fluid motion, he rolled you onto your stomach, easing you down into the mattress. Your cheek pressed into the sheets, warm and damp from your breath, as his rhythm never faltered. Now behind you, he hovered — his body blanketing yours with heat. His thrusts came fast, rough, the slap of skin echoing off the walls like a steady drumbeat.

His hands gripped your ass, fingers sinking into the flesh as if trying to anchor himself to the moment. “F-fuck... I — oh god, I’m gonna…” he choked out, his voice a tangled mess of restraint and the raw need of release.

Sweat dripped from the ends of his curls, falling onto your spine in slow, burning trails, each drop branding you with the intensity of his need.

You gasped, eyes fluttering shut as you felt him drive deeper. So deep it felt like he was reaching places untouched, the pressure blooming in your belly. Your body, pinned beneath his, could do nothing but take it — accept every desperate, final thrust as he chased his release.

And then, with one hard thrust — then another, shorter, tighter… he let go. His body shuddered violently as he emptied into the condom, filling it to the brim. His moan was guttural, trembling with the weight of everything he’d held back until now.

A shared cry tore from your lips, the air between you charged with heat and breath and something near feral. He slumped forward, collapsing against your back with a soft, breathless grunt, his heart hammering into your ribs like a second heartbeat.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the soft rhythm of quickened breaths, the occasional awkward giggle, and gentle kisses pressed to your back. The atmosphere pulsed with something tender, almost shy, as Ted finally pulled away.

He stood, his movements a little unsteady, knees trembling slightly from exertion. Carefully, he removed the condom, holding it gingerly as he shuffled toward the bathroom. You heard the quiet sound of the trash can lid, the flush of water running. When he returned, he carried a warm, damp cloth and wore a boyish smile — loose curls clinging to his flushed forehead, eyes soft with something close to adoration.

“You okay?” he asked gently, his voice a low murmur as he began to clean you. The cloth was warm and soothing as he ran it along your back, across your ass, and between your legs with slow, deliberate care.

You turned your head slightly, cheek still pressed to the sheets, and gave him a small nod. Your expression was hazy with equal parts exhaustion and a deep, humming satisfaction. “More than okay,” you whispered, a soft hum escaping as he wiped away every trace of discomfort, his touch lingering in places that made you shiver.

That made him beam. Not just smile — beam. He looked at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever had the pleasure of tending to.

“Will you stay the night?” he asked, gently setting the cloth aside. “Or should I call you a cab?”

You glanced toward the digital clock on the nightstand. It read nearly midnight. Technically, you had work in the morning, but the idea of leaving — stepping out of this moment, hadn’t even crossed your mind until now.

“And if I stay?” you asked, eyes flicking back to meet his.

That same warm smile stretched across his face, unshaken.

“Then if you do stay… we can shower. I can make you the best damn late-night bologna sandwich you’ve ever had. And…” he turned toward his dresser, pulling out a large t-shirt, holding it up with a flourish, “...you can tell me if you’re a New Mexico United fan.”

He waggled the oversized t-shirt in your direction, and you couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled from your throat. A grin tugged at your lips as you nodded, heart fluttering. There was something disarmingly tender about the idea of wearing his shirt to bed — like being claimed not by possession, but by comfort. By trust. By something unspoken but deeply felt.

“Then I’ll stay,” you said, voice quiet but sure.

His features softened instantly, the playful grin melting into something gentler — slight relief. He clutched the shirt loosely in his hands as he returned to the bed, sitting beside you with a slight sigh, as if the weight between you was finally settling into place. Something had shifted. Something real. Maybe this was what you both had unknowingly been reaching for all along.

“We could also start with just… conversation,” he murmured, voice low, a touch of vulnerability threading through it.

You swallowed, the moment delicate and full.

“Yeah,” you whispered, nodding slowly. “Let’s start there.”

------ Ugh thank you so much for reading! I can't wait to start on the other chapter already. This idea came to me randomly and I am so excited to share it with you all. Tagging requested: @iamasaddie @pokayyto @perotovar @cassiuspascal @berryispunk @chasingthepoguelife @madpanda75 @lady-artemis27 @elvenhymntoelbereth @shivispunk @cosmickid-inmotion @beezusvreeland @eviispunk @glitterspark

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donutdrawsthings · 26 days ago

Note

why is your doctor called the one who shone?

✨Character Tag

Might as well write out what her whole deal is! I never did because I wanted to write her "introduction episode", but I'm really not a great writer. I'm just an ideas guy, really!

She's called "the one who shone" because her regeneration existed briefly, yet joyously! Her energy was infectious when she existed and brightened everyone's day. This regeneration also existed briefly for atypical reasons. She is a paradoxical regeneration, a regeneration that exists, but isn't supposed to.

The Master had created this Frankenstein's Monster type of Weeping Angel... called The Impossible Angel. Unlike regular angels that feed on "unlived potential" time energy, THIS Angel feeds on the impossible. It feeds on what never should be, paradoxes! paradoxical time energy! You are send to several time periods at once, split into pieces but still visibly whole. You are an impossible part of time and with every breath you take, time decays around you, changing things in ways that were not meant to be.

This creation had touched the Doctor and pulled out a regeneration that was never meant to exist. And since the Doctor is so old, and can live for so very long, her existing in and of itself as a paradox, is enough for the impossible angel to keep on growing stronger and collect more paradoxical time energy than it's actually able to hold.

It is a time bomb, literally! And when it goes off, it resets the entire universe!

Since THIS Doctor is the reason the whole universe is at risk at all, she figured she should find a way to focus this reset on her regeneration alone. Make it so that she never existed in the first place. With some tinkering and quick, smart thinking, she succeeded with her plans, resetting the universe to before she was created and destroying the poor, Impossible Angel in the process.

Elisa still remembers her. Very well, in fact. Every minute she'd spend with her. But when she encounters the Doctor again and sees him stepping out of his TARDIS, she is quickly walked past, making it clear that the woman she knew is truly, gone forever.

I had way more ideas for her story, like her introduction and other episode ideas, but I'll leave those under the cut!

For the Doctor's introduction, she wakes up after regenerating, finding herself crashed in London with no memory of what happened before. Nothing unusual sofar, but then she sees some suspicious activity at a school and starts investigating. This is where she meets her companion, Elisa!

Elisa gets bullied/outcasted heavily at her school and it has her feeling all types of low. She's alone in the girl's bathroom, crying, and a perfect next victim to add to the list of kids with a mysterious sickness that leaves them bedridden. Then the Doctor barges in with this little doohickey she'd build out of a branch. It tracks the source of an alien metal, and the source of said metal would make itself known only seconds later.

It's a Panagralid, otherwise known as a data worm! It chases after the two all over the school, but it's only visible to Elisa, so everyone thinks she's just acting up. They manage to throw it off their scent by literally throwing her school blazer with her scent at it and hiding in a closet.

The doctor catches her up to speed on what's going on, Elisa being frustrated at the Doctor for almost being excited about this horrifying thing, and they discuss what it wants. Data worms feed on information, and the females have these metal plates on their body to store info on for their young. Other species often keep and train female data worms though to obtain certain bits of information in secret (because it can cloak itself!). The doctor has all these plans to combat things, but then gets hit by a wave of post-regeneration sickness unlike anything she's ever felt before, and she briefly blips out of existence. Well, to her it was brief. in actuality she's disappeared for hours, leaving Elisa to go home alone and wonder why the data worm wants HER specifically.

Well turns out, it didn't want her specifically, and she isn't as special as she thought she was.

This trio of aliens has actually set up shop at the school and have trained the data worm to specifically harvest negativity. Apparently, negative emotions are a currency on their planet, and a human school is essentially the perfect place to farm it and become rich. It doesn't matter to them that it leaves the victim basically bedridden with exhaustion.

Anyways, I never worked out exactly how the Doctor would work this out, but it ends in the school basically having exploded and the 3 aliens picked up by space authorities. This leaves Elisa without a school and the lingering hurt still left from being called "not special". So when she sees the opportunity to sneak into the Doctor's TARDIS, she does.

This brings us to the next story: THE PHANTOM SUN

The Doctor discovers Elisa has sneaked in, which is perfectly timed with the TARDIS being dragged towards this space ship from the future. A strong gravitational pull has pulled them in and they can't leave. The Doctor is really frustrated with this because she's not keen on endangering a 15 year old with her travels, while also still struggling to figure out how she came to regenerate and what made her "blip" out of existence.

The ship itself is inhabited by Dutch people (hence why the ship looks like a collection of different styled houses)

The people on this ship are just regular people, a lesbian couple, a family with kids, an eccentric artist, some college students, two doctors and a teacher. The landlord of all these houses is this robot called Larry 4410, and it is created by the same company that build this collective space ship and ultimately the party that will receive all their rent.

Little facts aside, the space ship is also stuck in a strong gravitational pull. Well actually, they're not being pulled towards anywhere, they're stuck in space. It's like they're at the centre of said gravitational pull, but nothing's there. On top of that, something terribly strange seems to be happening on the ship. Furniture goes flying, strange texts appear burned onto the walls, and scariest of all... people seem to get possessed.

When they get possessed, you can't comfortably look at them. your eyes will start watering like you're looking at a bright light, when that's not the case... and within a few second of possession, the possessed person bursts into flames from the inside out. It is up to the Doctor to solve this horrifying mystery!

While the Doctor digs into the technicalities and alien aspect of the scene, Elisa is sat with the residents and venting to them about feeling useless. She's comforted by the family, when she wonders out loud how she can understand these Dutch people and the text on the wall. The Doctor explains that the TARDIS translates things for them, and then Elisa tells her that the residents couldn't understand what it had said before, meaning what the TARDIS had translated, wasn't Dutch. The Doctor goes to turn off the automatic translation feature, and it turns out she was right!

It's an ancient language from a planet that has been absorbed by a dying sun long long ago. This is when the Doctor puts together that the sun used to be alive, much like episode "42", and that they're literally being haunted by the ghost of a long-passed sun that used to be worshipped by a loving planet and cannot find peace after having consumed it. The doctor then teaches the residents the ancient sun worship ritual, and the phantom sun can finally rest in peace.

Suspiciously though, the person the kids have been calling "the teacher" in English, has vanished. Elisa tries to ask about it in broken Dutch, but doesn't know the actual Dutch name for "teacher". the kids help her out and ask if she means "de Meester", which startles the Doctor briefly, before she turns on the translation feature again. The Dutch word for "teacher" can also mean "master" for masculine teachers.

Yup! It was the Master all along. They would from this point on become a frequently recurring character in the Doctor and Elisa's lives, just hanging out with them and seemingly appearing obnoxiously harmless.

(They're not doing anything to the Doctor because they've already done it. The Doctor's existence already feeds their Impossible Angel, so the Master is just along for the ride!)

I also had this story idea that features another scenario with the theme "things that aren't supposed to exist, existing anyways"

These are the Kirios! They are descendants (and visually inspired by) the balhuticaris and come from a timeline in which the creatures of the Cambrian Period never went extinct!

The Doctor goes to this time period to excitedly show Elisa the start of earth life, when they get arrested by 2 Kirios. Turns out, the Kirios created a piece of technology that creates a form of time travel called "pinpoint timetravel". It can only go to 1 specific point in time, essentially putting a "pin" in the timeline and allowing Kirios to travel to it, no second earlier or later.

They do this to protect their existence and world. Their world has a lot of natural disasters and dangers, so the Kirios species is naturally wary, but when they learned that their existence is even more fragile than they thought, they decided to also guard the very start of their life on earth!

I also had some other loose ideas for this Doctor :o)

I designed various aliens for fun. I figured the guy on the bottom right would be the one to tell the Master about the vulnerability of Angels when they're not looked at, since it is a blind creature. Like, that they CAN indeed be harmed!

I also created this alien called "Xor Voncus", which is an alien created to work as a sort of hand puppet :oP its species specialises in 1 skill and then throughout the years they hone their skill more and more, until they're basically the best in the universe for getting the job done! this makes them targets, sometimes </3 when they're really just creatures of passion.

I also had this idea that this ginger cat called Jim would tag along to adventures with the Doctor, even if she didn't want it to. The TARDIS would start taking a liking to it and accommodate more and more to Jim living in the TARDIS.

Then there's also the case of the Blind Teen and the Friendly Angel. Liam and Korstmos!

Liam is Elisa's only friend and basically her handyman when she needs to get anything done without the Doctor, with him being a pickpocketer and lock picker and all. He is a sarcastic jokester type of character, always messing with people for a laugh and using his quick wit to defend himself at school.

Then there's Korstmos, a friendly Weeping Angel with seemingly no need to feed. This of course raised the Doctor's suspicions that it might be up to something, when in actuality it really isn't. It just got caught in the crossfires of what the Master was up to, having touched a human paradox and fed on their time energy. With the hunger of a wild beast no longer aching in her stomach, she found other things to do and began to enjoy the world in a whole different way. That isn't to say that she'll live happily ever after, though... She's dying. Much like the Impossible Angel, she's crumbling under the extreme pressure of all this Wrong Time Energy, it is literally killing her where she stands, veeeery slowly.

When time resets, she's also back to how she used to be, hunting people like a regular Weeping Angel

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