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slytherin-pen · 4 months ago

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Lessons In Discipline II

pairing: Cazriel x Reader

word count: 3.6k!!

warnings: SMUT, 18+, spanking, shadow bondage, use of a gag, blow job, daddy kink, edging, —oh god what else uh— Azriel’s kind of mean ig, oral on female, biting, hickies, p in v penetration, let me know if i forgot anything 😅

a/n: i’m not sure what demon possessed me to write this but i’m starting my period so we’ll blame that. and who let me write a threesome as my first smut EVER? i was stressing fr but i hope it’s good *bites nails nervously* i also added some fluffy aftercare at the end. enjoy!!

Part 1

Shadows bound your hands to the foot of the four-poster bed, positioning you to stand before it, facing the wall. Azriel and Cassian were behind you, but you couldn’t see them. You tried to focus on the painting above the bed, waves crashing into rocky cliffs under a full moon, but your body was fully tuned in on what the Illyrians could be doing behind you. The heady scents of all of your arousal filled the room, only amplifying the heat that’s overcome your body. Your breasts rose and fell with heavy breaths, the anticipation and fear for what was to come overwhelming you.

Azriel had silenced you with a gag, telling you that apologies were useless and that he’d decide when your mouth would serve a purpose.

You heard movement behind you, and a shiver ran down your spine as something traced its way down your back. A sharp smack to your ass had you gasping, nearly choking on your saliva.

“I’m very disappointed in you, angel,” Azriel chastised, dragging the riding crop up the side of your thighs. Your knees nearly buckled at the sudden adrenaline rushing through you. “I thought I would come home to my good girl and we could have some fun together, but instead I have to remind you how to behave. Who you belong to.”

Your whines were muffled, the urge to apologize on your tongue but it was useless. He couldn’t understand you. It was exactly what he wanted. He knew you would say you were sorry and beg for him to forgive you, but you had gone too far. He didn’t want to hear your pleas. He wanted you to take it.

“You know, I was on a very important mission when Rhys entered my mind to tell me that Cass requested I come home. I thought surely my little girl would be able to behave for one week but then he tells me that you weren’t eating,” *swat* “or training,” *swat* “and disobeying him,” *swat*.

Tears gathered in your eyes, incomprehensible mumbles leaving your lips. You couldn’t see your ass, but it burned from Azriel’s relentless spankings. You were sure it was red and raw by now.

Azriel clicked his tongue. “I’ll admit I was shocked. You’re usually so good for Cass, saving all that bratty behavior for me.” A hand wrapped around your hair and tugged, bending your neck so you looked up at him. Hazel eyes simmering with rage met your bloodshot eyes. “That’s why I’m going to let him have his turn with you. Usually, he likes to just watch but I think after the week he’s had,” he chuckled darkly, “I think he deserves to have his way with you.”

The shadows released your wrists and you were shoved down onto the mattress. When you pushed yourself up to your hands and knees, Cassian was already situating himself in front of you, wings spread behind him as he stroked his cock. He smirked as he looked down at you, and that only served to send a shiver down your spine.

“You can take the gag out now, Cass,” Azriel said.

Cassian gently cupped your face as he loosened the gag just enough to slide it down to your neck. Calloused hands pinched and twisted your nipples, earning short and breathless gasps from you.

You dared to look behind you at Azriel. He still had his pants on but he was shirtless, the swirling black tattoos on his chest and climbing up his neck on full display. His shadows swarmed him in harsh, sharp motions, reflecting his feelings about your recent behavior.

Cassian grabbed your chin, forcing you to face him again. His large hand cupped the back of your head, guiding you to his red, swollen cock. You took it in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks as you sucked languidly. He threw his head back with a groan as he rocked his hips towards your mouth. “Fuck, sweetheart, just like that.”

You felt the bed dip behind you as scarred hands gripped your waist. Cassian’s hold on your head became a little more forceful, his fingers threading through your hair. Azriel positioned himself under you, pulling your hips down so you sat on his face. You bucked as Azriel licked a long stripe up your folds then focused his tongue on your hole, swirling his tongue around before pushing it in and out. His nose rubbed against your clit with every motion as Cassian started fucking your mouth. Hands gripping the sheets, a strangled moan escaped you, muffled by Cassian’s cock, and you ground yourself down on Azriel’s face eager for more friction before he smacked your ass and pulled away.

You whimpered at the loss of contact, your pussy clenching around nothing as arousal dripped down your inner thighs.

“This is a punishment, angel,” Azriel scolds. “You take what we give you and nothing more. You don’t cum until we say you can. Do you understand?”

Cassian pulled his cock out of your mouth. “Yes, Daddy,” you gasped, desperate for them to keep touching you.

Cassian chuckled as he looked into your wide, dilated eyes. “Look at our needy girl. You’re already a mess aren’t you?”

He didn’t let you finish your mumbling before sticking his cock back in your mouth. It was salty with the taste of his pre-cum, your tongue running up and down the soft, veiny skin. Your jaw ached as you sucked him off and saliva dripped down your face onto the bed. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment you clenched your eyes shut, focusing on the up-and-down motion Cassian was guiding you in.

You nearly bit him in shock when you felt something cold touch your pussy, but he only shoved you farther down as you gagged on him. “Don’t you worry about what Az is doing back there, sweetheart. We’ve got it all under control.”

Azriel huffed a laugh as the cold, foreign object circled around your entrance. “She knows exactly what this is, don’t you, love?”

You whined and squirmed as the realization settled over you. It wasn’t unfamiliar, but Azriel rarely used it and reserved it for when you’d been especially bad. When you hadn’t earned the privilege of feeling his cock just yet. The glass dildo.

Moaning as he inserted it, you tried to refrain from sinking back on it lest he take it away. His large, scarred hand smoothed up your spine and pressed down in the center of your shoulder blades, arching your back the way he liked. Cassian picked up the pace with his thrusts in your mouth, and it was then you noticed Azriel wasn’t moving the dildo but only using the momentum of Cass’ thrusts that rocked you backward.

Your walls clenched helplessly, begging for more but being greedy would only get you in more trouble. You wanted to be a good girl. Maybe, if you behaved, he’d let you cum eventually. Azriel was relentless in the bedroom, expertly bringing you to the edge of climax only to rip it away, leaving you crying and desperate. He was the Torture Master, after all—skilled in delivering both pain and pleasure, balancing on the fine line between agony and ecstasy.

Cassian’s grip on your hair tightened, his thrusts stuttering before he grunted as his cum shot down your throat. “Oh fuck, keep going. That’s it.”

You took him deeper, swallowing every drop before releasing his cock with a pop. Azriel pushed the dildo in faster now and you moaned as your face landed on the mattress, arching your back even further. You felt yourself reaching a climax, but much to your chagrin Azriel pulled the dildo out.

He quickly flipped you over, leaving you slightly dazed as you watched him unbuckle his pants and slip them down his muscular thighs. His cock sprung free and you practically drooled at the sight of it. He smirked at you as he stroked it slowly, as if he knows how badly you want it. He grabbed your ankles and yanked you to the edge of the bed before leaning over you and blessing you with a quick, feverish kiss, then put the gag back in your mouth.

You whined and thrashed in indignation, causing Azriel to deliver a sharp smack to your thigh to end that nonsense. “That bratty mouth of yours is half to blame for the trouble you’re in,” he said.

Cassian lifted you up by the shoulders, placing you between his legs so you could lean back on his chest. You sighed and relaxed against him, going pliant as he brushed your hair to the side and kissed your neck. “Be a good girl so we can take this out,” he tapped the rubber ball sticking out of your mouth, “and then maybe you’ll be rewarded with an orgasm. You want that don’t you, sweet girl?” he whispered in your ear.

You shivered at his words but nodded. You wanted that very much. It felt as if you might combust if you couldn’t find release soon. Your pussy was throbbing, begging for someone to touch it and make you feel good.

Azriel was already on his knees on the floor in front of you when you looked up at him. He threw each of your legs over a shoulder, and he gradually licked his way up your thigh. Your eyes rolled back as he bit the supple skin of your thigh, his nails digging into the other. Between Cassian licking and nibbling at your neck, and Azriel sinking his teeth into your thighs it was a delicious mix of pleasure and pain.

You couldn’t help but watch Azriel. Shadows curled around him like living things, but the look in his eyes chilled you to the bone. Predatory, possessive, hungry. He had you spread out before him, shadows wrapping around your wrists to keep them pinned to the sheets so he had you exactly where he wanted.

“You smell so sweet,” he murmured, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your dripping pussy. The teasing flick of his tongue followed, sending tingles down to your toes.

Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking relief, but Azriel merely shook his head. “Patience,” he chided, pressing your thighs wider apart. “You’ll take what I give you.”

A slow, torturous drag of his tongue over your aching pussy had you moaning, your fingers curling into the sheets. He groaned against you, the deep vibration making your toes curl. His tongue moved with calculated precision, tracing every sensitive spot, circling your clit before pulling away just enough to make you whimper.

“My needy little girl,” he teased, his lips brushing against your swollen skin before he sucked your clit into his mouth. The sensation sent a lightning bolt of pleasure through you, a muffled cry tearing from your throat.

His grip on your thighs tightened as he devoured you, his tongue relentless, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin to keep you from squirming away. He wanted you desperate, ruined, shaking apart beneath him.

When he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, you nearly sobbed.

His only response was a dark chuckle before he sucked harder, thrusting his fingers in time with the flick of his tongue. The pressure built fast, too much and not enough, your body writhing as pleasure coiled tight in your core.

“That’s enough, I think,” he said as he pulled away.

Tears streamed down your face, frustration building inside you, and if it wasn’t for the cauldron-forsaken gag you would curse him out.

Cassian tutted as he wiped away your tears with his knuckles. “Oh, poor girl. He’s being so mean isn’t he?”

You nodded, nuzzling into his neck for comfort. This was torture. Your thighs shook and you choked around the gag. Blessedly, Cassian decided to have some mercy on you and unbuckled it. You took deep, greedy gulps of air, tilting your head back on Cass’ shoulder as he ran his hands up and down your arms in an effort to soothe you.

Azriel sat next to you and stroked your jaw with his thumb. “Do you need to use your safe word?”

You shook your head, “I’m fine. Promise.”

He nodded and kissed your temple. “Go ahead and sit against the headboard, Cass.”

Cassian kissed your cheek before doing as Azriel bid. You watched his abs ripple as he got comfortable, fluffing up the pillows behind him.

Cassian met your gaze with a lazy smirk as Azriel approached behind you. The heat in his eyes sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, but it was nothing compared to the dominance in Azriel’s voice as he murmured into your ear.

“Ride him.”

Your breath hitched, your body already buzzing from the weight of his command.

“You can do that for me, can’t you?” he asked, his voice was a low rasp. One of his hands slid between your thighs, teasing, coaxing. “Be a good girl and show me how desperate you are.”

You exhaled shakily and crawled toward Cassian.

Cassian hummed in approval, his hands settling on your thighs. His pupils were blown wide with lust. “Such a good girl.”

With trembling hands, you reached for Cassian’s broad shoulders, lifting yourself just enough to sink down onto him. The stretch was delicious, Cassian groaning as you took him inch by inch. Azriel’s hands found your hips, guiding you, controlling even as you rode the other male.

“Fuck,” Cassian growled, his grip tightening on your thighs. “Look at you. So fucking perfect.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Azriel’s hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back so his lips brushed against your ear. “Don’t stop until I tell you.” His voice was pure sin, sending shivers down your spine. “Make him fall apart for me.”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered hoarsely.

Your nails dug into Cassian’s shoulders as you moved, moaning every time you felt his head reach your entrance. It was bliss, everything you’ve been wanting. Azriel started biting your neck and sucking on your jawline. You’d surely have marks later but that made it all the more enjoyable.

You and Cassian’s moans echoed in the room, along with the sound of your skin slapping together and the wetness dripping off of you onto his pelvis. Azriel kept his hands on your hips but you were able to take some control back as you bounced up and down.

“Feel so good,” you slurred.

You felt Azriel smile against your jaw as he nipped at the skin. “I bet our sweet girl wants to cum. What do you think, Cass?”

“I’m about to myself, it would be cruel not to let her join,” Cassian chuckled.

Azriel took the lobe of your ear between his teeth and pulled down causing you to gasp at the sensation. “Does that sound good, angel? Do you want Daddy to let you cum?”

“Please, please, please,” you chanted. It was a miracle you hadn’t already, but it only would have drawn out your punishment for longer. You had certainly learned your lesson this time and want nothing more than for Azriel to let you finish. A sheen of sweat coated your skin and your heart pounded in your chest. Your body is exhausted, muscles sore from being so tense. Pleasure coiled deep within you, winding tighter with every touch—a burning tension building to the breaking point, ready to snap and send you spiraling into bliss.

“Beg,” Azriel demanded.

You swallowed thickly, trying to soothe your scratchy throat. “Please, Daddy, please let me cum.”

“Will you be good for Cass the next time I leave?” he asked as one of his hands found your clit, circling slowly.

“Yes, yes, I will I promise.”

Azriel hummed and tilted his head as if considering. He glanced at Cassian who had his eyes clenched and head tilted toward the ceiling, like he was trying his best to wait for you.

Finally, he clicked his tongue and said, “You can cum.”

You cried out as Cassian sped up the pace, jerking his hips up to meet yours at a punishing pace before you toppled over the edge together, your pussy pulsating and squeezing his cock. You cried out as blinding pleasure coursed through you, your vision blacking out momentarily. Cassian moaned as he continued to thrust inside you, chasing every last shockwave of the same ecstasy you felt.

You collapsed on top of Cassian’s chest, his cock still inside you. You were panting, desperate for more precious air. His warm, calloused fingers stroking gently down your arms, grounding you. His expression, usually filled with teasing grins or cocky smirks, was nothing but concern now. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

You nodded, but the exhaustion tugging at your limbs made you feel boneless, too drained to do anything but lean into him. Your breath was still uneven, your heart hammering in your chest.

Then Azriel was there beside him, brushing his knuckles over your cheek, hazel eyes scanning your face as if he could read every thought running through your mind. “You did so good,” he murmured.

Cassian started running his fingers through your damp hair and pressed a kiss to your temple.

Azriel’s touch was featherlight as he traced over your wrist—the spot where his shadows had held you. There was no guilt in his gaze, just a quiet, unwavering attentiveness. “Tell us what you need,” he said softly. “Water? Something to eat? A bath?”

It took a moment to find your voice. “Water,” you croaked.

He was up in an instant, disappearing into the en suite and returning moments later with a glass. He sat beside you again, lifting the glass to your lips and tilting it just enough for you to take slow sips. “That’s it,” he murmured, watching you closely. “Take your time.”

You gulped down the water, the chill a balm to the burning in your throat. You sighed as you finished the glass and laid your head back down on Cassian.

Azriel set the glass aside, then helped Cassian remove himself from inside you, shifting you slightly so your legs were slung over his. Azriel reached for a damp cloth, running it over your skin with tender precision. He wiped away the lingering sweat and fluids, caressing every inch of you with care.

Once he was finished, Azriel tossed the cloth onto the bedside table before pulling the blankets up over you, tucking you in before slipping beneath them himself. Cassian shifted, maneuvering you to be pressed between them as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest. Azriel settled on your other side, his wings partially draped around you, cocooning you in warmth.

Cassian’s fingers trailed up and down your spine in slow, soothing strokes leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Do you want to talk about it now or wait?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You hesitated, then buried your face further into his chest.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed. “You’re not in trouble anymore, and you won’t be in trouble for anything you say right now.”

Azriel nodded. “He’s right. And you know it always helps to talk through it. We won’t be upset with you,” he promised.

You rolled over, eyes staring up at the ceiling as your hand found Azriel’s and he intertwined your fingers. You glanced at him then, voice cracking as you spoke. “I missed you.”

“Oh, love, I missed you too,” he frowned, then brought your hand to his lips to kiss it. “But that doesn’t mean you can just act like a brat for Cass.”

“I know, but I just..” you looked to Cassian, guilt and sadness shining in your eyes. “You were so busy, and I know it’s not your fault that you have so much to do but I was sad and lonely, and it felt like you didn’t have any time for me. At least when I acted out you paid attention to me.”

Cassian’s face fell and he cupped your jaw as he kissed you slowly. “I am so sorry, sweet girl,” he whispered. He pressed his forehead to yours. “Next time Az has to go out of town I will make sure I have more time for you. I will tell Rhys to suck if I have to.” You both huffed a laugh. “You are the most important thing to me, and it breaks my heart that you felt that way. It will never happen again,” he vowed.

Azriel tucked rogue strands of hair behind your ear. “Feel better, angel?”

You sniffled as you nodded, tears pricking your eyes.

“Aw, don’t cry, love. What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I just love you both so much and I—I’m sorry for how I behaved. I just hate it when either of you leave and I might have to lock you in here to keep you to myself,” you blubbered. Both males chuckled, squeezing you tighter between them.

“We’re here now,” Cassian assured.

“And we’re not going anywhere any time soon, Rhys’ demands be damned. I think we’re due for a mate-cation,” Azriel joked.

You let out a shaky giggle, the sound thick with tears and uneven breaths. But the weight of them, their bodies, and their reassurances grounded you more than anything else.

Azriel pressed his lips to your hair, his thumb moving in a slow, steady pattern on your hip. “You’re okay, my love,” he murmured. “Just relax.”

Cassian’s grip tightened slightly. “We’ve got you.”

You let out a slow breath, feeling the tension finally start to drain from your body. The steady rhythm of their breathing surrounded you, their warmth and scents seeping into your skin.

And as you drifted toward sleep, nestled between them, you knew that you were loved. That despite your bratty-ness, they wouldn’t leave you. And that was the most comforting thought of all.

taglist (comment to join!): @tele86 @viktoriaashleyyx @pham-tastical @giovax @thelov3lybookworm @seeyalaterinnovator

#acotar #acotar fic #azriel x reader #azriel smut #cassian x reader #cassian smut #cazriel #cazriel x reader #sarah j maas #smut #aftercare #minors dni #poly!acotar

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yanderelovebites · 6 months ago

Note

Isekai Reader having taken etiquette lessons, maybe even continuing to take etiquette lessons, and ends up purposely styling themselves like Martha Wayne. Maybe Reader looks like Martha, and the only part they kept in the isekai is their race? So they look mostly like a dead ringer for their 'grandmother' and play into that for the media.

After all, Reader knows the media expects the Wayne children to look and act like 'Wayne's'. Along those lines, Reader studying to become a doctor, maybe a surgeon, and the media praises her for following in her grandparents' footsteps.

It also adds to Damian viewing Reader as the perfect Wayne child.

But I'm also imagining when Batman comes to save Reader, and he tells them he called an ambulance, Reader 'slips' and says, "Thank you Father, I will take it from here. You'll be leaving, yes? So you can receive the call from the police that I was recovered and am in the hospital? There will be no need for you to pick me up afterwards. Just send Alfred when the doctors say I can come home."

Bruce, and every one of the siblings is shocked. "You know of our identities?"

"Of course. Did you really expect me to never know? You're not subtle. I thought you were being obvious on purpose?"

I actually did have that in mind a little bit. (I started actually writing a fanfic, still a WIP at this point.)

As I’m writing it, she’s studying specifically to be a general surgeon. This decision, however, has nothing to do with Thomas Wayne but her previous life before her untimely death. Reader before the isekai event was a resident for a large hospital and had planned to become a general surgeon herself. There is a few more layers to this as well besides the eye. For example, after the family knows she is aware, she’s probably the only child of Bruce’s who can’t disappoint him. She literally is going into a career to save lives which we all know Jason and Damian struggle with that concept 😅

I have a rather different idea of revealing how she knows. Rather than her slipping up here, she’s going to essentially confess about it to Damian. He’ll deny it at first, then she’ll respond “Damian, you’re the only person who calls me nickname. You’re expecting me to believe an entirely different person would by chance call me nickname?” He will admit defeat there only for her to ask him to keep it a secret. He does because he is a rather possessive younger brother.

I will agree 100% though she would purposely dress and style herself to mirror Martha.

#batfam neglect #batfam x batsis #batman #batsis!reader #yandere batfam #martha wayne #thomas wayne #batsis #dc #isekai ask

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luvblogsposts777 · 2 months ago

Text

"𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅" - 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒔

summary: your boyfriend thinks pilates "is not that hard" so you convince him otherwise

warning: none

author's note: omg i've seen plenty of those videos on tik tok, english is not my first language, divider from @nicodefresas

"what did you just say?" my tone was a mix between shocked and angry

"i mean, i saw you doing it today and i think i could easly do it" he says with confidence

"fine, tomorrow you'll do my workout with me"

"alright" he replied with a smille tugging at his lips

a deal is a deal.

the day after i prepared everything for our pilates session

"ok babe we have your mat here, then your weight bands..."

"wait, what do you mean weight bands?"

"yeah babe you put little weight on your wrists or your ankles to provide tension" i reply with a cute smile. He was starting to realize that maybe he underestimated it.

"ok lest's starts then" i say in a happy tone

I purposely chose a 40 minute full body workout, maybe i was a little mean or maybe he needed to be thought a lesson.

the workout started and for the first minutes he only said phrases like "oh that's so simple".

at 20 minutes he started to sigh and stop every exercise 3-4 seconds before the timer stopped

by 30 minutes he started to pant and skip exercises

"babe come on you put the difficult one on purpose" he said with puppy dog eyes and a whining tone

"lando come on" i chuckled "this is something you would do, not me" a little lie never hurt no one right?

by the end of the workout i was fine, just a little sweaty but Lando... oh god... he had a shocked face, not a single thought behind those eyes, laying on the mat and sweaty asf.

"what do you think babe? You liked it?" i asked with a cute smile

"fuck you" he literally exhaled with fatigue

"you still think pilates is easy?"

his pride was fighting to not say it, but he had to

"no" he sighes "i was wrong"

hearing him say those words was the best thing i've ever heard

"thank you babe" i leaned to give him a kiss "by the way, i put on purpose a difficult one just for you" i whispered with i smirk

"FUCK YOU I KNEW IT"

#lando norris #lando norris × reader #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris × you #lando norris × y/n #lando norris × yn #lando norris blurb #lando norris oneshot #lando norris one shot #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 driver × reader #formula one

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misotsukiiyeooo · 7 months ago

Text

No Kisses?

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol xF! Reader

A/N: Honestly, I just need Seuncheol...

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 4.3k

Synopsis: Seungcheol attempts to deny your kisses, but not for too long.

You were on your period, and feeling emotional, which led to some unnecessary bickering with Seungcheol. He didn't appreciate the attitude you were giving him, and as the days passed, you brushed the entire incident aside as if it had never occurred.

Your constant mood swings during that week pushed Seungcheol to his limit, prompting him to declare a "kissing strike." You simply assumed he was being dramatic. However, now that your period has ended, you’re looking for Seungcheol to cuddle with you.

You find him sitting on the couch in the living room. Before you can step closer, he lifts a finger, stopping you in your tracks. "Don't come here, Y/n. I told you, no kisses and cuddles for a whole week!" His tone is firm, yet there’s a hint of playful frustration lurking beneath.

You take a step closer to him, testing the waters to see if he’s genuinely serious about this rule. "Oh, come on… a week is too long!" you pout at him.

Seungcheol crosses his arms tightly over his chest and turns his head away from you, still upset. "A week is not enough for the way you acted last week."

Realizing that he is indeed serious, you plop down next to him on the couch. He scoots away from you just a bit, arms still crossed. "Stop sitting next to me; I'm still upset."

"My baby, Cheollie, I'm sorry, okay?" you say, softening your tone and patiently waiting for a reaction. He tries to hide his smile after hearing his nickname.

"I get that you're sorry," he replies, still trying to maintain his serious demeanor, "but I still have to teach you a lesson."

Feeling bold, you respond, "You can’t stay mad at me for too long… you love me too much for that." You give him a playful, teasing smile, knowing deep down that he can’t resist for long.

He rolls his eyes dramatically but finally turns to look at you. "That's not the point. I'm still going to be mad at you for a week," he insists, though you can see the corners of his mouth twitching up.

You gently cup his cheeks in your hands, maintaining eye contact as you say, "I am sorry, you know." Your sincerity hangs in the air between you.

He lets out a heavy sigh, still avoiding your gaze. "I know, but I still need some time to forgive you," he admits, his tone softening just a fraction.

With a playful grin, you propose, "Fine, how about we make it a day? Not a whole week, hmm?" You keep your hands on his face. He pretends to think for a moment before sighing in defeat once more.

"A day… but only because you look so cute right now," he concedes, fighting to keep the smile off his face.

Seizing the moment, you lean in and peck his lips, completely forgetting the "rules" he just laid out. "A day it is!" you declare triumphantly.

But as soon as you back away, he sulks cutely, shaking his head. "I said no kisses for a day…"

You pause, realization dawning on you. "Oh right, oops," you reply, grinning widely.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" Seungcheol says, arching an eyebrow at you, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Doing what?" You grin, pretending to be oblivious to your actions.

He scoffs, "Acting all cute so I won't stay mad at you…"

Your eyes widen in mock shock. "Me, acting cute?" The corners of your lips twitch as you bite back a smile. He rolls his eyes dramatically before reaching for your waist and effortlessly pulling you onto his lap. "Yes, you; and you know it," he replies.

You tease him, "I thought you said no cuddles?"

In response, Seungcheol wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. He burrows his face into the crook of your neck. "I changed my mind."

"That fast?" You giggle, earning a nod against your neck. His grip on you tightens. "I can't resist you when you're being cute like this," he murmurs.

You wrap your arms around his neck. "I knew you couldn't," you reply, teasing evident in your voice.

He pouts, pulling away slightly to face you. "Yeah, yeah. But next time you’re on your…" He trails off. "You know, can you try your absolute best not to start arguments with me?"

You smile at his cuteness. "Yes, of course. I’ll try my absolute best!" You echo his words with a small laugh.

"Good…" he says, and with that, he kisses your lips before leaning back in, nuzzling his face into your neck once more, enveloping you in warmth and comfort as he holds you close.

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scary-grace · 1 month ago

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SWIM AT YOUR OWN RISK - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

You're a hero who specializes in water rescue, and you've been captured by the League of Villains. It only gets worse when you find out why.

my first ever MerMay thing! Canon-ish, hero!reader, reader has a transformation quirk, mild mortal peril, etc. Part 1 of...more. Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

When you became a rescue hero, you knew what you were getting into. A rescue hero’s life isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t come with sponsorships and it doesn’t really come with product endorsements, and you only really matter when something’s already gone wrong. You don’t fight villains – you just save people, usually from themselves. You’re the last person any villain would be interested in kidnapping. There’s no reason for Japan’s most dangerous villains to take any notice of you.

At least that’s what you thought. But the last thing you remember from this morning is leaving your house and heading for work – and the next thing you know, you’re standing out on a sea arch with six members of the League of Villains staring at you.

They asked you a question, but you’ve already forgotten it. The shock of it all – kidnapped, villains – is making it hard to think. “Can you run that by me again?”

“What about it aren’t you getting?” Dabi sneers. “We need you to teach Shigaraki to swim.”

Maybe you do remember something about that. It doesn’t make any more sense the second time around. “Why?”

“Because,” Toga Himiko says, from behind a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses, “we’re having our beach episode. And we aren’t going to have fun if we’re worried about Tomura-kun.”

“Right!” Twice announces. He’s still wearing his mask, but the rest of him is decked out in swim trunks, flip-flops, and a floppy hat. “I can’t frolic in the waves with my best pals if I’m worried one of them is gonna wander off and drown, and Spinner said we can’t put Shigaraki on one of those retractable kid leashes –”

“For the record, none of this was my idea.” Spinner looks embarrassed, and not at all like the villain you’ve seen on TV – without his Stain mask, he just looks like a normal guy with a heteromorphic quirk. “I just said we shouldn’t do a beach day if not everybody can enjoy it.”

“And I said you all can do whatever the fuck you want.” Shigaraki is standing off to one side, his face hidden beneath a hand and the hood of his black coat. It’s barely nine and the temperature’s already cracked thirty degrees. He must be boiling alive. “I don’t give a shit.”

“Of course you do,” Dabi says. His sneer isn’t hero-specific, it looks like – Shigaraki gets the exact same one as you did. “None of us want to put up with your bitching and moping –”

“Or your drowning –” Twice chimes in.

“So we found you a swim instructor,” the fifth member of the group concludes. He’s tall, with brown hair and eyes, and you don’t have a clue who he is. “She can help you.”

Shigaraki glances your way briefly, then returns to staring out at the sea. “I don’t need fucking help. Go roll in the sand and leave me alone.”

Problem solved, not that it’s going to help you any. If Shigaraki doesn’t want swim lessons, then your purpose here is at an end, and they’re probably going to kill you. At the same time, though, you’re aware of your proximity to the edge of the cliff. If you can get over that edge and hit the water, you’re golden. None of them have the kind of quirks that would let them chase you down, and you can swim to the nearest guarded beach and sound the alarm. The fact that you didn’t show up for work this morning probably sounded the alarm already. This is doable. Maybe.

The League of Villains isn’t paying quite as much attention to you as they were a second ago. They’re focused on Shigaraki. “She’s an expert. She does this all the time,” Spinner is saying. “I looked her up. People pay big money for her to teach their kids to swim.”

The brown-haired man looks interested. “How much money are we talking about?”

Spinner names a figure that’s triple what you charge for private lessons, on the rare occasions when you offer them. He and Dabi both worship Stain. They’ll think you’re disgusting, and instead of escaping while their backs are partially turned, you open your mouth to defend yourself. “I don’t really do private lessons,” you say, and they look at you. “My swim classes are open to anybody. And the rest of the time I lifeguard. So, uh – if you think I make a lot of money doing this, I don’t. That’s not why I became a hero.”

Twice hoots with laughter. “Some hero. We grabbed you without breaking a sweat.”

“I’m a rescue hero,” you say, aware that it’s pointless. Instead of you using their distraction to escape, Shigaraki’s using your distraction to sidle away from the others. “My job isn’t to fight villains. It’s to help people.”

Dabi gives you an evaluative look. “A rescue hero,” he says. “I heard your type is always on duty. If you see somebody in trouble, and your quirk and training equip you better than the average person to help, you have to. Right?”

“That’s weird,” Toga says. She lowers her sunglasses for a better look at you. “Is it true? If you see someone who needs help, you have to save them?”

“Yeah.” The rules are different for rescue heroes than regular heroes. “If I can help someone in distress, I have a responsibility to do it.”

“Got it,” Dabi says. That thoughtful look on his face is fading fast into malice, and a jolt of terror shoots down your spine. “Hey, Shigaraki –”

Shigaraki takes a few steps away from Dabi without turning around, and before you can so much as call out a warning, Dabi plants his hand on Shigaraki’s back and shoves him over the edge of the cliff. “There’s someone in distress,” he says, as Shigaraki vanishes with a curse that abruptly breaks off in a scream. “Help him.”

You’re not the only one who’s horrified to see Shigaraki go over the edge, but you are the only one who can do something about it. While Twice and Toga berate Dabi, and Spinner runs to the edge of the cliff and comes damn close to giving you two people to rescue instead of one, you pause for the most crucial step in a successful rescue: Taking a second to evaluate the scene. You peer down at the water and realize instantly that Dabi couldn’t have picked a worse place to push Shigaraki off. You could jump from the same spot, but why make it harder on yourself? You move to the left instead.

The brown-haired man you don’t recognize spots you. “What are you doing? He fell in over here –”

You tune him out – and the others, too, when they remember why Dabi pushed Shigaraki off a cliff in the first place. You breathe deep, more for show than anything else, then break into a run. Ten steps puts you at the edge, and you launch yourself over, bracing for the long drop into the water. That part never gets easier.

But your jump has carried you clear of the rocks and heavy surf at the base of the cliff, and when you hit the water, there’s nothing but ocean beneath you. You jumped feet-first, and your water shoes – the only support item you carry – immediately begin to stretch, molding to the shape of your feet as your quirk fuses and elongates them into fins. Webbing spreads between your fingers, and when you open your eyes, they’re impervious to the sting of seawater. Full immersion in seawater is enough to activate your quirk in its entirety, but years of training allow you to hold the transformation where it is. You have someone to rescue.

You swim for the spot Shigaraki went in. He won’t have gone far, not with how ceaselessly the waves batter against that section of the cliff, and it doesn’t take you long to find him. He’s underwater, still moving but sluggish under the weight of his clothes, his hair drifting around his face. There’s blood in the water around him. You can taste it, and as you swim closer, you see that it’s emanating from somewhere around his head and shoulders. He hit something when he fell, and head and neck injuries are a disaster no matter who gets them or how they occur. Is he even conscious? Whether he is or not, you need to get him out of the water.

You let the current carry you close, and although you hate yourself for it, you hesitate a second before reaching for him. You know how his quirk works. All five fingers touch you, and you’re dead. Trying to help Shigaraki could be the last thing you ever do.

But ocean rescue is dangerous, even for someone with your quirk. Every rescue could be the last thing you ever do, and if you do nothing, Shigaraki will drown right before your eyes. You can’t let that happen. You dive down to him, slip your hands under his arms from behind, and haul him upward. He comes to life in your grip, thrashing while you kick for the surface. You’d be more frightened of the fact that he’s trying to turn and grab you if every other person you’ve rescued hasn’t done exactly the same thing.

The two of you break the surface, you doing your best to keep Shigaraki’s mouth above the waves so he won’t swallow any more water than he already has while he tries to breathe. Your lungs haven’t even started to burn yet. You give him a few seconds to gasp for air, then order him to keep his mouth shut and close his eyes. No time to check if he’s done it or not. The only way you’re getting through the surge to calmer water is if you go under it. The next wave crests and you dive beneath it, pulling Shigaraki after you.

Now he’s trying hard to grab you, to use you to push himself to the surface. You adjust your grip and switch to a dolphin kick, fighting your quirk and its attempts to help you. At the same time, you keep count in your head. Shigaraki will need to breathe soon. You need to be through the waves by then.

As soon as the turbulence begins to soften, you swim for the surface again. Once again, you make sure Shigaraki clears the surface first. He’s coughing and gasping for air, but his chin’s above water, which means you’re in good shape for now. “Take some deep breaths. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“Fuck you.” Shigaraki coughs and spits out seawater. “This is your fault. I’m not safe. You dragged me out to the middle of the ocean instead of – that had better not be a fucking shark –”

“It’s a dolphin,” you say. The dolphin swims a little closer, decides you and Shigaraki aren’t interesting enough for further investigation, and turns swiftly away. “We’re headed to the beach now. I just needed to get us clear of the surge.”

You swim back for the beach, propelling yourself mainly with your legs. You need both arms to secure Shigaraki. He’s not fighting, which is a relief – and he’s not talking, which makes you nervous. He hit his head. You need him to talk so you can assess him. “Hey, Shigaraki? How are you holding up?”

He mumbles something. “I’m going to need you to repeat that,” you say. “How are you doing?”

“Do you put everybody you rescue in a headlock?”

“It’s not a headlock,” you say. “This is how I swim with anyone I rescue. It’s what’s safest.”

“Sure. And it’s not –” Shigaraki coughs as a wave splashes into his open mouth. “It’s definitely not because you’re scared of my quirk, right?”

You don’t see a point to answering that. Shigaraki keeps talking anyway, a sharp, irritated note in his voice. “How stupid do you think I am? I still can’t swim. If I Decay you out here, I’ll drown.”

So you’ll be in more danger on the beach than in the water. Good to know. You swim the rest of the way to shore, dragging yourself and Shigaraki onto the sand. Once you’re clear of the water, you start your actual assessment. “I saw blood in the water. Did you hit your head?”

Shigaraki nods, grimacing. “When?” you ask. He shrugs. “I need to know. Did you hit it when you fell, or once you were already in the water.”

“I came up for air. The fucking waves pushed me into the – what are you doing?” Shigaraki flinches as you move some strands of wet hair out of his face. “Don’t touch me.”

“I need to see the cut.” You keep looking, with a little more urgency this time. “Did you lose consciousness?”

“No,” Shigaraki says. You find the cut – a jagged gouge from his temple to his ear, just below his hairline – and make a skeptical sound before you can stop yourself. “Stop touching it.”

“Sorry. I know it hurts.”

“I didn’t say it hurt. I’m not some primary-school brat who cries about everything.” Shigaraki responds with a lot more venom than you’d expect given what you actually said to him. “It’s not like you can do anything, so don’t bother.”

The League grabbed you on your way to work, which meant you had all your supplies with you. Your first-aid kit is still hooked onto your belt. “I have what I need,” you say. “Are you going to let me help, or do you want to keep bleeding all over the sand?”

“You can’t help me if I don’t let you.”

“That’s right,” you say patiently. Sometimes people you’ve rescued get hostile with you – out of fear, or embarrassment. Even though this is probably just Shigaraki’s personality, you know how to deal with it. “Are you going to let me?”

Shigaraki holds your gaze for a second, averting his eyes faster than you’d expect. “Do your job. Whatever that means to a so-called hero.”

He’s mean. Of course he’s mean. He’s a villain – but honestly, you’ve rescued civilians who were worse. You pry open the first-aid kit and get to work. You’ll bandage him up, make sure he’s not decompensating, and escape. No one’s faster than you in the water, and given that Shigaraki can’t swim, he’s not going to chase you if you go back in. You’ll warn someone, the League will be captured, and you can forget all about this. It’s fine. Everything is going to be –

“Hey, I found them!” Toga is hollering down from the top of the headland to your right. “The hero brought Tomura-kun to this beach instead of the other one. Tomura, are you okay?”

“It looks bad!” Twice announces. Then, to you: “Give him mouth-to-mouth. With tongue!”

“He’s conscious, breathing, and talking. He doesn’t need mouth to mouth,” you say. You hear this joke a lot, usually from guys whose friend you just saved, and it irks you. “And you don’t do mouth-to-mouth with tongue.”

“Hey! You can’t give Shigaraki substandard mouth-to-mouth just because he’s a villain!” Spinner’s arrived now, too. “What kind of hero are you?”

“The kind who’s trying to do my job,” you say. They’re distracting you, and you need to focus on Shigaraki, not in the least because he could kill you instantly if you make a mistake. You need to keep assessing. “Okay, you didn’t pass out. Did you swallow water at all? Or breathe any in?”

“I didn’t breathe it.” Shigaraki coughs, then grimaces, a flash of panic crossing his face. “Shit. I’m gonna hurl –”

He rolls to one side and vomits seawater into the sand, and you hold his hair back, mainly so you can keep it out of the head wound you’ve just cleaned. “See, he’s fine,” Dabi says from the headland. “Told you.”

“Are you sure he’s fine?” Spinner sounds like he’s thinking about pushing Dabi off the cliff. “Hey. Hero. Is he going to be fine?”

“I’m still assessing,” you caution. Shigaraki coughs a few times, then flops back into the sand. “So far, I’m not too worried, but –”

“Great! We’re going to be over there!” Toga points to the beach on the other side of the headland. “That’s where Mister Compress put all the fun stuff. See you soon, Tomura-kun!”

Most of the League vanishes without another word, but Spinner hangs on a little longer, glaring down at you. “Spinner,” Shigaraki says, his voice raspy, and Spinner looks towards him. “It’s fine. See you – over there.”

Spinner nods and leaves, which is a relief for you. Usually you aren’t that intimidated by guys in purple board shorts, but you usually haven’t been kidnapped by a gang of villains who are hovering over you, shouting bad advice. And you’ve got a different problem now – Shigaraki, who’d be intimidating no matter what he’s wearing. Maybe. He’s soaking wet, his clothes plastered to him, and he’s a lot skinnier than you thought he’d be. He’s looking at you expectantly. “Are you going to fix my head?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” You pick through your kit for an appropriately-sized waterproof bandage. “Hold still.”

To your surprise, Shigaraki does it, not even flinching when you move a few more strands of his wet hair away from his face. “Why’d you bring me here instead of the other beach?”

“It was a longer swim. I wanted to get you back on land as fast as possible.” You press the bandage down carefully, running your finger over the edge to make sure it seals properly. “Okay. All done.”

Shigaraki starts trying to sit up, and on instinct, you reach out to help, only realizing your mistake when Shigaraki flinches away. He barks a question at you before you can apologize. “How do I get to the other beach? Climb that thing?”

“No,” you say. “Those headlands aren’t stable, and, uh – you probably need both hands to climb. Both hands and all your – what?”

Shigaraki ignores you. He’s fumbling in the sand, patting down the pockets of his coat, and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, panic descends over his features. “The hands,” he says, and your stomach lurches. “I lost them.”

“Um –” You don’t know what to say, and Shigaraki’s hands rise to claw at the sides of his neck. “If they’re a support item – I know it sucks to lose those, but you can probably get –”

“They’re my family’s hands. I can’t just get more!” Shigaraki’s starting to hyperventilate. “I need them –”

He shoves you to one side, gets unsteadily to his feet, and stumbles back towards the surf. You chase after him, thankful that your feet have mostly gone back to normal. “Hey. Where are you going?”

“I have to get them.” Shigaraki shakes you off when you catch his arm, and you grab him again. “Fuck you. Let me go!”

“You still can’t swim. If I let you go out there, you’ll drown.” You grit your teeth. You really, really don’t want to do this, but – “I can go look for them.”

Shigaraki blinks. “Huh?”

“I’ll swim you over to the other beach, and then I’ll look for them,” you repeat. “People ask me to find stuff they dropped all the time.”

You don’t mention that you usually say no, because it’s a waste of time when you’re supposed to be looking out for everyone on the beach. But it’s just Shigaraki here, and his breathing is starting to even out. “How are you supposed to find them? It’s the ocean.”

“They’re a little heavy, right? They’ll sink, and since I know how the currents work, I can figure out where they probably touched down.” You risk letting go of Shigaraki’s arm, breathing a sigh of relief when he doesn’t immediately bolt. “Come on. I’ll swim you over.”

“Are you going to put me in a headlock again?”

“Not if you promise not to grab me,” you say. He rolls his eyes. “I’m not kidding.”

“And I’m not stupid. If I kill you out there, I’ll drown.” Shigaraki lets one hand fall from his neck, then the other. “Swim me over. Now.”

You take a second to pack up your first-aid kit, then lead Shigaraki out into the water. You give the headland a wide berth, even though it means swimming more than a hundred yards out from the shore, but unlike last time, Shigaraki doesn’t question you. In fact, he doesn’t speak at all, except once. “Is that a –”

“Still a dolphin,” you say. The fin protruding from the water is rounded, and the snout that bumps against your hip is smooth and blunt. “Nothing to worry about.”

The entry to the other beach is smooth and easy. You can see why the League chose this one to hang out on – white sands, gentle waves, picturesque to the max. You hope they didn’t kill anyone to claim this beach for themselves. It looks familiar to you, but you can’t quite remember why, and you realize all at once that you don’t know where you are. Where is this place? How far away did they take you?

It doesn’t matter. You can swim to wherever you need to go, as soon as you dump Shigaraki off on the beach. And you don’t even have to take him all the way in – when they see him, Spinner and Twice come out to help. Shigaraki shrugs them off. “I’m fine.”

“Can you swim yet?” Twice asks. Shigaraki scoffs, and Twice turns on you. “You were supposed to teach him to swim!”

“I will,” you lie. “After I find the hands.”

“Ew,” Toga remarks from the beach, where she’s building a sandcastle. “You don’t need those, Tomura-kun. You feel better without them.”

Shigaraki ignores her and looks back to you. “You’ll find them.”

“Yeah.” You dive back into the water and swim for the other side of the headland. Maybe while you’re over there, you can come up with a plan.

There’s no way to get out of gathering up the hands. If you don’t, Shigaraki will go in to get them himself and drown, and you can’t call yourself a rescue hero if you’re willing to let someone die. You’ll find the hands, removing any incentive Shigaraki has to go back into the water, and then you’ll clear out. You can swim as far as you need to in order to find a populated beach, and once you do, you’ll be able to direct them back here to arrest the League. You track the current around the headland, noting that it forms a small vortex in a recessed area in the rocks. That’s where you’ll find Shigaraki’s hands. He said they were his family’s. What does that mean?

You figure out what it means, the second you find the first one. You pick it up out of the jagged rocks underwater and recoil, dropping it instantly. It’s not a model hand, like you thought when you saw him on TV. It’s a real, embalmed human hand, smaller than yours. It looks like it belonged to a little kid, and a surge of guilt travels through you, mixed in with frustration. You’re not the crazy one. Shigaraki’s the crazy one, for wearing his family’s embalmed hands all over himself all the time. It’s not weird at all for you to not want to touch a little kid’s embalmed hand.

But there’s something sad amidst the awfulness of it all, and whoever’s hand this was, it deserves better from you than just being pitched into the water because you got the ick. You retrieve it again, grimacing. Diving for embalmed hands is one thing, but the longer you stay underwater, the harder it becomes to resist your quirk’s transformation. The sooner you finish this, the better.

It takes you two trips to collect all the hands. Shigaraki wades out into the water to take them from you, but rather than putting them back on, he carries them past the high-tide line and dumps them in the sand. “You found all of them,” he says to you, and you nod. “I didn’t think you could do it.”

That’s neither a thank-you or a compliment, but you expect exactly none of that from a villain. And now’s your moment – Shigaraki’s up on the sand, the others are distracted, and nobody will be able to catch you once you cross the drop-off. “Stay out of the water,” you say, and as Shigaraki’s opening his mouth to respond, you turn and dive back in, swimming hard for the open sea.

This time, you let the transformation kick in, and it’s a relief. Each kick propels you through the water at speed, and you watch the seafloor fall away beneath you. You’ll swim a circuit of the island, figure out where you are, and take off. With luck, you’ll reach land way before the League decides to call cut on their beach episode.

In the water, with your transformation mostly complete, you can see everything, and although sound is muffled underwater, your dorsal and flank fins can pick up vibrations, giving you a heads-up for any sound or movement. But you don’t need your fins to pick up the flailing and thrashing that’s going on behind you. Someone’s in distress, and you have a bad feeling about who. You’re right. When you glance reluctantly over your shoulder, you find Shigaraki, just past the drop-off and sinking fast.

It’s not a question of what you’ll do next, no matter how frustrated you are. You breach the surface, suck down a new lungful of air, and swim back to shore.

The salt water must be stinging Shigaraki’s eyes, but he’s got them open, and when he sees you, they widen even further in shock. You know what he’s looking at, know that the natural response is to flinch back – but he doesn’t. Instead he reaches up for you. there’s nothing you can do but dodge his hands, wrap your arms around him, and pull him back to the surface for the third time today.

He’s gasping, coughing, but you don’t have the patience to wait for him to catch his breath. “Are you crazy? What was that about?” The answer occurs to you, and your frustration explodes. “Did you seriously try to drown yourself so I’d have to come back?”

“It worked,” Shigaraki says. You count to ten and remind yourself that you’re a rescue hero, just so you won’t drop him back in the water and let him sink. “You’re a rescue hero. You have to save people who need help. And I need help, so –”

“You’re going to keep drowning yourself so I can’t leave.”

“Or,” Shigaraki says, “you can teach me to swim.”

“I thought you didn’t want a swim lesson,” you say. “What changed your mind?”

“Seems like something I should know,” Shigaraki says. He shrugs. “And I’d be a dumbass to turn down swim lessons from a mermaid.”

You don’t like being called a mermaid, but at the same time, you know you’re not beating the allegations. When your quirk is fully activated, it transforms your legs into a long tail, complete with multiple sets of fins. It sprouts webbing between your fingers, lengthens your ears, changes the structure of your eyes. If you stayed under long enough, you’d probably sprout gills. You don’t look like a Disney mermaid, but mermaid is still what people see when they look at you when your quirk is on full blast. You’d never have let it get this far if you thought you might have to come back.

Shigaraki’s legs brush against one of your pectoral fins, and you clamp down on a shiver. This is why you never transform fully at work. Worse, you’re breaking protocol – you’re never supposed to hold victims face to face, and you’re definitely not supposed to let them wrap their arms around you like Shigaraki is doing right now. He’s getting weirdly familiar for somebody who’s so against being touched. “I’ll teach you to swim, and then what? You’ll let me go?”

“Maybe.” Shigaraki shrugs. “If you help me out, I won’t have a good reason to kill you.”

That might be the best you’ll get. For now. Once he knows how to float, you’re bailing out. “Fine. I’ll teach you.”

Shigaraki looks pleased. Not smug, like you’d expect – just pleased. “Okay. What do I do first?”

“Get back on land,” you say, “and find a swimsuit. I’m not teaching you in your clothes.”

Shigaraki’s suspicious at first, enough to remind you that he’ll just go over the drop-off if you try to escape again, and you react the same way he does when you remind him not to grab you. He heads up the beach, towards the surf shack Mr. Compress – the brown-haired guy you couldn’t place before – must have stolen. Meanwhile, you work on getting yourself out of the surf. Your quirk won’t start to deactivate until you’re clear of the water, and to teach a normal person to swim, it helps to be working with the same equipment as they are.

You use the waves as much as you can, but eventually it’s just you and the wet sand, and your tail is so heavy that you’re reduced to hauling out on the beach like a seal. It looks stupid. You look stupid, and all you can do is hope that the League of Villains is looking the other way. They aren’t. Shigaraki might be off looking for a swimsuit, but the other five are all staring your way.

It doesn’t take long for you to lose patience. “What?”

They ignore you. “I knew we grabbed the right one,” Toga says, gleeful. “We got Tomura-kun a mermaid!”

Dabi is nodding, a smirk on his face. “This is perfect. She’s gonna keep him busy all day long.”

“I’d be busy forever. Look how pretty her tail is –”

You flop back in the sand, staring up at the sky. Not only are you going to have to teach Shigaraki to swim, you’re going to have to do it while being stared at like you’re an animal in a zoo – and if you try to escape, Shigaraki will try to drown himself just to make you come back. This is going to be the worst beach episode ever. At least for you.

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#mermay 2025 #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #x reader #reader insert #a bisquared production #part 1 of ?

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kanyerealdaughter · 5 months ago

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#TEACHERS SECRETS

sexual content , intercourse , nipple piercing , cussing , creampie , fingering , pet names , daddy kink , dirty talk , choking slightly , breeding , teasing , ( teacher izuku midoriya x student fem,reader )

—————————————————————————

izuku is cleaning up after class. he stacks papers up neatly on his teacher's desk. you always thought he was such a gentleman and handsome.. and maybe you’ll take that to your advantage. when he hears someone knock on the classroom door, he looks up.

" who is it?" he asked.

“ mm… teacher midoriya i need your help i just don’t get this work..” you huffed quietly sitting on your teacher's desk with your super short skirt lifted exposing your thighs and revealing your black lace panties.

“ shit, you're going to give someone a heart attack with those short skirts..” he muttered under his breath with his face blushing red.

" what don't you get ?" he asked louder, trying not to look at your thighs. he knew you were one of the smartest kids in class.

" are you having trouble ?" you nodded slightly, letting out a sigh as you puffed out your chest, making your school uniform top puff out even more, making your nipple piercing show a lot more.

" i see.." he said, trying to keep his focus on the lesson plan in front of him. but his gaze kept drifting back to your chest, your pierced nipples prominently displayed. he swallowed hard, his heart racing.

" let me take a look at what you're working on." without hesitation you handed him your papers from his class that most of the answers were right but a couple of them were wrong, which you definitely didn’t do it on purpose.

" mhmm..." he took your papers, consciously aware of how close you were sitting. the skirt riding up even higher. he forced himself to study the papers.

“ these are great... but um some of these questions are wrong..” his voice came out a bit hoarser than intended. he looked at you, sitting there so innocently, his mind racing. he knew you were too smart to get these wrong on purpose.

“ let me show you where you went wrong.” he said, standing up and moving closer to your seat, his leg accidentally brushing against yours under the desk.

" look..." he pointed to the paper, trying to keep his mind in the lesson. but your leg pressing against his, the soft fabric of your uniform, the warm touch was driving him crazy. he felt his cock twitching in his pants, he bit his lip.

" see, the equation is solved like this..."

“ but i just don’t get it..” you pouted, still pretending to be innocent, spreading your legs even more playing along.

izuku breath hitched as he looked at the equation, then down at your legs. the way they were spread apart, revealing that tiny black thong. he felt his heart pounding in his chest, his face flushing with heat.

" i.. i think i can help you understand better."

“ mm really..?” you mumbled, licking your plump lips seductively before rubbing my hand on his arm softly. his arm felt like it was on fire where your hand was touching him. he looked at you, your lips glistening, your eyes filled with something that looked a lot like desire. his resolve crumbling.

" y-yeah... let me... um... demonstrate.." he watched you nod, your school uniform top unbuttoned enough to show off your pierced nipples. he realized your skirt was so short it barely covered your ass. he swallowed hard, his mind going dirty.

" spread your... legs more." he said nervously, trying to play along with you since he got a hint of what you were doing already.

“ e-excuse me…?” you gasped loudly, continuously to play innocently putting your hand over your chest in ‘shock’ but in reality trying to hold back your giggle. izuku face immediately turned bright red when he realized what he'd just said.

" i mean... uh... open your book more... to see the page better." he struggled, knowing full well that was the most ridiculous excuse. his cock was now very hard in his pants, pressing against his zipper.

" forget i said that." he muttered, his hand accidentally brushed against your thigh again, and he felt sparks at the touch.

" christ, you're driving me crazy..." he whispered under his breath, knowing you could probably hear.

" do you want me to explain it again?"

“ pretty please.?.” you said quietly, staring up at him sitting at the edge of his desk. izuku heart melted at the sight of you sitting at the edge of his desk, you're so cute and innocent looking. he reached out to gently push your book closed, his hand landing on your thigh.

" okay." he said, finally understanding what you wanted, his breath hitching in his ear.

" let me... help you understand better..." he said with his voice shakily, you nodded slowly before bending over his desk.

he watched as you bent over, your short skirt riding up to reveal your black lace thong, which were now soaked through. he could see your folds pressed against the edge of the desk, and it took everything in him not to just push you down and fuck you right there.

he leaned over your shoulder, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back against his chest. he pretended to be explaining the math problem, his other hand slowly spreading your thighs wider on the desk, his knuckles rubbing against your soaked thong.

" see."

“ okay..” you mumbled, your body sending a shiver, feeling his knuckles against my soak thong.

" good, now just relax and let me help you understand..." he whispered in your ear as he moved his hand under your school skirt, his fingers brushing against your wet folds. he pushed two fingers inside you, feeling your tight pussy clench around them.

“ like this…”

“… fuck mr midoriya..” you moaned out, biting your bottom lip trying to stop your moans from coming out.

" shh.." he hushed, pushing your uniform top down to reveal your pierced nipples. he pinched one while thrusting two fingers inside you again, making you moan.

" god, you're so wet..." he muttered, adding another finger. " spread your legs more, baby." he gazed down at your spread legs, watching his fingers disappear into your soaked pussy. your moans were driving him wild with lust. he used his free hand to unzip his pants, freeing his aching cock.

" fuck, i need to fuck you… c-can i baby..?" his rasped voice said, you gave out a simple weak nod. he saw you spread your legs wider, silently giving him permission. he guided his tip to your entrance, watching your pussy swallow his head.

" you're so tight." he hissed, slowly pushing inside you.

" do you like this baby? do you like getting pounded by your teacher.?"

“ yesss m-ngh please! daddyyy..!” you whined he heard you call him 'daddy' almost made him cum instantly, seeing your fat ass wiggling against his tip.

" that's my dirty girl, isn't it? want daddy's cock deep in your little pussy.?" izuku grabbed your hips hard and thrust balls deep inside you.

“ o-oh fuck!” you whimpered with your back arched over the desk as you gripped the desk tight, feeling midoriya large veiny cock slam into you, he groaned loudly as your tight pussy clenched around his throbbing cock.

" fuck yes, take it!" he slammed into you harder, each thrust pushing you further up the desk. his cock was hitting your deepest spots, his pelvis slapping against your ass, if you walked past, all you would hear was skin slapping. he wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing gently as he fucked you hard and fast.

" you love daddy's big cock, don't you, you little slut?" he whispered harshly in your ear, his hips snapping against your ass.

" gonna fill this tight pussy with my cum."

“ n-mngh!” you blabbering nodding as swell getting so fuck out by your teacher damn near drooling with his large hand around your neck. he loved the way you nodded eagerly, taking his entire length each time he thrust inside you. he squeezed your neck tighter, cutting off your air slightly.

" look at you taking daddy's big cock like a good girl." he growled, his hips bucking furiously against you.

“ g-gonna cum.!” you continue to hold on the desk your knuckles turning white, your ass recoiling against his buff thighs thrusting into you.

" me too baby, mm s-so fucking tight!" he groaned loudly, grabbing your hips tightly as he slammed into you one final time. his cock throbbed violently inside you as he erupted, pumping stream after stream of hot cum deep into your spasming pussy.

soon as he came inside of you did right after cummin on his cock like a train hit you making your legs tremble your cream leaking down onto his balls. he held you in place, his cock still buried inside you as he rode out his orgasm. finally, he pulled out, his cum dripping from your pussy onto the desk. he turned you around to face him, kissing you deeply as he held you in his arms.

“ fuck, i love you…” he whispered.

“ mmm…” you moaned into the super sloppy kiss before he broke the kiss, looking down at you with a soft smile.

" we're in so much trouble." he said, his voice filled with affection. but he didn't care, he just held you close, his heart full of love for you.

" let's just keep this our little secret, okay?"

𖣂 KANYEREALDAUGHTER SPEAKS - izuku might be a lil out of character but whateverrr .. not proofread i’m so tired rn.

words - 1.5k

», ᴀ ᴋᴀɴʏᴇʀᴇᴀʟᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

#★kanyerealdaughterwrotethis #★kanyerealdaughter #izuku midoriya #izuku midoryia x you #izuku midoria x reader #izuku mydoria #mha izuku #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku smut #izuku midoryia smut

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muwapsturniolo · 4 months ago

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My Turn ↻ M. Sturniolo

"So this is what we're doing now?"

more angst thanks sza, more cheating thanks to sza.

PT 1

@bernardsbendystraws for divider

Lies.

It was all lies.

The love, the relationship, the loyalty.

It was broken promise after broken promise, and she was tired of it. She was tired of being blamed for their relationship falling apart, she was tired of him pretending to be the person she thought he was. She couldn't believe she wasted half of her life giving him and this relationship her all when she gets nothing but pain and lies in return.

She wishes she would have let him crash out all those times, she should have let him ruin his life.

But she didn't.

He still had his hooks in her, they were deep, keeping her rooted in place. However, she was slowly setting herself free, even if it meant turning into him.

He had his turn to do the hurting, she had her turn to do the learning. The roles had switched, and it was now her turn.

She had no second thoughts, no sympathy for Matt when she started doing her own thing. Picking up more shifts and making more money. She didn't think twice about leaving the house late at night, ignoring the way Matt would stare at her harshly when she put on the skimpiest clothing she owned. She stopped caring about the new names popping up on his phone.

She didn't care anymore.

She wanted him to see how life would be without her.

On a specific night out with her friends, with an intoxicated mind, she made the decision to do something that would officially set her free and teach Matt a lesson.

She decided to get her lick back.

She had connected with another guy at the bar, the man buying her and her friends drinks all night. His hands stayed on her waist, holding her close as he laid it on thick when flirting.

She knew it was wrong, but she didn't care. It was nice to be complimented, it was nice to be wanted.

Even if it was only for a quick hook-up.

Matt was at home when he got the call, shocked that she was even calling him. She had stopped calling him a while ago, the phone calls only happening when he dialed her number.

His heart skipped a beat, thinking, hoping, that maybe she was calling him to come pick her up. He jumped out of bed and started slipping on his shoes, picking up the phone and holding it to his ear.

"Hey bab- Fuck!"

He stops in his tracks, his eyes squinting as he strained his hearing.

His stomach drops when he realizes what's going on, his grip on the phone getting tight as his palms grow sweaty.

"Shit! You're so dee-ngh!"

"Fuck- who's pussy is this?

"Yours! Oh fuck, it's yours!"

He tried to convince himself that this wasn't real, that his ears were playing a trick on him, his mind making him imagine things because he felt so guilty for playing her the way he did.

But he knew that wasn't the case.

This wasn't his mind playing tricks on him, this wasn't an accident.

This was on purpose.

It seemed like time was frozen with how long Matt was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall with a blank look. He didn't even flinch when the girl drunkenly stumbled into the bedroom at 6am, her hair and clothes a mess.

He watched as she stumbled around the room, ignoring him, acting like he didn't exist.

"So this is what we're doing now? You go out and fuck random guys as I'm here trying to fix us?"

She finally turns towards him, laughing in his face when she sees his angry expression.

"Really Matt? Fix the relationship? I may have stayed, but I'm not that fucking dumb. You still been fucking on other people.'' She turns back to the closet, going to grab pajamas, but she's stopped by Matt harshly grabbing her wrist.

"I haven't fucked-STOP FUCKING LYING TO ME!"

She snatches her arm back and proceeds to push him away from her.

"Fuck you Matt! You get to go and fuck all these other girls, coming home and lying to me, hoping I won't leave your sorry ass, but as soon as I finally fuck someone who can actually make me cum, I'm in the wrong?"

He goes to rebuttal, but she beats him to it, continuing her rant.

"Well, guess what Matthew? it's my fucking turn!" She pushes him back once more, his body falling onto the bed as she gets in his face. He could see it, the anger and exhaustion in her eyes, and for once,

He feels bad.

"You hurt me for months on end! and I let you, but I'm done now Matthew! I'm so fucking done with you, your bullshit, your stupid fucking lies, and your fake love!"

"I do love you-"

"No you don't!" She shouts once again.

It seemed as if his words finally made her crack, her body making its way towards the closet, his clothes quickly making their way onto the floor.

"Hey! What the hell are you-"

"I'm done Matt! I'm so fucking done! Pack your shit, take all your bitches, and get the fuck out!"

He tries to stop her, his hands harshly grabbing at her flailing arms and shoulders, failing multiple times before finally pinning her against the wall.

"Calm the fuck down! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"There's nothing wrong with me! How many times do I have to fuckin' say it, Matt? I'M. DONE! Done! I don't want you anymore Matt, I'm fed up and tired, and I can't keep moving like this anymore. I'm done with picking you and putting you first. I'm putting myself first because I deserve it."

Their harsh breathing was the only thing you could hear, the tension in the room thick.

He knew she was serious; he wasn't able to toy with her anymore, and honestly, he didn't want to.

He didn't want to keep this cycle up, he didn't want to hurt her anymore. He couldn't believe he turned this sweet, loving girl into this person who lashes out.

He hates it, and he hates himself.

He takes a deep breath and lets her go, taking a step back.

"Alright...."

She watches as he grabs a backpack from the closet and begins shoving random clothes into the small bag.

"I'll...I'll come back in a few days to grab the rest of my stuff. Just let me know when you're home or when you're gone...Whenever is good for you."

He zips up the bag, grabbing his phone and charger before standing in front of her once more, their eye contact strong yet heartbreaking. He cups the back of her head, closing his eyes as he kisses her forehead.

He refrains from saying the three words that once meant a lot for both of them, knowing that right now isn't the time nor the place.

He pulls away and makes his way out of the messy bedroom, throwing her one last glance before leaving.

The tears she was holding back finally flow down her face as she hears the front door close, the sobs shaking throughout her whole body as she slides down the wall and to the floor.

She didn't know if she was crying out of sadness or from relief at finally being set free from the toxic relationship.

She crawls along the floor and makes her way to bed, curling into a ball as she lays on the cold and empty mattress, crying herself to sleep.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #Matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #matt sturniolo imagine #Matthew sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo angst #angst #matthew sturniolo angst #sturniolo angst #Spotify

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sundrop-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Lessons For A Genius - Lesson One

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader

Lesson One: Slick Silicone

(aka the one with the pocket pussy)

Summary:

What could a certified genius possibly have to learn from someone like you? Turns out - a hell of a lot.

And the real ‘teaching’ started when your graphic explanations of slang toward Spencer for the sheer shock value of it turned into something a lot more… hands on.

Sub!Spencer Reid x (BAU)Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during early Season 2.

Word Count: 17,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: A lot of general stuff pertaining to an average Criminal Minds episode - mentions of death, mentions of murder/killing, mentions of possible trauma from being in the BAU, somewhat graphic descriptions of a dismembered corpse; this is not a casefic but there is a small section where Reid, Morgan, and the reader are at a crime scene and details of a case are mentioned (not a case in the canon, one that I made up); the reader sticks her hand inside of a corpse to get something out of it for the purpose of discovering evidence; making inappropriate jokes about dead bodies - the reader character uses dark humour to cope with the trauma of the BAU job; Spencer doesn’t understand sexual slang and the reader has to explain it to him (warning for slightly awkward moments because of this?); the reader calls Spencer ‘honey’ (could be considered condescending); use of Y/N and L/N (meaning Your Last Name); Reid struggling with his sexuality/Reid has some internal biphobia; mentions of anal sex/anal stimulation but it does not take place during the fic; passing mentions of Reid being bullied in school; mentions of past Spencer x Lila Archer (in this fic, she blew him while he was working that case but they didn’t keep contact when he left LA); mentions of the reader going to a sex shop; mentions of the reader dressing feminine/wearing lingerie; mention of Spencer being taller than the reader - but I think he would be taller than most people.

This is primarily a smut fic; there is sub/dom dynamics - Reid is submissive and much more inexperienced (he is 'learning’ about sex from the reader character, but he is not completely a virgin, he has had one singular sexual experience before); the reader is dominant and much more experienced sexually; the reader has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; mentions of Reid being 'innocent’ (it’s more so that sex is an under-researched area of his life and he is too shy to explore it by himself); undertones of corruption kink; use of a sex toy - the reader gifts Spencer a fleshlight/pocket pussy and they use it together; hand kink - the reader admires Spencer’s hands; undertones of corruption kink - the reader is enjoying 'corrupting’ Spencer and showing him these things for the first time; BDSM/kink negotiations, possibly under-negotiated kink; the reader teaches Spencer BDSM terms.

Everything in this fic is fully consensual and safe for the characters; Spencer calls the reader 'Miss’; mentions of Spencer cumming inside the reader (does not actually happen during the fic); passing mentions of Spencer being insecure (about his sexual skills and his looks); Spencer is very obedient; the reader calls Spencer: 'good boy’, 'baby’, 'pretty boy’, 'dumb baby’; most of this fic is Spencer being fucked with a fleshlight while it’s controlled by the reader; heavy praise kink (from the reader toward Spencer); light bondage - Spencer’s hands are bound behind his back; edging - orgasm delay/orgasm denial (from the reader toward Spencer); the reader makes Spencer ask permission to cum; some size kink - big dick Spencer is too big to fully fit inside of a fleshlight; Spencer does a lot of begging in this; slight crying kink - the reader thinks Spencer looks pretty when he cries from being overwhelmed/edged a lot; degradation kink, dumbification kink, reader is condescending towards Spencer; some overstimulation toward the end; slight cum kink - Spencer cums all over himself and the reader enjoys it. I believe that’s it. There is descriptions of aftercare!

A/N: fair warning - a lot of this fic is build up/sexual tension (my speciality). and there is a long section before the smut where the reader is teaching Spencer BDSM terms and teaching him how to pick a safeword, but I think it’s interesting and I enjoyed writing it. and it’s worth the pay-off imo.

...

Being an FBI Profiler meant there were some rather… strange parts to your day.

Things that were once in a lifetime tragedies for other people that had become intensely casual routines for you. Things like - looking at gruesome crime scene photos, seeing a dead body in person, facing down a killer.

You liked to thank your nihilism and dark sense of humor for keeping you sane, working a job that would have driven others insane in such a short amount of time. You also liked to distance yourself from the darkness of it, and preferred to think of the people you helped, rather than the people you couldn’t.

Especially during moments like this, when you were exiting the car at yet another crime scene. It was a dump sight for the body of another young woman, adding to the trail of victims this newest killer was challenging the BAU with.

“Just like all the others… the limbs and jaw are missing. Eyes gouged out. This guy has one hell of a compulsion.” Morgan commented, looking down at the body… or rather, the torso, with intense disdain.

“I would say it’s less of a compulsion, and more of a fractured sense of reality.” Reid commented. “It’s likely that the UnSub sees these corpses as pieces of art. It’s why he was frustrated when the first four weren’t found soon enough, that they weren’t discovered when they were… ‘fresh’, so to speak. That’s why he started leaving the clues for law enforcement. He wants his ‘art’ to be seen in a timely manner.”

“Couldn’t the guy just take up painting or something?” You replied, looking at the body, still slightly shocked by how brutal the whole thing was.

“Looks like we got another one.” Morgan pointed out, crouching down beside the body, motioning toward a large gash between the victim’s ribs. “Another clue, that is.”

For the last three victims, the UnSub had cut a hole into their torso and left some kind of object inside. Something small that hinted at where the next victim would be found.

Morgan looked over his shoulder at you, as though waiting for you to make a move. When you turned to Reid, he was looking over the rim of his coffee cup at you with very expectant eyes, the thick lenses of his glasses making his stare all the more imposing.

You quickly realized that both of the men wanted you to stick your hand inside the corpse and pull out whatever was inside.

“What?” You chuckled. “You want me to do it? Is it just cause you think I’m the gross one?”

Your reputation for having a strong stomach preceded you.

You were shy or squeamish about anything, socially or functionally, and the team often took advantage of this. They would throw you into an interrogation with a suspect who made crude comments and you would end up grossing the man out with even more graphic words. They would have you sifting through a suspect’s trash looking for receipts or pieces of evidence and sometimes you would laugh at the things you found, rather than gagging at the smell.

It was rare that anyone on the team saw you flinch.

“The body’s been sittin’ out here in the sun for three hours.” Morgan said, glancing from the corpse up to the bright sky overhead. “I’m not doin’ it.”

You chanced another look at Reid. The small smirk he wore told you that he wouldn’t have to give some lame excuse about how he was squeamish and had just eaten in order for you to truly give in.

“Ugh, fine.” You said.

You naturally met Reid’s hand when he came out of his pocket with a blue latex glove for you to wear. You put it on, switching places with Morgan so you could kneel down beside the body. You put your ungloved hand on the ground to support yourself, and then inserted your fingers into the cavity - the hole between the ribs that the UnSub had made.

Luckily, you didn’t have to reach too far inside before you felt something. Though, because of the slight decomposition of the body and the bloat from the sun beating down, you did have some trouble getting a good grip on the item to pull it out.

Naturally, your discomfort with the situation caused your dark sense of humor to act up. You needed the comfort and you barely thought about the odd joke before it left your lips.

“God, it’s like a fucking fleshlight in here,” You groaned, disgusted laced through your voice as you finally hooked your fingers around the object and managed to pull it out of the wound.

Morgan chuckled at the joke and held out an evidence bag for you (which he had gotten from one of the uniformed officers on the scene). Before any of you could truly analyze the item that you had just pulled out of the body cavity, a voice trampled over your thoughts as you dropped the item into the plastic bag.

“Don’t you mean flashlight?” Reid piped up, so eager to correct you, as always. “Also, how is that comparable?”

You looked up at Reid with awe.

For a moment, you wondered if he was fucking with you.

But the look of genuine confusion plastered across his features - something so rare for the certified genius. That look made you realize that he genuinely didn’t know what a fleshlight was. He had no idea what you were talking about.

Your insides tingled with glee at this realization.

Morgan sighed when he saw the look that you and Reid exchanged. You, wearing filthy, smug dawning and Reid painted entirely with cluelessness. He hated where the exchange was going, knowing how shameless you always were in conversation. He quickly tried to distract from the interaction.

“So, this looks like a horseshoe-” Morgan said, motionting to the object in the evidence bag.

“No, I meant fleshlight.” You said, quickly trampling over Morgan’s words. “F-L-E-S-H-L-I-G-H-T. Fleshlight. Do you not know what that means?”

This caused Morgan to sigh sharply and shake his head.

You took off the glove with a snap and tossed it away, happy to be rid of the smell.

You stood back to your full height, entirely intrigued by Reid’s continued confusion.

“It could represent luck. Maybe a casino?” Morgan tried in vain to distract the two of you from the conversation once again.

Maybe he was trying to preserve Reid’s naive innocence, something you were determined to dismantle piece by piece because it gave you intense joy to see the shock cross his features whenever you explained outrageous concepts to him. The time you had explained to him what a ‘blumpkin’ was, you hadn’t stopped laughing for hours when he could hardly believe you.

“The nearest casino is 45.6 miles away, it’s far outside the UnSub’s geographical comfort zone.” Reid said, quickly dismissing Morgan’s thread of conversation before he turned back to you. “And no, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is it a coroner’s term?”

You let out a harsh snort at this. You had gotten a degree in mortuary science before you became a Profiler (likely something to thank for your strong stomach). But it was your other area of ‘study’ that made you an expert in this.

“No, honey, it’s not.” You quickly answered.

There was a slight flash through his features when you called him ‘honey’. You weren’t sure if it was shock or displeasure, but either way he quickly straightened his face and went back to intrigue. He stared at you with his full attention, ready for you to explain it to him. He was ready to learn and catalog the information in that big brain of his.

It was something you found entirely endearing.

“L/N, please, don’t-” Morgan begged you not to explain it any further, once again wanting to keep Reid in the dark.

Mostly, he wanted to save himself from the embarrassment of witnessing the interaction between the two of you.

“What?” You chuckled sharply, turning to Morgan. “There are some things the genius still needs to learn, apparently.”

Reid rolled his eyes at this. He didn’t want to admit that it was true.

“The other night I had to explain to him what the distinct difference between a Butt Dial and a Booty Call is,” You continued, giving an example to prove your point. “Because he walked into the bullpen and loudly announced to JJ and Elle that he was sorry that he booty called me at 3am and woke me up.”

Morgan choked on his laughter when you explained this.

“Dude, seriously?” He posed, raising a brow at Reid.

“I fell asleep with my phone in my back pocket when I was reading Voltaire.” Reid explained, a heavy blush falling over his cheeks. “I thought - I thought -”

“Okay, playboy, I’m gonna go call Hotch about this,” Morgan announced, motioning toward the evidence bag. “And I’m gonna pretend not to hear anything that’s happening over here.”

Morgan walked off to the car, and Reid turned to you with a defeated look cast over his features.

“I do appreciate when you explain these kinds of things to me.” He told you softly. “It… it saves me from future embarrassment.”

As much as you enjoyed the shock factor of watching Spencer’s innocence melt away when you explained such crude things so abruptly - that was also part of your motivation. You knew that as much as he was a genius - had stunning intellect on paper, could recite statistics by heart - he didn’t have the kind of social skills or social knowledge that you did.

“Do you really wanna know what I was talking about before?” You posed, giving him one last chance to preserve that innocence.

He nodded, ever thirsty to chase an unanswered question.

You held back a giggle.

“A fleshlight is also called a pocket pussy.” You told him, launching into a quick, efficient explanation for his confusion so that he could have his question answered.

“What?” He gaped, having the most beautifully dumb look on his face as the words left his lips.

“It’s a sex toy.” You told him.

His face scrunched even further into bewilderment, and you knew that now he was simply jumping through mental hoops, wondering what kind of sex toy a ‘pocket pussy’ could be. So you decided to make your explanation a bit more detailed.

“It’s a…” You thought for a moment about how to explain it to someone who had never seen one before. “A kind of tube? Usually in the shape of a large flashlight, and on the inside there’s a silicone vagina, or sometimes a silicone anus, and it’s meant to simulate intercourse the same way that a dildo can simulate intercourse by going into a vagina. Or an anus, of course. You do know what a dildo is, right?”

Reid quickly nodded his head - that bright flush even fresher on his cheeks as a deep thoughtfulness came over his features.

“Yeah. Y-yeah. I got it.” He quickly stuttered out, assuring you that he now fully understood.

“Cool.” You said, walking by him and thumping him on the shoulder for reassurance that the conversation was over.

“Wait, is that the hand that you - inside? You haven’t washed your hands yet!”

“I wore a glove, Reid!”

…

Turns out the horseshoe had a unique stamping on it from a closed down metalworks business. Four thousand square feet of abandoned building, perfect for the UnSub to make his ‘art’ inside. He had intended for the clue to lead the team to a barn where he had staged the next corpse, but you broke into the building and caught him in the act of drugging another woman before she was killed.

The state of the building was horrifying - the limbs of the other victims strewn about, a lot of them put on display like trophies.

Overall, you would call it a good day. There was a life saved.

On the way back home, Spencer could barely make eye contact with you while on the jet. His eyes constantly flickered away from you with purpose whenever you looked near him. The two of you played Gin Rummy and you had to remind Reid to take his turn several times. There was even one point where he won a hand and you had to tell him so - he claimed that he had ‘forgotten the rules’. As if.

You couldn’t figure out why he was acting so strangely. You wanted to chalk it up to the harshness of the case, the graphic nature of things - but you both had seen much worse. The ‘fleshlight’ conversation was so minimal on your radar, such a shameless moment for you. It was something you considered so entirely regular as an interaction on the rollercoaster of all things bizarre that was Spencer Reid. You were barely even thinking about it.

You had no clue that it was racing through his mind at top speed as he remembered your words from earlier that day.

…

Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He wasn’t sure why it had never occurred to him before. Sure, there were plenty of things he didn’t know, like you said. Plenty of things he was curious about, but far too shy to look up. Plenty of things he didn’t want to get caught looking up out of fear of embarrassment.

He knew some things about sex toys. He knew far more about the history of sex toys than he did about modern sex toys. He could tell you that Cleopatra had owned one of the first rudimentary vibrators, made from the shell of a hollowed out gourd filled with bees. But if he walked into a sex shop today, he probably wouldn’t know what half the stuff was or what it was used for.

When he thought about what you had told him, it only made sense.

Of course there would be some kind of solution, some kind of ‘opposite’ to a silicone penis used to simulate sex inside a vagina.

(“Or an anus, of course.”)

Those words flying out of your mouth so casually had sent Reid’s imagination flying into an array of interesting directions. Of course he knew that plenty of men liked to partake in anal stimulation for pleasure. There were no particular statistics about this that came to mind, because it was never something he had directly read a study about.

It was something Reid had always been curious about, because he did know that prostate stimulation was often considered to be the height of pleasure for men.

(Spencer’s attraction to men was a can of worms that he would leave untouched and attend to another day. The innate warmth that he felt when he looked at Morgan was something he always felt the need to suppress. Even though it was quite literally impossible for him, he was still trying to forget the involuntary reaction he had when he looked at a gay porn magazine that his classmates had left in his locker as a joke when he was thirteen.)

For the most part, his mind was hyper-fixating on your explanation of that object he had never even heard of before. The antithesis of a dildo, the supposed inversion of the male genitalia in a more portable form.

A pocket pussy.

You talked about it so casually, explained it so perfectly. You spoke about it in such a way that it left Reid’s mind whirring, wondering what such an object could specifically look like. Of course, he knew what a vagina looked like. In theory.

Yes, he was a virgin.

He actually wondered if he fit that definition exactly. He knew that most people considered virginity to be a milestone passed once they had participated in full blown intercourse for the first time. But he wondered if what he had done would ‘count’ as losing his virginity. It was something he would have asked you, would have wanted your social colloquial opinion on - if he wasn’t so embarrassed about being a virgin in the first place. (Or maybe being a virgin, he still wasn’t too sure.)

He had been touched by a woman before, but only once.

After he and Lila Archer had climbed out of the pool, before the team had arrived, she had kissed him on the mouth again and continued to thank him for his ‘bravery’ and ongoing protection in a very interesting way. And before he could truly process it or stop her (due to the intense unprofessionalism) - his pants were down and her mouth was on him. Because of his inexperience, it had lasted a whopping three minutes. (According to Spencer’s impeccable memory and the fact that he had been glancing between the top of her head and a clock on the wall, worried they would get caught, he knew for a fact that it had been three minutes and fourteen seconds to be exact.)

Which, at the time, was lucky. Because as she licked off her lips and looked up at him through her lashes, Morgan called out his name through the house, finally looking for them. He had rushed to straighten his clothes and look normal - but because Morgan caught them both looking incredibly guilty, he had hounded Reid for days about the ‘details’. Reid gave him none.

But that had been his only experience with a woman sexually. His only experience with anybody, for that matter. So any of his knowledge about vaginas was based entirely on pictures; scientific diagrams, and renaissance art. He was never gutsy enough to buy porn for himself.

He tried to imagine what a silicone vagina would look like - how one would fit molded into a plastic tube. He tried to imagine how it would feel to stick his penis into one.

Of course, he had plenty of experience with masturbation.

His instincts had taken over at the right age for that. Even though his brain was always advanced well beyond his years, puberty kicked in just the same. He had been a hormonal teenager just like everyone else. (Of course, he was the only one going to CalTech getting a PhD in chemistry, but he was right on track in terms of his physical development.)

And naturally, his imagination often ran away with him whenever he had the time alone to masturbate now that he was an adult.

One of the things he thought about most often when he masturbated was you.

The fact that you were so self-assured, so confident, the fact that nothing could shake you. It always made Spencer imagine you pinning him down, taking control of him, kissing him hard. He had orgasmed in his hand a great many nights, imagining you on top of him - imagining what you might feel like around him, on top of him, riding him.

He found it intensely difficult to pay attention to Gin Rummy when all of these thoughts were running through his mind.

…

You barely remembered the fleshlight conversation at all. Barely remembered it, that is, until you were on your way to work the next morning.

There was a small fender bender between two cars on your normal route and the traffic build-up around it caused you to deviate. Because of that, you just happened to drive by your favorite sex shop. The sign caught your eye, and you figured: you were already late. There was a great coffee place across the street. You could grab yourself a latte if you parked.

You were surprised that a sex shop would be open so early in the morning, but you were glad that you made the stop. Usually, you would have taken your time to browse. You liked to see what was new, especially in terms of costumes and lingerie.

You didn’t have a long term partner to impress, but sometimes you did like to strut around the house in lingerie (in your fleeting free time away from the BAU) just to make yourself feel good. That, and it was always fun to see the look on a date’s face when you gave the sensual promise of ‘slipping into something more comfortable’ and then came back in a latex nurse’s outfit and six inch red heels.

Unfortunately, today you were low on time and very set on what you wanted.

You went straight to the wall of toys and zoned in on the selection of fleshlights. You picked out the most ‘basic’ one you could find. You didn’t want to assume Spencer’s preferences, but you picked one that resembled a pussy rather than an ass.

It was on the expensive side, but you knew the look on Spencer’s face when you gave it to him would more than pay it off in your mind. That and imagining him using it, knowing that it would be far too tempting of a gift. He would never be brave enough to buy something like this for himself and once it was in his hands when he was alone, he would be far too curious not to use it - yeah, it was definitely worth it.

You walked past a rack of lube on your way to the cash register and realized that it would be rude to give this kind of gift without a bottle of lube in accompaniment. So you bought a bottle of your favorite water based lubricant. An unscented one, knowing that Spencer was a no-frills kind of guy, even though you usually bought a strawberry scented one for yourself.

You got the items put in a discreet, labelless black bag and then got yourself a latte. And you couldn’t help but to grab an almond croissant for Spencer because when you spotted it in the pantry case, you did think of him.

Of course, when you walked into the office (the black bag safely in the backseat of your car) Hotch just happened to be walking by with a handful of files on the way to his office.

“You’re late.” He commented, not looking up from the paper he was reading.

“Traffic was hell.” You fired back.

“Yeah, and I’m sure that latte just magically transported into your hand.” He said, his tone blank and unreadable as usual. “I want all your reports about the case on my desk by tonight.”

Usually, there was a grace period of two or three days to get the reports about a case done. But clearly, Hotch didn’t like your tardiness. You considered it worth it.

“Yes sir.” You mumbled under your breath.

He didn’t say anything else after that, simply retreated off to his office.

You figured he couldn’t be that mad. He knew the job could be an emotional strain, and it was okay to deviate from such a hard routine every now and then. Especially because now you were going to be spending the next five hours writing out all the gory details of how you had pulled a horseshoe out of a woman’s dead torso in order to catch a killer.

You walked over to your desk, which was right in front of Reid’s, and placed down the paper bag with the croissant on top of one of his files. This easily distracted him from whatever he had been writing - most likely one of his reports about the case.

“Almond croissant,” You said, placing down your coffee cup and placing your purse underneath your desk. “Your favorite, right?”

“It is.” He grinned at you. “Thank you.”

It was that sweet little smile, those big kind eyes staring up at you through the lenses of his glasses like you hung the stars in the sky - it was that bit of sweetness that got you through writing your reports. So yeah, it probably wasn’t just dark humor and nihilism that helped you keep your sanity. It had a lot to do with the pretty boy you got to sit across from every single day.

You worked on your reports. And yeah, you took too many coffee breaks, including a long lunch break with Elle, Penelope, and JJ where they insisted on discussing your ‘crush’ on Spencer.

You denied it.

Elle profiled your lie (which you insisted was not a lie) and JJ laughed about it. Penelope started humming wedding music under her breath and you threatened to spit in her salad.

By the time you actually got the reports done, it was late. Everyone else had gone home - except for Spencer, who was still sitting at his desk across from you with his lamp on and an air of quiet concentration. When you got finished with the last report, you slammed the file closed and let out a sigh, leaning back in your chair and running your hands harshly over your face.

“Finally done?” Spencer’s delicate voice inquired, peeking up over the median between the desks to look at you.

“Yes, finally.” You grinned back at him. “You done too?”

You couldn’t help but to ask. Spencer was always incredibly quick with his reports, simply by the nature of the speed at which he could read and compose writing. You wondered what exactly he had been doing at his desk for the past few hours. Perhaps he had been looking through old case files, possibly unsolved ones, thinking up new leads while there was no pressure looming over his brilliant mind.

“I finished up at three o’clock.” He said.

You glanced at your watch - it was getting close to nine. That made you entirely curious about what he had been doing, sitting at his desk for that many hours. What had he felt the need to stay so late for?

“So what has been keeping you busy this late into the night, Doctor?” You asked.

“I was reading.” He told you honestly, motioning toward a thick novel that he had in his hands.

“How many books do you have over there?” You chuckled.

Again, you knew that because of the intense speed he was capable of reading at, it would take a lot of books to keep him busy.

“Just one.” He answered, easily catching your eye and maintaining eye contact.

Both of you knew what this meant.

For a while, he had been rereading through old case files. But, not wanting to haunt himself with those gory details, he had chosen instead to simply sit at his desk and reread the same book over and over again because he had wanted to keep you company.

What you didn’t know was that his mind had still been heavily plagued by thoughts of your sex toy discussion from the other day, so he wasn’t exactly reading at lightning speed as per usual. Instead - letting his imagination wander, thinking about where he would get a silicone vagina if he wanted to buy one and if a toy would feel as good as yours. What yours would feel like around his penis if he ever got the minuscule chance to actually experience it.

“The Hollow Men by T. S. Eliot - but um, I was waiting for you, actually.” Spencer announced, making his intentions entirely clear, just in case you hadn’t already figured it out. “I was hoping maybe we could get dinner together? We haven’t - we haven’t hung out in a while.”

He seemed nervous asking you this, even though you were always enthusiastic in welcoming his invitations to spend time together outside of work.

Last month, he had brought you to a conservatory housing and actively breeding endangered species of butterflies in order to save the populations from extinction. It was a building full of plant life, an indoor jungle filled with the beautiful insects that took your breath away. Listening to him ramble on about the different species and their latin names, the patterns on their wings and their purpose of camouflage - it had been one of the most pleasant, most romantic non-dates of your life.

You didn’t understand why others on the team acted like his presence, especially his ramblings, could be a bother.

“Sounds good.” You told him with a smile.

He smiled back at you fondly.

“I have to drop these on Hotch’s desk and then we can go.” You explained as you stood up and began gathering your files. “But uh, I don’t really feel like going out? I’m way more in the mood for take-out and a comfy couch.”

“There’s a good Chinese place a few minutes away from my apartment.” He told you. “If you consider my couch comfortable?”

You resisted the urge to tell him that you loved his apartment because the smell of books penetrated every inch of it; the scent of yellowing, worn paper living there like the comfort of a library. But you held that back - choosing instead to say something else.

“The comfiest,” You grinned at him as you walked by with the armful of files.

…

You weren’t entirely sure when you were going to give the ‘gifts’ to Spencer.

A large part of you thought that it would be best to have an out, in case he got embarrassed, or hated it. Most likely, you would wait until after dinner and hand him the bag on your way out without telling him what it was. Which was why you shoved the black plastic bag holding the lube and the sex toy into your oversized purse while Spencer was distracted with carrying the takeout bag toward his apartment.

One thing that had not surprised you about Spencer when you found it out: he didn’t have basic cable. Part of you was surprised that someone who was so pro-book and anti-technology even had a TV at all. But apparently he had some favorites that he couldn’t stand to miss out on, like Doctor Who and Star Wars. So he had a DVD player hooked up to a very small TV that was banished off to a corner of his living room. A device that was dwarfed by bookcases, which did make a lot of sense.

He said that he spent so much time reading and away at work, traveling for cases that it just didn’t make sense to pay for cable. He said that he could get his mental enrichment from reading, and his nerdy pleasure from rewatching his old favorites, and apparently he got the news from listening to the radio. The radio. Sometimes you wondered if he was Benjamin Button - an old man who had somehow gotten into the body of a twenty five year old. It truly mystified you.

Either way, it meant that you spent dinner with season three of Friends on as background noise. Friends being a box set of DVDs that you had gifted him because you considered it to be classic television that he needed to see. The first time he had asked Morgan to his face if a girl had ‘friendzoned’ him with full confidence in what the term meant, you knew that Spencer had been watching it in his free time.

You easily fell into the comfort of your surroundings, enjoying the comforting canned laughter of the show, paired with the delightfully greasy food and Spencer’s ongoing commentary - both about the show, and about other, completely unrelated things. You were so relaxed that you had almost completely forgotten about the gift you had waiting in your bag for him.

It was such a strange coincidence that he had been the one to bring it up.

He offered to take your plate into the kitchen, leaving behind a waft of soy sauce as he went. You were wonderfully full and reached to the small side table where you were nursing a half empty (now warm) diet coke. You took a few sips from it, and heard Spencer’s footsteps shuffling back into the room. He hovered behind you as you watched Monica rush out of her bedroom with her phone pressed to her chest, concerned about calling Richard.

You were so focused on the show that you almost didn’t hear Spencer’s shy, tentative voice when he spoke.

“I’m sorry about the other day.” He said quietly.

“Hmm?” You looked over your shoulder at him, wondering what he meant.

He was rather nervously fidgeting with his hands, standing in the white glow of the TV in the dimly lit room - the only other source of light being a small lamp on the side table and dimness of the light above the stove shining in from the kitchen at his back.

You grabbed up the remote and paused the show, silencing the characters and their temporary problems in order to address the stress that Spencer was very clearly feeling - his whole body tight, hunched over, his face quite tight with worry.

“I’m sorry about the other day.” He repeated himself, slightly louder this time - perhaps not more confident, but simply not drowned out by any further noise.

You didn’t want to butt in, and gave him the room to explain himself slowly.

“I - I didn’t mean to put you in such an… uncomfortable position. If I don’t understand the things you say, I should just pull you aside and ask you privately what you meant.” He sighed. “I - I know that I need to learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes. It’s something I’m working on.”

You became flooded with peril at this. Had he really thought that he had inconvenienced you? Put you in an ‘uncomfortable’ position?

“Come sit down.” You told him, beginning to feel annoyed with craning your neck back to get a proper look at him.

Like a dog being beckoned, he couldn’t help but to follow your order.

He sunk down against the other arm of the three seater couch, leaving quite a bit of space between the two of you. He had his arms folded - closed off, clearly nervous. His eyes were focused on the leg of his pants, distinctly refusing to look at you. Perhaps he was afraid he would find disgust or disappointment among your features. You turned off the TV completely then and angled your body to face him before you continued speaking.

“First of all, you don’t need to learn to keep your mouth shut.” You told him easily. “I’m not sure who, or what gave you that impression, but it’s not true. Whenever you open your mouth, something brilliant comes out, and we’re all better for it.”

Reid’s lips flexed into a smile at the intense direct praise, and this made you happy.

“Second, you didn’t make me uncomfortable the other day.” You told him honestly. “I meant what I said - despite you being a genius, there are still some things you need to learn. And I’m more than happy to teach you.”

These words sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine.

There were so many things that he would beg for you to teach him if given the chance. But he didn’t want to embarrass himself. And most importantly, he didn’t want to come off as creepy or desperate toward someone as perfect as you.

When he dared to glance up at you, you were boldly staring him down. You wore a small smirk across your face. Heat began to stir in Spencer’s gut, and he couldn’t help but to wonder if you were thinking the exact same things that he was.

You couldn’t be. You couldn’t possibly want someone like him. You couldn’t possibly want a nervous, inexperienced ‘virgin’ like him.

Oh, but you did.

You were thinking all of the same things that he was. You were imagining giving him the most intricate ‘hands on’ lessons for everything he had ever been curious about. Giving him the most close-up, detailed tour of the female anatomy he ever could have asked for.

“Spencer,” You called out his name gently.

This forced his attention up from fiddling with a loose thread on the edge of the couch cushion - clearly something out of nervousness - and got him to look at your face. You wondered how someone who was six feet tall could look so delicately small, purposefully slumped over in his seat like that. You wondered what his pretty features would look like warped by an orgasm.

“What are you thinking about right now?” You asked him. You had to know if he was truly on the same filthy wavelength as you.

He knew he had to make up a lie. Because he wouldn’t be brave enough to speak the words out loud. He was too shy to actually tell you that he was wondering what it would be like to bury his face between your breasts, that he wanted to drown there.

“You… you did get me curious.” Spencer admitted quietly. “About the… the - uh-”

He trailed off, clearly too nervous to say the word for himself now that he knew the filthy implications behind it.

“About the fleshlight?” You finished the sentence for him, wanting to encourage him.

You wanted to make him feel brave about the topic. You were too curious about where this interaction was heading - you couldn’t bear to have him get shy on you now.

“Yeah.” He nodded, nervously clearing his throat.

He went back to fidgeting with the edge of the couch cushion, once again purposefully looking anywhere but at your face. You stared him down with purpose, all too intrigued by whatever might come out of his mouth next. Especially with the tense, thoughtful expression dipped along his eyebrows - the same one he got when he was reading or staring at maps.

“I was thinking - I was curious - curious about - about where someone might get one of those.” He finally announced.

He put intense stress on the word ‘where’ - his voice low, almost a lulling whisper in the already quiet apartment. He was speaking as though he was asking you about something incredibly illicit. Like a college kid asking where he could buy weed or a lonely man in his thirties inquiring about a prostitute. Though sex toys were perfectly legal, you guessed that for someone like Spencer, this was just as trepidacious.

You felt a sense of eager giddiness stir within you. You resisted the urge to bounce on the spot like an excitable, hyper kid on their birthday waiting to open their present. Even though he wasn’t looking at your face, you forced yourself to hold back a grin.

You didn’t want to ruin the surprise, after all. It was just too perfect.

“Well… lucky for you, Doctor Reid,” You told him, easily capturing his attention with the use of his proper title and the fact that you shifted slightly in your seat, reaching down by your feet to grab your bag. “I happen to have a spare one right here.”

Spencer watched you cautiously, his neck still sloped with anxious shyness. He almost had to believe that this was a prank, and you would pull a tape recorder out of your bag and laugh because you had captured his perversion for everyone to know about.

But of course - you weren’t that cruel. You were honest, and you were definitely not half as shy as he was. In fact, he would go so far as to say that you didn’t have a bashful bone in your body.

So of course, it made sense that it was not a big deal for you to walk into one of those stores and simply purchase that kind of toy.

Spencer watched eagerly as you pulled out a cardboard box. He heard the rustle of plastic inside your bag and guessed that it was a shopping bag. But he couldn’t be too focused on that once your arm extended out to him, showing him what the rectangular box was.

Spencer had never seen a sex toy in person before, but he quickly realized that they were packaged similarly to any other product. A clean, white background with a picture of the product on it, several claims and promises (‘new and improved design!’) (‘easy to clean!’) (‘soft and durable!’) - and a picture of someone smiling on the front, unconsciously promising a good user experience. In this case, it was a stereotypically beautiful woman in lingerie holding the… item, as though it were comparable… to her… to her parts.

“Open it.” You encouraged him, wagging the box in his direction. “Unless you don’t want it. I could return it.”

It was then that Spencer realized he had been sitting with his hands numbly in his lap for several silent moments, staring at the box in your extended hand.

“Oh!” He said quietly. “No! I mean - yes. I - um.” Rather than trying to articulate it, he reached out and grabbed the item, finding it surprisingly heavy. It easily compared to the weight of a good book in his hands. “Thank you.”

You would be lying if you said that watching him inspect the sex toy as though it were an object from an alien planet wasn’t the hottest thing you had seen in your entire life. Doctor Reid approached this the same way that he approached everything else in life: with intense scrutiny. Clearly his analytical mind was working hard as he carefully peeled back the cardboard flap of the box and slid out his prize.

You had to wonder if that mind of his ever shut off.

You wondered if you could make him dumb and cum drunk, make his head completely empty. You wondered what he would look like mindlessly chasing an orgasm, begging for release with absolutely no statistics or scientific papers running around inside that big brain of his. You wanted to see him completely worn down, just his base instincts at play. You wanted to see him with just the need to fuck and cum and have his release pounding between his ears as he whined desperately for more.

There was a sharp pain between your legs, intense arousal at the thought of it.

That arousal only increased when Spencer dropped the box in his lap and then - like man walking on the moon for the first time - he held the toy delicately in one hand and popped the cap off with the other. Clearly, it was a big discovery for him. Watching his eyes widen with shock did bring you an intense joy. It also immediately made you wonder if seeing the silicone pussy was his first time seeing a pussy so up close and personal at all. That thought only made your own cunt throb with need.

What he did next nearly sent you into orbit.

He gently placed the cap down on his lap, and without looking at you, his thoughtful eyes still entirely focused on the fake pussy - he reached toward it and oh-so-gently stroked his fingers across it. From your perspective, with the angle he was holding it at, you had a perfect view of his gorgeous hand delicately exploring the toy. Your cunt fluttered, clenching around nothing, and you knew that at this point you were definitely sitting in soaked underwear. If you didn’t know Spencer any better, you would have guessed that he was doing this on purpose, to tease you.

But that’s what made it so perfect - he was just naive, just exploring these things for the first time.

When he dipped two of his fingertips into the opening of the toy, you had to consciously hold back a moan. It was almost too hot watching his strong, thick fingers get swallowed up by the soft entrance of the toy. Of course, imagining how those fingers would feel dipping into your pussy with such tender grace.

“Wow.” Spencer said quietly, almost a gasp under his breath as he pulled his fingers back, in pure awe at this new discovery. “I didn’t expect it to be so soft.”

“It’ll feel even better when it’s wet.”

The words came so naturally from your lips, you couldn’t have stopped them if you tried.

Spencer looked up at you with a distinct pinkness spreading over his cheeks, clearly imagining that tight, soft wetness wrapped around his cock.

You dared to take a glance downward and surely enough - beside where the empty box was sitting in his lap, a bulge was forming in his slacks, pressing harshly against the zipper. You deeply resisted the urge to reach over and grope that bulge, not wanting to scare him by coming on too strong. Instead, you put that grabby hand back into your purse to get the other thing you had to give to him.

“Another lesson for the genius,” You announced, extending out the bottle of lube for him to see it. This time he was quicker to grab it, bringing it up to his face to inspect it with thoughtful eyes. “Water based lubricant is best. It’s water soluble, so it’s easy to clean up. And unlike other kinds, it won’t wear down the silicone of the toy over time or wear through the latex of condoms.”

You bringing up condoms caused a jolt in Spencer’s chest. Were you just giving him some friendly advice about safe sex or - or did you actually intend to have intercourse with him? Would there be a need for condoms between the two of you in the future?

The words gave him a temporary bold streak (that and the sexual adrenaline pumping through his system) and he decided to voice his thoughts before he became too shy.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked quietly, his voice taking on that sweet, mousy quality that it usually did whenever he got nervous.

“Of course.” You nodded.

You thought that he might have more questions about the lube or the toy. But what he said next - combined with the fact that he looked at you shyly through his lashes like a doll, like he knew exactly what he was doing - absolutely knocked the wind out of you.

“You… You said that you like teaching me things. So - do you think-?”

He paused for a moment, clearing his throat.

“Could - could you give me a demonstration?” He asked, his voice still shy and sweet.

Your lips gaped in shock - at first you thought you had misheard him. And when the words fully penetrated your ears, you thought that you had somehow misunderstood him. He couldn’t possibly mean-? He wanted you to use the toy on him?

You were shocked that Spencer Reid was openly asking for something like that.

Seeing the shock and slight confusion across your features, Spencer’s mouth raced past his better judgment. His lips plowed over that thing in the back of his brain nagging at him to shut up - and he kept on going.

“It only seems logical that, when tackling something new, especially something this… skill-based, I would need to be shown what to do.” He explained, his mouth running off in that way it always did when he sounded far too much like he knew what he was talking about. “It seems advisable to be shown by someone with more experience. Experience that I don’t have. I need you to show me. Please.”

The last word came out as a breathy plea from him. You could have easily gotten stuck on the fact that he had basically just admitted to you that he was a virgin. But instead, him simply saying that word: ‘please’, begging to you like your attention was the most precious thing in the world; it kickstarted something in your brain and switched on the dominant persona that you had always wanted to use with him.

The air shifted in the room then, and you both knew it. It was like a fire crackling around you. Spencer didn’t know what to do with it, but luckily, you did. He waited with anxious breath for your guidance, your instruction.

“You need me to show you?” You repeated his words, using the buttery sweet voice that you usually did when you had someone so willing and pliant for you.

Instinctively, you reached over to him and gently cupped his cheek. He easily leaned into the touch, shuddering with delight and letting out a small sigh as you made contact with his skin for the first time. It was the first time you had really touched him, aside from casual hugs of comfort after stressful situations that the job naturally gave the two of you. But this was entirely different.

He hummed in affirmation to answer your question, his eyes growing large with lust, pupils blown out as he melted into you.

“What do you want me to show you, pretty boy?” You asked, running your thumb along his bottom lip, admiring how absolutely pink his mouth was.

You hoped that you could prompt a genuine answer out of him - get him to say the words. You had never heard Spencer talk about anything crude before, and you wondered if he was even capable of talking dirty. You hoped that if he wouldn’t say the words on his own, you could coach him into doing it. You could only imagine the satisfaction of getting that smart mouth to utter such filthy things.

“I want…” Spencer swallowed harshly, clearly having a difficult time with his mouth drying out now that you had a hand on him, even though the touch was fairly ‘innocent’. “I want you to show me… everything.”

The intense emphasis that he put on the word sent sparks flying inside of you.

It sounded like he wanted a lot more than just a ‘demonstration’ of the toy. It sounded like he wanted a lot more than just a one night stand to get off.

Intense want flared up of you.

The temptation to own him, to make him yours… the temptation to take all of his first and have him tied to you like a lost puppy because of it - it was an intense one. But you wouldn’t hurt him, no. You would do it right. You would own him in that way because he wanted it just as badly as you did.

“Spencer,”

You said his name suddenly, harconing for his attention with it. You stroked your thumb along his cheek before you pulled the touch away completely. His head bobbed forward slightly to chase your hand, but he let you go without protest.

“If we’re going to do this, there has to be rules.” You told him firmly. “If I’m going to be your teacher, you have to listen to me. Teachers need rules, right?”

Spencer nodded vigorously at this.

“Of course. Yeah - yeah. You’re right.” He eagerly agreed. Then of course, he asked the obvious question. “What are the rules?”

You beamed a smile at him, loving his enthusiasm.

You knew that he would be a good boy. He was so eager to follow rules, to learn. Your body began tingling with delight at the thought of him looking up at you with hazy eyes, asking for his next command.

You had to forcibly clear your head. Right now you had to be level headed in order to teach him the rules.

“Okay the first rule - the most important one,” You prefaced, causing Spencer to straighten up slightly, showing his attentiveness, an eager student ready to learn. “Is that you need to pick a safeword. A word you can say during the scene so that I can know if you’re uncomfortable or if you need to stop.”

“‘The scene’?” Spencer asked, repeating back the phrase to you. “Also - why can’t the safeword just be ‘stop’, or ‘no’? Wouldn’t you just stop things if I said ‘no’?”

You decided to tackle his questions one at a time.

“Calling it a ‘scene’ - it’s lingo.” You said. “You know that everything comes with its own set of linguistics.” You told him, playing into his pre-existing knowledge. He nodded at this.

You then continued your explanation.

“A ‘scene’ means… any type of sexual play. Some people call it ‘playtime’. It’s lingo that exists because for a lot of people, sex is much more than just intercourse. It can start with speech and behavior and any interactions that they have with their partner when they’re alone. Like foreplay. So a safeword needs to be included in those moments too, in case someone needs to call timeout.”

Spencer nodded at this. It made him wish that he had developed a safeword with Lila Archer. Not because he hadn’t enjoyed the oral sex - but because to this day, he still shuddered at the possibility of being embarrassed by someone walking in on them, or the consequences if someone found out about the improprieties of it all.

“As far as the safeword being ‘no’, or ‘stop’…” You took the time to find the right words to explain it.

Spencer waited patiently, feeling curious about this.

“I will always look out for your safety, and if you seem uncomfortable, I’ll ask you if you’re okay.” You assured him, giving him a gentle pat on the knee. Spencer smiled at this, and you enjoyed that you had comforted him with these words.

“But sometimes ‘no’ doesn’t work.” You went on to explain. “Like… if I asked you something like ‘do you want me to stop?’ and you say ‘no’, that is a positive affirmation to continue what I’m doing, but it uses a negative word. Same thing with the word ‘stop’. If you told me ‘don’t stop’ - but your voice was too quiet on the first word or I didn’t properly hear you, then I may stop when you wouldn’t want me to.”

For the first time, Spencer felt as though he was the one being schooled.

You telling him ‘I may stop when you don’t want me to’ had him drawing an image up in his head of you vigorously riding him, taunting him while you were so well composed and he was reduced to a stuttering mess because of your wetness clenching around him. With you mistaking his words for a signal of distress, and taking away your beautiful body before he got to orgasm. It would be tragic.

He easily understood what you meant.

“The point of a safeword,” You continued on. “Is that it stands out. It’s a word you would never otherwise say during playtime. A word that would never come up during sex - except for you signaling your discomfort. So when I hear that word, I know that we need to shift gears into aftercare.”

“What’s aftercare?” Spencer asked, eager to learn another new term as it was introduced to him.

Again, you were puzzled about how to explain it, how to put it into words for someone who had no clue what the word meant.

These were things you had known about for years, words that were a natural part of your vocabulary now. Things you had been doing before you even knew the terms for it. It was strange having to explain it to someone so fresh.

“It - um…” You thought for a moment. “Aftercare is what happens after a scene. It’s the period of time when you mentally and physically wind down, in order to take care of your body and mind. Because of the physical exertion and the endorphins, sex can be exhausting and mentally tedious, as much as it is fun. So - aftercare helps transition the body and mind back into non-sexual activities. Different people need different kinds of aftercare, but usually it’s things like: drinking water, eating a snack, cuddling, words of affirmation.”

“That sounds nice.” Spencer said quietly. “Would you do that for me even - even though I’m not your boyfriend?”

You held back what you instinctively wanted to say - that you wanted him to be your boyfriend. That you wanted to own him like a cute little pet and didn’t want any other woman (or man) to touch him.

Instead, you went with the diplomatic answer.

“Of course I would.” You told him. “Aftercare is part of being a good - a good teacher.”

You quickly cut yourself off from using the word ‘dominant’ and replaced it with ‘teacher’ instead. You didn’t want to scare him with the idea that you would be intimidating, mean, cold - traditional ideas behind the term ‘dominant’.

“I want to be good to you, Spence.” You quickly added on.

His cock throbbed inside of his pants at this.

“So, you have to pick your safeword.” You told him. “Something that stands out, something that will easily come to your mind.”

Spencer took a moment, and you saw him take a sideways glance at the coffee table. The chess set that was there caught his eye, and that didn’t surprise you.

“Bishop?” Spencer posed, looking at you with eyes that said he was absolutely searching for your approval. “Is that good?”

“Yes, baby, that’s perfect.” You told him.

If you did your job well enough as a dominant, then he wouldn’t need to use the word.

You would be able to tell just by his body language and him voicing his enjoyment how far you should take things. And when he was comfortable enough, you would discuss other sexual acts, and what else you should try. Though, for tonight, you had a feeling you should take control without telling him too much of what you wanted to do. You didn’t need him getting shy on you just because of some dirty talk.

“You said that was only the first rule,” Spencer mentioned, remembering what you had said. “What are the other rules?”

“Well, the second rule is: you listen to me. You listen to everything I say. You do everything I say. You don’t question me.” You told him firmly. “Because I’m the teacher, I’m in charge.”

Spencer wanted to question you then. He wanted to point out that this sounded like multiple rules, but the way you said ‘I’m in charge’ caused something inside of him to quake, and he easily fell under your authority.

He nodded.

“The next rule is: you speak when spoken to, Spencer.” You told him, your tongue sharp on the words.

You were heavily enjoying ordering him around now.

These were two roles that the two of you fell so naturally into: he was soft and submissive under your dominant energy, and he only wanted more as your ego thrived off his eager submission. It was the start of a beautiful relationship forming.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” The title came flying out of his mouth before he could stop it, and then he instantly wanted to backpedal. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I like that.” You told him with a grin. “Though, if you want to give me a title, call me Miss.”

You held back from telling him the true title you desired. Again, not wanting to scare him away. Perhaps it was something you could ween him towards on another day.

“Yes, Miss.” He corrected, nodding. “Uh - Miss? Is - is there anything else?”

“Only two more things.” You told him. Of course, you didn’t want to overload him, but you wanted him to know your most important rules up front. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to explain. “You can’t touch me without asking first. And of course, you can’t touch me unless I give you permission.”

This news cast the saddest puppy look across his features. Clearly, he was deeply disappointed by the thought that he wouldn’t be able to grope and grab at your body freely. He was upset by the thought that you would deny him access to touching you. You could definitely use that if he ever misbehaved.

“And the last thing is: you can’t cum without my permission.” You told him, almost as if it were an afterthought. With any of your other partners, it would have been. Because it would have been a basic ground rule.

“Come where?” Spencer asked, his brows knit together in the most adorably confused manner you had seen yet.

Of course, he was confused. He had never before heard someone use the term ‘cum’ to refer to an orgasm. He was used to hearing that word - ‘come’ - paired with something else like ‘come here’. So he wondered what the hell you possibly meant by it.

You found yourself grinning like the cat who ate the canary as you realized that you would also have to explain this piece of slang to him.

“No, Spence, not C-O-M-E, like the verb. It’s C-U-M. It’s slang used interchangeably with the word ‘orgasm’.” You explained to him. “Sometimes it can be a verb. Like the act of cumming, it means orgasming. Or sometimes it’s a noun. Sometimes people use the word ‘cum’ instead of saying semen. ‘Cum’ is the fluid. As in: ‘I want your cum inside of me’.”

You intentionally teased him with this example, saying it as casually as a straight forward grammar lesson, looking him in the eyes the entire time. His eyes lit up at your words - obviously, he had no clue that such a simple sentence could turn him on so much. But the words immediately painted a picture in his mind of that white, sticky fluid dripping down your inner thighs, put there by him. It was so perfect that it almost made him dizzy.

When Spencer didn’t say anything, you continued with your ‘lesson’.

“When I said that you can’t cum without my permission, I meant that you can’t have an orgasm unless I say so.” You told him with finality.

He looked struck with worry at this. Partially at the idea that he wouldn’t get to have an orgasm if you didn’t give him permission, and partially at the thought that if he accidentally orgasmed without your permission, you would be angry with him and cut off all further sexual contact.

“What’s wrong, Spence?” You had to ask.

“How - how does that work?” He asked, all too curious at how he could stop himself from orgasming or how he could get your permission first.

“Well, you know what it feels like when you’re about to have an orgasm, right?” You asked, really hoping that he at least masturbated regularly. You didn’t think you could have the burden of giving him his first ever orgasm. He nodded and this and you felt a small breath of relief leave you. “So, when you feel like that, you simply ask me if you’re allowed to cum. Ask me if you can cum.”

“Will you let me?” Spencer asked nervously, sheepishly. You distinctly noticed how he avoided the word. He didn’t say the sentence as you had. You yearned to hear him say ‘will you let me cum?’ - but you knew you had to give him time to shake off his shyness.

“If you’ve been a good boy, then yes.” You told him. “Good boys follow the rules. But I don’t think you’ll have any problems, Spence.”

You saw him relax at this - any tension leaving his muscles.

You conveniently left out the part where you might edge him, might not let him cum just for your own amusement.

“I think that’s all for now.” You told him. “Now that we have the rules set - do you wanna play with your new toy?”

Spencer’s face absolutely lit up at this.

“Yes, please.” He said, his voice somehow still shy and quiet. “Yes, please, Miss.”

Your stomach jolted with intense pleasure at his declaration.

Spencer thought that you would simply grab the toy from him and unzip his pants. He was surprised when you stood up, and began looking around the room as though you were looking for something. But in alignment with the rules, he didn’t question you. He didn’t ask what you were looking for or why. Instead, he just sat there quietly and waited for your instructions.

When you seemed satisfied with your idea, you then began moving around. You leaned down and pushed away the coffee table, pushing it as far back as it would go. This made a fair amount of space in front of the couch. And before Spencer could become truly curious about it, you turned to the side of the room - toward a space where he had a small table.

It was meant to be a sort of ‘dining’ table, suitable for one or two people in an apartment like his. It had two chairs, but one of the chairs was piled up with books and the surface of the table had some files on it that he had taken home from work. He did sit on the other chair to eat occasionally - during the rare times he actually sat down and had a meal at home.

You grabbed the empty chair - which was a wooden chair with a round back and decorative wooden bars coming off the seat, holding the back of it up. (Something Spencer had picked up at a yard sale.) And then you put the chair in the middle of the room, right in the space you had cleared from moving the coffee table. The chair was facing the couch - and it became apparent to Spencer then that this was a stage.

You were either going to sit in that chair and watch him, or he was going to be the thing on display in the middle of the room. The idea of that happening - the idea of you watching him like a show, like he was something to admire - that put a twist in his stomach. It was something almost too daunting for him to conquer. He found himself swelling with shyness again, wanting to back down from this.

He feared that he wouldn’t be able to impress you. He feared that he was gangly, thin, undesirable. He feared that his experience would steer him wrong somewhere and he would mess up terribly and turn you off.

He thought that he wouldn’t be able to impress you.

But he wanted to impress you so badly. He wanted you. He wanted your touch. He wanted to be a good boy for you, like you had said.

“Give me your belt.” You said, turning to him expectantly and holding out your hand.

“My - my belt?” He asked.

Then, he immediately scolded himself inside as he realized that was questioning you, and against the rules.

You let that one slide. He was still getting used to this, and it must have been an odd, confusing instruction to hear right off the bat.

“Yes, your belt. I need it.” You said, still holding out your hand. “Come on.”

Spencer stood up then, his hands and legs shaking slightly from nerves and the overwhelming lust. Although he was taller than you, he felt so entirely small as you stared at him, waiting patiently while his shaking hands struggled to undo the buckle and then slip the leather out of the belt loops.

When he finally handed it over to you, you took the belt in hand and inspected it for a moment before you quietly said ‘perfect’ under your breath. You then looked between Spencer and the chair - he was still wearing his work attire. A cardigan, a button up shirt and tie, his usual slacks, and his adorable dorky glasses. He had taken off his shoes at the door, revealing his oddly sweet mismatched socks.

“Spencer,”

You called his name, capturing his attention from where he was swaying on the spot, nervously fidgeting with the buttons on his cardigan to avoid looking at you. As soon as he looked up at you with those big, wet eyes, you felt confident in giving him your next instruction.

“I want you to take off all your clothes. Except for your glasses and your socks.” You told him, giving him his first proper orders.

He held his voice in his throat when he felt the need to question you about it, to ask you why.

You wanted him to keep the glasses on because they brought an entirely dorky charm to him - you wanted to see if they would fog up when he became heated with lust. The socks? You thought they were cute, but it was mostly a test to see how closely he would follow the instructions. To test how well he would listen.

He did as he was told. He stripped off his sweater, and then his tie, and then his watch, leaving his wrists nice and bare for you. His fingers began to shake slightly as he descended on the buttons of his shirt - clearly, he was feeling nervous once again, so you decided to give him some encouragement.

“You’re being such a good boy, Spence.” You told him. “So good for me.”

He let out a quiet breath at the praise - a precursor to a moan. It was something that compelled him to strip faster, and gave him a small boost of courage when reaching for the zipper of his pants. After he unzipped them - his erection clearly fighting to be freed of the fabric - your mouth began watering at the sight as he reached for the waistband of his pants and his underwear all at once and slid them down.

A snake of surprising length popped out of his pants. His dick began bobbing around carelessly, smearing shiny precum all over his skin as he unhooked himself from the legs of his pants and put them aside.

You had to marvel at it.

You had never really thought about what Spencer might look like naked before. You had never allowed your mind to venture there. But now that you were seeing his cock: nine inches long, skinny and lean like he was, pale with a bright pink tip, sprouting from a thick thatch of dark pubic hair - it just made sense. He was tall and gangly, and so was his cock. It would be an impressive sword to impale yourself upon - but that would be for another day.

Spencer caught you staring, of course.

He had the urge to cover himself with his hands, and found himself clenching his fists by his sides because he figured that you wouldn’t like him trying to hide from you.

He wondered if it looked weird. He wondered if you didn’t like it. He wondered-

“You’re beautiful, Spencer.” You said, your voice so drenched in utter sincerity that you almost broke into a gasp trying to get the words out. “So fucking beautiful.”

Again, he wanted to question you - but didn’t. He wanted to be a good boy. He would follow the rules.

“Th-thank you, Miss.” He muttered out quietly, almost unable to accept the compliment.

“Come here, sit down.” You told him, motioning toward the chair.

He nodded, his legs feeling rather numb as he moved to follow your instructions. When his ass made contact with the wooden surface of the chair, he let out a gasp at how cool it was compared to his heated skin. You quietly giggled at this, and then grabbed the belt from where you had put it down. He grew tense and curious once again when you walked behind him.

You grabbed one of his wrists and began to guide it behind him, but he was so tense that you knew it would be uncomfortable for him. You eased your touch with a flat palm up his forearm and bicep, across his shoulder until you could press the weight of your thumb into the base of his neck. He moaned lightly at this, melting into the touch.

“Relax, baby.” You urged. Spencer relaxed even further at the nickname, absolutely blooming with affection inside because of it. “I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you. I just want to make you feel good.”

To drive home this point, you leaned in and planted a simple kiss on the back of his head, and then one on the side of his neck. Spencer let out a fluttering moan at this. He wanted more of those kisses, but he couldn’t work up the nerve to ask for it.

He could find no faults with what you had said, so he did his best to do as you instructed. He relaxed, leaning back fully against the chair - which was slightly uncomfortable while he was completely naked and throbbing hard, waiting for you to touch him more. But he trusted you.

You grabbed one of his wrists, and then the other, and guided them behind his back.

It was much easier now that his muscles were softer, more pliant to you.

You knelt down and used the belt to tie them simply. You looped the belt through the wooden slats so his hands would be held to the chair, and then placed both of his wrists into the loop. You didn’t want it to be so tight that the material would cut into his wrists painfully or cut off circulation, you just wanted to restrict his movement.

Which would absolutely be the case when his arms were bound behind him, awkwardly tied to the back of the chair. You hooked the buckle into the smallest notch, giving him a bit of room to move, a bit of a gap to put your finger between the belt and his skin. However, it put his shoulders at an awkward angle so he would need your help getting out of it.

“Is that okay?” You asked. “Not too tight? Be honest.”

Spencer thought that he should feel slightly afraid or too vulnerable - being completely naked and tied to a chair like this. But with you, he felt safe.

“It’s good.” He told you honestly. “Not too tight.” He assured you, moving to show off that wiggle room, demonstrating that the material wasn’t cutting into his wrists.

“Good,” You sighed quietly, standing up once again.

You walked around him like a predator circling their prey, making graceful, careful moments as you took in the sight of him.

He was absolutely, beautifully sinful in this state.

Stripped entirely naked, except for those glasses and those adorable, mismatched socks, sitting in the chair with his hands bound behind his back. All while he stared at you with his wide, expectant eyes, waiting for whatever your next move would be. While his heavy, hard cock leaked freely against his stomach, smearing a trail of sticky precum across his skin.

You reached forward and grabbed his chin, tilting his head up slightly to look at you. Having someone as tall as Spencer look up at you for a change was entirely powerful. You held him there while you asked him a very important question.

“You gonna be good for me?” You asked him.

Instinctively for him, there was only one answer.

“Yes.” He whimpered out. “Yes, Miss. I want to be good for you.”

The pure sincerity of his declaration caused another wave of wetness from your aching pussy. For now, you would ignore your own needs. You would take care of him, make sure that this was a pleasurable experience for him.

“Good boy,” You praised him, giving him a light kiss on the forehead - to which he sighed quietly in delight.

Then, you let go of his face completely and turned to grab the item that had started this whole thing.

You were excited to finally use it on Spencer.

Spencer watched with awe and intrigue as you grabbed the toy and then the lube - you peeled off the plastic shrink wrap on the lube bottle with your teeth, and then popped the cap. And you turned so Spencer could see as you poured a generous amount of lube into the opening of the toy.

“Don’t be afraid to use too much lube,” You told him, being a proper teacher. “In my opinion, there’s no such thing as ‘too wet’. But ‘too dry’ can cause skin irritation from friction. Or tearing if you’re trying to insert something like fingers or a penetrative toy. Like a dildo. Adequate lubrication always reduces the risk of both those things,”

Spencer wanted to ask if there were other kinds of penetrative toys aside from dildos, but he figured that would be a question for another time.

“Yes, Miss.” He nodded in understanding, absorbing what you had told him.

You looked between the toy and his cock, and realized you might as well slick him up beforehand.

You took a step closer to him and put the thickness of the fleshlight between his thighs, propping it there while you quietly mumbled ‘hold this’ - which caused him to tense his thighs in order to keep it from falling. He became enraptured by the sight of the silicone pussy, lubed and wet as a real one would be. He was so distracted by the sight that he almost didn’t take in you pouring lube into your hand before you capped the bottle and put it aside.

“This is probably gonna be cold,” You warned him quietly before you used your lubed hand to take a hold of his cock.

It was. And he let out a harsh gasp - from the shock of the cold wetness, a sound that quickly turned into a strangled moan as you formed a loose grip around his cock and began spreading the wetness over him with purpose. The lube soon warmed between your palm and the throbbing skin of his cock, and he unconsciously bucked into your touch, almost knocking the fleshlight out from resting between his thighs.

“Stay still.” You ordered sharply, shoving his hips back down with your free hand.

The harshness behind your voice, and your thumb pressing into his hip bone sent him reeling. He was so pliant under your touch. Between your commanding authority and the slickness of your lubed hand moving in a slow rhythm in lazy pumps up and down his cock - he was already way too fucking close.

You knew it. You could see the way his stomach muscles quaked, the tensing of his thighs. Those little lilting gasps like music to your ears.

You wondered if he would spurt cum all over your hand before he warned you. (If he did, you would likely pump him through it just to see if he would get hard again.)

“Miss-!” He hollered, choking on the word.

You abruptly stopped then. You stiffened your grip around the base of his cock - which was now nicely lubed up, and throbbing even harder as you effectively used your fingers around his pelvis like a cockring, causing his orgasm to fade dully back into his muscles. He let out a wounded sound, a confused moan from deep in his chest, his stomach shaking even harder as if he was trying to force the orgasm out past your gatekeeping touch. It was almost cute.

“Yes, Spencer?” You asked, looking at him dumbly as though you had no clue what he had been trying to say.

“I - I was getting close.” He completed the thought breathlessly. “C-close to orgasm.”

Damn. If he was this fucked out now, you couldn’t wait to see what he would be like when you were done with him.

“Well, good boys only cum with permission, right?” You said, grinning at him fiendishly.

“Yes, Miss.” He said quickly, his voice dull with disappointment, but agreeable.

“Good boy.” You praised once again. You felt his cock twitch in your hand at the words. “Besides, you haven’t even gotten a chance to try out your new toy yet.”

You then grabbed up the toy and turned it over, using your hand on the base of his cock to feed his length into the fake pussy. More cool lube came rushing down to meet him, and his lungs shook once again and his heated skin was shocked by the feeling. It was strange, but pleasurable as his cock was enveloped by the soft, wet walls of the toy. It was so, so very tight around his cock - and oddly cool, far wetter than he had expected thanks to the amount of lube you had used.

Spencer reasoned that it might be like sticking his cock in a watermelon, if that watermelon were also made of rubber bands.

You knelt down in front of Spencer, looking in awe between the spot where his cock disappeared into the fake leaking pussy to his face. Seeing his reaction to this was utterly beautiful - the way his jaw naturally fell open, his eyes half closed as the pleasure overtook him.

“Oh!” Spencer let out a sudden, high startled sound as you shoved the toy down onto his cock fully.

Your eyes once again flickered between his dick and his face, and you came to an utterly stunning realization.

He didn’t fully fit inside of the toy.

There was about an inch of his cock that was still sticking out of it at the base, and with the resistance your hand had brought up into, you knew that he was fully seated inside of it. Well - as fully seated as he could get, apparently.

It was one of the hottest things you had ever seen, and it sent a dizzying wave of endorphins through you. The sight of his cock not fully fitting into the silicone pussy was a stunning visual that made you realize just how deep he would go inside of you. It made your throat dry for a moment, forced you to swallow hard before you could speak.

“You’re right here, baby?” You asked, tapping a finger on the top of the toy, knowing that he would feel it as a vibration through the plastic.

He let out a gasp and bucked his hips up slightly, something that made you smile. He was too hazy to answer you already, something that you forgave for now. He was just too beautiful to scold in these moments.

“Fuck, you don’t even fit into this thing all the way, do you?” You gasped quietly, still absolutely marveling at the sight.

“I don’t?” Spencer gaped, finally looking down to where the toy was swallowing his cock, seeing as your words had captured his attention. “Is - is that bad?”

He was struck with worry. He thought that perhaps his cock wasn’t right - that he shouldn’t be doing this, that you wouldn’t like him.

It was in that moment that you realized what a treasure you had come across. A beautiful, intelligent man with a huge cock who had no idea how to use it. Someone who needed to be taught from scratch. Someone who could be molded into anything you wanted him to be. (At least in the sexual sense.) That, and he seemed to be naturally submissive and derive pleasure from following your orders.

You most definitely weren’t going to let him go anytime soon.

“No, baby, that’s a good thing.” You assured him. “That’s a great thing.”

Spencer smiled at this - an expression that slacked off into a moan when you made your next move.

You gave the toy a slow half-pump before you seated it on his cock again, seemingly knocking the wind out of them. Then, you let go of the toy completely, letting him sit there with the fleshlight on his cock, bobbing in mid-air. It began to rise up slightly as the tightness of it hugged his cock, and unconsciously, he bucked up his hips, seeking more friction. But of course - the object was simply hanging there, seated on his cock, unmoving. It was an entirely fruitless venture.

With his hands tied behind his back, he needed you. It was an adorable struggle to watch for a moment, especially when his face knit with frustration and his thighs began to quiver from the effort.

“Please,” He begged. He was so pretty when he begged. “Help me.”

“You want me to help you fuck your toy?” You teased, reaching for it again.

“Please, Miss.”

When he whined like that, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him.

You took a good grip on the plastic then, and began a quick, smooth rhythm. You were eager to see his reaction to being fucked well, being fucked without hesitation.

Spencer immediately shuddered and began letting out harsh whimpers. He bit his lip, but it didn’t keep the sounds from wailing out of his throat as you pumped the toy up and down on his cock.

His chin was tilted down onto his chest, keeping his eyes locked on the place where the toy was devouring his hard cock. This caused his glasses to slip down his nose bridge slightly, something so entirely adorable to you in the moment. With his thighs tense and his stomach quaking, with that pool of artificial wetness leaking onto his pubes and slowly creeping down over his balls - he was so beautifully fucked out, the most perfect picture you had ever seen in your life.

“Oh - oh, oh, oh god!” His mouth fell open once again and an array of sounds fell out, a beautiful little choir that you could have only dreamed of coming from him. “Oh, please!”

You had to wonder if he was the type of person to swear when he came. Spencer was never the type of person to swear during other extreme situations. You had never seen him let out a single curse, not even with a gun to his head.

You had to wonder if you could be the one to make him swear.

“Please, Miss!” He squeaked out, sounding entirely wrecked and desperate. “Please, I’m close-!”

You couldn’t resist the temptation of stilling the toy completely, abruptly cutting off his orgasm once again. Spencer let out a broken sound as his muscles jolted and the feeling ebbed through him - so close, but not quite there. It was like a terrible ache in his muscles. Like a deep, terrible thirst with nothing to drink.

“Please,” He begged, his eyes shooting to lock onto you. “Please! Please, Miss.”

“Please, what, baby?” You teased him, reaching up and gently carding your fingers through his hair, brushing some of it off his forehead. He had a light sheen of sweat going, his body clearly strained. It was delightful to witness.

“Please,” He rasped out brokenly, so entirely desperate. “I - I need it.”

You bit your lip, holding back laughter at how perfect this was.

“Need what, baby?” You continued to tease him. “Come on, use your words.”

He swallowed hard, and stared at you with glassy desperation in his eyes. Either he was shy, or had no clue what exactly it was you wanted him to say - so you decided to guide him along.

“Say: I need to cum.” You told him, hoping that he was desperate enough now that he would simply repeat the filthy words.

“I - I need to cum.” He repeated, only mild hesitation on his lips.

“Say: I need you to make me cum.” You told him, pushing it a bit father.

“I need you,” He said, pausing slightly to catch his breath. “Need you to make me cum.”

“Good boy.” You praised him, running his hand through your hair once again.

You stood up this time, and put one hand on the back of the chair behind his shoulder for leverage, leaning over him as you took the toy in hand and started moving it once again. This gave him a perfect view down your top, and his lustful gaze locked onto your swaying cleavage as you worked on jacking the fake pussy on his cock. It was a maddening suction that had him grunting lowly with every thrust, letting out whines, flexing his hips to fuck his cock up into the toy.

“Does it feel good, pretty boy?” You asked, so heavily enjoying the sight of him so messy, so wrecked.

“Yes!” He easily replied.

“What are you thinking about? Hmm?” You couldn’t help but to ask.

“I - hnng - I - I don’t know!” He gaped.

Either he was lying, and simply didn’t want to tell you what was on his mind, or you had truly fucked his head empty. If it was the second, then you would heavily enjoy that fact.

“You don’t know?” You asked, your voice absolutely teasing once again. “Well, that’s a first.” You chuckled.

Spencer panted harshly, filling the space for a moment - along with the wet squelching of the toy moving up and down on his cock as your wrist continued to work. And then you became bold enough to ask the question that you truly wanted to.

“You thinkin’ about my pussy?” You prodded. “You imagining that this toy is me? Wondering what’s gonna be like when I finally sit on your cock?”

“Yes!” He was suddenly very eager to admit to this. Clearly it helped that he didn’t have to say the words for himself. “Yes! Yes, Miss! I want you. I want your-”

He cut himself off suddenly, moaning sharply as the tip of his cock brought up in the end of the fake pussy once again. It sent a jolt of pleasure-pain through him that had his skin boiling even hotter. You wondered if he would be bold enough to say the word ‘pussy’ or if you would have to heavily prompt him.

But that thought left your head completely with his next words.

“Oh! Oh, please! I’m so close!”

Again, feeling the devil rise up inside of you, you stopped off his orgasm.

This time, by pulling the toy away completely. You lifted the fleshlight off his cock, and watched with lustful joy as his cock slipped out of the opening with a wet pop. His thighs quaked with bitter agony and his long cock bobbed in the air, dripping thick waves of precum and lube as it separated from the toy.

Everything was so wet.

It was honestly a gorgeous sight, like a mini tidal wave dripping down onto the chair as the toy continued to leak the generous amount of lube you had put into it and his cock let out pathetic little spurts of precum. His pubes were glossy and matted together, his inner thighs were absolutely slick. He was glistening and whining harshly as the ruined orgasm crashed through his body, making his mind somehow even hazier and more desperate.

“God!” He choked out. “Please!”

He blinked harshly and a few tears escaped the corners of his eyes, making him look even more gorgeous somehow.

“Please - please! I need - I need - oh god!” He began sobbing nonsensically, begging you for release as he was practically on the verge of madness.

Your cunt throbbed at seeing him so wrecked - so utterly dependent on you.

“Hey, hey, shh.” You reached your free hand out and thumbed under the edge of his glasses - the thick lenses only magnifying his glassy eyes and lustful, broken tears all the more. You soothed your touch across his burning cheek, reassuring him. “You’ve been such a good boy. I’m gonna let you cum now. Okay?”

“Please!” He sobbed.

Hearing his voice so broken and needy probably shouldn’t have turned you on so much, but you absolutely loved it.

“Hey, shh,” You continued to rub his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. “I just need one thing from you first.”

“Anything!” He easily declared.

“I need you to say: ‘may I cum, please?’” You told him.

It was a start on the scale of filthy things that you wanted to hear from his mouth, but it would definitely be oh so satisfying.

And then - as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, he blinked his big eyes and looked up at you through tear wet lashes, giving you the most pouty, fuckable look as he leaned into your hand before he said the words.

“May I cum, please?” He asked. And then, like the wet dream that he was, he seamlessly added on. “Please, Miss. I-I’ve been a good boy.”

“Yes, you have been.” You told him. “I’ll make you cum now baby.”

You used both hands to get his cock back inside of the toy - the sound of his cock fucking back into the fake pussy was so much wetter, the whine he let out made your knees weak.

You doubled your efforts now, even going so far as to squeeze your grip on the outside of the plastic - which made the silicone grip his cock just that little bit tighter as you slammed it up and down on him. Your movements were hard and fast in the effort to make him cum for certain this time.

“Oh, oh, oh, you - oh!” Spencer began babbling nonsense, his words barely broken up by harsh breaths being sucked into his lungs and whimpers emanating from his throat at the intense pleasure. “Oh, Miss - you - you’re so - ah!”

“Where’s that big IQ now, boy genius?” You taunted him, keeping up the brutal pace. “Did I make you all stupid? Did I melt your big brain? Huh?”

Spencer all but confirmed this as truth when he gurgled out nothingness as a response.

You felt slightly bolder, and you became slightly harsher in your degrading words. You almost couldn’t help yourself. You loved tearing him apart so much, having him melt under your touch. You couldn’t help but to brag about the amazing job you had done.

“Just a dumb little baby now, aren’t you?” You cooed, your voice entirely condescending. “Just a stupid little boy for me. So cumdrunk you can’t even think now, huh? There’s no boy genius here now. Just a dumb baby who needs to cum.”

He only inflated your ego with his next words.

“Yes!” He shouted out, entirely confirming what you had said - if he had even properly heard it through the blood pumping in his ears. To him, it might have just been the raw hum of your voice in the background, like an undertone with no true words to it. “Yes! Need - need t’ cum!”

It was the most incoherent you had ever known Doctor Spencer Reid to be.

You stared on eagerly as you watched his stomach tighten up, his lungs struggling for breath.

“Y/N-!” He gasped out your name right before it hit him.

And when it hit him, when he finally tumbled over the edge into the abyss - boy, it was a big one.

It was an intense, full body orgasm. His legs shook, his body arched off the chair as though he were having a seizure, actually putting a strain on his bonded arms for the first time. He wildly bucked up into the toy as you continued to work it over his cock, his mouth dropping open wildly as a strain of high pitched, needy whimpers poured out from between his pretty pink lips.

You were feeling selfish, and you wanted to see him cum at least a bit.

So knowing that he was riding the wave, you ripped the toy off him, causing a wounded noise to come out of him as his spurting cock fell from it. But you didn’t leave him hanging. You immediately replaced the toy with your hand, and put a tight grip around him, pumping viciously over his throbbing cock, wanting to milk the rest of the orgasm out of him by hand.

The sudden, shocking overstimulation sent his body into overdrive.

His thighs shook so hard it could have been mistaken for electrocution, he gasped like a drowning man - he would have begged for mercy, but he couldn’t catch his breath.

It was the best feeling he had ever experienced. It was pure euphoria, it was heaven on earth. It was an icy hot fire running through his veins that he didn’t even know was possible.

He had never experienced an orgasm like this before. He knew the feeling of an orgasm to be more like a dull tickle in his groin. But now that he had done this - he didn’t think he could go back to anything else.

Large spurts of cum blasted from his cock, so overpowering then that painted his stomach, his chest, and much to your delight - a few thick white spurts even dirtied his glasses when you angled his cock that way and kept viciously pumping him.

His cock was so hot that it felt like it could have burned your hand, so needy and bloated with blood from how long you had edged him. Eventually, when the tip of his cock began to weep out a pathetic clear liquid, and he was on the verge of sobbing once more, you let him go from your grip, finally giving him a moment to breathe.

You knew for certain that you would never be able to look at Spencer Reid again without seeing this imagery: him, completely fucked out, his face flushed red, mouth agape as he struggled for breath. His naked body, limp cock laying against his pelvis, painted in his own cum - including dirtying up his own glasses.

You loved those glasses even more now.

You couldn’t get him to swear - but fuck, that was really something.

“Thank you.” He said meekly, still struggling for breath. “Th-thank you, Miss.”

“Good boy.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Such a good boy for me.”

Now, it was time to take care of him and make sure that he had a good come down.

You put the toy on the coffee table, placing it with the opening up so it wouldn’t leak everywhere - you wouldn’t clean it later. You also took off his glasses and placed them aside. Again - you would clean them later.

You rushed to untie his hands, and eased his arms back around his body by gently rubbing his shoulders, hoping that the muscles wouldn’t be too sore or stiff from being in the same position for so long.

“Such a good boy.” You assured him. “You did so well for me honey.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. Clearly, he was absolutely exhausted from the ordeal. You hoped you could get his tall, gangly self to his bed on your own if he was so fucked out and weak. You walked back around to his front and laid your lips on his forehead again, murmuring more praises against his skin as you continued to rub his shoulders and run your fingers through his hair. You told him how good he was, how perfect he had been for you, how beautiful he was.

After a few minutes, you felt his hands on your hips as he came out of the haze. He ran a thumb along the waistband of your pants, and his first words after that haze surprised you.

“What - what about you?” He asked.

Clearly, he meant that you should have an orgasm. Your cunt was aching dully between your thighs, and you were sure that you had soaked through your underwear. But that had been a lot for him, and you didn’t want to overwhelm him during the first time.

“That’ll be a lesson for next time.” You told him quietly. He hummed quietly at this. He felt assured by you simply saying ‘next time’. “I have to clean up your toy now, so you can use it again later. Then I’ll clean you up and tuck you into bed, okay, baby?”

He nodded. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

You hesitantly broke away from him and grabbed the toy, and as you moved to leave the room, you paused at him mumbling out more words.

“Can - can I have a glass of water, please?” He asked quietly.

“Of course you can, baby.”

You went into the kitchen and ran the toy under hot water - which you left going as you got a glass and filled it with cold water and ice from the dispenser. You were lucky to find a straw in the takeout bag from earlier - you put it in the glass and, while the hot water was still running in the sink, you rushed out to give Spencer a drink.

You held the glass while he chugged gratefully from it, and after a few moments, you ensured that he could hold it with his sex tired hands by himself and then you left to finish cleaning up the toy. You set it on his empty dish rack to drip dry (which was quite a sight). And then you went to the bathroom, coming back with a warm cloth to wipe him down. He was only slightly unsteady on his legs as you guided him to bed - his muscles shaking and tired after the whole amazing ordeal.

You found it endearing that his bed was unmade, surrounded by stacks of books that were lined up on the floor, rather than on any shelf.

You pulled back the covers completely and helped him get in, and you were tucking him in nicely when he asked the sweet question.

“Will you cuddle with me?” He asked quietly, looking up at you with those adorable, expectant eyes once again. “You know, for - for the aftercare?”

You likely would have done it simply because he asked, even if you didn’t deem it ‘necessary’ for aftercare. But because he asked, it was part of good care.

“Of course.” You answered. “I don’t have any pjs, so do you mind if I sleep in my underwear?”

You had just tucked him into bed naked, and he was asking you to lay down beside him like that. But still, you wanted to ask how comfortable he would be if you were in a state of undress.

His eyes shined with interest at the idea of seeing you at least partially undressed.

“I don’t mind.” He told you.

You nodded, and stepped back slightly to begin undressing.

“So - did you have fun?” You asked. You suspected that he had entirely enjoyed himself, but you did want to hear him say it.

Spencer grinned at this. “I think what we just did has changed my definition of ‘fun’ entirely.” He told you. “In a good way. So you know.”

You preened at the idea that you had shifted Spencer’s worldview. Someone who most likely spent his free time reading research papers and playing through chess games entirely on his own and called it ‘fun’ would now be thinking about spending his free time playing with you instead.

You stripped out of your pants, socks, and work blouse, which left you in your simple cotton underwear, a thin cotton camisole and your bra underneath. You decided to take off your bra underneath your shirt and just sleep in the cami and panties for comfort. You knew your underwear was stuck to your cunt from your previous burning arousal, and Spencer’s eyes did focus hard on that, and then focused even harder on the outline of your bare breasts as you ditched your bra off to the side.

If he had the ability to get hard again after that spectacular orgasm, he probably would have been throbbing at the sight of you.

You lifted up the covers and crawled into bed with him, cuddling into his side as he tentatively wrapped an arm around your waist. Your stomach fluttered when he kissed the top of your head before you felt his body relax into the mattress.

“Thank you.” He said quietly, clearly exhausted. “I love it when you teach me things.”

...

Keep Reading Here - Lesson Two: Magic Metacarpals

Note: This is a Capsule Series, so each fic can be read as an individual oneshot. There is no overarching story, and no specific ending.

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction

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