#so there's no risk of you finding my ao3 because of this post

[secondbeatsongs]

iCarly Meta, Part 5: Socko, Nominative Determinism, and How I Spend My Free Time

so, you may remember that I've made four separate iCarly posts before, because I am just way too into this dorky, ridiculous children's show.

well, over a year ago, I wrote this fifth one. and after some introspection, some really deep self-evaluation about what I want and where I'm going in life, I've decided that it's time to share it with the world at large

so...let's talk about Socko's family!

to catch you up: Socko is Spencer's best friend, who designs all of the fun socks that Spencer wears! he's first mentioned in s01e07 (iScream on Halloween), though some of his socks are shown as early as s01e02 (iWant More Viewers).

(technical note: production-wise, s01e09 is listed before s01e07, and I think that was intended to be Socko's introduction, and it would make sense, considering how Spencer describes him in that ep. but I can't prove this, and so we move on.)

while Socko is mentioned consistently throughout the show, he's never fully shown on screen. but, he does technically appear in an episode, because you can see part of his arm in s04e11-s04e13 (iParty with Victorious) when he hands Spencer the keys to his van.

Spencer and Socko have known each other since at least 1999 (as mentioned in s02e12, iRocked the Vote) when Spencer would have been 17 or 18. and despite Socko almost never being shown, it's clear that he spends a lot of time with Spencer, and that they're close. if Spencer needs something, Socko is always willing to call in a favor from one of his family members.

and boy, does Socko have a lot of very interesting family members.

let's go over some of them real quick:

Bernie is a welder, Otto is a used car salesman, Tyler designs neckties, Taylor is a tailor, Rob is a thief, Arty is an artist, Isaac is an optometrist, and Ryder is a motorcycle enthusiast.

are we noticing a pattern here?

every single one of these is an aptronym – a personal name that is aptly or peculiarly suited to its owner. and since all of these people are in some way related, this is fascinating to me.

it seems like Socko's family is really into nominative determinism – the idea that people tend to gravitate towards areas of work that fit their names. whether or not this is true of people in real life is unclear, but in the universe of iCarly, this is something that Socko's family is all about.

when did it start, I wonder? who was the first in the family to have a job or hobby that related directly to their name? and who continued that pattern? because someone named Bernard going by "Bernie" and taking up welding is one thing, but an entire family of people going into fields that have to do with their names is unsettling.

is this on purpose, now? do the parents in Socko's family choose names for their children based on what they want them to be? is there an expectation that each child will have to choose a profession based on what their parents name them?

I think there is. and I think it's fucked up.

imagine growing up knowing that your name would control your future career options. that no matter how you felt about your name, choosing a career or hobby that matched it is what would make your parents happy. that at least some portion of your parents' love is tied to the idea that you will be what they named you.

and depending on the name, the kids aren't always left with a lot of options! someone named Bernie could be a welder, a woodburning artist, a firefighter, etc...but for Taylor, there's really only one path to take.

what if a kid is trans? I just have to wonder, would they be judged more for not identifying with their assigned sex at birth, or for changing their name?

and one of Socko's cousins is named Mary. think about that with me for a second – Mary.

imagine that the only dream your parents have for you is that you get married. and not just fall in love! no, you were given this name because their express purpose, their biggest hope for you is that you get legally married.

what if Mary had been gay? what if she grew up with fear in her heart, knowing that the only thing her parents had ever wanted from her wasn't possible, was actually illegal, because of who she was?

or what if she had been aro, or ace, or just otherwise not interested in relationships? or what if she was interested in relationships, but not the serious, legal commitment of marriage?

my hope here (my one fragile hope) is that Rob, Mary, and Josh are siblings, and that their parents were trying to escape this part of the family legacy. maybe they named their kids Robert, Marian, and Joshua, and tried to steer clear of any obvious career choices – but then their sons started going by "Josh" and "Rob" and causing trouble, and "Mary" started talking about her upcoming wedding, and they knew that they would never be free of the family curse.

'cause it's gotta be a curse, right? I feel like at this point, it has to be.

but hey, worry not! because I think there are some loopholes.

Penny, for example, had a lot of choices – she could have minted coins, or built fences, or designed ball-point pens, or been a cashier (etc, etc). but she didn't do any of those things! she started a t-shirt company, and made shirts with fun phrases on them like "church pants" and "parole baby" and "chest words" (all shirts I would wear for real).

her job didn't have anything to do with her name – but she still followed the family pattern. she named her t-shirt company "Penny-Tees", and sewed a single penny into each of her shirts. instead of finding a name-based occupation, she made her own.

I really think it's brilliant – she got to do what she wanted, and her parents couldn't complain, because it still suited her name! and if this pattern is curse-based, she found a way around it by following it to the letter (but not exactly the spirit), and because of this, she got to make her own choices.

and speaking of jobs that may or may not suit one's name: let's talk about Socko.

early in the show when we're introduced to him, we know three things about him:

he knows where to find huge pumpkins

he sells Spencer all of his wacky socks

his name is Socko

but, thinking about that third point…is it?

like, is his name actually Socko?

let's look at Socko's family tree for a moment:

(ID in alt text)

(yes, I made this. it took over two days. I skimmed through many episodes, looked through a large amount of the old iCarly website on the Wayback Machine, and as far as I know, this is canon accurate.)

(shhh, this was absolutely a valuable use of my time. don't worry about it.)

look at his family. look at the names.

almost all of them are, well…normal names. names that could belong to any acquaintance, friend, or relative in your own everyday life.

the only real exceptions here are Freight Dog, Boomer, and Dr. Paxil – but if we're being real? "Freight Dog" is almost definitely a nickname, "Paxil" isn't that strange-sounding of a surname, and I have actually seen people named "Boomer".

so that just leaves…Socko.

"Socko" is not a people name. it sounds mean, but I don't know how else to word that – it's just not a name for a human person.

it would be a great name for a cat or a dog (especially if they had paws that were a different color from their body – man, that'd be so cute!), but it is not a name that many parents would willingly give to a human child. especially when all of the other siblings in the family have relatively normal names.

my theory, my hottest take: I don't think "Socko" is his legal name.

think about it: Socko and every single one of his siblings went into the fashion industry. even accounting for the fact that they probably wanted Penny to have a different career, would Socko's parents really want all three of their other children going into the same industry, especially one as tumultuous and challenging as fashion design?

I think not. I think they gave Socko a different name, one that they believed would lead him down a completely distinct career path. and then, like Penny, Socko found his own true calling – but instead of changing his occupation to match his name? he changed his name to match his occupation.

it is my belief that Socko's birth name…the name his parents gave him…

(drumroll please)

…was "Socrates".

now hold on, just stay with me here. because I swear that this does make sense, really!

so, back at the beginning of this post I mentioned nominative determinism, but that term wasn't actually used until 1994. before then, it was called "onomastic determinism" or "die verpflichtung des namens" ("the obligation of the name"), but it wasn't really…a thing? it wasn't something that people really studied, and when they did, nobody could seem to come to a solid conclusion about whether or not your name does actually influence your career choice.

I think that in some way, Socko's parents wanted an answer. they wanted an explanation as to why their family tree reads like a joke book. and by naming their kid "Socrates", they were sending that question out into the world, hoping for a response.

because there were really two options here – either Socko would grow up to be a philosopher, someone who could search for meaning in the pattern of family job-finding, or he wouldn't. and if he didn't, if he threw off the shackles of his name and did something else entirely, then that in itself would be an answer.

and sure, maybe his parents should have thought about how "Socrates" might be abbreviated. maybe they should have considered that he could grow up to design socks. but hindsight is 20/20, and I don't know if that's something any parent would expect of their child, so I won't hold that against them.

I will however, judge them for naming two of their kids "Taylor" and "Tyler" – like, my god. can you imagine how often people got them mixed up? it's inhumane.

even worse if they were twins! though actually, that would make some kind of twisted sense – to give twins names that not only match, but that would lead them to careers in the same industry. maybe they wanted them to go into business together? hoo boy.

anyway, sorry, I've gone off-topic. back to Socko – or should I say, Socrates.

"Socrates" is a pretty fun name. two parts of it are σῶς (sôs, “safe and sound”) and κράτος (krátos, “power”), which is an interesting name meaning for a dude who was executed for corrupting the youth.

(I'm talking about the philosopher here – as far as I know, Socko from iCarly was not executed for corrupting the youth. at least, not yet.)

and if we keep thinking about Socrates (the philosopher), I think there's another reason that this name fits: we know fuck-all about Socrates.

sure, he's well-known – lots of people know about his ideas, and the Socratic method – but…he never actually wrote anything. everything we think we know about him, we learned from somebody else.

all of Socrates' interests, his skills, his beliefs? they were all things we learned from Plato, Xenophon, or (I guess) Aristophanes. we have no idea what the dude was actually like, outside of that.

just like we have no idea what Socko is like, outside of what Spencer says.

Socrates is a vital figure in the history of western philosophy, but all of the things we know about him are altered by the opinions of other people, filtered through the lenses of their perception.

and Socko is a vital character in the show iCarly, but all of the things we know about him – his hobbies, his opinions, his wants – are things we've heard second-hand from Spencer.

(you're laughing. Spencer Shay is a stand-in for Plato, and you're laughing.)

so in a very fun way, Socko (Socrates) did live up to his name…by being unknown to us, the audience.

us, watching this TV show the way chained prisoners watch shadows dance on the wall of a cave.

continuing down this rabbit hole…does this mean that one of the iCarly crew is Aristotle?

no…perhaps that's taking it too far.

(it'd be Gibby)

final notes:

I haven't seen all of the iCarly reboot yet (I'm on episode 3! I have mixed feelings, but I think one of the writers ships the thing that I ship, so that's fun), so if it mentions something about Socko lore, I unfortunately do not know about it.

fun fact: the ancient Greeks did often have names that were meant to have sway on their lives! for example: Hedistē ("most delightful"), Demotimos ("honored among the people"), Hippodamas ("horse-tamer"), Nikomachē ("victorious in battle").

additional fun fact: I asked one of the mods of the iCarly wiki, and they said I could put the family tree I made on the page for Socko's Family! :D

look! it's my thing! the thing that I made! how cool is that?!

(I'll be real; I am way too proud of this)

yes, two of Socko's family members have inaptronyms instead of aptronyms: Harry (bald) and Jean (allergic to denim). but in my mind, they still count – the names are still weirdly suited to their specific lives.

since I'm pretty sure "Freight Dog" is a nickname, I also took a crack at what I think his legal name might be. my theory? "Aaron".

(get it? Aaron? because he's in the air? okay, I'll see myself out.)

anyway, my new hobby is coming up with more family members for Socko to have. descend with me into the deepest reaches of The Headcanon Zone, and behold:

Lisa: She's a landlord (she leases apartments). Socko hates her.

Barry: A big ol' bear of a man. Or he could work for Gund or Build-a-Bear or something. That could be fun!

Mike: Audio technician

Amy: Sharpshooter

Summer: Camp counselor

Tony: Orthopedist. (toe-knee)

Marty: Owns and operates a supermarket

and because it's fun, my friend @wonderbound joined in and came up with these super great ones:

Drew: Illustrator

Cody: Programmer or hacker

Pete: Bryologist (he studies moss!)

Norm: He's just a guy

Flo: Plumber – or maybe, an expert in fluid dynamics

Hattie: Milliner (she makes hats)

Howl: Werewolf (or perhaps, the owner of a moving castle 👀)

Will: Estate planning attorney (he writes wills)

anyway, I think that's about it. thanks for coming with me on this adventure! I hope it was as much of a rollercoaster to read as it was to write, because yeah, it was a weird one over here.

I mean, it started out normal? but then the next thing I knew, I had gotten invested, made nine edits to the iCarly wiki, and designed that whole family tree. so I think maybe I went a little overboard with this one. xD

tune in next time, for…I dunno. I think my brain needs a break after that. but, eventually I would love to write more meta! just…maybe not all for iCarly? I have some things to say about Gravity Falls that I think are gonna blow your minds.

(not really; I just think it's great)

[mrsbarnesblog]

Push him

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x PR manager! Reader

Summary: When you became Avenger’s PR manager, you basically got your dream job, but one particular man, who had been staring at you every single time you were around, made you wonder whether it was because he hated or liked you.

Word count: 6.8K

Warnings: smut, bucky is obsessed with your short skirts, bucky is recovering, grumpy x sunshine, good friend natasha romanoff, office sex, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, pet names

Author's note: ‼️so if you haven't seen my previous post, this is my new account. you may have seen this work on my old one (@inmyicyworld) but it was terminated and @support doesn't respond to me. please, follow and share this work. I'm going to reupload all of my old fanfics and hope to get your support ❤️

The work at the Avengers Tower wasn’t what you expected it to be. Tony Stark found you while you were working for another company a little bit more than a month ago. He was amazed by the way you were dealing with problems, by your charisma, and by your ability to find a common language with everyone. That’s how he knew that he had to have you as his partner and a part of the team.

The next day, you got a call directly from Tony, asking you to quit your job and accept his offer to work as Avenger’s PR manager. It would be an understatement to say that your jaw dropped to the floor when you heard your salary.

He said that you were totally worth it and that working with a group of such different people was not easy, but he was sure that you would be perfect at this. So on that exact day, you decided to take a risk and accept the challenge.

One thing that you hated about your previous job was the strict dress code. It was simply far from your style because you hated wearing the same basic and boring clothes every day. Tony said that it was the last thing that he cared about, and in that building, no one was obligated to wear certain clothes.

You knew that it was your lucky ticket.

He was actually really friendly and funny in person. You talked a lot during your first day while he was showing you all the necessary places in the tower: your office, his lab, common rooms and kitchens, avenger’s rooms, and even a beautiful garden on the roof. By the way, Tony allowed you to decorate your office however you wanted and gave you the number of the person who was responsible for this.

In short, it was perfect.

You were giddy with excitement on your first actual day of work. According to the plan, you had to meet with the Avengers and then arrange a few meetings for Tony.

It felt like you spent hours before your mirror deciding what to wear. Your whole room was a mess, and when you finally completed your look, which consisted of a short black skirt, beige long sleeve and a brown leather jacket on top, it was already time to go.

Everyone in the room heard you before they saw you because of the sound of your heels clicking on the wood floor.

“Don’t tell me that this is our PR manager, Stark.” Black Widow looked you up and down with a smirk on her face. “You look good, hun. Finally, someone with a taste in this boring group of losers, besides me and Wanda, of course.”

“Hi.” You nicely smiled, not ready to get a compliment as soon as you stepped into the room.

“Ohh, she’s also the sweet one.” Another red-headed woman, Wanda, said with a smile.

“You both, shut up.” Tony stood up from the armchair with a pack of chips in one hand and threw the other one over your shoulder. “Want some?” He asked you, showing the food, but you slightly shook your head. “Whatever… Now, you all listen here, this is Y/N; she’s our new PR manager. I stole her from someone because she’s incredibly smart and good at her job. Starting from this moment, she’s going to cover up your asses and organize all this stupid media stuff.” You blushed at his words but were still silent. “So, this is Natasha, Wanda, Steve, Bucky, and Th—wait, you already know them, right?”

“Yeah, of course I do.” You chuckled. “By the way, it’s nice to meet all of you. I hope we can work together, and I will have a chance to be helpful.” You took a look at all the Avengers in the room, and everyone looked at you with a smile except one person, whose eyes sent shivers down your spine.

When you looked at Bucky, you saw that his eyes were scanning your body with an unreadable expression, and you suddenly felt really weird in your short skirt. Your eyes met, and his famous death stare was really quite scary. He didn’t like you? You two were staring at each other for a few seconds, and you believe that the rest of the team noticed it because Steve loudly cleared his throat to get your attention.

He asked you a few questions about you, and Clint and Sam made a few jokes. Everything was fine as you all chatted for a little bit until Tony said that everyone should get ready for tomorrow’s mission, and you too have a lot to do.

You went back to your office only with the thought that, during this whole time, Bucky was staring at you like he wanted to burn a hole in your head.

Later that day, Bucky was sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of already-cold coffee while Steve was making himself dinner. It was quiet besides the sound of the cooking food, or at least Bucky didn’t listen to Steve’s words because he was too deep in his thoughts.

Well, he was mostly thinking about you and his mixed feelings about this interaction. As soon as you walked into the room, you had his whole attention. He couldn’t help but stare at your body, at your open legs, and at your smiley face. He knew that he sounded like a total creep and that it was inappropriate to look at other people this way, but he had never seen women dress this way. Was it normal right now? Was it new fashion trends or something? The only women that he had been interacting with for the past few years were women from Wakanda, and in the tower it was mostly Nat and Wanda, and he had never seen them dress like that. Or, at least, he just didn’t care enough to notice it.

When he saw you today, he felt something in him, and he didn’t like that feeling. It was something new, something that he had never experienced before, but his body became tense and his stomach tightened. It was weird.

“What, you're still trying to process her?” He was distracted from his thoughts by Sam, who came to the kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge. Bucky looked at him and furrowed his brows when he saw a shitty smirk.

“What the fuck are you talking about? And why are you smiling like an idiot?” Bucky growled.

“Because you’re thinking about Y/N.” His words caught Steve’s attention, and he came closer.

“That’s why you two were staring at each other like that?” Steve said this while drying his hands with a towel. “Do you like her? I think she seems cute.”

“No, I don’t. She just looks... different.”

“Oh, the old man got excited by the beautiful woman and her short skirt.” Sam’s smile got even wider as he started teasing Bucky. “You know, I wanted to ask her out, but I can take a step back if you like her.” He leaned on the table so he could get under Bucky’s skin even more.

“I do not like her.”

“So you’re okay if I ask her out? Maybe I should go to her office right now.” Sam pretended like he was really thinking about this.

“Sam...” Steve said.

“You both are just getting on my fucking nerves.” Bucky’s chair almost fell to the floor when he angrily stood up. “Do whatever the fuck you want, I don’t care about you or her.” With these words, he stormed out of the room, and Sam started to laugh out loud.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” Steve shook his head like a disappointed mother whose kids always fight.

“That was fun, and maybe it’ll push him to ask her out. She’s hot, but not my type; I’m just trying to help this idiot.”

You have been working with the Avengers for over a month now. This work was literally a dream from any angle. You were making a lot of money, doing the job that you really liked, and found a lot of close friends.

Almost everyone on the team was very close to you. Natasha and Wanda were particularly your best friends. Sam was the funniest person you’ve ever met, and he always found time to tease you or to make a compliment. Bruce and Clint were like your uncles—a little bit old and annoying, but always with a piece of advice for you. A few times, you and Steve met at the gym when you came to work too early, so he was happy to train with you. Who would’ve thought that Captain America himself would teach you how to throw a punch?

The only pain in your ass was Bucky Barnes. Well, to be fair, he didn’t do anything. You’re not even sure that you heard his voice. He was always just staring. Any time that you came to the room and he was there, you either saw him from the corner of your eyes or felt his burning gaze on your back.

To this day, you had no problems with your job. You organized a few interviews for Tony and Steve, talked to the newspapers and magazines, and held some meetings, but right now, sitting on your white chair, you felt weirdly nervous.

Bucky had to come here any minute to talk about a recent accident. Apparently, he almost knocked out someone on the street. All the press and news sources were taking advantage of the situation and using loud headlines to cast a shadow on Bucky and get more views. “The Winter Soldier is back?”. “The Winter Soldier almost killed an innocent man on the street.”

It has been the biggest topic on the internet for the past few hours. Most of the people were furious and wrote too many inappropriate and rude things. So you asked FRIDAY to call Bucky so you could know the whole situation and give comments to the press as soon as possible.

You started thinking about what you should do, or, to be more honest, how to behave around Bucky, because a few days ago two red-headed women that you now considered your best friends assured you that he is in love with you and just doesn't know what to do with it.

You told them everything about his weird actions—that he always looked at you, checked your clothes, and stayed silent. Natasha and Wanda just looked at each other with smirks on their faces.

“Why are you looking at each other like that?” You arched an eyebrow and crossed your hands across your chest.

“Please, don't tell me that you don't understand his behavior.” Natasha looked at you and sipped her coffee.

Well, I wouldn’t have asked you if I knew the reason.”

“Honey, he lust likes you and thinks that you’re hot. You remember that he’s actually an old man, right? Women from his time didn’t dress like that, and you look really sexy.” Wanda’s words made Nat nod her head as you looked weirdly at both of them.

“That’s bullshit, Wanda. This can’t be true. I'm sure that he just doesn’t like me and thinks that I look too revealing. Or he just hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long time.”

“Some time ago, I came to the kitchen at like 2 a.m. just in my lingerie because I thought everyone was asleep. Barnes was sitting there with a book, and you know what? He just said “Hi” and didn’t even look at me again while I was making a sandwich. And when he sees you, he just can’t take his eyes away and stares like an idiot.”

You stayed silent, thinking about the girls' words, because everything seemed pretty reasonable.

“And what should I do?”

“I don’t know, seduce him or something.” Natasha just casually said it, and your eyebrows flew to your hairline.

“Wait, do you like him?” Wanda asked you, and Natasha huffed like it was obvious.

“I mean… he’s beautiful. I didn’t have a chance to talk to him, but Steve and Sam love him, and I trust their opinion.” You stopped trying to put together your thoughts. “To be honest, sometimes I think about the fact that he’s probably one of the hottest people I’ve ever seen. When we studied history at school, all the girls fell in love with America's Boy, and I with his best friend.”

“Then don’t wait. Just give him some hints, because I swear, for the ladies’ man, he’s too slow.” Natasha’s words made you smile. “Try to get closer to him; I don’t know, flash him with your boobs and look at the reaction. Push him a little bit. He’ll break.”

The loud knock on the door almost made you jump out of your chair.

“Come in.” You said this as you stood up and fixed your white dress and cardigan.

Bucky came probably to the lightest and most cozy room in the whole tower. A lot of white and pastel colors, comfy sofa and armchairs, and paintings on the wall. And in the middle of this was you—always perfectly looking, in heels, in a too-short dress, and with a smile on your face. He couldn't stop himself from looking at the smooth skin of your legs. It’s probably so soft...

“Em– Hi.” You awkwardly stood while his eyes were scanning your body. He didn’t answer; he just nodded. “So I think that we can sit there, it’s more comfortable.” You wave your hand at the sofa with a fluffy cover on it. “Do you want anything? Tea, coffee, water, soda?” Bucky just shook his head while he was trying to comfortably sit with a frown on his face.

You deeply inhaled while trying to be a professional. You didn’t know what was wrong with this man, but his behavior started to get on your nerves.

“Bucky, we can’t work together if you keep ignoring me. You can say if you don’t like something, because I don’t want to be on bad terms with anyone.” You sat across from him and crossed your legs.

“I don’t know what I should say.” His deep voice filled the room. Bucky took a pillow that was lying near him and started playing with the fringe. “I feel weird when I’m around you, and I don’t like it. I have thoughts that I shouldn’t have.” His eyes scanned your body once again, and you wondered if he was talking about what you thought.

“Can I do something to change it?”

“No.” He deeply inhaled. “It’s my own problem, and it’s not your job to try to fix it. Anyway, why am I here?”

“I think you know why. I need to ask you about the recent incident because I have a meeting with the press in less than an hour, and I have to give them a good reason why you did that. People didn’t take all that information too well.” You saw that Bucky sadly smiled and looked you directly in the eyes, making goosebumps appear on your skin. “So, tell me what’s happened.”

“You know that whatever you say won’t change people’s opinions about me, right? No one forgave me, and they’re still looking for a chance to call me a murderer.” He tried to hide behind a smile, but you saw everything written in his eyes. Bucky hurt himself with his own words.

“I understand how you feel about this whole situation, but we should address all those rumors because things might get worse.” You leaned on your knees with your hands, and Bucky’s eyes immediately fell on your boobs.

Push him a little bit. He’ll break.

You tried to hold back a smirk.

“Fuck.” He mumbled. “ I– um– I was walking from the coffee shop to the tower. It was another busy street with hundreds of people, but I still didn’t expect someone to touch me. That man jumped on my back or something, and my instincts just worked. I threw him over myself on the ground and put a hand on his throat. Turned out he wanted to take a picture. But I panicked because there are many people who want to take revenge and who might want to do it literally any second. I’m always ready for this.” He shrugged like it was nothing, but you could hear the pain in his voice.

You felt deeply sorry for the man before you. Even if he was cold and acted weird around you, you knew that it was his way to protect himself. After everything he came through, you couldn’t blame him.

“Do you still go to the therapist?” You gently asked.

“Yes, two times a week.” Bucky nervously ran his right hand through his hair while still holding your pillow in the metal one.

“Okay, that’s good; I can work with this information.” You nodded and reached for your journal on the coffee table. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Bucky. I really appreciate it. I’ll do my best to convince people that it was not your fault, okay?”

“Thank you, Y/N.” Bucky stood up, carefully putting your pillow in its place, and left your office without another word, while you were sitting there with a smile.

Maybe the girls were right.

After that day, everything between you and Bucky became even weirder. Yes, he wasn’t totally silent now, and you’ve got a few “Hi”, but his stares felt different.

It was like you two were playing some kind of game. Since you knew that he didn’t actually hate you, you tried to do as Natasha and Wanda said—get his attention and push more. And God, you loved that game.

Almost every day you found an opportunity or excuse to see him in common rooms or in the corridors of the Tower, and you made sure that Bucky noticed you. You wore tighter clothes, walked right past him, and looked at him with a smile. You knew that it was working because a few times Bucky just suddenly left the room while he was mumbling something.

It was almost 8 p.m., but you were still working on schedule for the next week. There was some kind of charity event, and Tony required you to convince everyone to go there because more Avengers can attract more sponsors and money. As always, Bucky was the one who refused to go there. He simply sees no reason for him to be there, and he doesn’t want to be there alone because he knows that Captain America will be the biggest star, and such a social butterfly as Sam will leave him in a second.

You decided that it would be better to talk to Bucky in person, but you didn’t want to lose a chance to get his attention, so you went by yourself instead of asking FRIDAY.

You looked in the small mirror to check your makeup and hair and went straight to where you knew Bucky was spending his evening. As you walked in a dark room filled with only light from the TV, you saw Sam and Steve sitting on the couch and Bucky on the armchair near them. You quietly walk to him and just casually sit on the armrest. His eyebrows flew to his hairline, and you heard that the chewing from the boys stopped. Bucky had no choice but to put his metal arm on your lower back.

“I need you in my office. You have to talk about the next charity event. Could you please give me some of your time?” You quietly asked and lowered yourself closer to him. Bucky was just staring at you for a few seconds, but then slightly nodded.

Bucky followed you to your office, not without getting smirks from the boys,and then stood near your table with his hands in his pockets.

“Don’t you want to sit?” You said and stepped closer to him.

“No.”

“Um– okay.” You took the papers from your table and stood in front of Bucky. “So, you know that there is going to be a charity event, and I’m responsible for getting all the Avengers there, and you are one of them.”

“I’m not going, I already told Tony.” He just shrugged.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not needed there. I’m not an actual hero, people have no interest in me, especially when there will be Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor, you know? Plus, I have no interest in sitting alone the whole night.” You saw that Bucky tried to be casual about it, but he just put salt on his own wound.

“Don’t say that, Bucky. There are people who want to see you there, you have a lot of fans. You know, I’m going there too, so if you don't mind, we can–”

“What game are you playing with me?” He interrupted you. Bucky straightened his shoulders, which made him look even bigger, and started moving closer to you, putting you in a trap between him and your desk.

“W– what do you mean?” You couldn't control your body as you started to tremble a little bit from the power that this man had. As soon as you bumped into the table, his hands landed on both sides of you, and his face was right in front of yours.

“Don’t act clueless, Y/N. I see what you’re doing.” He stopped for a second, studying your face. “You know, I tried to convince myself that you do all of this by accident, but now I’m sure that you’re just playing your little game. Am I right, doll?” You two were staring at each other, and you felt almost nauseous from different emotions.

He was so fucking beautiful up close. Piercing blue eyes, pink lips, and light stubble You know why many women thought that James Barnes was charming. If he had more confidence, he would’ve been unstoppable.

Your eyes slowly shifted lower to his arms and chest as you remained silent. He was big, with well-trained muscles that were seen through the tight black t-shirt. Both arms were stretched near you, so you had a really good opportunity to look at the smooth tanned skin and beautiful dark vibranium. You felt how your lower stomach tightened just from the thought of getting those pretty hands on your body…

You were pulled out of your head by a sudden movement of Bucky’s hand, which gripped your face and pushed your lips together. He was obviously dominating in the kiss, as if he were desperate to taste you. The tip of his tongue brushed over your lips, asking for entrance, which you happily gave him. The moan came out of you when Bucky moved away and looked you in the eyes, still holding your face.

“This whole fucking time I thought that I was a creep for looking at you, but now I know that you did everything on purpose, doll.” His eyes moved between your eyes and mouth. “All these short skirts and dresses that almost showed me everything underneath it, all these innocent smiles and looks... You did it to tease me?”

“Not at first...” You mumbled. “But you were acting so weird, and girls said that you liked me and just didn’t know what to do. I wanted to find out whether it was true or not.”

“Fuck, if I knew earlier that this was your plan, I would’ve bent you over the nearest surface, baby.” Bucky moved a little closer, brushing his lips over yours. “Do you know how fucking hot and gorgeous you are? I haven’t felt that way in many, many years. Just wanna kiss you and make you mine.”

“And what’s stopping you from this, Sargent?” You asked with a smile and moved your hand to the back of his neck to gently play with the baby hairs.

“You’re gonna be my death, doll face.” He mumbled before leaning closer and kissing you again.

This time, you started to touch each other's bodies. Bucky’s warm and cold hands landed on your thighs, playing with the hem of the skirt and rubbing your soft skin after he lifted you up a little bit and helped you sit on the table, staying in between your legs. Your own hands were moving up and down his broad chest, discovering all of his muscles.

“Bucky…” You whined into the kiss when his finger brushed against the edge of your already wet panties.

“Tell me.” Bucky moved away from your swollen lips and left a path of kisses down your neck. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” He sucked a sensitive spot under your ear, which made you moan.

“I don’t know. Just do anything, please.” You both breathed heavily. You felt like you were too hot; your lower stomach ached, and your underwear was soaking wet. Bucky was looking at you with such lust in his eyes that you wanted him to destroy you.

“Lay back.” He ordered you as one of his hands went higher under your skirt and slid your black lace panties down your legs. You didn’t miss how Bucky shoved him into the back pocket of his jeans with a smirk on his face.

You quickly followed his instructions and just threw all the papers from our table on the floor. You’ll regret it later, but now you don't care. The sudden move of Bucky's metal arm grabbed and pulled your shirt, and all the buttons scattered on the floor, making you gasp in disbelief.

“Bucky! It was expensive.”

“Sorry, I’ll buy you whatever you want, I promise. But now I need to see you all.” He growled and fell to his knees before you. “Fuck, doll, such a pretty pussy. I’m gonna make a mess with her.”

Bucky’s hands grabbed both of your legs and threw them over his shoulders. He dragged your skirt higher, not wanting to take it off of you. His head fell on your right legs as he left a few kisses on your sensitive skin.

“Bucky please! Don’t tease me!” You desperately whined.

“I need a moment to appreciate both of you. I haven’t done it since the 40's, you know that?”

You wanted to say something, but his mouth on your most delicate part of your body left you speechless and made you grab his hair. Bucky’s tongue was gentle at first, just to get a taste of you and tease you a little bit. His tongue started to play with your clit, circling it and applying different pressures to find out what made your body twitch. It looked like he was enjoying it too; you felt deep grunts escaping his mouth as he was trying to catch every drop that came out of you.

Your loud moans filled the room as Bucky found the perfect place and made motions that made you see stars. A hand in his hair tightened even more when you felt one of his fingers at your entrance.

“M-hm, so wet and tight for me.” He pulled away a little bit, looking at how his two fingers came in and out of you, all shiny with your juices. His darkened eyes were firmly glued to your pussy, which was trying to get more, and his mouth opened a little bit at the sight. “Taking my fingers like a good girl.” Bucky attacked you with his mouth again. This time he was licking your folds, mixing his saliva with your juices. When the feeling of his nose touching your bundle of nerves came through your whole body, you gripped Bucky’s dark locks even harder, particularly trying to ride his face, and he had to put his metal hand on your hips so you wouldn’t move.

Your body tensed when he curled his fingers right on your g-spot, sucking your clit like a hungry man.

“Bucky—fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop!” You whined with tears running down your face.

A few more movements of his magical mouth, and you fell over the edge. Your legs tightened around his head, tingles went all over your body, and the loudest moan mixed with Bucky’s name came out of you as you were riding on the wave of your orgasm.

Bucky didn’t stop, though.

He made sure to lick every drop that came out of you, to the point that you had to beg him to stop because you were too sensitive.

“That was—“ You were trying to catch a breath. “That was the best orgasm I've ever had, oh my god. If you did it for the first time in like seventy years, I can’t imagine what you can do with practice.”

Bucky dragged you up by your neck, so you would be at the same level with him. His hand moved your hips closer to the edge of the table, and you felt how hard he was through those jeans.

“I can practice whenever you’ll allow me, doll.” He put his warm hand on your face to kiss you. The taste of your own release on his tongue made you moan.

“Need you inside of me, please.” Your hands automatically started to pull up his shirt, but he stopped you.

“We don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to.”

You were silent for a few seconds. “Why wouldn’t I want to take your shirt off?”

“You know, my arm and scars...”

“Do you really think that I care about it?” You left a few kisses on his cheek. “I think that your arm is hot, by the way, and I want to feel your skin on mine, Sarge.” It was enough for Bucky to pull off his shirt and stay before you half-naked.

Your hands moved to trace every muscle, every birthmark, and every scar on his chest, and you felt that this moment was so intimate, especially because of Bucky’s stare. He looked at you with such adoration and softness that you wanted to melt.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He mumbled and kissed you with even more passion.

Bucky ripped off the rest of your shirt and quickly took off your matching black bra, gripping your breasts with both hands and taking your left nipple in his hot mouth.

You dug nails into Bucky’s back as he was sucking and licking your nipples, leaving them wet in the cold air. It felt good. So fucking good—his mouth was truly amazing. But the emptiness inside of you was almost painful, and you were clenching around nothing.

“Bucky! Sarge, please, I need you.” You almost cried and dragged his head by the hair back to your mouth.

“Baby, baby, wait– “ His hot breath was touching your lips, but he stopped your hands, which were unbuckling his belt. “Baby, I don’t have a condom. Fuck, do you have one?”

“We don’t have to use it... I’m on the pill. And I’m clean.” Your legs wrapped tighter around Bucky’s waist and put him closer to your naked core. He swore that he could feel your heat through his jeans and boxers.

“Fuck, I love twenty-first century... I’m clean too, can’t even catch a disease with this serum shit.”

His words were like a green light to you. You didn’t want to wait even a second more. So you just took off his pants with such speed and impatience that it made Bucky chuckle. With the last movement, all of his clothes were on the floor, and you sat on your table, frozen because of the sight before you.

Bucky’s thick and perfectly long dick was the best fucking thing that you’ve ever seen. Pink and a little bit curled to his abdomen. Your mouth watered just thinking about tasting it. Or how well he’ll stretch you out. You didn’t even notice how your mouth opened a little bit, and you unconsciously wrapped your hand around him.

“You’re gonna destroy me, Bucky.” You mumbled, to which you heard only a deep chuckle. Your eyes moved back to Bucky’s smiley face.

“I hope so.”

Two different hands landed on your thighs again, spreading and lifting them up. You both looked down at where his cock almost touched your bare folds, and the first contact made you moan loudly. Bucky took the base of his cock, giving himself a few pumps, and moved the tip up and down your pussy, moving easily because of the mixture of your juices.

You grabbed his forearm and whined at the action.

“Ready, doll?” He was trying to be tough and strong, but you saw how he nervously licked his lips, the tremble of his flesh hand, and the tension in his abdomen. But you still vigorously nodded.

It was different from everything you’ve ever experienced. He was big but tried to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to hurt you. He only pushed a few inches, but you already wanted to cry from all the feelings inside of you. Pain mixed with extreme pleasure.

Bucky was trying so hard to control his motions and go slow, but God, it wasn’t easy. From the first touch of his cock, it felt like he had gone to heaven. He knew that sex was good, he remembers it, but the feeling of you and your warm body that so gracefully greeted him inside made him feral. Bucky felt such a need to kiss you that it was almost painful, especially when your swollen lips were a few inches away from his.

He leaned in closer to your lips, but it made him slip deeper into you, which made you both loudly moan into each other's mouths.

“Fuck– doll, you’re so warm and tight, oh my god.” Bucky mumbled as the grip on your hips became harder. It’ll probably leave bruises, but you didn’t care.

The feeling of him inside of you was overwhelming. He was so deep and stretched you just the way that you wanted, and you almost cried from pleasure.

“Please, Bucky, please move!”

His hips slightly moved once, and it felt like his mood instantly changed. You were suddenly pushed back on your table, and your legs, still in heels, were thrown on Bucky’s shoulders. His metal hand stayed on your thigh, and the other one fell on your stomach to push your skirt higher on your waist.

“All dressed up for me, baby.” He started slowly moving, burying his cock deep inside, and then leaving only the tip to tease you. “You know how long I wanted to do that, huh? Bend you over and just fuck the shit out of you until you can’t say anything except for my name.”

“Bucky– Sarge, please go faster. Just fuck me, do whatever you want.” You were desperate, yes. But you couldn't help but beg, because you really needed him to keep his promise and fuck the shit out of you.

You reached for his hand on your stomach and interlaced your fingers together.

“If you keep calling me that, I won’t last too long, doll.” His thrusts became harder and faster as your body moved up and down on your table.

Bucky was looking at your drunk-looking face with a slightly open mouth because you couldn’t keep your moans quiet. Your hair was deshiveled, your skin glimmered with sweat, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.

“So beautiful, baby.” Bucky murmured, fucking you harder. The room was filled with loud noises from slapping skin and moans. “You love it when I talk to you like that, huh? Want me to tell you what a good girl you are?” His words definitely did something to you, and you unconsciously tightened around him. “Almost choking my cock, baby, fu-u-ck.”

“Mhm, Sargent, I’m so full of you.” You couldn’t see straight as the tip of his head pressed at the perfect spot with every thrust, it was too much and not enough at the same time.

The wet kisses on the inner side of your thigh sent shivers down your whole body when Bucky started to suck tender skin. His rough movement didn’t stop for a moment, and you knew that your orgasm was getting closer. The warm feeling in your belly slowly became bigger. It was hard for you to cum from sex, but Bucky did it so fast and without even touching your clit.

“C’mon, doll face. I feel ‘ya. Feel how your perfect little pussy is squeezing me. Cum with me, baby, cum on my cock.” His movements were still rough and confident, but you felt the slightest change in the way he was looking at you, how his body trembled a little bit, and the prettiest quiet noises escaped his mouth as Bucky was coming to his own end.

You were completely lost in your pleasure, with strong arms on your body and Bucky’s hard cock that was completely destroying you, so when fingers on your clit started to move in circles, your body slightly jolted up from your table.

“Bucky, Bucky, please—ohmygod, I’m coming!” You cried out loud and grabbed the hard wood under your arms.

“O-oh, fuck, doll, cum with me, please. Yes, squeeze my cock harder, make a mess. ‘M gonna cum.” With the last few pushes of his dick inside of you and movements of the fingers, you both fell from your heights, and the room filled with loud moans of pleasure. The feeling of his hot seed on your walls almost made you faint.

Bucky fell down on your body as your leg slipped from his shoulder. Two strong arms wrapped around you, and Bucky’s face nuzzled into your neck. You don’t know how long you two stayed silent, trying to catch a breath, while your hands gently rubbed Bucky’s back.

When he finally lifted himself up with a metal arm near your face on the table, the look in his eyes sent millions of butterflies to your stomach.

“I don’t even know what to say…” He chuckled and cupped your face with his right hand. “You look so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”

“Even when my makeup, my hair, and my clothes are completely destroyed?” You playfully arched an eyebrow and enjoyed the feeling of his fingers on your hot skin.

“Well, I did it, and I’m satisfied with it. You still look so hot, especially with my dick still inside of you.”

“Bucky!”

“Sorry, sorry. But I’m serious, though. Will you let me take you on a date? Maybe yesterday for lunch or for dinner after work?” His eyes had this little bit of doubt, and you couldn’t stop your wide smile because he was really thinking that you would say “no” after that.

“I will be glad to go out with you, Buck.” You dragged his face closer and gave him the sweetest kiss you could.

Bucky moved away, gently slipping out of you, and you hissed at the empty feeling. He helped you stand up on your shaking legs and handed you your clothes.

“Fuck, you completely destroyed my clothes.” You said as you were standing in front of the mirror. “How will I go home?”

“You can stay in my room.” Bucky came closer to you and helped you make your blouse look more presentable, even without buttons.

“Really?”

“Of course, doll. Just hold your shirt in case we bump into someone in the corridor, but I think everyone is already in their rooms.” Bucky finished dressing up, and you saw your underwear sticking out of his pocket.

“Don’t you want to give me my panties?”

“Na-ah, you’ll have to walk with me dripping out of you.” He gave you a cocky smile and turned all the lights off before wrapping his arm around you and leading you into the hall.

It was completely empty, but the second that you stepped out of the elevator, you saw Bucky’s best friends looking at you. All of you were looking at each other for a few seconds before Sam started hysterically laughing.

“You owe me fifty bucks, idiot!” He said to Steve, who was as red as a tomato. “Good job, Buckaroo, but I really thought that we were gonna ask her on a date first.”

“Fuck off, Willson.” Bucky growled, protectively stepping forward to protect you from their looks.

“Okay, okay, relax, no one’s touching your girl.” He said with a cocky smile on his face. “Let’s go, Steve. You’re too innocent to look at things like this.” Sam took his friend and led him in another direction.

“Asshole.” Bucky growled.

“Everything is okay, Buck, let’s go.” You stepped closer to his room, but he was still standing in his place. “I have to take a shower. Will you come with me, or will you stand here the whole night?” You smirked.

It was everything he needed to finally get closer to you, scoop you into his arms, and carry you into his room to the sound of laughter, which soon turned into moans.

[ikaroux]

How are they with their pregnant partner? Itto, Heizou, Lyney.

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/partner is over the moon. But how would he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Alert: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Itto, Heizou, Lyney.

Note: Wow, it's been so long since I've written NSFW…. I'm a bit rusty.

Then I'll have to do Aether, Neuvillette and Wriothesley, as well as diving back into rewriting the old texts in this series. I'd also like to do Freminet… Let me know if you're interested in other characters.

Since I now have an AO3 account, I decided to rewrite the first versions of this series to post them on it. I hope you'll still enjoy them.

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Part 3 Dottore, Pantalone, Alhaitham.

Part 4 Cyno, Ayato.

Part 5 Tighnari.

Part 6 Capitano, Kaveh + Bonus

"Ah?! A ba-baby!?"

Itto's reaction was surely overblown, yet the expression on his face was undoubtedly to die for. Mouth wide open, he stared at you in shock, taking a long moment before pulling himself together.

Bursting into laughter, he wrapped his muscular arms around you. "Ha ha ha! I've got to tell the Arataki gang! They'll be so happy to know that their leader will soon be a father! No, wait! I'll announce it to all of Inazuma! Let's have a big party! OYE! SHINOBU!" You hit him hard on the head, red with shame. 

"I forbid you to tell anyone until you're three months pregnant! Have I made myself clear?!" Your stern tone sent shivers up and down his spine. 

"Ah?! Why not now?" You sighed. You may have loved this man with all your being, but he was still exhausting your nerves.

"There's a high risk of miscarriage during this period, which is why I'm asking you not to talk about it... Please. Please." His expression slowly softened as his gaze dipped into yours. Again, he wrapped his arms around you more gently, tenderly kissing your forehead. 

"Understood, boss." You smiled, lovingly returning his embrace.

Itto's behavior during the pregnancy was so exemplary that the members of his gang, Shinobu first, wondered if he hadn't suddenly fallen on his face. He even went so far as to find "honest" jobs here and there to buy you maternity clothes and furniture for his future bedroom.

Your husband had the ingenious idea of consulting the high priestess Yae Miko for advice on your pregnancy... Peculiar. Itto knew of no demon in his circle who had fathered a child with a human. His instincts warned him of the risks you could run with a half-demon baby. Miko will make sure you're taken care of by a midwife who knows the oni world.

You felt terribly ill during your pregnancy. From beginning to end, your vomiting and discomfort drove Itto crazy with worry. You could see him running around looking for anything that would make you feel better. If you were vomiting, Itto would stay with you, stroking your back until it passed. If you felt dizzy, he'd lift you into his arms and sit you on his lap, rocking you gently until you felt better.

Often, you could see your companion admiring you with a blissful expression. "Why are you looking at me like that?" you'd ask him every time, knowing perfectly well his answer. You loved hearing him repeat the same passionate, loving words to you. "I just think you're beautiful. I can't take my eyes off you. Héhé." Itto always had this little blush on his face when he admired your rounded belly. Really, pregnancy made him much softer and more considerate than usual.

You didn't like people touching your belly just because you were pregnant. And it took you a long time to accept that Itto would do it without you grumbling. Yet it was his childlike smile and the stars in his eyes that gradually made you accept the situation.

Itto would often talk to his baby, telling him how his day was going or stories about the oni clans. You could only listen, rolling your eyes as he combined words with gestures. Even so, you couldn't resist stroking your companion's imposing hair, smiling tenderly as you watched him.

When your belly is rounded enough to be visible even from several meters away, Itto will make a habit of always kissing it, amused by the baby's kicks that would distort your belly. "HAHAHA this child will be big and strong, just like his father!"

It was quite amusing to see your companion preparing for the birth of your child, taking crash courses with a few women from your village. Shinobu was obviously making sure that his boss used the right gestures to calm a child's cries, change its diapers or properly hold its baby in his arms.

As expected, the delivery was difficult. Giving birth to a half-demon child demanded a strength your human body didn't possess. Blood loss made you wince and Itto thought for a moment he was going to lose you both. But you showed exemplary strength, and the support of your companion, as well as that of the high priestess, enabled you to pass this difficult ordeal. Your baby's cries echoed through the room, and Itto wept loudly, clutching your hand to his cheek. His tremors and muffled sobs made you smile tenderly, as happy as he was that all had ended well.

Itto was speechless as he took his child in his arms for the first time. Was this little crying creature his baby? The one he'd seen growing in your belly? HIS child?! He was so tiny, so cute with his little scarlet horns barely visible on the top of his skull. Not quite knowing how to soothe his crying baby, you showed him the right way to rock him and... Surprisingly, Itto was extremely good at it...

Your tender oni is said to be a very protective and cheerful father. He wants his child to always see the world in a positive light. He'll sometimes be a bit too daredevil with him, earning your wrath. Fortunately for you, Itto will calm down over the years…

NSFW Bonus

"POUAH, I'm exhausted!" Itto dropped onto the bed, arms and legs spread wide as he let his heavy eyes close. "The Arataki gang gave it their all again today. Hehe, at least we're not causing Shinobu any more trouble!" Watching him out of the corner of your eye, you smiled slyly, striding towards him with hushed steps. The oni opened his eyes abruptly when he felt you climb astride his hips, your hands sensually massaging his bare chest. You'd always appreciated the firmness of his muscles, taking pleasure in exploring each of his curves to discover the most sensitive places he hid. Leaning over him, letting your chest, slightly swollen with pregnancy hormones, rest against his, you nibbled his lower lip. His eyes, immediately filling with desire, couldn't tear themselves away from yours. You could quickly feel your lover hardening beneath you.

"Do you still have enough strength left to care for your companion in need?" You mumble erotically in his ear, teasing his nipples with your fingertips. "I want it terribly~" Itto lifts his hips to meet yours, one of his hands positioning itself on your waist to rock you onto your back.

"Do you feel that?" His hand crept under your clothes, passing the band of your underwear to caress your femininity. "Héhé~ you're already soaking wet darling~ Is it being pregnant that puts you in the mood?" Without giving you time to respond to his comment, Itto enters two fingers deep inside you, making you cry out in surprise. He knew perfectly well where all your sensitive points were, pressing slyly on them to make you moan loudly. Your body sought to escape the delicious torture he was inflicting, his fingers aggressively penetrating you. "Don't awaken the beast in me if you don't want to writhe in pleasure under my ministrations." Itto was a completely different man when he had sex with you, his usually jovial face transforming into a darker expression as his desires got the better of him.

Pregnant or not, he was never one to go out of his way. Itto knew he was big, too big for you, and foreplay was always a mandatory step before he could implant his sex inside you. "Look at you, darling, your breasts are so big with pregnancy. I want to lick them terribly!" Itto grabbed one of your breasts between his lips, adding a third finger inside you as his free hand groped his pants to pull out his excruciatingly hard member. It was too much for you, and your back arched beneath him, your hips swaying to the rhythm of his fingers. You were so close, and seeing him caress himself while he fingered you made you come hard on his hand. Itto pulled away slightly you, leaning toward the other nipple he hadn't yet teased. "Not yet... Not until you can take four inside you." Damn, that damned demon!

Itto looked thirstier than you, his eyes glowing scarlet as he watched you cum with four of his fingers inside you, just as he'd promised. Sex with him had always been sport, but now that you were pregnant, everything seemed more intense. When he finally penetrated you, that damned demon took a malicious pleasure in watching you from all his height, holding your legs close to his hips as he pounded you rigorously. His eager eyes darted between your face distorted with pleasure, your swollen breasts bouncing with each of his hip thrusts and your slightly rounded belly.

Itto was a man of stamina, far more than anything you could take. So when you begged him to stop, the oni would comply at once, fear settling in his brain. Had he hurt you? Was the baby all right? None of the above... But you were clearly close to fainting. Itto, aware that he'd been a bit hard on you, will take care of your body, immersing you with him in a warm bath, his big hands massaging your shoulders. He won't be frightened to see you asleep in his arms, so, taking advantage of your sleep, your companion will cuddle you tenderly, one hand resting on your belly, lovingly caressing it.

"I'm going to be a dad? Really?"

You smiled tenderly, taking his trembling hands in yours. Heizou's gaze flickered between your eyes and your belly. A baby? You were pregnant?! His mind blurred as a vision of you with a round belly popped into his head. All of a sudden, the word dad sounded pretty good in his head... Kneeling in front of you, Heizou encircled your thighs with his arms, placing a tender ear close to your belly, a joyful smile on his lips. "I'm going to be a daddy... I'm going to be... Daddy!" Slowly, tears rolled down the cheeks of your companion, who had suddenly gone silent. Your hands were lost in his hair, cradling Heizou against you, feeling his tears stain your clothes. You waited patiently for him to calm down before kneeling down in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your forehead resting against his as a gentle smile stretched your lips. Heizou closed his eyes, resting the palms of his hands on your cheeks, his thumbs lovingly caressing your skin. He breathed in your scent slowly, enjoying it more and more each day.

The two of you remained like this for a long moment, enjoying the tender silence that surrounded you. Images of your future life flashed through your minds. Heizou carrying your child in his arms, his gaze tenderly on him until that tenderness was directed at you...

Heizou was nothing but sweetness and tenderness to you. Even before carrying his child, this man never raised his voice at you or refused to take you in his arms. He loved to cuddle you, take care of you and listen to you. Sometimes, he would take you on his lap and listen to you affectionately talk about your future child, imagining your future life with him. You could sometimes see a dreamy smile stretch your companion's lips, as he imagined, just like you, this wonderful life.

Kazuha was a close friend of yours, so he was one of the first to be informed of your pregnancy. What a surprise when he knocked on your door, a gentle smile on his lips, holding your letter in his bandaged hand. "I've asked Beidou to make a little detour to come and see you. Congratulations, both of you." The two men weren't very tactile compared to you, who didn't hesitate to hug him in thanks. "Hehe, expect the title of Uncle Kazuha! What do you think Heizou? Sounds pretty good, doesn't it?"; "Pretty good indeed." Heizou replied, a warm smile on his lips. To tell the truth, Kazuha didn't mind and, in a way, was happy to know that a family would now be waiting for him back in Inazuma.

Your companion's job was a constant source of anxiety for you. The midwife had gently admonished you for this, reminding you that stress during pregnancy could be bad for you and the child. Heizou, who accompanied you that day, bowed respectfully to her, promising to do all he could to calm your anxieties. Obviously, you were feeling terrible as you left the surgery, crying your eyes out in your companion's arms. Heizou comforted you tenderly, murmuring words filled with love. After this episode, he promised you he wouldn't take any more potentially dangerous commissions for the rest of your pregnancy…

For a few weeks, you'd been practicing cooking for your future baby. Heizou was sort of your test subject, trying to create colorful and cute bento. He enjoyed it every time, looking forward to seeing what you had prepared for him. He loved the little octopuses you made with the sausages, or the animal-shaped onigiri. His favorite was surely the pink onigiri that strongly resembled a fox. He was sure you'd tried to imitate Lady Yae Miko in her yokai form.

Heizou was sitting comfortably on your bed, one hand tenderly caressing your scalp while your head rested on his thigh. You could feel his other hand warmly covering your six-month-old belly, occasionally enjoying the little kicks his child gave through you. Heizou's fingers had always had this magical effect on you, weighing down your eyelids as sleep slowly invaded. Heizou was happy to have you in his arms, confident and at peace, pampering and cherishing you. Your breathing was a soothing sound to his ears and the movements of his child against his hand, an affectionate warmth he loved to feel.

"Heizou, promise me you'll stay with me through the birth! The closer the fateful date gets, the more I'm afraid of what's going to happen..." Your companion took you in his arms, gently caressing the small of your back. "I promise I'll be there, from the beginning, until the end." His lips kissed your forehead, moving down your nose until they settled on your lips. "Together... Even if I end up with a crushed hand, I'll stay by your side." You laughed, hitting his arm without force. "Everything will be okay, Y/N... I love you."

Your companion managed your first contractions with impressive composure. He quickly took you to the midwife's office, insisting on staying by your side all the way, as he had promised. Your companion kept your hand in his, occasionally wiping your forehead with a cool cloth. He encouraged you all the way, worrying about your cries of pain. He knew it could last several hours, and seeing you suffer helplessly gave him a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite the context, he promised himself to remind you later of all the curses you'd shouted against him and the gods, while your mind was clouded with pain. He would surely have laughed if he hadn't seen the tears rolling down your cheeks…

Heizou remained silent for a long time, as he gazed with tear-filled eyes at his infant, comfortably ensconced in the crook of his arms. Sitting cautiously by your side, he finally dared to explore his child's chubby face, tenderly brushing his cheeks, nose and little lips. Curious, he placed a finger in the hollow of his palm, his little hand automatically tightening around it. Heizou let his tears flow, leaning gently towards his baby to kiss the top of his head, then towards you, lovingly claiming your lips.

Heizou will be a very warm and instructive father. He wants his child to be able to learn all sorts of things for himself, encouraging his curiosity and intellect. He will never be too hard or too strict with him, preferring to explain things several times rather than let him give up. He doesn't expect his child to follow in his footsteps, but he'll still be happy when he tells him he wants to become a great detective, just like him.

NSFW bonus:

You were naked, leaning over the bathtub to check that the water temperature wasn't too hot, completely oblivious to the olive eyes staring back at you with a brilliant gleam of desire. Heizou approached you, like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. His hand rested on your belly as his bare chest pressed against your back. You shivered as his teeth nibbled your earlobe. "You really are gorgeous..." He murmured sensually as his hands worshipped every inch of your skin.

"Hei-Heizou, you really are insatiable! We've already made love today! Twice!" You growl without any real motivation, your lover's hands slowly kneading your chest. You hear him giggle against your ear, pressing his hips against your buttocks.

"Is that a problem? I can easily guess you want this as much as I do..." That man and his damned intuitions! You quickly gave up the fight as Heizou sensually lowered one of his hands between your thighs, teasing your femininity with his fingers. "You're so wet already~ Is it pregnancy that's got you all worked up?" Heizou pinched your nipple as one finger penetrated you with ease, making you squeal against him.

"Stop teasing me for a moment! I need you..." You begged, your fingers encircling Heizou's wrist. Your companion breathed an amused laugh, withdrawing his hand from you to guide you to the bathtub. He didn't need to fight your desires, because after all... He wanted the same thing you did.

Heizou kissed you with tender passion, his hands resting on your hips helping to lift you onto his member. And as he pulled away from your lips to better admire you, seeing you gasp, head slightly tilted back and lips parted under the influence of pleasure swelled his heart with pride. He was the one who put you in this state... Singing his name as he touched all your sweet spots... You were so sensitive with pregnancy, it made him dizzy. He couldn't help it, he needed to see your flushed face, hear your moans of pleasure. Heizou had always enjoyed sex with you, but pregnancy made you so needy that he lost control…

It was so good to feel your hands in his hair, your body pressed against his with only your hips swaying on his shaft. Heizou loved breathing in your perfume, tasting your skin, having your little round belly against his stomach and your voice so close to his ear... Unable to take it any longer, Heizou helped you speed up the pace of your back-and-forth, making you cry out his name. He wanted to feel you cum, to have your walls tight around him. Heizou licked hungrily at your neck, grunting against you as he savored the tension rising in your abdomen, indicating that you were nearing your climax. And when, at last, you freed yourself from that merciless knot, squeezing his member in sweet, pleasurable torture, Heizou released into you. His heartbeat echoed in his ears as his hand tenderly caressed your back, murmuring soft words against your neck, feverish kisses wetting your skin.

Heizou will help you wash, towel and dress, taking you back to your room to rest... Until the next round.

"I'd really like to start a family with you, Y/N."

That's what he'd said to you one night, as he cuddled you in bed after a session of passionate lovemaking. How could you refuse him? You felt ready, and so did he.

A month later, when you were suffering from persistent vomiting and exhaustion, Lyney decided to take you to see a doctor as a matter of urgency. How could he not be concerned, seeing you in this state for over a week? And why didn't Lynette seem more concerned about your condition? He didn't have time to ask himself these questions. Your health was all that mattered to him...

"Congratulations, you're pregnant." declared the doctor with a big smile. Lyney, sitting beside you, remained silent, his eyes wide with surprise, unlike yours, which had a smile stretching to your ears.

As you left the practice, you walked quietly through the streets of Fontaine, Lyney at your side. He hadn't said a word since you left the office... And that began to worry you. Did he regret it? "Lyney... ?" Whereas up until now, your gazes had fled each other, you put aside the fear knotting your stomach to confront him... And then, as you turned to face him, you saw them... His tears streaming down his cheeks... "Lyney! Why are you crying?! Don't... Don't you want this child?" Suddenly he took you in his arms, embracing you warmly as his face hid in the hollow of your shoulder. "Y/N... I promise I'll do anything to make sure our child has a wonderful life! I swear it! I'll take good care of him. Both of you. You'll never want for anything! *snif *. Thank you, Y/N. I love you, mon amour. I love you so much." It was your turn to cry, the pressure knotting your stomach disappearing with his words. Your arms wrapped around his neck. Yes, you were going to build your own home. A home filled with joy and happiness...

Lyney would be surprised to see you so clingy with him. To tell the truth, it was usually his job to be clingy. You didn't want him to leave your side or take his hand away from your skin... Pregnancy made you very emotional, and only Lyney's smell, his presence, his warmth comforted you... He never complained, and to tell you the truth, he loved it. Receiving free hugs or feeling you curl up around him like a koala when you slept always made him smile stupidly.

He'd obviously let Lynette and Freminet know, although both seemed to have already guessed your condition... He was happy to see his family accept your pregnancy with such joy. His sister and little brother were very close to you and, like Lyney before them, promised to do everything in their power to make their nephew's/niece's life a wonderful dream.

Lyney would bend over backwards to meet your needs. Pregnancy made you very greedy and your desires were sometimes... Wacky. Why were you suddenly craving a bowl of soba, a dish that was only served at Inazuma? No matter! He would learn to cook it to please you...

When you became pregnant, you and Lyney were just engaged. Seeing that your belly was getting rounder, Lyney thought you'd look gorgeous in a wedding dress. And he wasn't wrong... On your wedding day, when he first saw you in it, the harmonious curves of your belly making you even more sublime, he froze in front of your beauty. You were beautiful, as bright as the sun, as soft as spring, as gorgeous as the rainbow rose. He could hardly believe that this incredible being would not only be his wife, but also the mother of his child.

"Lyney!" Your husband gasped as he heard your angry voice calling his name. Your mood swings had been quite hazardous since your pregnancy, and your husband's slightest misstep sent you into a tizzy. "I told you not to leave your magic accessories lying around the apartment! I'm not asking you for heaven!" Lyney was quick to apologize, immediately putting his things away. After that, he always knew how to make amends, kissing every part of your face, massaging every sore spot on your shoulders, whispering words of love to you.

He loved to make you sit between his legs, tenderly caressing your belly to feel his child against his palms. He loved having you against him, your hands resting tenderly on his to guide him to the places where you felt the baby move. The first time he felt it, he marveled as children do at his magic tricks. He wondered if he knew that the hands on his mother's belly were those of his father, or if he recognized his voice... And you were sure he did, because every time Lyney spoke to him to tell stories, your baby seemed to react, bubbling in your belly. "Hey, mon petit ange, do you know how Daddy managed to seduce Mommy? No ? Then let me tell you a story~... It all started with a rainbow rose..."

Since you were pregnant, you had learned to knit. Lyney was silently raving behind the back of the sofa where you were sitting, humming a few nursery rhymes while you finished your work. Leaning back on the backrest, his chin resting on his arms, Lyney admired you with loving eyes, listening to the sound of your voice while you remained oblivious to his gaze, too focused on the little socks you were lovingly knitting. At that very moment, Lyney felt blessed by the gods... You were a true blessing in his life.

At times, Lyney was filled with doubt. His childhood had been miserable, he had never known the love of a parent, only the cruelty of Men. The hearth had given him and his sister a home and a family, but even so, Lyney hadn't had a childhood. Would he really be able to give his baby a happy childhood? Would he be able to preserve his innocence? He had promised himself to be strong, as a husband, but also as a father. He often discussed this with you, exposing his darkest fears. You were his light, always finding the right words to illuminate his darkest thoughts.

You were nearing the end of your pregnancy, and the contractions were becoming more and more present. Lyney, tormented by your suffering, stayed by your side, keeping you upright and helping you breathe deeply to ease the pain. As soon as the contractions subsided, Lyney took the time to help you sit up, then took care of your belongings. You were close to delivery and it was out of the question for you to take care of anything while he was around. The midwife was already aware of your close contractions thanks to Lynette, and Freminet kept an eye on you, occasionally refreshing your sweaty forehead. As soon as he was ready, Lyney called a carriage to take you quickly to the Fontaine maternity hospital. It had, quite literally, become a family affair...

Although the birth lasted only four short hours, Lyney was heartbroken to hear your cries of pain. The pain on your face made him lose his mind, and even though your hand was crushing his, he paid it no mind - after all, his pain was nothing compared to yours. All he wanted to do was encourage you and pray for the best... He was scared... Although Fontaine's technology ensured that pregnant women were well cared for, tragedies could still happen. Finally, when he heard the baby's first cries echoing through the room, he allowed himself to breathe. Crying his eyes out, he kissed your forehead several times, hoping to convey all the love he felt for you. "Bravo mon amour, you did it. You've done it. I'm proud of you..."

The first time Lyney saw his baby in your arms, his eyes would fill with tears, bellowing how beautiful he was and how much he looked like you... Almost hesitating to take his baby in his arms, Lyney trembled as he became aware of the reality of this being so small, so fragile... His child. Stars shone in Lyney's amethyst eyes as a happy smile stretched his lips. Gently, he placed a kiss on his baby's forehead, promising that he would always be by his side and do everything in his power to protect him.

Lyney will be an exceptional father. He will look after his child with care and tenderness, using his magic tricks to make his child's eyes shine with joy. As he promised, Lyney will do everything to make your life beautiful. He was a loving, caring, funny and magical father and husband...

Bonus NSFW:

You heard the sound of a door closing, indicating that Lyney had just returned from his magic show at the opera. Abandoning everything you were doing, you rushed to the entrance to find him... No one. The living room perhaps? You quickly made your way there, finding your companion slumped in the armchair, admiring with a gentle smile the stuffed animal he held over his face. You had knitted it for your baby, modeling it on the amethyst-eyed cat he camouflaged in his top hat... Gently, you approached Lyney, gazing at his beautiful, moonlit features. When he finally noticed you, his face lit up as he lovingly whispered your name. His hand reached out to you, inviting you to sit on his lap. Your heart palpitated, happy to accept his attention. Maybe it was because you hadn't seen him all day, or maybe pregnancy and its hormones were making you feel unbearably lonely. Whatever the case, this sense of urgency led you to him at a run, your fingers curling tenderly around his.

"I've missed you, mon amour." Lyney helped you settle astride him, wrapping his arms around your waist. The warmth he radiated as he pulled you firmly back against his chest made you want more....

"I missed you too..." You whispered back to him, eager for his attention, wanting more than just a hug. You felt insatiable, on the brink. It had been weeks since you'd been thrilled by him, though the look in his eyes made it clear he wanted to claim you... Was it your belly that was stopping him? Had he built a wall between you and himself to prevent him from giving in to his deep-seated desires? Yet when he saw the need in your eyes, Lyney languorously moved one of his hands up to your hair, tracing a slow line down your back to your neck before following the path of your jaw. Once he reached your hair, he gently grabbed a tuft, bringing your face close to his, your lips brushing lightly against his. Aaaah~ You could already feel him hard against your groin…

"Y/N, if you look at me with those eyes.... I don't know if I could hold it in... But I don't know if it's wise for me to make love to you in your state, ma chérie... Tell me to stop if you don't want it to get out of hand..."

Grabbing his shirt, you closed the distance between you and his lips, kissing him with need, your hips pressing a little harder against his erection. You needed him as much as he needed you... Now!

"I asked the midwife about it... She said it was safe..." You murmur against his lips before diving back into your kiss. That man was so weak under you...

Lyney took the time to prepare you with his fingers, encouraging your hips that moved sensuously to the rhythm of his hand working you languorously. Your companion always went slowly with his foreplay, starting first with teasing caresses on your clitoris before inserting a finger then two between your walls. His thumb, which was not devoid of agility, massaged your swollen nerve, almost making you moan loudly into his neck. Lyney was never silent during your intercourse, even when he wasn't yet sheathed inside you, he felt a torturous pleasure just by hearing the sounds you produced under his ministrations... Your belly had taken on a few curves with the pregnancy, and Lyney took a malicious pleasure in caressing it with his free hand, whispering words of love to you.

"Y/N~ Seigneur... I love you, ma chérie. I love you both... When I think that you- Hm! - carrying my child... It drives me crazy! I don't know why- Ahh~ - it puts me in such a state!" His hips crushed your heart as he withdrew his fingers to unbutton his pants, freeing his painfully hard, engorged member. "If you weren't already pregnant, I'd make sure you were tonight!"

"Ly-Lyney!" You cried out in pleasure as he began to penetrate you inch by inch, making you tremble on top of him. It felt so good it made you dizzy.... Lyney clung to you, rocking your hips with his hands to help him reach the bottom. You were so tight around him that he was sometimes forced to stop to help you relax.

"Relax mon amour... I don't want to hurt you... Ah! You're tight!" When he finally reached the bottom, Lyney stroked your back limply, his face buried in the hollow of your neck. You were both panting, drenched in sweat and trembling. The clothes still on you were becoming suffocating and you had to pull away from him to get rid of your top and bra. As you did so, your eyes never left Lyney's, who mimicked your actions, throwing his own clothes away before pulling your face towards him. His tongue forced your lips open, tangling with need around yours. It was a sloppy kiss, fueled by the desire you had for each other. This simple fact made your lover far more needy, his member trembling inside you. No longer having the patience to wait, you slowly lifted your hips, leaving only the tip of his sex inside you, before moving back down to the guard... It was a languorous dance, where your breaths served as music. 

Lyney would move slowly, his member touching the deepest, most sensitive parts of your femininity. He'd manage to make you see the stars with so little effort, sometimes changing your position to sit in reverse cowgirl or simply tipping you gently over onto the living room table, legs braced on his shoulders as he sensually pounded you. Your pleas drove him mad, always asking for more... And by the seven, he loved it.

After your escapades, Lyney would make a point of carrying you to bed, cleaning you thoroughly with a warm towel and kisses lost on your skin. You quickly fell asleep under his gentle caresses, giving him the opportunity to whisper words of affection to your belly. His hands tenderly cradled your belly as he rested his head on it, feeling the slight movements of his little one.

[httpsserene]

ʜᴛᴛᴘꜱꜱᴇʀᴇɴᴇ'ꜱ ꜰ1 ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴜᴘʟᴏᴀᴅ 1 : ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇꜱ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ / ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀꜱᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ |ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴋɪɴᴋ

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: 18+ only. smut. corruption kink. orgasm delay/denial. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. hair-pulling. possessiveness. slight choking (glimpse and you miss it?). brief reference to previous dub-con (very minuscule, not charles or max). no penetrative sex. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: all mine • brent faiyaz

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: the strength i had to summon to post this is something crazy. it's my first smut fic if you can believe it or not, but the way i feel exposed to the world is wild. i almost forgot to include the actual kink because i got carried away, but it's there i promise you, don't get disappointed too early in! can confirm that while i was writing this i had to take several breaks and stare at the ceiling. the black!reader is vague i think, it's not noticeable until the end, but i had written it with all shades of my poc girlies in mind < 3. n e ways: hope you guys like it!

want to be added to my f1 kinktober taglist? or my general tag list? send me an ask!

huge thanks to my beta readers @lorarri and @sweetpiccolo-blog ! i appreciate y'all so much :)

cross-posted on my ao3, htpsss

here's the link to the masterlist for my f1 kinktober special, and send me a private message if you would like to be added to the list to become a beta reader in the future!!!

it’s late. you’ve kicked jimmy and sassy out of the bedroom, and locked it shut. you’re standing with your back pressed against the door, staring with unfocused eyes. you moved your stuffed animals inside the closet and had them facing the wall even though you closed the closet door. the window curtains are drawn shut, and the only light in the room is the warmth of one nightstand lamp. one of the plushest towels max owns is spread across the bed. in the center lays a single pillow.

this is the last chance you have to get off before max and charles get home in a few hours. they’ve been gone for a triple-header, and you haven’t been able to orgasm once in the near month they’ve been gone. you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one).

the obvious thing to do would be to talk to your boyfriends, and tell them that you’re ready to start exploring the sexual side of your relationship. you’ve been dating them for two years now, and you’re afraid that they’re getting tired of waiting for you to be comfortable enough to have sex with them. but, you’re also afraid that once they learn how inexperienced you really are—they’ll make fun of you, leave you, and find some other woman who knows how to please them. you know that’s outrageous and never going to happen. they’re the sweetest boys you’ve ever dated (way better than that one dude you dated who tried to get you wasted enough to persuade you into having sex with him), and they’ve been very respectful concerning your boundaries. always pulling away when they feel themselves getting hard, and constantly reminding you to tell them to stop if you feel uncomfortable and that there’s nothing wrong with that, and that they’re willing to wait as long as you need, and will continue loving you regardless even if you decide to never have sex with them. so—of course you know that they won’t be assholes about your innocence—it’s just your own self-esteem, insecurity, and overthinking that prevents you from saying you’re ready.

you make a deal with yourself. if you can’t manage to get off grinding against your pillow one last time, you’ll force yourself to sit down with your boyfriends, stare them in the eyes and state that your ready to have sex. who are you kidding—you’re going to get off right now one way or another even if it kills you, because you definitely will wither away and die if you have to have that conversation with your boyfriends.

you walk over to the bed, heart beginning to race as you start playing one of those curated “songs i’d like to be railed to” playlists, before throwing your phone somewhere up the bed. you move to straddle the pillow, and begin to calm your heartbeat. you take a few deep breaths and let your mind wander. the first thought that comes to your head is the goodbye kiss you got from your boyfriends before they left. 

they had gotten all their luggage together and were pulling on their shoes at the entryway. charles was pouting at you, wide green eyes and all, “you are sure that you don’t want to come with us? for at least one of the races? we’ll be gone for almost a—“ 

“yes, cha. i’m sure,” you cut him off with a firm nod, “lemme give you a kiss before you leave, okay?”

charles frowned at max who laughed—like he wasn’t the one begging you to come with them last night before you all went to bed. with a little upset ‘hmph’ charles leaned down and kissed you softly. you had pulled away, only trying to give him a peck, and charles grunted disapprovingly. one of his veiny hands rose and gripped at your waist over your t-shirt, strongly pulling you forward, causing you to tumble into his chest. “oh, i am going to need more than that, mon ange,” charles smirked down at you, “i am leaving for so long, and that’s the goodbye kiss you’re leaving me with? no, i do not think so.” 

you glanced away from him, cheeks beginning to become warm as you make to hide your face is his broad chest. charles tutted at you, tightening his grip on your waist, and his other hand gently pushed your head up to look at him, “c’mere and give me a real kiss, pretty girl.”

you made a suppressed little squeal in the back of your throat, a noise max and charles became very familiar with, often present when they start teasing you. you surprisingly leaned up and initiated the kiss, causing charles to let out a shocked gasp into your mouth. his hand on your waist moved lower, falling to the small of your back and pushed your body completely against his. his other hand caressed your jaw, soothing you enough to allow him to control the kiss, as he flicked his tongue at the seam of your lips. you shakily sighed, allowing him entrance and the kiss deepened, a pleased humming noise in the back of your throat escaping.

you impatiently shift side to side on top of the pillow, not yet allowing yourself to get any friction. sliding both of your hands underneath your sweater—well, max’s sweater, and you start playing with your chest. flicking gently at your nipples, just the way you like. 

you could feel charles chuckle into the kiss, but you dismiss it, and keep kissing at him eagerly. however, you failed to recognize that he wasn’t laughing at you, he was laughing at max. cockily making eye-contact with him, before he let his eyes flutter shut and devoted his attention to you.

max stared on, his mouth slightly open as he watched his two loves give him a show for free. charles’ hand slipped lower, gliding over your ass, across your criminally well-fitted jeans, and found its home on the back of your thigh. max is well acquainted with how skilled charles’ mouth is, so he knows he must have done something spectacular to cause a choked-off moan to escape you, your hand raised to grab at charles’ polo in a fist, wrinkling the pressed shirt. max huffed, deciding to no longer spectate, and took the few steps to reach you across the foyer.

you let out a shocked gasp, eyes fluttering open in surprise at the feeling of your other boyfriend pressed up against your back. you attempt to break the kiss, but charles doesn’t let you. hand slipping from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, tangling in the hairs there and keeping you exactly where he wants. one of max’s hands came to rest at your hip, while the other rested on your navel. your eyes fell shut again in pleasure at how charles gently nipped at your bottom lip, and max’s presence is pushed to the back of your mind.

you didn’t register max’s hand disappearing from your abdomen, but suddenly, the air was cut with a pained moan from charles and his lips were ripped away from yours.

your eyes flew open, and max’s hand was buried in charles’ hair, tugging his head backward and maneuvering it into what must be an almost uncomfortable angle, but with how pleased charles looked—you wanted to feel it too. his eyes rolled backwards, before he pressed them shut and re-opened them to reveal dilated pupils and half-lidded lashes; panting hard, lips covered with your shared spit, and a fucked-out look in his eyes.

you struggle to pull off your sleeping shorts, eventually managing to tug them off to reveal your white cotton panties. your hand leaves your breast to touch at your heat, and you’re shocked at how wet you’ve gotten already. you use that same hand to adjust your pillow, before you let your hips fall all the way and make contact with the pillow. you sigh in relief.

now, max is the one to laugh with his hand firmly keeping charles in place. “oh, you know better than to tease me charlie…” he started, and you barely heard him. fixated on the way charles’ tongue frequently slips out to lick at his lips, but you could hear the smirk max was wearing. 

“and you’re also not the only one leaving our sweet girl for a month. you should be nice and let me have a taste too, hm? isn’t that right, schatje?” he directs at charles. max’s other hand made its way up your abdomen, copping a feel at your chest, before it rested across your throat. he wasn’t squeezing at all, but the weight of his hand, how it spans across your neck, and how you can feel the strength lying underneath his skin, caused you to lose your breath. he guided your head back and dropped his to get his own goodbye kiss.

the kiss felt like it lasted for a lifetime, but realistically it had to be less than a minute of max forcing charles to watch how he ravaged your mouth, before charles started whining loudly. max patted your neck gingerly before pulling away and laughing at charles’ teary eyes. your legs were trembling and you were pretty sure if max wasn’t behind you, you would’ve fallen long ago. in one smooth motion, his hand fell to the monegasque’s throat from his hair and pulled him closer, completely sandwiching you between them, as their lips met in a wild kiss. 

your hips start to rock against the pillow, keeping it slow in the beginning, learning your lesson about friction burn the last time you got too erratic with your moves too quickly.

charles—completely desperate—whined deep in his throat and max kept pulling consistently depraved moans and grunts out of your boyfriend. max’s other hand moved off of your hip to smack at charles’, a nonverbal command for him to calm down and let max take care of him. you felt charles practically vibrating against you in need, but he slowly started to calm; his posture slackening and lips slowing, allowing the dutch full control. 

the two of them were completely ignoring you. caught in their own world, putting all of their energy into their kisses, and in turn gave you a front row seat to something you're never going to forget about. you felt so small in between the two of them, like the only thing that kept you from floating away is the fact that you were stuck in between their bodies.

eventually, max released his grip on charles and separated from the kiss, giving charles air to breathe. the blonde stepped backwards away from your body, and you stumbled embarrassingly. max’s hands went up to hover around your waist (suddenly so shy to touch you) to make sure you actually didn't fall. charles shook his head, physically trying to clear the haze in his mind before he stumbled away from you as well, pressing his back against the wall. 

his chest was heaving with exertion, cheeks flushed a pretty red color, while his hands went to tug at his uncomfortably tight pants, failing to adjust himself to make his erection less obvious. he suddenly turns shy as well—it probably doesn’t help that max was laughing at how easy he is to turn on—, and charles tries to try and tug his shirt down to cover up his problem as best as he can. 

your hips start to pick up in speed, movements more sure and less shaky. the friction between the cotton pillowcase and panties is multiplied on your cunt, and when you rock down deep enough, the catch of the panties on your clit is nearly immobilizing. 

thinking about the moment before your boys left leads you into fantasizing about their dynamic, and how they are in the bedroom. that morning alone proved who was actually in charge; charles will tease and take whatever he can, as long as max allows him to. you can recall many instances of max guiding a well-fucked charles out of the bedroom and depositing him on your lap, before he went on to clean up and run the monegasque a bath. 

the multiple post-sex facetimes you’ve gotten from the two when they’re across the world always starts with max softly speaking, “i’ve worn him out pretty good, but he refuses to fall asleep unless he gets to call you.” and the phone is passed to charles, who’s voice and lips are ruined to hell and you have to decipher what he’s attempting to say.

you’re starting to acclimate to the current tempo, so you pick it up another notch. you lean forward, bracing your hands on the bed for support as you focus on doing deeper and slower grinds against the pillow, allowing your clit to get constant attention.

you find comfort in the fact that charles allows max to take him to such a vulnerable state, and sometimes—you even find yourself getting jealous. you started joining them to see their aftercare for yourself, and found out that you're aching to be taken apart and put back together like max and charles do to each other. 

the sound of max’s constant praises of charles being “so good for him,” and charles’s constant stream of “thank you, thank you, maxy” has you losing all train of thought.

you abandon the slow-and-steady technique, you’ve tried it several times this month and it’s failed to get you to come. you bite your lip, letting out a frustrated groan. your hips slow, and you grab the front of the pillow with one hand and pull it upwards, hoping that a tighter space allows better friction. you start moving quicker, doing smaller more shallow motions and it’s tons better. you can’t stop thinking that it would be even better to ride charles’ face. 

even though your eyelids are scrunched shut, the thousands of tiktok edits you’ve seen of your boyfriends post-race; balaclava lines, sweaty, messy hair, and all—are playing behind them. you moan out desperately, toes curling in your socks. you hear the phantom noises of monegasque moans along with the imagined whispers of dutch-accented praises. 

the knot in your navel tightens, your thighs begin to tremble, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing. this is it, the feeling that’s escaped you for a month, it’s returning, you can finally come. 

you start to rut against the pillow, uncaring of how your wetness has seeped into the pillow cover and sticks against your thighs—if anything, it’s just another pleasant sensation. unfiltered squeals and gasps start slipping out, you’re too blissed out to regulate your volume at this point.

but then, a minute passes and you still haven’t fallen over the precipice. it’s right there; you can see it, you can even hear it, but you can’t fucking feel it. 

your moans of pleasure turn into cries of frustration. your legs start to quiver with exhaustion, and the orgasm you almost had fades. tears spill from your eyes, as you frantically rut against the soaked pillow, not caring about rhythm or technique anymore. and your chance is gone, your sobs echoing around the room at another failed attempt.

you climb off the pillow and fall on your side, crying into the towel trying to muffle your anguished noises. you have the fleeting thought to think that you're overreacting, but fuck that. you’ve literally been unwillingly denying yourself for a month.

after you’ve cried yourself out, you get up and start to clean up the mess you made. when you lean down to pick up the shorts you flung across the room, you hear jimmy and sassy start yowling outside of the room. and faintly, you hear the front door open.

fuck.

a giggle slips out of charles as the cries of the cats are heard outside of the apartment door. max shoots a glare at charles for laughing at his children, before he loses the fight and a smile slips out in response to the monegasque’s. finally managing to slip the key into the lock, max speaks, “we’re supposed to surprise her by being early, cha—maybe we should’ve let the cat’s know when we called earlier today?” they step through the threshold, quickly shutting the door behind them so the cats won’t run out. charles makes a questioning hum as they both start slipping out their jackets, “they are cats, mon minou. i do not think they care about anything other than when you come back to feed them.”

max side eyes him heavily as he squats down to untie his sneakers, and looks around slightly confused, “i think we are missing a greeting from one more kitten, wouldn't you say, charles?” the man in question nods in agreement, while finally petting jimmy and sassy to calm them down a little bit. whenever the two of them return home, you usually race to the door along with the cats. you give them warm hugs and sweet kisses, help them take their jackets off, and let them know if you cooked a meal for them, or prepared a bath. 

but tonight, they don’t hear the sound of your footsteps coming towards them. it’s rare for them not to be greeted at the door, most of the time you beat them to unlocking it, with the alarm system the cats provide. 

charles questions, “maybe she fell asleep? we did not tell her that we moved our flight earlier. and we did tell her to go to bed because we would be arriving late.”

max snorts disbelievingly, “when has she ever gone to bed when we’ve told her to,” he starts, “she’s probably just in the bathroom or something.”

the two spend a few minutes paying some attention to the cats, before they begin to get suspicious at the fact that you still haven’t come to welcome them back. they straighten up and start heading towards the bedroom. 

max pushes the door open, and everything looks normal except for the fact that you’re nowhere to be seen. the bed is put together, one nightstand lamp is on, and the bathroom is empty. max and charles stare at each other with matching baffled expressions, before you clear your throat in the doorway.

max jumps, “shit!” and charles flinches, “oh, what the fuck!”

your giggles reverberate through the air, and the two men can only laugh along with you. “oh? so you find scaring us funny, schat?” max teases gently. you pad over to him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him in for a tight hug, nodding softly into his neck as you breathe him in. charles huffs after he’s deemed that you spent too much time loving on max before he pulls you into his own grasp, one arm braced tightly around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head resting in his chest. “she’s absolutely frightening, max, can’t you tell?” he teases back, defending you jokingly. 

max hums, “definitely. where were you hiding, baby?”

you freeze for second as you pull away from charles’ grasp, before stuttering your way through an explanation, “u-uh oh, i was-um, i was just in the laundry room! i was just putting a few things i had accidentally spilled uh- spilled juice on-yes juice of course, in the uh-washing machine, yes,” you nod firmly, to fully convince them.

the monegasques raises an eyebrow at you and dragged out an, “…….okay, i guess?” max follows up with a sarcastic, “yeah….we definitely believe you!”

you narrow your eyes at him, “are you calling me a liar, max? because, why would i lie about—“

charles cuts you off, turning your head back towards him as he squints at your face. he runs his thumb underneath one of your eyes, and speaks softly, “were you crying, mon ange? your eyes are red and swollen.”

you shake your head rapidly to attempt to dismiss his worry but it’s already too late. max practically teleports to your side and scans your face and with a gasp he reveals, “yes, you did cry. i can still see the tears stained on your cheeks.”

you shift uncomfortably, “yes, okay! i did cry! but it was nothing serious,” you pause and mumble the last part of your sentence, “i was just overreacting anyways, it doesn’t matter.”

max smacks his teeth at you disapprovingly, “hey, don’t be mean to yourself, schatje. anything that causes you to cry does matter. tell us, and we can try and make it better for you.” the two boys wear you down with earnest eyes; the monegasque brushes his lips against your hand comfortingly and the dutchman tucks your hair behind your ears soothingly. they wait patiently and don’t attempt to push you any further, but there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of them; they won’t let this go until you explicitly ask them two. and suddenly, your resistance falls and words start rushing out of your mouth.

“im so tired, okay? i’ve been trying for ages, ages, and i can’t get there! everytime i try, i-i-it’s like i’m right there–right there! and then it never comes! it’s torture. the harder i try to reach for it, the more it slips away, and then it doesn’t even feel good anymore! i thought this was supposed to feel good–and now what’s the point?! i don’t even wanna try again if i’m just going to be–”

“woah, woah, woah.” max cuts you off, “what are we talking about exactly, schatje? have you not been getting enough sleep or something? because we can try and–" you interrupt, “NO! i haven’t came in a MONTH! are you even listening to me?!”

charles chokes on his own breath and max damn near faints. most importantly, they’re shaken at your bluntness around the topic; every time they try to ask if you’ve been finding…relief–for lack of a better word, you tend to snap shut if they use any ‘explicit’ words with you– you tell them not to worry about it. so, to hear you say it plainly reveals how much distress this has been causing you. secondly, the thought that you’ve been desperately trying to get off for a month on your own, is a paralyzing thought. they nearly convinced themselves that you had no idea about anything sexual due to your refusal to answer any of their questions—which there would be nothing wrong with, they’d be happy to teach you how to please them and them alone. it’s a seductive thought, the fact that you’re untouched, that no man has had the opportunity to taint you and ruin your perspective on how you should receive and give pleasure. they’ve been praying for the day you’d be ready to let them teach you how to be good for them. maybe that makes them monsters, for taking advantage of your naivety and innocence, and molding you into their perfect girl, but they stopped feeling guilty for desiring this long ago. 

you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy!  i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating, to not cum,” you gasp softly, “especially when you’ve been edging yourself accidentally for so long, hm?”

a questioning sound slips from your lips, “hm? what’s edging? i just haven’t,” your voice drops to a whisper, “cum.” max thinks that he’s seriously fucked-up in the head, because he watches how you bury your face into charles’s chest after your whispered word, refusing to make eye contact with them out of embarrassment; and relishes at the fact that you absolutely have no idea about what exactly you’ve been doing to yourself. he’s going to enjoy ruining teaching you everything he knows.

“edging is repeated instances of sexual stimulation and stopping before your orgasm. it’s called that because you are kept ‘on the edge.’ you can do it to yourself or with others,” max states in an unfazed manner. he sees you start to relax, knowing that you find comfort in his matter-of-fact tone. 

a pout lowers your lips, “who would enjoy that? it feels terrible.”

max breaks out in a grin, slipping an arm around charles and squeezing at his tapered waist, “you know somebody who enjoys it very much, liefje,” charles blushes at the sudden call out, and watches the way your eyes widen in shock. max continues, “anyways, you may find that you enjoy it when it’s done properly—with people who are experienced enough to make sure you’re feeling good and keep you feeling good… and show you how to have a proper orgasm, hm?” max segways into the important topic, not allowing you to deflect any longer.

charles stops your attempt at hiding in his broad shoulder this time around, and firmly holds your face to keep you facing max. the dutch give charles a nod of appreciation and watches how he shifts on his feet at the acknowledgement; he might have to take care of him after he’s done with you, too. max allows your eyes to avoid meeting his, letting them roam his face as you battle your own insecurity.

“liefje,” max deepens his tone, knowing how you melt at any pitch similar to his morning voice, “there is no need to be embarrassed about your virginity and innocence. you had your boundaries set, and never bent or broke them to make someone happy at the cost of your comfort. no matter how much pressure someone applied to you, you refused to let them have you in one of the most vulnerable positions you could ever be in because you felt unsure or plainly uncomfortable with them. that is something you should take pride in and no one should make a joke out of your virginity for that instance. tonight, you can still make that decision if you are not completely sure on allowing charles and i the privilege of teaching you how to feel satisfied. we will continue to wait for you; you have the power here, not charles or i. do what is best for you at this moment, and if that changes, tell us so, and we will continue or stop at your will.”

the room is silent as the three of you digest max’s spiel. charles and max seem to be completely nonchalant about the matter, but they are trying to hide how anxious they are about your possible refusal, for your sake. of course they are hoping that you’ll accept their helping hands, or lips, or tongues, or coc—but, that’s not their main intention tonight. the goal is for them to start building a deeper level of understanding and trust with you, to where you allow yourself to be in your most vulnerable state with them. and that will take time; they’re not expecting you to completely reveal your innermost workings to them instantaneously. however, they most definitely want to show you how good they can make you feel and how good you can make them feel. and once you internalize that, then they can start working on showing you the wonders of sex—or plainly put, they can start tainting you.

you nod. charles eyes brighten and his cheeks dimple with the appearance of a wild smile. he leans in to kiss you in thanks, but max halts him with one finger to the forehead and a quick ‘aht aht,’ “that won’t do, liefje, i need verbal confirmation—words, please.”

“y-you can…you can help s-show and teach me how to…how to feel good. i am ready to have…,” your voice thins out, and suddenly you shake your head, eyes meeting max’s straight on in an unusual act of confidence, clearing your throat, “i am ready for us to have—i’m ready for you to fuck me.”

max wasn’t exactly ready for that wording and faltered, a little shook. charles on the other hand has to struggle to refrain from laughter. at the mixed reaction, your bravado slips away, and you add, “please?” charles loses the laugh automatically; your timid but desperate widened brown doe eyes stare up at the two of them, flickering between them anxiously, plump lips parted with your tongue flicking out—he has a few ideas of something he can offer to keep that mouth of yours busy.

max rumbles in satisfaction, “see, that wasn’t so hard, was it pretty girl? we’ll work on that confidence of yours for sure—but, i have a few rules for you first before we get started. charles, why don’t you tell our girl the first two?”

“number one, always answer our questions with words; if you don’t, we’ll stop and wait for you to respond. two, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell us, and we’ll stop what we’re doing and make it better for you or stop completely if necessary,” charles answers assuredly.

you nod, and max raises an eyebrow at you, “i mean, yes!”

max praises you, “you’re already doing so good for us,” he watches your breath catch at the sentence and figures he may have another praise kink on his hands, “you wanna be a good girl and tell me what you were really doing before we came home?” your cheeks burn and your previous embarrassment returns full force, but you fight through it, not wanting to break the rules right off the bat.

“well, you remember how i said my usual method wasn’t working anymore? i wasn’t lying about that. i only g-get off when you guys leave, andidoitbygrindingonapillow—and i have to put down a towel before becauseimakeamess. so! i really was doing laundry, i just didn’t spill juice on it…i kinda, spilled on it.”

charles’ hands fall away from you in shock, and max really doesn’t know if he can handle another revelation like this from you without actually passing out. you continue to over-explain, “and i i-i didn’t even get to, y’ know (oh my god, she soaked the pillow without even cumming, max!), and i got that wet anyway…and i can’t really control it, but if you guys don’t like it i can try and—“

“NO!” “PLEASE DON’T!”

you flinch away, and they apologize heavily for their overreaction.

“please, don’t, mon ange. i can tell you that max and i aren’t ever going to hate what’s between your legs, or what comes from there,” charles suggests with a smirk, before his face shifts to a more blank state “wait. did…did you have a chance to change?” you hum a little “mm-mm” glancing down at yourself still clad in max’s sweater and cotton panties, “uhm. no, i was a little more concerned with cleaning up the bed before you guys saw it so—sorry, i’m not a little more presentable—“

“are you wearing the same panties, mon ange?”

you freeze, brain lagging at what the monegasque had noticed. “mhm, yeah,” you whisper softly, playing with the hem of the sweater self-soothingly.

“can i,” charles takes a deep breath, “can i touch you, mon coeur?”

you squeak, “yes please, charlie.”

max watches as charles places his massive hand on one of your thighs, spanning the front with no struggle, and gently caresses his hand up, slowly making his way up your thigh. charles taps two fingers gently against you, and you spread your legs a smidge wider, and the sound of your thighs peeling off one another from the stickiness you leaked, reverberates around the room. max can’t help but let a moan slip out. charles slides his hand in between your legs, both of your own hands fisting at the hem of your borrowed sweatshirt, and you gasp at the lightest touch of charles pointer and middle finger against your soaked panties. max sees charles pupils blow wide and mouth drop open in awe—and he can’t wait anymore.

max presses his front to your back, sandwiching you in between them once again, and impatiently asks, “schatje, can i?” you let out a breathy ‘yeah,’ and max doesn’t hesitate to bully his hand in between your legs as well. he cops a more generous feel of your cunt, and groans at the state of ruin your panties are in.

“liefje,” max starts, “walk with me to the bed, please.” max pulls away, and unfastens one of your hands from the sweater to guide you. you turn around stumbling through your first few steps—charles sets you upright more prepared for your legs becoming jello than you are, and helps you over to the bed, one hand firmly set on the small of your back. max sits on the edge of the bed, man spreading comfortably, and watches how your eyes automatically fall to stare at his thighs with a smirk. he glances at charles behind you, who mouths ‘can’t blame her’ with a smirk of his own. the dutch pats his lap, “c’mere and give me a kiss, pretty girl.”

you rush to sit in his lap, slowing at the last minute, not wanting to sit your full weight on him. he huffs, and grabs at your hips situating you firmly on his lap, before leaning in and kissing you stupid. your gasp of shock transforms into a hum of pleasure, letting max have complete control of the kiss. his hand comes up to rest on the back of your head and moves you exactly where he wants, sucking on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue against yours. max kisses like he’s going to run out of time, he ravishes you completely. you squirm against him, pulling away to pant against his cheek needing air. max chuckles, and you only get to whine at his teasing for half a second before charles, who’s now sitting next to max, pulls you into another kiss. charles, on the other hand, kisses like he has all the time in the world, he draws it out. he keeps the kisses slow and closed in the beginning, pausing to pull away and thumb at your lips, relishing at how they’ve already swelled from max’s abuse, the surrounding skin already beginning to turn raw and sensitive from their friction of their facial hair. he continues kissing you, all tongue and sloppy not caring about about the way your hands come up to grasp at his chest in desperation, before switching to absolutely bruise your lips by nipping and tugging at them. 

your hips jump forward against max’s, and he can’t stop the groan that tumbles out. you jolt away from charles’ assault and stare at max with an embarrassed expression, “s-sorry—“ max narrows his eyes and dismisses your apology, “don’t apologize for that. you feel good, you’re allowed to show that unless i tell you differently.” 

“yes, max,” you answer, even though he didn’t ask a question.

“oh, you’re such a good girl for us, liefje,” he tests. and his instincts didn’t fail him. your hips twitch against his again, and a near inaudible moan slips from your lips.

he turns towards charles, “yeah, that works doesn’t it, cha?” charles nods, eyes still stuck on your lips. max smirks at charles being completely entranced, before turning back to you and clocks the glaze beginning to form over your eyes, “alright now, liefje, i need you to pay attention to me really quickly, hm?”

you hum, bobbing your head a few times, before you manage to get out a “yes, max.”

he holds your head steady with his thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin, “i’m not going anywhere, baby, take your time and focus.” it only takes you half a minute to truly focus in after your heart stops racing to give him another verbal confirmation before he continues. “tonight, neither one of us is going to make love to you—“ your shoulders drop and a frown is quick to spread across your mouth. you really only prepared for the situation that you’d tell them you were ready, and then you’d get railed into next sunday. you start to panic; maybe you came off too depraved, and he’s letting you down slowly—

“hey, hey, hey. no overthinking yet, let him finish, mon ange,” charles calls out to you worriedly, he’s experienced the same thought process you're going through before and would rather try and prevent the self-doubt from overtaking you.

max pets at your waist over the sweater and continues, “not tonight. we’ve just gotten off a flight, and had three back to back races. it’s late, and i’m sure all three of us are tired. we should initiate something like that with a clearer mind,” you feel a little selfish now, his points very valid, “but, i still want to give you an orgasm, okay? sure, you may not be able to get off by grinding on a pillow anymore. you’ve probably just acclimated to it and need to give it a break. so, to compromise: you’ll get off by riding my thigh.”

charles and max wait for your reaction. your frown lightens into a pout, but you’re disappointment doesn’t completely fade away. “how is that any different from riding the pillow? it’s the same thing.” charles laughs shakily, “oh, mon ange. you have no idea. listen to max and give it a try before you take it off the table completely.”

you shrug, and agree, “fine. how do i….uh how do i do the thigh riding, i guess?”

charles turns to look at max, wordlessly asking for permission, and max grants it with a wave of his hand. charles scoots up closer, and shifts your straddle from max’s whole lap to his right thigh. as soon as your pantie-covered cunt firmly presses on the muscle of max’s jean-clad thigh, a soft ‘oh’ croaks out of you. max flexes and relaxes his thigh once and your hips jump up and away from him. max and charles glance at each other; you’re ridiculously sensitive, they’ll have to see if that’s your natural state or if it’s just the result of your prolonged edging and the fact that you were grinding against a pillow not too long ago. charles squeezes your hips, bringing your attention to him, “i’m going to start guiding you now, you ready, mon coeur?”

“mmm, yeah—that felt really good, i want more,” you speak timidly.

“good,” charles states, and then he pulls your hips forward dragging you against max’s thigh, and a flash of heat zings up your spine. you moan, a small, breathy exhale, and charles keeps it slow at first, not pushing you down to roughly or making the motions too quick—he wants you to learn to love the friction again. barely a minute passes before your hips start fighting charles’ guided rhythm, and a frustrated groan slips out of you, not able to fight your boyfriends grip. max clocks back in from where he was watching the pleasure start to flicker on your face and asks, “what are you supposed to do, baby?”

“more-ah, please, charlie,” you moan shakily. charles smirks, “look at you, still using your manners like a good girl—“ a louder moan echoes, “okay, okay, mon coeur. i’ll get you there, i’ll get you to cum like you need, okay? i’ll make you forget all about your manners too, hmm?”

you stopped listening to anything after charles reassured you that he’s going to get you to cum, you believe him. he adjusts his grip on your hips and starts incrementally increasing the pace and pressure for you. your moans start to become more frequent, and increasing in pitch rapidly, the drivers can tell you’re hurtling towards your long-awaited orgasm, sooner than they thought. charles slowly releases his grip on your waist letting your hips take over once he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it. you throw your head back in pleasure, your hips have a steady grind and…and you’re feeling good. a suprised laugh slips out of your lips at that and shifts into a sharp moan when max starts flexing his thigh rhythmically giving you a little more texture to work with. max lets his heavy hands fill in for where charles’ and presses you down into deeper slower strokes. 

you cry out, it’s a little too much for you, but it feels so good, that you bear with it, they know what’s best for you, anyways. max grins down at you smugly, and you start to tear up a little; he can still feel your hips twitching away from the pressure sometimes. not wanting to push you too far with that motion alone, he lightens up on the pressure but starts bouncing his thigh. the shriek you release surprises all three of you, but you don’t run from it, if anything you lean into it more. one of your hands fists into charles’ shirt for support, and the other falls to max’s, tugging it off your left hip so you can hold it tight. max’s grin softens into a small smile and he kisses your joined hands, and charles leans into press kisses on your neck, praise slipping out of their lips freely.

“doing so good for us, pretty girl.”

“yeah, baby, that’s it. take what you need.”

“don’t be shy, let those sweet moans out for us.”

“just like that, oh! look at that, you’ve leaked all over his thigh,” charles points out. max looks down and registers that his pant leg is sticking down to his thigh and the denim has darkened with the amount of wetness. “oh, yeah. look at that, baby,” max pats on the side of your face, and you can’t even recall when you screwed your eyes shut, but you look down, and a mortified squeal leaves you. not much longer and you’ll have drowned his thigh. the dutchman sucks his teeth at you, “don’t be embarrassed, liefje. i can’t wait until i can taste it straight from the source,” he moves his other hand underneath the sweatshirt, and slips two fingers between your inner thigh while gathering your wetness. he sucks on one finger moaning explicitly at your taste, before offering both fingers to charles to clean off. the monegasque flicks his tongue out teasingly tasting them first, before he makes a quick motion of sucking them in and fully running his tongue in every crevice to get every last drop of your taste. 

you moans start to become pitchy little ah-ah-ah’s, and you frantically start rabbiting your hips. you’re so close. max squeezes you hand, and starts up the praise again.

“i wasn’t joking, schatje. when i finally get my mouth on your pretty little cunt, you won’t be able to pull me off of you until i force at least three orgasms out of you.”

charles pulls off of max’s fingers and adds, “i need to give her three or four from my mouth too. i don’t think she’ll be able to handle that many.”

“yes, she can. she’s such a good girl for us, she’d let us keep going until we tell her when she’s done.”

“mmm, yeah—she’s right there, look at that cute little face she’s making.”

“her pretty little o-mouth, we should fill that up for her too.”

“thinkin i’ll fill that sweet little cunt of hers first with my dick—“

what escapes your mouth is definitely a scream, and max can’t bring himself to muffle it even though it’s the middle of the night. he pays a hefty sum of money for this penthouse, they can deal with hearing how charles and him make you scream with pleasure. your orgasm completely whites-out all of your senses; ears ringing, eyes rolled back, skin feeling raw and thighs shaking. max and charles work your hips back and forth a few more times, helping you with the aftershocks until you squirm out of their hands. you fall forward into max’s chest, body trembling, and tears streaming down your face.

max cradles you close and scratches at your head, calling your name a few times to get a gauge of how out of it you are. with no verbal response, he sends charles to get water and a towel to clean you up. max softly murmurs praises at you constantly, and charles joins in with the affirmations when he returns. the both clean you up when you’re still floating; they put you in an oversized tee, not bothering with undergarments, wiping all wetness and cream away from between your legs trying to avoid looking at your cunt directly, they even manage to get your bonnet on for you, and even have time to change the duvet before you start becoming aware again.

you turn and automatically move to snuggle into the crook of max’s neck, but he gently presses a straw to your mouth so you can hydrate after the amount of fluids you seem to have lost. your eyes open, and you croak out a disapproving hum at not being able to go to sleep, and max shakes his head at you, “drink, schat. non-negotiable, pretty girl.” after slowly draining ¾ of the bottle, you pull away and with a shattered voice, start mumbling, “thank you, thank you, thank you—“

and charles leans over to cut you off with a soft press of lips, “no, thank you for letting us give you that, mon coeur.” you hum, whispering out, “i love you, charlie. i love you, maxy.” 

they both respond with resounding ‘i-love-you’s back, and start soft conversation just checking up on you before they let you fall asleep. 

“i’ve never felt this good before from an orgasm,” you start, “i wanna—i wanna keep being good for you guys. i wanna learn how to feel good like this again, and i want you both to show me how because i trust you. please?”. charles and max both murmur affirmatives to you, and you continue speaking softly, “you guys can take showers now, i’ll probably be asleep before you come back.” after making sure you’re truly comfortable, max and charles head to the en-suite to take the world’s speediest shower so they can cuddle up with you sooner. 

shutting the door, max and charles stare at each other in completely silence. charles starts, “are we sure that we’re the ones corrupting her and she’s not corrupting us? because, i’ve almost came in my pants three times tonight.”

max stares at charles with unseeing eyes, “i will never forgot the way she soaked my fucking leg, charles…i’m pretty sure i did come in my pants.”

taglist: @lorarri | @soph1644 | @jaydensluv | @fanboyluvr | @nissaimmortal | @redgonerogue | @hollie911 @saintwrld | @buendiabebeta | @butterfly-lover | @lana-d3l-rey | @dylan1721 | @spicybagel14 | @dhhdhsiavdhaj

© httpsserene 2023

[quin-ns]

Matchmaker (Joel Miller x Reader)

Word count: 1.8K

Summary: ellie knows joel has feelings for you and proceeds to annoy him relentlessly about it

Tags: basically just all fluff, humor, age gap, ellie being ellie and messing with joel, mutual pining, love confessions (more of a realization but whatever), friends to lovers implied, ellie is a great wingman

Request: anon: “It would be so cute to have Ellie basically shipping Joel and the reader, like her being a little matchmaker. If you chose to write this do with it what you want that’s all I got. Would love to see what you do!”

A/N: this was actually my first time writing for joel while having ellie play a part and I gotta say it was super fun! I really loved this idea <3

cross-posted to ao3 • tlou masterlist • writing masterlist

“You are so,” Ellie argued, a cocky grin on her face as she taunted Joel from his side.

“I’m not,” he grumbled back, not wanting to be on this topic with Ellie. 

The kid had gotten the idea in her head that Joel had feelings for you. Thing was—she wasn’t wrong. But Joel had yet to tell you and he didn’t need Ellie blabbing or pestering him about it.

But Ellie was Ellie, so the latter was exactly what she was doing. It had been a while now and he couldn’t get her to quit it. Denying it wasn't going to work it seemed.

“You’re definitely into her. I won’t say the L word again, but you’re not fooling anyone. You’ve got, like, heart eyes for her, dude,” Ellie pointed out. “God—how did I not notice before?”

“Drop it,” Joel told her. You were walking ahead of them, curiosity driving you to increase your pace. You weren’t that far because Joel could still see you—he would’ve been too worried if he couldn’t—but you were far enough ahead that thankfully you couldn’t hear Ellie clearly. Still, he didn’t want to risk it.

After everything that had happened, he couldn’t risk a strain being put on your relationship. Not when you and Ellie were all he had in the world right now. You all had bigger things to worry about, like the fact that the winter was growing harsher as you were heading north.

“She probably likes you too,” Ellie commented, sounding awfully sure of herself. “I mean, there’s gotta be a reason she’s put up with you this long.”

Joel let out a scoff. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” 

Ellie shrugged. “I will if you tell her.”

Joel shot her a confused look, a slight frown on his lips and his eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you care so much?” he asked accusingly. 

“Because I like you, and I like Y/N, and I think it’s nice you make each other happy,” Ellie explained easily. “Plus, you’re less grumpy with her and that’s pretty refreshing,” she threw in the slight jab at the last minute. It’s not like it was false.

Joel just made a sound, like a “hmph,” and looked back ahead. His eyes landed on you. As if you could sense it, you looked over your shoulder and threw him a reassuring smile. 

A smile of his own tugged at Joel’s lips. 

“See?” Ellie spoke up. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

The smile faded into an annoyed expression as he looked back at Ellie. She was just smirking to herself, like she’d busted him or something. 

She stared up at him for a moment, then looked back ahead. “You’re just grouchy because I’m right,” Ellie sassed. She didn’t need to look at Joel to see his eye roll. 

They walked in silence for about a minute. During that minute, Joel was relieved. He didn’t feel the need to discuss his inner thoughts and feelings about you with someone that wasn’t you. As far as he was concerned, his love for you was none of Ellie’s business and wouldn’t even be yours until the time was right.

He was going to tell you. Eventually. Maybe it was taking him longer than he thought because of how complicated things had gotten on the journey, but he’d find the time. Soon… if he could work up the nerve to.

There were moments where Joel saw a spark there, between the two of you. And apparently he wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings as he thought, so maybe on some level you knew and even reciprocated. If Ellie thought there was something there, than maybe—

“All I ask is that can you not do it near me if you guys want to have se—”

“Ellie!” Joel snapped, cutting her off. 

Because of the sudden loudness, you halted and turned around. “Everything okay?” you called back to Joel and Ellie, concern present in your voice.

“We’re fine!” Ellie shouted back and gave you a thumbs up. 

Joel didn’t say anything, still thrown off. He had not been expecting her to go there and really, really was in desperate need of a change of topic with the fourteen year old. He gave her a look, silently telling her to knock it off.

“What?” Ellie asked defensively, but also clearly very amused with herself. “It’s a valid request.”

“Knock it off,” Joel said out loud this time instead of just thinking it like before. 

“Fine,” Ellie feigned defeat. She fiddled with the straps on her backpack, gripping them in her gloved palms. Then, she took off in a light jog. 

“Where are you going?” Joel yelled after her.

“I’m gonna bother Y/N now!” she called, not looking back. Ellie caught up to you and slowed her pace. Joel didn’t know if he should be worried or not, but he hung back anyway. 

“Hi,” Ellie greeted you when you noticed her presence. She was kinda hard to miss.

“What’s up, Ellie?” you asked kindly, giving her a once over. “Everything okay?” you glanced back at Joel and found he was fine too. 

“Yeah, yeah, everything is fine,” Ellie assured. “Just thought I’d check on you.”

“You’re checking on me? I’m touched,” you told her with a hint of sarcasm overlaying your appreciation. Ellie didn’t do much without a reason and between her and Joel’s muffled argument behind you and the devious little smirk on her face, you suspected she was up to something. “Seriously, what’s up?”

“What do you think of Joel?” Ellie questioned vaguely.

You laughed a little. “That sounds like a loaded question,” you commented.

“Huh?” She furrowed her brows, not getting the term. “I mean like, do you like him?” she clarified. 

Another laugh from you. So you were right. “Of course I like Joel. What kind of question is that?” you wondered. “He’s my friend, has been for a long time.”

“Okay but, like, do you think he’s handsome?” Ellie pried bluntly, looking up at you for your reaction. You were a little taken aback, then amused.

“Where is this coming from?”

“Just… curious,” she lied. Ellie looked over her shoulder at Joel briefly. “So, do you?” 

Ellie looked up at you and found you glancing back at Joel yet again. A small smirk appeared on your face. You leaned down a little and whispered to her, “Of course I do. I’m not blind.”

Ellie laughed at that, enjoying the feeling of gossiping a little more than she realized. You were going along with it—you were always a good sport. 

“Do you think you’d date him?” Ellie pushed, seeing how much she could get away with in this ‘girl talk’ scenario.

Ellie considered you a close friend at this point, something she never had that many of. Sure Joel was a friend too, but he was also like a dad. And there was just something special about having a girl friend that she could talk to. While with Joel she usually had to annoy him into talking about life stuff (a few minutes ago being an example), you would be open to the conversations just because. You didn’t treat her like a kid despite being older—probably because you were closer to her age than Joel’s anyway.

That’s why if you liked Joel, Ellie wanted you to know that he did too. Even if she gave Joel a hard time and sometimes (but very rarely) did the same to you, you both deserved to be happy. 

“What do you think?” you turned the question. 

Ellie shrugged. “I know he’s kinda old and kinda grumpy, but he’s a good guy,” Ellie campaigned on Joel’s behalf. “He cares about you a lot.”

You smiled to yourself. “Yeah, I know,” you admitted. “I care about him too. A lot.”

“As more than just a friend?” Ellie needed to know, the anticipation was killing her. 

She didn’t know when she suddenly got so invested in your and Joel’s relationship status. Of course because she cared about you both, but she could also blame it on the months of boredom. Finally something interesting was happening. 

And what you said next was definitely interesting.

“Yeah,” you revealed with a little nod. “For a while now.”

There was a light smile on your face that made Ellie smile too.

Ellie looked over her shoulder at Joel once again and her gaze met his. She wondered what he’d say if he heard what you had just said. She didn’t think he did because he looked suspicious, silently asking her what she was doing. She looked back forward. Oh boy, if only he knew.

“That’s interesting,” Ellie mused. “Because I happen to have some information.”

You raised your brows at her, hearing the knowing tone laced heavy in her voice. “Oh?”

Joel couldn’t take not knowing anymore. You and Ellie had both kept looking back at him—definitely talking about him. He picked up the pace a little, not really jogging but more like speed walking. You and Ellie had slowed your pace a little before, caught up in conversation, so it didn’t take him long to place himself on your opposite side.

“How’s it goin’ up here?” Joel asked as casually as he could manage, drawing attention to himself. 

Ellie moved to walk backwards in front of you and Joel. She didn’t miss a step as she eyed you both. 

“Good news, Joel,” Ellie addressed him cheekily. “She likes you too.”

His eyes went wide. Ellie just bit back a laugh and left it at that, turning on her heel and picking up the pace to get ahead of you two. She stayed in line of sight, but out of the strangling zone (she wasn’t actually worried, but she knew she was being a menace so she kept a distance). Not a far enough distance to be out of earshot, though. 

She had to hear this after all her work.

“So,” Joel started flatly. He looked down at you just as you looked at him. Then you both turned your heads straight forward and kept walking in tandem. “I guess I should ask what she said?”

“Well, she was asking me a lot of questions about how I felt about you,” you recalled, sounding very entertained by the whole situation. “Kinda had a feeling for where it was going.” 

Joel heaved out a dramatic sigh. “Kid’s not subtle, is she?” he asked rhetorically. You both knew the answer to that.

You laughed. “Not at all.” 

The sound of you laughing and your words made Joel relax. He let a chuckle fall past his lips. 

Ellie looked back at you and Joel, the sound of you two laughing together making her smile. 

“Oh look, she’s staring at us,” you pointed out, nodding your head at her. Ellie whipped her head back around as if trying to pretend she hadn’t been watching you two. “Did we really just get set up by a fourteen year old?”

Joel scoffed out an amused sound. “Yeah, I think we did.” 

joel taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose @dontphunkwithmylove @cilliansangel @amethystwonders11 @frogsmuahh037 @andy-rocks @melllinaa @alitaar @melanie451 @b00kw0rmsworld @reverieisaway

if you would like to be added to the joel taglist just send me an ask or a message!

[sundrop-writes]

Lessons For A Genius - Lesson Two

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader

Lesson Two: Magic Metacarpals

(aka the one where Spencer learns how to finger you)

Summary:

After his first 'lesson', Spencer is even more eager to learn from you.

And while both of you are ignoring your growing yearning for something more, you teach him the next logical thing: how to pleasure you in return.

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

Word Count: 26,300

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: General themes for a CM episode - murder/killing/mentions of gun violence/mentions of women being murdered and sexually assaulted/mentions of strangling; once again, there is a mention of a case that isn’t in the canon (one that I have made up) and this fic is not case-centric; the reader is held in a choke-hold by the killer and uses dark humour to get out of it; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; mentions of the reader wearing a dress/very girly outfit; the reader is heavily implied to be plus-sized;mentions of the reader being older than Spencer, but there is no specific mention of how much the age difference is/number of years (tbh the way I am playing it, it could be months, a year, or years of difference because they make jokes about it) (because this takes place in early S2, Spencer would be 24/25, so if you’re younger than that, just imagine? lmao); the team being very nosy about Spencer and the reader’s sex life and the reader lying about it in order to spare Spencer because he’s shy (not because she’s embarrassed of him); heavily implications of Morcia as a background couple; mentions of drinking/drunkenness (does not take place in this fic, it’s just mentioned in passing); mentions of Spencer being bullied as a child.

General sexual themes; ongoing dom/sub relationship - Spencer is submissive and the reader is dominant; a safeword is in place but it’s not used; Spencer is generally inexperienced and the reader is 'teaching’ him things about sex, including slang, kinks, sexual technique, and the emotional consequences of sex, generally helping him explore his sexual side; mentions of using sex toys (a fleshlight, passing mentions of dildos, including a tentacle dildo that is not used); mentions of Spencer masturbating independently from scenes/playtime with the reader (these scenes are not detailed); descriptions of subspace; descriptions of Spencer having a subdrop/bad subspace experience because he masturbates without the reader there (this is a very brief part of the fic and all other moments of subspace are described pleasantly); the word 'MILF’ is used to describe the reader - as a joke, and because Spencer doesn’t fully understand the context.

The actual smutty meat of the fic (aka girl dinner) consists of: panty kink - Spencer wears a pair of lacy panties under his clothes while in public because it turns the reader on; praise kink - Spencer loves being praised; public/semi-public 'sex’ (they don’t have full-blown sex, it’s just groping through clothing, and they are in a secluded area of a public place when it happens); risk of getting caught; strength kink - the reader exerts her strength over Spencer and he likes it; heated making out; hair pulling (Spencer receiving); groping through clothes (reader and Spencer receiving); Spencer cums in his pants while being groped; clothes sharing - Spencer wears the reader’s clothes; the reader calls Spencer honey, sweetie, baby, pretty boy, good boy; Spencer calls the reader Miss; this fic does feature Mommy kink - Spencer starts calling the reader Mommy partway through; mentions of the reader wearing traditionally feminine lingerie; hand kink - the reader likes Spencer’s hands; finger sucking (the reader sucks on Spencer’s fingers); vaginal fingering/clitoral stimulation - the reader teaches Spencer how to finger her; Spencer edges the reader unintentionally; guided masturbation - Spencer masturbates for the reader; Spencer cums on the reader (by accident?); the reader licks some of Spencer’s cum; mentions of pregnancy (Spencer likes the idea of getting the reader pregnant, but she is on birth control so it won’t happen in this fic lmao); some mentions of aftercare (not as in depth as the previous fic); and I believe that’s it.

A/N: I do intend for each part of this to possibly be read as a oneshot, so you don’t have to read Lesson One in order for this to make sense narratively. But if you want more sub!Spencer stuff, then you should go back and read Lesson One just for your enjoyment. This makes reference to things that have happened in the first part, but you won’t be utterly confused if you jump into reading this without reading the other one first. Anyway, I do hope you enjoy it, if you're reading this for the first time or re-reading it.

...

When you woke up the next morning, you had almost forgotten about what had happened. 

You were drowsy, your body almost entirely sunken into the soft bed. If not for the ripe scent of coffee drifting through the air and undertone of something uniquely masculine stuck to the pillow - Spencer’s aftershave - then you likely would have thought that you were comfortable in your own apartment and simply turned over to go back to sleep. 

But then it all came flooding back to you. 

The Chinese take-out date, gifting Spencer the fleshlight - tying him to the chair in order to ‘help’ him use it. His moans, the sweet way he had looked up at you with those big eyes. The way he had called you ‘Miss’ with such utterly beautiful desperation, how perfect he had looked covered in his own cum. 

You sighed with delight as you remembered it all, a gentle tingle coming over your body as you thought about it. 

It was then that you realized what the pungent smell of coffee meant: Spencer must have been brewing a pot. You had no clue what time it was or when you had to be ready for work - but coffee sounded fucking amazing after the eventful night the two of you had. 

You were surprised that Spencer wasn’t still in bed, cuddled up to you. 

He had spent the whole night clinging to your back like a koala in the most endearing way. You had no clue how a man so large could make himself seem so small at times, but he definitely accomplished that by hooking his leg around your hip and whining whenever you tried to pull away from him even a slight bit. 

(You hated that it was something that would have been intensely annoying from any other partner or one night stand, but when he did it, you found it adorable. You knew that you were letting him get away with too much already, but you couldn’t help yourself.) 

What you didn’t realize: yes, Spencer would have loved to be cuddled up with you in bed all morning. But he had woken up before you - and he would deny the amount of time he had taken to stare at you while you were sleeping, ogling your beautiful, peaceful face. After he had gotten out of bed, he had taken the initiative to attempt to prepare breakfast. 

He rarely cooked for himself. When he did cook, it was usually simple, plain, unimpressive dishes that were more meant to kill hunger than to actually taste nice. And he was even further screwed by the fact that his fridge wasn’t even well stocked because the team had been so busy on cases that he hadn’t even thought to go grocery shopping in a while. 

Of course, he had coffee (and cream, and sugar - because he wasn’t a monster, he made himself a cup every morning). And he had some basics like eggs, so he was trying his best to make something nice for you. 

When you walked into the kitchen, still dressed in nothing but your camisole and your panties, the chill of the morning air was biting and Spencer looked invitingly warm. 

He was standing at the stove, concentrating on some sizzling pan, and you couldn’t resist the urge to walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. He had gotten dressed since getting out of bed, so he was wearing a bright blue cotton tee shirt (that you didn’t yet see had the Superman logo on the front) and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. It was an entirely adorable sight: Spencer in loungewear. You indulged in pressing your face lightly between his shoulders, loving the feeling of the soft cotton against your cheek. 

You noticed that the radio was on in the background - a low hum compared to the pan sizzling on the stove. But from what you could tell, the news was playing. He was such an old man in some ways. 

“Please tell me that’s coffee I’m smelling.” You moaned quietly, feeling snuggled by his soft embrace. 

“A teaspoon of sugar and just a little bit of cream,” He said, taking his hand off the handle of the frying pan to reach over to the side, grabbing a coffee cup and hoisting it in your direction - which was slightly awkward with you behind him. 

You met him halfway, taking the coffee thankfully. Then you moved to lean against the counter to actually drink your coffee. He was rueful that the hug didn’t last longer, but he didn’t say anything about it. 

“You remembered,” You grinned at him, referring to the fact that he had made your coffee exactly how you liked it. 

When you took the first sip, it tasted amazing, and began to wake up your senses from the drowsy lull that you had been feeling. 

“It’s quite literally impossible for me to forget.” He replied, giving you a grin. 

“Hmm,” You hummed thoughtfully, clutching the warm coffee cup with both hands. “I’d like to test that theory one of these days.” 

If you could make Spencer so incoherent with an orgasm, even just begging for one, you were willing to bet that you could feed him information that he wouldn’t be able to repeat back to you when he was so fucked out. It would be one of the ultimate victories - proving the genius’s perfect eidetic memory wrong. 

Spencer saw that look in your eyes - the same one you had given him last night before you had gifted him the fleshlight. (Which was still propped up in the drying rack, a sight that had startled him when he had first gotten into the kitchen that morning). He had a feeling that, based on that look alone, he knew what you meant. He shied away then, looking back down to the pan of eggs as your brain moved on to another subject. 

“I still can’t believe that you listen to the radio in the morning,” You commented, nodding toward the device that was propped up on the half-wall that partitioned off the kitchen from the living room. “You’re such an old man.” 

“I’m younger than you!” He chuckled. 

“No, no.” You easily corrected him, your voice taking on a very typical joking tone. “Being an old man is a way of life. It’s not about your age. It’s why you and Gideon get along so well.” 

Spencer snorted with laughter at this. He turned off the stove, deciding the eggs were done, and began to scrape them onto a plate, hoping that it wasn’t too measly or unimpressive. 

“Well then… you had sex with an old man last night.” Spencer chuckled, trying to sound confident in this ‘joke’. 

You couldn’t help but to laugh at his nervousness. 

“You need to work on your comebacks, too.” You told him with a grin. “I should get you one of those ‘yo mama’ joke books that seventh graders pass around.” 

“Oh, that explains why I suck at comebacks. I skipped seventh grade.” He shrugged casually. 

You laughed even harder at this. For him, it was a simple statement of fact, but to you, it sounded like he was purely bragging, and that turned out to be a better joke than the one he actually intended as humor. 

Spencer bit his lip to hold back a grin. 

Mornings with you - it was so much better than he had expected. He had expected things to be intensely awkward after what had taken place last night. He had expected that the entire tone of your relationship might change. And that was something he was fearful of. But you were still making jokes, still absolutely not afraid to insult him in that joking way that you did. 

Spencer felt a yearning deep inside of him at the realization - like the string of a harp being plucked, setting off vibrations of bitter harmony through his entire being. He wanted his life to be like this every single morning. He wanted to make coffee for you every day - he wanted to be yours. 

You picked up a fork and took a small bite of the eggs he had offered up, and Spencer felt his heart drop when your face immediately coiled into disgust. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked quietly, fearing he had terribly disappointed you. 

“Honey… how much salt did you put in this?” You asked, your words slightly muffled by the food cradled on your tongue. 

You walked over to the sink and spit the eggs out, and Spencer rushed to pick up a fork for himself as he answered. 

“Not much, I think.” He said, taking his own bite of the food. Then he immediately understood. “Oh my god. That’s so bad.” He said, feeling a gag curling in his throat at just how putridly salty it was. 

He leaned over and spat his bite in the sink next to yours, and before the fear of disappointing you could fully set in, you burst out laughing brightly. 

“Oh god.” You chuckled. “You don’t usually cook, do you?” 

“Not really.” He said, giving you a timid smile. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” You assured him, rubbing a hand gently across his back. “We can just get some breakfast on the way to work.” 

He would learn to cook for you too. Most definitely. 

The sweetness and peace was disrupted by a sharp digital chirping - a cellphone ringing. You didn’t think to question if it was your phone or Spencer’s before you put your coffee cup on the counter and rushed toward the sound, finding the small silver object buzzing in the middle of the coffee table (still off to the side of the room where you had pushed it the night before). You grabbed it up and flipped it open, and answered without hesitation. 

“Hello?” You said politely. 

Spencer stood in the doorway of the kitchen then, watching on with curiosity, wondering if the two of you were being called in for a case. 

“Y/N?” JJ’s voice came from the other end of the line - but she sounded oddly confused. 

“Yeah.” You confirmed. “What’s up?” 

“What are you doing answering Spencer’s phone?” She asked, an eager curiosity coming through her voice. 

Your work phones were practically identical, so it was a crapshoot. 

You scrambled to make up an excuse, even though you knew her mind had likely already strayed to something in the realm of ‘adult sleepover’. 

“He and I were hanging out last night and I fell asleep on the couch watching movies.” You said. “You know Reid, he went on that whole rant about how driving tired is like driving drunk, he insisted that I stay over-” 

JJ let out a hardy laugh, cutting you off. 

“Yeah, keep working on that.” She said. “I’m sure the others will definitely believe it.” You rolled your eyes at this, and JJ continued. “Did the two of you use a condom, or should we be expecting some genius babies coming our way nine months from now?” 

You wanted to conjure up a crude (but truthful) joke about how Spencer had cum into a silicone pussy and you didn’t think babies could come from that. But for once, you managed to hold your tongue. You wanted to respect his privacy rather than flaunting your sexual exploits in front of other people and embarrassing him. You did have some sense of tact. 

“Do we have a case or are you just calling around cause you’re lonely?” You fired back, trying to get her off this topic. 

“Yes, we do.” She said. “And you just saved me a phone call. So you and your little boyfriend get in here as soon as possible, okay?” 

You sighed. “Yeah, of course.” 

You snapped the phone shut before she could make any more cute comments, and then you walked over and handed it to Spencer. 

“There’s a case?” He asked. 

“Yeah.” You told him. “Sweetie, would you mind running down to my car and grabbing my go-bag? I need a fresh change of clothes.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I can do that.” 

His overall obedience toward you kicked in again, and he found himself nodded eagerly. He knew that if he were a dog, his tail would have been wagging relentlessly as he shoved on a pair of shoes and a sweater and you tossed him your keys from your purse in order to go and do the task. 

You chugged down your coffee and headed toward the bathroom for a quick shower to freshen up. As Reid went down to the parking garage, he had to wonder about the things he had just heard you say on that call. 

He knew that you had made up the excuse about you ‘falling asleep on the couch’ to JJ because you didn’t want to simply expose the fact that the two of you had played around the night before. It was a private thing that should be kept between the two of you. Even though you were relatively shameless about toting other private matters in public. You were never ashamed about announcing to the world when you were on your period or if certain foods had upset your stomach - in great detail. 

So - if you weren’t so eager to announce being with Reid, did it mean that you were ashamed of him? Did it mean that you didn’t want to tell everyone that you had a sexual partner like him? 

He tried not to stew in that thought as he brought your bag back upstairs. When he closed the door to the apartment and you heard him come in, you called him and told him to come toward the bathroom, and he heard the shower shutting off. 

It was only then that it occurred to him that you were using his shower - you were naked in the shower. You were naked in his apartment. 

He felt warmth in his pelvis at the thought, and he tried dampening it down (tried thinking of horror, sadness, dead bodies) - because he really didn’t have time to masturbate or ‘play’ more with you before work. He didn’t have time to take care of an erection right now. Would this be a recurring problem? Getting erections around you so easily now because you had awakened something in him? Because now he knew that you would actually touch him? 

When Spencer came to the bathroom door, it was partially cracked open, and there was warm, hazy air pouring out - clearly steam from how hot you had the shower. 

“Did you find the bag?” You asked, clearly having heard Spencer’s footsteps in the hallway. 

“Y-yeah.” He answered. 

“Okay, well, you can come in and bring it to me.” You chuckled, bright and confident as ever. 

Spencer pushed the door open fully. 

He felt like he was stepping into an early morning heaven when he stepped into that humid air and saw you standing in the middle of the bathmat, wrapping a towel around your naked, dripping body. 

The way you held it kept your breasts and vagina fully covered, shielding all of the ‘important’ parts from Spencer’s view. But when you pulled it back to adjust the tightness of the towel around your chest, you clearly didn’t care about the skin that was revealed. The thickness of your hip and the plushness of the side of your stomach was bared to his eyes; his gaze devoured the large strip of skin all the way up the side of your body, just barely kissing the side of your breast where the towel covered you. It looked so scandalous even though it showed so little of you before you covered yourself back up and tucked the towel into itself, securing the fabric around your body. 

“Thank you, Spencer.” You said, reaching out and grabbing the bag from him. 

Spencer stood there for a moment longer, watching in utter awe as his eyes traced a droplet of water down your neck and into your cleavage. He wondered what it might be like to lean over and lick it up, wondering what your skin might taste like-

“Spence, shouldn’t you go get ready now?” You posed, looking up from rooting around your bag that you now had propped up on the closed toilet lid. 

“Right.” Spencer said. “Right. Yeah.” 

Spencer rushed off to his bedroom, doing just that. 

He did have to masturbate before he could focus at all on getting dressed. He felt slightly shameful for it, but he picked up your discarded blouse from his bedroom floor, left there by you from the night before, holding it to his nose while he pumped his cock with his hand. And with it, he came faster than he ever had by his own touch. And then he rushed to clean up and get dressed and managed to meet you just as you were emerging from the bathroom, looking as beautiful as ever in another button up blouse and simple black pants. 

You gave him a grin and didn’t at all seem to suspect that he had touched himself, and he felt so utterly victorious - like he had a secret, like he had gotten away with something. 

… 

You had to laugh as you watched Spencer struggle to clean the dried cum off his glasses in the car with a couple of wet wipes. It was something you had forgotten to do the night before, and you found it entirely amusing as he muttered and grunted to himself, trying to get the lenses fully clean while you drove. 

By the time you got to the office, Spencer’s glasses were glimmering clean and you recklessly pulled into the first parking spot you saw in the garage, hoping that you weren’t terribly late. (Unfortunately you hadn’t had time for breakfast, and hunger was gnawing at you, but you would take care of that later.) 

Spencer began voicing complaints about your parking job and the likelihood of your doors getting dented by someone else getting out of their car, but you simply dragged him forward with a hand on his wrist and told him that it would be your problem as you shoved him into the elevator. 

Nobody else was lingering in the bullpen, which worried you, and surely enough - everybody else was already sitting at the roundtable as you and Spencer walked down the hall. Many prying eyes stared at the two of you from the doorway, clearly expectant of the two of you. When you got in, you noticed that the only absent face was Gideon. At least you and Spencer weren’t the only ones holding up the presentation of the case. 

“You’re late.” Hotch grumbled as Spencer shut the door behind the two of you. “Again.” 

“So sue me.” You shrugged, causing Hotch to roll his eyes, and causing a smirk from Morgan and Elle - who generally loved your snark. 

“Don’t blame her, Hotch, she probably had a hard time finding her keys after Boy Genius rocked her world.” Elle said, making an obvious joke about the fact that you and Spencer had come in together. 

That, and you wouldn’t put it above JJ not to tell everyone that you had spent the night at Spencer’s place (especially if she delivered that news under suspicion that the two of you had sex). 

Reid - who had gone to the counter off to the side to get himself yet another cup of coffee - dropped a packet of sugar on the floor out of nervousness when he heard Elle’s comment. You found it entirely adorable when he scrambled to pick it up, clearly trying his hardest not to seem suspicious. 

“So come on, how was it?” Morgan said, looking right at you as he hopped onto the joke. “Did he spread you open like a good library book?” 

Hotch sighed, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose, knowing he could do nothing to stop the conversation. He looked to his phone, desperately trying to ignore this as it went on around him. 

“Very funny.” You griped sarcastically. “If I look tired, it’s because this loser had me up all night rambling on about Star Wars - fun facts, behind the scenes trivia.” You said, motioning toward Spencer for emphasis when you said ‘this loser’. “I absolutely did not need to know the difference between a protocol droid and an astromech droid, but now I do.” 

On any other occasion, you casually throwing around the word ‘loser’ in reference to Spencer would have hurt his feelings. 

But during this moment, Spencer found himself suppressing a grin. Everyone in the room had basically invited you to openly mock him for his lack of sexual ability, to spill his secrets as office gossip. But instead, you had chosen to keep those secrets close to your chest, clearly as a way to protect him from future mockery. And on top of that, you had made a clever reference to a previous conversation that the two of you did have about Star Wars. He was proud that you remembered the term ‘astromech droid’ off the top of your head at all. 

He felt proud, sharing a filthy secret with you. And he knew that he was definitely not a loser after what had happened last night. 

“Star Wars?” JJ questioned, looking at you with an expression that said she definitely knew you were lying, but she obviously didn’t have any proof. 

You had told her that you fell asleep on his couch by accident, and now you were telling the others that he had kept you up all night? 

“Yeah, that sounds more like it.” Morgan chuckled, receiving a knowing nod from Elle. 

Spencer passed by you, placing a coffee cup in front of your chair as you took your jacket off and sat down. He highly resisted the urge to give you a grin - knowing that it would give away your sweet little secret to the rest of the room. He simply walked around the table and took his own seat, and before any further discussion about the possible antics of your private lives could occur, Gideon walked in with a file in hand and JJ began presenting the case. 

… 

It was a case like any other. (Unfortunately.) Women strangled, sexually assaulted, left in areas of the woods that weren’t too difficult to find. 

As you looked at the horrific crime scene photos, you couldn’t help but to think that perhaps part of the reason you loved to dominate subservient men was to take back your personal power. Because deep down, you knew that you were terrified of ending up like that, and you loved the small piece of the world that you could take back when you got your hand around a man’s neck and made him beg for mercy (consensually, of course). 

But you couldn’t dwell on that for too long, because you had a job to do. 

There was a fresh crime scene when the team arrived, and Hotch sent you and Morgan to investigate it while he and Gideon went to speak to the victim’s family. The others left to set up at the local police station, and you couldn’t help but to notice Spencer’s eyes lingering on you as you parted ways. 

There were some drag marks in the dirt and a camera perched on a public bathroom that insisted the victim (and her attacker) could have been seen, so Morgan stepped away to call Garcia to see if she could pull anything from the camera’s feed. You did some more looking around, but couldn’t find anything of note. 

When you walked back over to where Morgan was perched beside the SUV, grinning with his phone beside his ear, you couldn’t hold back a comment at his final words before he hung up. 

“-oh, of course. Well you are beautiful and brilliant as always, my love. Thank you.” 

“You didn’t tell me Reid was on the phone.” You commented snidely, giving a wide smirk as you walked around into Morgan’s view. 

You thought you were being clever, making the joke that he would call Reid beautiful, or playfully call him ‘my love’. But of course, he turned this right back around on you. 

“No, that was just Garcia. She said the camera’s a dud and she couldn’t get anything off it.” Before you could comment on this fact, he continued. 

“But I took a message from Reid earlier. He said he left his panties at your place and he wants them back,” He smirked widely himself as he said this. 

Likely the exact opposite of what he had intended, this caused a distinct image in your mind. One of Spencer wearing a pair of pink lacy panties - his long, hard cock straining to fit inside the skimpy material, and leaky wildly inside of it, making everything so wet. 

You forced yourself to refocus, and purposefully put on a sour look, pretending that you were annoyed by his crude comment. 

“Ha-ha.” You griped sarcastically. “You know Reid and I aren’t a thing. So you can stop with the jokes before you embarrass him.” 

Truthfully, you did want the jokes to stop before it hurt Reid. You knew that he likely wanted to keep his sex life private. You didn’t want his shyness to come back tenfold before you could truly open him up and explore his filthy side. 

Morgan snorted, clearly in disbelief. 

“Oh, so you’re gonna act like that whole bit this morning wasn’t you and boy genius stumblin’ in late because of a late night booty call?” Morgan posed. “A real one. Not him fallin’ asleep on his phone.” 

You shifted your attitude then. If he wasn’t going to drop it, then you were going to arm yourself. 

“Okay, if you’re so invested in my sex life, you wanna talk about the size XXL purple leopard thong that I found in your back seat three weeks ago?” You posed sharply, a stone cold look on your face even though you were holding back the urge to laugh. 

At the time, Morgan had offered to give you a ride home because your car battery had died. And when you tossed your bag into his back seat, you randomly spotted the streak of bright color - very out of place among the few gray sweatshirts he had in the back. And when you picked it up, wondering what it was, you held it in your hands and in a moment, based on the size, knew who it belonged to. 

But he had been denying where it had come from (and the lustful tryst behind it) ever since. Clearly he wanted to keep his inter-office sex life private too. 

“I-” Morgan began stuttering out an explanation, then swallowed it up. “We should get going.” He said, motioning toward the SUV. 

“We should.” You easily agreed. 

… 

The whole time the team spent working the case, you found it difficult to interact with Spencer. 

You really wanted to say that having sex with him wouldn’t change your working relationship, but it wasn’t like you had fucked just anybody. It was Spencer. If you had railed Elle or Derek or anybody else on the team, you probably could have gone to work the next day and pushed it to the back of your mind with grace. 

But knowing that Spencer was inexperienced, knowing that you had likely been the first person to ever hear him moan like that, the first to ever see him covered in his own cum - it was definitely something that stuck in your head (to a painfully distracting extent). 

Every time you so much as looked at him, saw that thoughtful expression with those glasses perched on his face, you immediately pictured him blissfully fucked out with large spots of his own cum covering the lenses. 

So you tried your best to avoid him for the majority of the work. You volunteered to leave the station whenever possible, and left him with his maps, making a geographical profile, doing what he did best. You tried to keep yourself distracted and focused on a case. 

This - somehow - had you and Gideon following a lead, following up with someone who had spoken to the first victim a few minutes before she was murdered. While the two of you searched the man’s property looking for him, he managed to sneak up behind you and put you in a chokehold, attempting to strangle you. 

Because yeah - he was the killer. Great. 

And apparently, once again, your sick sense of humor paid off. Because when your hand reached for your gun upon instinct and you realized that in your Spencer Reid sex-haze distractions, you had somehow forgotten it in the car, you cursed yourself, and then you began to physically struggle. And then you realized that this man was too strong, and there was no good way for you to escape the hold with physical methods. 

With your vision becoming hazy, your instinct was to start moaning in a very exaggerated, pornographic way and tell him how much you liked the feeling of being strangled - which led him to loosen his grip out of shock. And that gave you more than enough room to elbow him in the face, knocking him loopy so you could call to Gideon for help. 

The two of you had him in cuffs in minutes and when everyone else got there and asked you how you managed to escape, you told them that you were simply too fierce of a fighter for the man to hold you down. They didn’t need to know what actually happened or where your mind went when faced with danger. 

Spencer looked at you with incredibly sad eyes when he saw the irritated strangle marks around your neck, but you pointed to the marks and told him you were fine with a chuckle. That it looked worse than it was. You were surprised and kind of hurt when he didn’t say anything to you in return. 

Spencer didn’t sit next to you during the plane ride home (which you took slight offense to). But he did come up to you in the parking garage when you were getting ready to leave. You had been inspecting a large bump in one of your doors (cursing the fact that Spencer always had to be right), and you became distracted when you heard his footsteps echoing through the large space behind you. 

You thought that maybe he needed a ride since you had been the one to drive him there after your heated night together. But he stood a few feet away with his hands in his pockets, so you took your hand off the key that was poised in your car door and made it clear that you were prepared to pay attention to him - clearly he had something to say. 

“Are you mad at me?” He asked timidly. 

“What? No.” You let out breathily, almost laughing. “Why would you think-?” You began to ask, and then cut yourself off, realizing the answer to your own question halfway through speaking it. “Because I’ve been avoiding you.” You spoke aloud. 

Spencer nodded, seeming very solemn and downtrodden by this fact. 

“You wouldn’t even look at me over the past few days.” He said. “I mean, I understand if I did something wrong.” He declared, his voice taking on the same broken wetness that his eyes had, as though he was on the verge of crying. “But I - I thought that what happened the other night, what we did, I thought it was special. I-” 

“Spencer. Come here.” You summoned him closer, not wanting to talk loudly across the parking garage at him. You didn’t want your voices to echo when speaking about your sex life - just in case anybody did happen to come by. 

You found it achingly adorable that he called what had happened ‘special’. Like he was a young woman talking about ‘making love’. It was tooth-rotting sweet. Especially considering that he wasn’t referring to some night where the two of you had laid in bed together with candles and Barry Mantilow playing. But rather, a time where you had tied him to a kitchen chair and fucked him senseless with a fake pussy. 

Spencer easily followed your order, finding nothing but natural order in listening to you. He came to stand just a few inches from your body where you were leaning up against the door of your car, and then you began to speak quietly. 

“What we did was special.” You assured him with a smile. The sadness on his features broke up slightly at this. “In fact, it was so special that I couldn’t get it out of my head. Every time I looked at you, I just imagined you moaning for me, covered in your own cum. I kept hearing your pretty voice in my ears saying ‘please’ in that gorgeous way you do.” 

Of course, you did angle your words more into dirty talk, and you leaned into him slightly when you said these things, whispering in a low, seductive voice. You loved how his Adam’s apple bobbed heavily as he swallowed thickly, and a slight flush moved across his cheeks at your words. 

When he didn’t say anything, clearly stunned into silence by your words, you continued. 

“I didn’t want to be turned on, or distracted when we have an important job to do.” You had to leave out the fact that you had been so distracted that you had almost made a fatal mistake. But nobody needed to know about that. “So… I just tried to focus on something other than you for a while. I do apologize if it seems like I was avoiding you out of anger, but that is definitely not the case.” You told him, easily capping off your explanation. 

“I understand.” Spencer nodded. “That’s… kind of how I feel every day. But I guess I’m just used to it by now. So I’m better at not being distracted.” 

You felt intensely flattered, and slightly turned on as he unintentionally fluffed your ego. 

“Because you’re a good boy.” You told him, knowing that praise was one of his weak spots. 

You swore you saw his knees shake when the words hit him, and he cleared his throat loudly before he spoke again. 

“Is - is it always going to be like this?” He asked. 

He would have mourned your friendship if that were the case. He didn’t want to trade off your jokes and your everyday interactions for the sex, as amazing as the sex was. Selfishly, he wanted both. 

“No.” You easily assured him. “I just need a bit of time to get my head on straight. I need some time to get used to it. Like you said, I need to get better at not being distracted.” 

Spencer nodded at this. 

He was very tempted to ask if you wanted to come over to his place that night. If you wanted to ‘sleep-over’ again. Not only had he enjoyed the spectacular orgasm, learning from you, but he had genuinely enjoyed the kind of domesticity that came from waking up with you there. He loved having someone in his kitchen in the morning. He knew he would miss that sorely if he woke up tomorrow morning and you weren’t there. (Perhaps you had spoiled him too much already.) 

However, before he could work up the courage to ask, you leaned up on your toes and kissed him on the cheek, muttering ‘goodnight, Spence’. And in return, he muttered something about paperwork before he walked back toward the elevator. 

… 

That night, Spencer went home and grabbed the fleshlight off the dishrack as soon as he spotted it. He knew that you had bought it for him with the intention of him using it independently, but as he grabbed the bottle of lube off the living room coffee table, he just felt… lonely without you there. 

But he supposed that he had to learn how to do it on his own, because you wouldn’t be there all the time to help him. It was only a fantasy - the two of you getting a place together, so he could serve you in every possible way, doing so gleefully, and in return, you would play with him whenever he wanted. 

He stripped naked and slicked up his cock and the toy just like you had shown him. He couldn’t help but to miss the feeling of your hand on his cock as he did it. When he got the tight softness of the fake pussy around him, he screwed his eyes closed tight - and all he could think about was you. 

He missed you like a tree missing sunlight, and he felt his head spinning - felt like he had no greater sense of control without your voice telling him what to do. It made him anxious and on edge the whole time he had that fake pussy wrapped around his cock, rather than the beautifully, buttery warmth he had felt before. 

By the time he came, he was practically sobbing. A deep ache for you in his chest as he missed your touch over him - missed the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, missed your voice calling him ‘good boy’ as that tingling ran through his gut. 

After he rinsed out the toy with hot water and put it back in the dish rack to dry (wondering if he was cleaning it right) and jumped in the shower, he wondered if he would ever be content to masturbate alone again. He wondered if you had ruined him, if he would ever truly feel satiated without your touch. 

… 

The next few days passed without much of note happening. 

You and Spencer stayed away from each other in the office and everyone began to whisper, theorizing that you were in some kind of fight. But of course, they didn’t notice the glances the two of you exchanged over the partition of your close desks - a deeply knowing stare that only the other person could decipher. 

Also, unknowingly, Derek had given you a fantastic idea. 

One day during your lunch break, you visited a lingerie store that you loved, and picked up a pair of lacy pink panties that would definitely be too small for you - but that you hoped would fit a certain genius’ slim hips just right. 

… 

At the end of the week, you were intensely thankful to have a day off. 

You were tempted to turn your phone off completely, not wanting to be cursed with being called in on your day off. You could say that you lived with the hope that nobody out there was needing the BAU’s help, but truly, you were just annoyed and wanted some time to relax. 

You woke up naturally around mid morning, and you were feeling hungry so you hesitantly rolled out of bed. You washed your face and did a light, lazy morning routine. On your way to the kitchen in your modest, cozy, but very well decorated apartment, you heard a knock on the door. 

You felt all of your muscles tense up unconsciously. You really hoped that it wasn’t someone from the team, needing something. (You also hoped that it wasn’t one of your exes, showing up unannounced to beg for you back because the sex had been too good and had ruined them for anyone else - which had happened before. Multiple times unfortunately.) 

You hesitantly walked over to the door (so tempted to pretend that you weren’t home and simply be left unbothered). When you looked through the peephole, you were delightfully surprised to see that it was Spencer. He was standing there, dressed like he usually did for work, holding a tray with two takeout coffee cups in one hand and a large brown paper bag in the other. 

He had brought breakfast. 

A sweetheart with a big dick and a pretty face who begged so pretty and brought food? Fuck, you might just have to marry him. 

You eagerly opened the door and grinned widely at him. 

“Spence!” You greeted him with excitement. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“Um, hi.” He gave you a smile himself, and nodded at you rather than waving because his hands were full. “Can I come in? I brought breakfast.” He motioned toward the items in his hands, and you nodded, moving aside to let him in. “I wanted to make up for those… abysmal eggs that I made you the other morning.” 

“They weren’t abysmal.” You told him with a chuckle as you shut the door. “And I do admire you for trying.” 

Spencer naturally navigated his way to your small kitchen, to the small round table that you had in there to set the items down. This was only his third time in your apartment. 

Two of the other times he had been there, it had been to hang out and play board games with you, JJ, Elle, and Penelope. Something that had started out as a joke - Derek telling him that he might have fun ‘tagging along on girls’ night’. So he had. And he did have fun. 

And one of the times it had been because he had gotten quite drunk and you had brought him here to take care of him. Because he had been so drunk that he couldn’t tell you where his house keys were. Waking up on your couch that morning to the smell of pancakes had been delightfully confusing. 

Either way, he found your apartment wonderfully homey. Decorated in jewel tones with girly touches. And there was always a nice smell lingering in the air from some kind of scented candle or nice perfume you were wearing. 

“Yeah, well, food is definitely not one of my areas of expertise.” Spencer admitted, carrying on the conversation as he took your coffee out of the tray and handed it to you. 

You noticed the distinct motion of his eyes going up and down your body, lingering around your thighs and your breasts, distracting him from picking up his own coffee for a few moments. 

It was only then that you became hyper-aware of the fact that you were still wearing your pajamas. 

It was a matching set made of a thin cotton fabric with a floral pattern on it - the top was a tank top with thin little spaghetti straps (and of course, you had just gotten out of bed, so you weren’t wearing a bra). The shorts were intensely short, revealing most of your wide thighs. It didn’t leave much to the imagination, so you realized why it caused Spencer’s eyes to wander. You loved his keen gaze, though. And you pretended not to notice as the conversation continued. 

“The genius finally admits that there’s something he doesn’t know!” You chuckled. 

“There are still plenty of things I don’t know.” Spencer said quietly - the glint in his eye told you that he was definitely referring to the pivotal conversation that the two of you had the other night. The conversation where he had lovingly begged you to teach him about sex. “Plenty of things I still need to learn.” 

There was a pause where the air was filled with intense sexual tension, but Spencer broke it by grabbing the paper bag with the food in it and opening it up. 

“I got you a breakfast sandwich.” He said. “Bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel.” 

“Sounds perfect.” You nodded. “Plates are in the cupboard above the sink. I’m gonna go down to my mailbox and see if my newspaper has been delivered.” You told him, walking over to the door to shove on your slippers. 

“Getting your news from the paper? What an old lady you are,” Spencer said, clearly recycling your own words from the other morning back at you. 

“That just means you like old ladies.” You chuckled, recycling his comment from the other day. “You must be into MILFs,” 

“‘MILFs?’” Spencer questioned, that adorably confused look coming across his features again. 

You became filled to the brim with glee at the realization that you would get to explain this to him. 

“It means ‘Mother I’d Like To Fuck’ or ‘Mommy I’d Like To Fuck’.” You told him. “Usually it’s used to describe a sex fantasy where someone wants to fuck - well, a mother. Someone who’s had children, because they’re attracted to the concept of motherhood. Or it can be describing a porn category, usually anything with a curvy older woman and a younger man… some people say that a MILF doesn’t necessarily have to be a woman who’s had kids, just a woman who’s older than you and hot.” 

Spencer’s lips gaped with lustful shock, and a flush came over him. He wanted to confirm that you were definitely a MILF - because you were a woman who was technically older than him, curvy, and very hot. And he definitely wanted to fuck you. All the time. But that would mean using the word ‘Mommy’ to describe you, and as much as that brought a tingle through him - that was not a can of worms that he was ready to open. Yet.

You left him standing there, gaping with shock and you couldn’t help but to laugh at this as you walked out the door to go to the mailbox. 

When you came back, you and Spencer sat on the couch and ate with the TV playing quietly in the background. A random network was playing Pretty Woman and you left it on because Spencer remarked that he had never seen it before, and you found it adorable how closely he paid attention to the film as it progressed. 

When you finished your food, you opened your newspaper and began reading. At some point, you had stretched out, and your feet had wandered into Spencer’s lap. Before you could wonder if he found it annoying, he began to lightly massage them. 

It was a delicate kind of peace, and you couldn’t help but to enjoy the silent, easy company as he watched the film and you read an article about a new baby penguin being given to two male penguin parents at the local zoo. 

You didn’t know that Spencer’s skin was crawling, eagerness building up inside of him as he sat in silence. Seeing you just sitting there, your face gently concentrated as you read. You putting your feet so carelessly in his lap, using him like he was just a lovely piece of furniture, just a footrest for you. All if it seemed to be checkmarks on some unknown list of things that only made him more lustful. 

And for the past ten minutes, he had been slowly losing focus on the plot of the film and found himself staring more and more at your thighs or sneaking glances at you over top of the newspaper. 

He had the urge to simply nudge your legs apart and crawl between them. To start touching you until he found out what was pleasurable for you. Until you called him ‘good boy’ in that way that made him melt again. But he wasn’t nearly confident enough to just do that. So he was just sitting there quietly. Slowly going insane as he thought about all the things that he wanted you to be doing to him now that the two of you were alone with free time. 

Of course, you noticed him becoming more antsy. You felt him moving more in his seat, you felt him becoming tense under your feet. So you decided to ask and see what he would say. You wondered if he would come right out and admit that he was feeling lustful, or if you would have to pull it out of him. 

“What’s up, Spence?” You asked, glancing over the newspaper at him. 

Then, Spencer said something incredibly stupid. 

“They’re hosting some of Van Gogh’s original sketches at the Smithsonian Art Museum this month.” Spencer said, motioning toward the back page of the newspaper that you had extended in one hand. It was all advertisements, but one of them did say something about a Van Gogh exhibit including some of his original art. 

He had been feeling dangerously nervous and wanted to deflect from himself. 

“Hmm.” You said after you read it. “Maybe we should go check it out.” 

Spencer’s face fell to disappointment at this suggestion, and you held back laughter. 

“What? Did you have some other grand plans for the day?” You posed, knowing this would get the right reaction out of him. 

“I…” Spencer let out a breath, clearly hesitating. “I was kind of hoping we could… play.” 

You couldn’t hold back your grin. You loved that he was using the language you had taught him, feeling confident in putting the vocabulary to good use. 

“How about this?” You posed, knowing that you were fully in charge, and it was up to you to make the plan. “We go and check out the art exhibit, and if you behave yourself on this little outing, then you can have whatever you want as a reward when we come back home.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up at this. He seemed highly motivated at the idea of having a ‘reward’. 

“What would ‘behaving myself’ entail?” He asked, ever eager to have a set of rules to follow. 

“Don’t touch me without permission.” You told him. “Keep your hands to yourself. Don’t nag me or keep asking when we’ll come home and play. And… well, there is one more thing. Something special that you could do for me.” 

Spencer’s face knit with confusion at this. 

“What’s that?” He asked. 

“Hold on.” You told him. 

Then you got up off the couch and abandoned your newspaper on the coffee table, leaving Spencer nervously fidgeting as he waited for your return. He was surprised when you came back with a bright pink shopping bag - something fairly small and girly. The shop logo on the side wasn’t one that he recognized, so he had no idea what could be inside the bag. 

He waited patiently as you stood on the opposite side of the table and put the bag in the middle of it, and peeled back the pink tissue paper to take out the object inside the bag. He was slightly confused when you pulled out a small, delicate pair of lacy pink panties. 

When you unfolded them and held them up to display them to him, he easily saw that they would be too small for you, and the confusion racked him even harder. If you hadn’t bought the underwear for yourself then-? 

“I wanted you to wear these for me.” You told him, your voice steady. “Under your clothes all day. So just you and I know.”

Instantly, a wave of anxiety swept over Spencer. 

You hated the look that came across his face and you tossed the underwear down as he spoke. 

“Would - why?” He stuttered out. “Do you think it’s funny or something?” 

Spencer hated it, but he was immediately brought back to a time in his childhood. A time when, as a child prodigy in a public high school, he had been forced to take a gym class with a bunch of older teenagers, and forced to change in the same locker room as everyone else, because the coach refused to ‘treat him special’ just because he was ‘a smartass’. 

And at the time, he had thought nothing of his Ninja Turtles underpants until the other boys started pointing and laughing at them. They had thought his underwear was so funny, in fact, that they took his clothes, forcing him to walk out into the hallway in nothing but his underwear, fighting to get his clothes back. 

Back then, he didn’t understand why someone’s underwear would be funny. But it had changed him and left him guarded and feeling small - even now. 

“No, no, no, baby. Of course not.” You rushed to assure him otherwise, sitting down on the coffee table in front of him and putting a tender hand on his knee. 

“I would never want to laugh at you. Or humiliate you.” You told him very sincerely. 

You distinctly held back the urge to say ‘unless you want me to’. You didn’t think he was ready to know that some people role played humiliation on purpose. That would be for another day. 

“Baby, I only wanted to do this because it’s a turn-on for me.” You continued. “But you don’t have to do it if you’re uncomfortable. I don’t want to make you upset or uncomfortable.”

“It - it turns you on?” Spencer’s face knit with intense confusion, contemplating your words carefully. 

This was a brand new aspect that - now that it was presented to him, definitely had him processing the concept with fresh eyes. 

He knew that films or comedic shows presented the idea of men wearing women’s clothing as a form of public humiliation. Even though during Shakespearan times it was artistic, a beautiful form of theater. In modern times, men were publicly mocked and shamed for parading around in clothing that wasn’t ‘meant’ for them. 

Of course, growing up in Las Vegas, he was well aware of the existence of Drag Queens - people who fell somewhere between that Shakespearan theater and the Saturday Night Live style of comedy that was usually straight men wearing dresses. But drag performers dressed up in women’s clothing for money. They did it as a type of paid performance. 

No part of Spencer’s mental catalog had any idea that people dressed in clothing that didn’t align with their gender as, well… a fetish. 

Spencer imagined himself wearing the underwear - especially knowing that you would be looking at him with a lustful gaze while he wore it, and he felt a distinct tingle in his gut. He felt his mood shifting from anxiety to something warmer, but he was still on edge. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind, baby.” You pleaded gently, rubbing your hand on Spencer’s knee. “I know that look. So come on, tell me what’s going on inside that big brain of yours.”  

Spencer hadn’t realized that he had been sitting there for a prolonged moment, perhaps more than a few, a look of deep thought cast over his features as he considered all of this. 

“I… I don’t hate the idea.” Spencer said tentatively. 

He was still timid about his own desires, and he was unsure what it meant that he himself was becoming turned on by the idea of wearing women’s underwear. It was supposed to be a show for you, right? Was he supposed to enjoy it? 

“You’re not just saying that because you’re trying to please me?” You replied. 

You wanted to be sure that he was comfortable. You wanted to ensure that he knew he could say ‘no’ if he needed to. 

Spencer shook his head. 

“I - I think I could like it.” He said quietly, clearly shy about his own words. “I think I do. Just… can you tell me more about… why you like it?” 

You gave a small grin, always happy to explain these kinds of things to him. 

“Well, I think you would look good in them.” You said, being entirely honest. “To me, there’s something profoundly beautiful about the sight of a cock trapped in pretty lace. It’s unconventional and just so… pretty.” You explained, choosing your words carefully. 

Spencer felt a unique twist in his gut when you used that word - ‘pretty’. 

People had used that word to describe him before, but it always felt like it was teasing, or ironic. But when you said it, it sounded so genuine. It made Spencer want more. It made him want to hear it more because he wanted to feel pretty, especially in your eyes. It was something he had never wanted in his life before. It exponentially boosted his desire to wear those panties for you - if that would make him pretty to you, then he would certainly do it. 

But he held back on voicing that for now, and simply let you continue. 

“Plus, I do enjoy the idea of the two of us having a secret.” You told him. “The fact that you would be wearing those pretty panties under your clothes and we would be the only two people who know.” 

Spencer definitely understood that. He liked sharing secrets with you. 

It was how he felt all week - entirely filthy and victorious as he wielded his secret from everyone else. Having the knowledge that he had sex with you and the two of you were going about your days without anybody else knowing it. Sure, part of him wanted to brag to Morgan about it for some kind of social standing. But the bigger part of him much preferred the satisfaction of that secret. Having that secret side of you all to himself. 

“But like I said, you don’t have to do anything that you’re uncomfortable with. You don’t have to do it just to please me.” You reiterated the point, entirely open with him. 

“You really think I’m pretty?” Spencer asked quietly. 

You found it adorable that he had become fixated on this word, clearly slightly distracted from the overall point. 

“Yes.” You assured him. “You’re very pretty. You’re one of the most attractive people I’ve ever met, Spence.” You reached up and brushed your knuckles gently across his cheek, and he shivered lightly at the touch in combination with the brutally honest praise. 

“Thank you.” He said, giving you a small smile. Then, he had a thought. “Can - can I try them on, and then… see how I feel? Before wearing them for the rest of the day?” He asked, nodding toward where you had set down the pink lacy panties. 

It was such a brilliant idea - you weren’t sure how you hadn’t thought of it yourself first. 

“Of course, baby. That’s a really good idea.” You nodded. “Do you want to go in the other room and put them on, or do you want me to help you?” 

He found a warmth curling in his stomach at the idea of you helping him get dressed, and he absolutely couldn’t deny that offer. 

“Can you help me?” He asked, looking at you with the sweetest doe eyes. You resisted the urge to simply climb on top of him, kiss the life out of him and make him cum again. 

No. Today was going to be about making him wait. Making him needy - making him truly want. 

“Okay, baby, stand up for me.” 

Of course, he thrived on you giving him orders, so he did just as you told him without any hesitation. 

He stood up in front of you and you guided him around the coffee table to have more room. He was wearing such a perfectly Spencer outfit - a navy blue knitted sweater vest with a button up shirt underneath, a pair of gray slacks with a brown belt, and his usual mismatched socks (one red with navy stripes and the other dark gray). He also had a gray blazer that he had ditched on the back of one of your kitchen chairs shortly after coming in. 

It was interesting to know that even on his days off, Spencer still wore such ‘business’ clothing. But you supposed that it was all his wardrobe was made up of, because he likely didn’t consider it appropriate to leave the house in his loungewear. 

In a lot of ways, much like everything else that he did - it was intensely adorable. 

You put your hands on his belt and undid it, and unzipped his pants - when you slid them down over his thighs, you weren’t surprised to see that he was wearing the most Spencer kind of underwear: a pair of plain white briefs. He was half-hard, making a prominent shape in the cotton that caused you to hold back a wicked grin. 

“I’m sorry, my underwear isn’t… sexy.” He said, his arms hovering awkwardly around his front as he clearly considered covering himself but hesitated in doing so. 

“Don’t apologize, baby.” You said, getting down on your knees to take his pants the rest of the way down and untangle them from his ankles. Naturally, he put a hand on your shoulder and stepped out of them, a flush coming over him at how intimate the entire thing felt. 

“That’s why I got these special just for you,” You told him, reaching over and grabbing the panties, holding them up for emphasis. 

“You did?” He questioned. 

You had taken the tags off shortly before presenting the underwear to him, and even though you had brought them out in a shopping bag, it wasn’t something he had considered. You had bought something like this with him in mind. This was the second time you had gone shopping and gotten him a special present and he couldn’t help but to feel so lovingly spoiled by you. 

“I did.” You confirmed with a smile, looking up at him in a way that made him melt. 

“Thank you, Miss.” He couldn’t help the title from spilling from his lips, and it immediately made your pussy throb with need. 

Once again, you forced yourself to focus. 

“I’m gonna take these off now, okay?” You said, reaching up and thumbing along the waistband of his underwear. 

Spencer nodded. 

“Use your words, please.” You reminded him sharply. 

“Yes, Miss.” He said, nodding more frantically. 

You took down his briefs and his cock swayed in the air - clearly on the way to being fully hard, smooth and beautiful. You found it adorable that his pubes were still entirely untamed. You loved that even after you had started showing sexual interest in him, he hadn’t felt the need to rush to groom himself. You preferred him like this, especially because the imagery of that bush entirely slick with his own cum would always be stuck in your mind, and you definitely wanted to recreate it again. 

You were tempted to get a hand on his cock, to tease him. To get him to full hardness, making him leaking and whining and then force him to go out for a full day of activities. But he was still new to this and you weren’t that mean. 

That, and you had a feeling that because it was Spencer, if he started begging you to cum, if he said ‘please’ in that pretty voice again, then you would most likely just give in to him and your whole plan would be ruined. Rather than going to the museum, you would simply spend the day with him tied to the bed and incoherent. 

But you wanted to see how far you could truly push him if he was needy. If he was absolutely desperate. And a few hours of your attention directed away from him when he wanted it most (focusing on paintings rather than on pleasing him) along with rough lace scrubbing up against his cock should do very nicely. 

You pulled the underwear down fully and just the same as you had with his pants, unhooked them from his ankles, leaving him fully dressed from the waist up, still wearing his socks. Then you picked up the panties again - you had chosen something that was aesthetically pleasing, and hopefully not too uncomfortable for him. It wasn’t anywhere near a thong in the back, but you knew that it would be snug on his cock - just what you were hoping for. 

The moment that Spencer felt the lace brush against his skin, he was greeted by a brand new experience. He always chose his clothing based on the comfort of the fabrics - and he had certainly never worn anything with this kind of underlying roughness to it. 

When you pulled it fully up over his hips and gently tucked his cock inside the waistband, he did find it thrilling. The fabric created a slightly irritated pain across his highly sensitive cock, and a tightness around his balls, but he found that in a way, he liked it. It was truly all brand new, and though he knew that the feeling was going to become an annoyance after a while, he was curious about the sexual aspects of it. He found that he wanted more. 

Especially when he saw the look on your face. 

Spencer looked utterly stunning like this. Infinitely better than you could have imagined. Seeing his half-hard cock trapped behind the pink lace as it was stretched over his slim hips almost had you drooling. You knew that the lust was clearly written across your face, and you couldn’t help but to reach up and gently stroke his cock through the fabric, getting a low moan from him. 

“How does it feel, baby?” You asked, looking up at him from where you were still positioned on your knees. 

With your warm hand on him through the fabric, with you looking at him like he was the most perfect thing in the world, there was only one possible answer. 

“Good.” He easily replied. “Really good.” 

You smiled at him. “Do you wanna keep them on for the day?” 

“Yes, Miss.” He nodded eagerly. Truthfully, he was excited to see where the day would take the two of you. 

You helped him put the rest of his clothes back on, then you sat him on the couch to wait for you so that you could go get dressed for the day. You found it entirely adorable when he wiggled around on the spot, clearly adjusting to the new feeling of wearing such tight, lacy panties. 

Spencer felt even more intense lustful warmth wash over him when you returned in a flowy red dress with small white polka dots on it. It was a dress with a deep V neck and a tie around the waist, one that looked like it wrapped around your whole body. It accentuated your curves so well, making you look like a gorgeous Hollywood starlet. 

You had on a pair of red heels and had a red purse with a long strap on your shoulder. You were truly a vision of beauty. He felt like he shouldn’t be allowed to go out in public with you, especially because people would see the two of you and assume that you were on a date. 

(Was it a date? How the hell was he allowed to date someone as perfect as you?) 

“And remember, baby. If you’re a good boy all day, then you can have a reward.” You told him, putting your foot up on the coffee table to adjust the strap of your shoe, not-so-subtly flashing him your underwear with how open and flowy the skirt of your dress was. 

Spencer was brain dead by the sight for a moment, but then thought to ask:

“What kind of reward?” 

“Well… whatever you want. You can pick.” You told him. “As long as you follow the rules.” 

Oh, it was going to be a good day. 

… 

It seemed that your plan worked far better than you originally expected. 

When the two of you first got into the museum, Spencer’s hands kept hovering around his waist, clearly resisting the urge to grab at his pants, to try and adjust the panties through his clothing. You combated this by grabbing one of his hands, and kept him busy by prompting him with questions about the paintings as you toured the non-Van Gogh sections of the museum for a while.

At times, Spencer became a bit too fixated on whatever he was saying, and you felt an eagerness to distract him from the art. As much as you enjoyed listening to him ramble on and always learned something from the sound of his sweet, soothing voice, you did have another goal in mind. 

When he became a bit too immersed in his thoughts and recollection about whatever art history books he had read, you would provide him with some kind of physical touch that sent his mind absolutely rocketing off the rails, and sent his mouth sputtering as he tried to remember what he had been saying. 

You would reach over and wrap your arms around his waist, possibly brushing your hand over his cock on the way. You might wrap an arm around his lower back and lean into his body, purposefully pressing your weight up against his side, letting him feel every single curve that you had to offer. You began to feel more bold as you wanted to get more of a reaction out of him, and you even reached up and planted stray kisses on the side of his neck, behind his ear. 

As time progressed, his insights about the paintings became much more shallow, and he began to fidget more. You knew that he was growing intensely needy, and you loved it. 

By the time the two of you got to the exhibit with Van Gogh’s original sketches that had drawn you to the museum in the first place, Spencer was oddly pensive and quiet. You let the silence linger as you carefully planned your next move. 

Spencer interrupted the peaceful silence with his gentle, prodding voice. 

“Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all.” 

“What does that mean?” You asked, turning to look at him. 

“It was something Vincent Van Gogh said.” He noted, turning to look at you, mirroring your body language. “It means - well, I think it means that… that life can be full of trauma and darkness, but if you take the time to observe the beauties of your life, and realize how there are simplistic wonders all around us, then… the darkness doesn’t seem so big. The everyday parts of life can seem enchanting.” 

You reached up and gently brushed Spencer’s hair back from his forehead, eagerly listening to his sweet voice as he spoke. 

You knew - consciously or unconsciously - he was also speaking about the way that you made each other’s lives enchanting. Your job was full of darkness and horror, and it would be easy to fall to it. But you lifted each other up, and became that everyday enchantment that the other person needed. 

Spencer’s eyes pointedly flickered down to your lips and then back up to your eyes before he continued. 

“Van Gogh was famous for painting pictures of everyday sights. Flower vases, scenes from his village. The Starry Night was painted because he imagined that the stars above his village were a sure sign that God himself came down every single night to kiss the sky there. He didn’t see the mundane as simply… mundane. He saw it as beautiful and worth celebrating.” Spencer explained. 

“You’re beautiful.” You easily fired back, and Spencer crumbled under the direct compliment. 

In a moment, his cheeks dusted with pink and his posture shrunk. Where he was confident and tall when speaking about art history, he became small as he was trapped under your gaze, absolutely unsure how to take the compliment - especially as it was directed toward his looks. Especially as it made him feel oddly pretty. 

When his eyes jumped back up from looking at the floor, his gaze was locked on your mouth once again. He tugged on the bottom of his blazer, and you could tell that he was becoming fidgety and anxious. 

His anticipation was easily growing into need. 

And so was yours. 

Without telling him what was on your mind, you scanned the room. You thought you had seen something of note when you first walked into this section of the museum - and surely enough, in one of the corners, there was a thick black curtain covering a doorway. A curtain that had an ‘Employees Only’ sign pinned to it. Perhaps it led to some kind of storage closet, perhaps it led to another winding hallway. 

Whatever was behind there, you were about to find out. 

“Come here.” You told him, giving a gentle tug on his elbow that you were holding. 

Naturally, entranced by your every movement and having nothing but the ability to follow you - Spencer walked on easy feet, guided by you as you marched across the room with purpose. He thought perhaps you had seen a painting that particularly caught your interest across the room, or that you were finally ready to leave and it was time to go home and get his reward. 

But what happened next, he certainly did not expect. 

You pulled him toward a dark curtain that was labeled with a sign - Employees Only. 

Last time he checked, you hadn’t gotten a job at a museum. 

He found himself slightly filled with anxiety at this fact, but you seemed entirely unfazed. 

You simply pulled back the curtain and used Spencer’s anxious confusion to your advantage. You shoved him in first before he could question you, and then you climbed in yourself and carefully adjusted the fabric so it would seem completely undisturbed. 

The area behind the curtain seemed to be nothing more than a long hallway with a few doors. It was clearly a lesser traveled area of the museum - a few of the lightbulbs overhead blown out and not replaced, the floor dingy and dusty. Perhaps those doors led to storage rooms or the place’s security facilities - but either way, the two of you weren’t supposed to be here. 

His insides filled with panic at the idea of getting caught. 

“Y/N-!” He called out your name harshly, but you cut him off by putting a hand in the middle of his chest and shoving him back against the wall. 

Hitting the wall easily knocked the wind out of him. It was a surprising amount of force - you were much stronger than you looked. Of course, he had seen you take down suspects before. He had witnessed you tackle grown men to the grown with ease and marveled in awe at your strength, but you had never used that kind of force on him. He had never imagined what it would be like. 

He found that it turned him on more than he could have imagined. The presence of your hand fisting the front of his sweater vest spread a dizzying heat through his body. He stared at you with parted lips and a slacked jaw as the lust and shock overtook him. 

“Are you gonna be good for me?” You asked. 

You stood away from him for a moment, removing your hands from him completely and leaving a few inches of space between your two bodies in the dim, dingy space. 

You were giving him a clear opportunity to use his safeword if he truly wasn’t comfortable with fooling around in such a public space. 

“We - we’re gonna get caught!” He whispered urgently to you, his voice hushed but still strained at the very thought of it. 

You found it entirely adorable - how scandalized he was by this. You had done far worse and you hoped that you could get him to sink to your level over time. 

“You let me worry about that, pretty boy.” You told him firmly. “Now - are you gonna be good for me?” 

You asked one more time, your voice demanding and hopefully fully relaying the meaning of your words. 

Spencer had a choice. 

And with you standing there, staring him down with heat in your eyes, looking like such a vision of lustful beauty, when he had been waiting so long for your touch, for your attention… it wasn’t much of a choice at all.

He only wanted you. 

“Yes.” He squeaked out quietly, swallowing thickly around his own doubt. “Yes, I’ll be a good boy.” 

You grinned a wide Cheshire grin at his words, and in a moment, you were on him. 

You possessively gripped at both sides of his blazer, easily bending him to your will. You surged forward and met him as you forced his body to bend downward, capturing his mouth in a demanding, heated kiss.  

It was a tiny murmur in the back of your mind, reminding you that this was actually your first kiss with Spencer. You had already seen him naked and made him cum, and you were just now getting to taste his sweet lips. It was a funny thought. 

In that moment, any worry about potentially getting caught easily flew from Spencer’s mind - any logic quickly dripped out of his ears. 

He moaned beautifully into your mouth, and as you echoed a sound back, you had to wonder why you hadn’t kissed him sooner. He seemed to be a natural at it - or, this was the one thing that he had some real practice at. Which you were entirely thankful for. His lips were smooth against your own, heated and desperate, surging forward with intense gyrating motions - almost as if he was trying to consume you with his intense hunger. 

Though in a moment, he easily fell under your control. 

You reached a hand up to the back of his hair and took a tight grip there, holding him like he was a beautiful object that you owned, just a toy for you to play with. He let out a sharp whine from the back of his throat, and his jaw fell slack for a moment, allowing you to bite down on his bottom lip - hard, assuring him who was in charge. 

The shock of pain from the bite had his hips bucking forward, and surely enough, you felt him fully hard, brushing against your hip through both of your clothing. He whined even sharper as he felt the roughness of the lace pressing against his cock, brushing against him with more force as he humped himself against you. It stung roughly and sent beautiful shocks of pleasure pulsing through him. 

“What do you want, pretty boy?” You breathed against his lips. 

Still desperate, needy for contact, he left a sloppy kiss on your chin before he spoke to answer the question. 

“C-Can I touch you?” He whimpered out quietly. “Please.” 

Your lips formed a wicked grin against him at this. 

“Anything over my clothes.” You told him. When his hands still hung limply at his sides, you threw in some encouragement. “Come on, baby, touch me.” 

You did have to wonder if he would have been bold enough to reach under the hemline of your dress - even if you hadn’t given him explicit permission. You wondered what he would have done if his fingers had gotten as far as your underwear. But with your instructions, he had full access to your ass and breasts and you were curious to see what he would do within the rules. 

You dove in for another kiss, boldly possessing his mouth with a commanding strength once again. He whimpered against your lips and - feeling as needy as he was, he eagerly followed your instructions and began feeling you up over your clothing. His hands started out humbly on your hips as your experienced, certain lips battled against his needy, rapid ones. But soon enough, he became anxious and impatient with simply grabbing on your love handles through the cotton of your dress, and he needed more. 

You yanked on his hair again and took advantage of his gasp-parted lips to shove your tongue into his mouth, your body pressed firmly against his with him leaning against the wall for support. His hands began to eagerly wander, consuming your flesh for the first time and truly getting a taste of what it was like to not just be commanded by you, but what it was like to be with you. 

He began grabbing the roundness of your ass in needy handfuls, his touch truly exploratory - he didn’t touch you with any skill, didn’t touch you like he was trying to get you heated and turned on. He touched you because he wanted to touch your body, badly. He was simply displaying his own hungry need for you without even considering shame in doing so. 

And that was something that caused you to moan into his mouth as you raked your tongue along his teeth. He even reached a hand up and shoved it between your two bodies, groping at your breast with absolutely no grace. He was digging his fingers into the flesh like he was trying to rip it off your body and possess it entirely. It was something so filled with need that it made you so damn hot, made your cunt ache between your thighs. 

You knew that you wouldn’t be able to end the day without cumming - whether it be with his help or simply having him watch and beg to touch you.

You had so many plans for him. And you couldn’t wait to see them all play out before your eyes.  

You felt his erection against your leg, throbbing with just as much need, and you felt that devilish urge rise up inside of you again. 

You pulled away from his lips with a wet smack, the realization hitting you once again that - yes, technically, you were in a public setting. The thought sent a thrill through you, but you had to be at least somewhat careful, lest you get caught. 

“You like touching me, baby?” You cooed against his cheek. 

“Yes, Miss.” He breathed out. 

When you opened your eyes partially, you had to contain a gasp. 

His glasses were fogged up. 

Just like something out of your fantasies, his glasses were clouded with steam from the heated exchange. But he didn’t seem to notice or care. From what you could see through the layer of dew, his eyes were screwed shut and he was far too focused on his lust. He was concentrating more on groping your breast with one hand and your ass with the other, giving small, aborted humps against your hip, clearly trying not to cum in his pants. 

Oh god. You wanted to see him cum in his pants. Badly. 

And it was rare that you didn’t get what you wanted. 

“You want me to touch you?” You asked, nosing along his long, beautiful neck. 

“Should - should we go home first?” He asked quietly. 

Clearly, he was still afraid of getting caught. 

“Hey, shh.” You breathed against his skin, causing him to shudder. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. You let me do all the thinking, baby. Just answer the question,” 

“Yes.” He moaned quietly. “I want-” 

You didn’t let him finish, and cut him off with another heated kiss. 

You distracted him with this, and he whimpered sharply against your lips the moment your hand was on him. 

You groped his cock harshly through his pants, your hand skilled in a direct contrast to the way his touch was clumsy and only fueled by need. You knew exactly what you were doing, knew exactly how to drive him where he needed to go. 

Your demanding touch closed the pink lace of the panties roughly around the sensitive skin of his cock. The feeling of it - being reminded of his little filthy secret, the thing that the two of you shared. That, on top of the fact that he had already been so close from the thrill of getting to touch you and grope you freely for the first time - that set him off so damn easily. 

He didn’t have a moment to warn you that he was cumming or ask for permission. The only warning you got was a pathetic choked off moan that came from the back of his throat before his hips jolted into your hand, and the stuttering movement of his legs was a sure sign to you that he had cum inside his pants. 

You pulled away from his lips to admire your work. 

His face was nicely flushed, continuing to add to the fog clouding up the lenses of his glasses. His hair was entirely messy and tousled, giving an absolutely sex crazed look to him even though he still had all his clothes on - clothes that were wrinkled and messy, adding even more to the look. His pants with a slight damp spot forming on the crotch as his load soaked through the thin fabric of the panties and began to soak into his pants as well. You couldn’t help but to give his sensitive cock an extra little squeeze through his pants, causing him to whimper harshly and shake at the touch. 

You loved seeing him so fucked out and pathetic. 

“I - I’m sorry!” He immediately began to apologize, reaching to pull down his vest in an effort to cover his crotch, as though wanting to hide the evidence of his orgasm that was rapidly soaking into his clothes. “I’m sorry, Miss!” 

Of course, he thought he had made some grievous misstep but breaking the rule - by not asking permission before he had cum. When it was something you had been gunning for, wanting him to cum for you. 

“Hey, shh, shh, it’s okay baby.” You murmured against his skin. “It’s okay.” 

Before he could think too hard about it or get too swept up in his emotions (and frankly, before the two of you could get caught in such a state) - you grabbed one of his hands and then dragged him out of the museum completely. You barely slowed from a brisk walk until the two of you got back to the car. Even with Spencer holding his vest down over his crotch out of embarrassment, if anyone took a second look at his wrecked hair, dewey glasses and kiss-swollen lips, they absolutely would have known what had happened to him, and you loved the thought of it. 

… 

You spent the entire ride home assuring him that he had done nothing wrong. 

It took a lot of soothing from your voice and a few well placed gropes to his crotch over the car’s console with your other hand on the wheel. This got him hard again, made him distracted from beating himself up for not being able to follow the rules explicitly. Instead, now he was focused on the way his throbbing cock felt swimming around in his own cum-soaked underwear. 

He didn’t need to feel guilty for not following the rules. You didn’t intend to punish him for breaking that rule, because he had just been too pretty while breaking it. Besides - you couldn’t imagine spanking someone so soft and new. 

You couldn’t imagine saying no to him. 

In all honesty, you kind of hated yourself for going soft. This would be the first time since you had become a dom that you hadn’t punished a sub for breaking a rule. But this wasn’t just any sub, this was Spencer. You couldn’t explain why, but he was just allowed to get away with things. He deserved to be spoiled. 

By the time you did get home, Spencer was breathless and filled to the brim with need once again. If his tears had been from self punishment and guilt at first, they were now from sheer need. He was desperately wringing his hands in his lap to keep from pawing at you because he felt that he had not been given permission to do so during the car ride. 

When you pulled into your parking spot, he looked over at you through his now clearer glasses lenses with big, wanting eyes. 

“You’re sure that you’re not mad, Miss?” He asked quietly, giving an adorably dramatic sniffle. 

“I am absolutely not mad, baby.” You told him. “It’s difficult to ever be mad at you when you’re so damn pretty.” You ‘booped’ his nose at this, and the smile he gave was so genuine that it made your insides glow with pride. “Now, what do you say we get you out of those soiled clothes and into something more comfortable?” 

“I - I didn’t bring a bag.” He said, looking over to his car across the lot longingly. 

“You didn’t bring a bag to the sleepover?” You cooed. “How silly, baby.” Spencer looked entirely downtrodden, as though all of his plans for the day were ruined. “I’m sure that I can find something for you to wear.” 

This conjured up a delightful image in your mind of him wearing more lingerie. But no, you needed to find him something comfortable instead. He had been good, and he deserved to be rewarded for it. You were sure that despite the size difference, he would be able to fit into some of your pajama pants with the waist tie knotted up a few times. Hopefully the waistband wouldn’t absolutely fall off him. 

He seemed more upbeat at this, and the two of you got out of the car and went up to your apartment, Spencer easily following your lead, as always. He carried your purse loyally, something you found to be a covert turn-on. You liked seeing the subtle ways he could serve you. 

When you got up to your apartment, you tossed your keys into the bowl where you normally kept them, and Spencer made a point of hanging the long strap of your bag on the coat rack - something you found so entirely cute. 

You then took Spencer to the kitchen to get him a glass of water to help him calm down. The entire time he drank it, you gently stroked his hair and told him what a good boy he was. This seemed to relax him entirely, which satisfied you on a deep level. 

Then, you grabbed his hand and steered him in the direction of the bathroom to help him clean up. With his shoes already ditched near the front door, you peeled off his blazer and threw it over the back of the couch along the way, not giving him a moment to speak about hanging it up ‘properly’ or whatever else was gonna come out of his mouth before you bustled him along to the next room. 

In your quaint apartment, the bathroom was at the end of the hallway, and he caught a small glimpse into your bedroom before you continued shoving him down the hall. He saw twinkling lights and pink silken sheets and felt his stomach tingle - it was nothing like he had imagined it, but he kind of loved that. 

Your bathroom was just as entracing. 

The tiles were pearlescent blue - obviously vintage, along with a clawfoot tub to match, and you had decorated everything with quite a beautiful sense of style to match. A floral blue shower curtain, a fuzzy blue bath mat, and a small golden cart in the corner holding all of your different products. Spencer had the urge to pick up the bottles and start smelling them, wondering if he could get more of your amazing scent right from the source, or if it was the unique, distinct combination of those products along with your natural skin oils that made you so intoxicating. 

You shut the door gently behind the two of you when you got him into the small room. He found himself pressed right up against the counter of the small bathroom vanity, his back to the ornate mirror and your back to the door. This left only a few inches of space between your two bodies as you looked up at him with a gentle, sweet expression. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” You told him. 

Spencer smiled at you. 

“And then, after you’re all nice and clean, I think you can have your reward.” You told him, your voice low and dripping with decadent promise. “You were a very good boy today.” 

“I was?” He said eagerly. 

Then, after a moment, he realized that he shouldn’t be questioning it. Because it was against the rules to question your judgment, and because you had just told him that he was deserving of a reward. 

“I mean - yeah, I was.” He quickly corrected himself, trying to sound confident in this statement. 

You let out a soft chuckle at this. Then, you gently grabbed his chin and pulled him into a soft, sweet kiss. 

“You were, baby.” You told him confidently. “You were a very good boy today.” 

You absolutely adored the look on his face as you said this. His features became so soft and hazy, almost as if he was drunk. Clearly he was so high on the praise, loving knowing that he had behaved well for you, that you were giving him your stamp of approval and that he was about to be well rewarded for it. 

“Do you know what you want as your reward?” You asked, curiosity bubbling up inside of you. 

Spencer’s eyes filled with equal parts glee and contemplation. This was such a mighty question. 

As the question hung in the air, you reached up and gently took off his glasses, placing them on the counter beside the sink. As good as he looked in them, you didn’t want to accidentally knock them off his face and break them while you were stripping him out of his clothes. You then reached for the bottom of his sweater vest, still reeking with curiosity as to how he would answer the question. 

He imagined all kinds of things - one of the obvious ones was of course, sex. Full blown intercourse. But something deep inside of him told him that he wasn’t sure if he was quite ready for that. Part of him feared ‘messing up’ and still felt self conscious - like he should perform well and impress you, even though you quite clearly took the lead and hadn’t been unimpressed with anything from him so far. 

Deep down, he did know that his first time would be comfortable, safe, and beautiful if it was with you. And truthfully, he didn’t want it to be with anyone else. He couldn’t picture his first time having intercourse if it wasn’t with you in his ear, cooing about what a good boy he was. 

But still, he wasn’t quite ready for that yet. 

You got the vest off over his head, humming a calming tune quietly under your breath - a sign showing him that you were okay with the quiet, giving him time to contemplate his answer. As much time as he needed. You got to work on the buttons of his shirt, slowly and delicately undressing him as though he were a precious doll. It was something that caused goosebumps to form across his skin. 

He thought more about it. 

So - he didn’t want to ask for intercourse. 

He definitely wanted to touch you more. He liked touching you - he loved touching you. He definitely wanted permission to touch you under your clothes, to explore your naked body. He thought it might be silly to simply ask for his reward to be ‘touch naked breasts please’. You might find that silly. 

No, he could do better than that. 

When you began to peel the sleeves of the shirt off his shoulders and it caused a quiet shiver through him, that’s when it struck him. 

“I know.” He said quietly. “I know now.” 

“You know what you want your reward to be, baby?” You prodded gently, gathering the fabric of the shirt in your hands and tossing it into the laundry basket behind you. 

Perhaps you would get up early the next morning and do a load of laundry to wash his clothes so he could have something to wear home. You were struck with the vision of him wearing a pair of your sweatpants and one of your big comfortable tee-shirts walking back to his apartment from your car. You wondered - if the two of you were going to continue having these ‘sleepovers’ if you should clear a drawer for him to keep some clothes at your place and vice versa. That seemed far too domestic in your mind, but it just made good sense, didn’t it? 

You were snapped out those thoughts when Spencer finally gave you his answer. 

“I want to give you pleasure.” He breathed out quietly. “You’ve given me pleasure. I want to pleasure you.” 

His choice of words was somehow utterly adorable and spine-tingling at the same time. He sounded like a dreamy paperback smut novel come to life. But as you reached for the buckle of his belt to continue undressing him, you had to ask for clarification, just to be sure. 

“What do you mean by that, Spence?” You asked, punctuating the sentence with the click of the belt buckle. 

“I -” 

He let out a hot breath as you pulled his belt completely from the loops and let it fall to the bathroom floor with a quiet ‘clunk’. His next words were paired with the sound of the zipper teeth on his trousers coming down. 

“I want to give you an orgasm.” He let out a quiet whimper when your hand grazed his dick as you worked the fly of the pants apart. “I want you to teach me.” He said quietly, his voice a lot weaker as he became dizzy with pleasure once again. 

“You want me to teach you, huh?” You purred. 

You became temporarily distracted from this thought when you peeled his pants down further and the most delicious sight was revealed to you. His cock, half hard and still trapped inside the pink lace - which was now stuck to his shaft completely with his own cum. Just as you had imagined in your fantasies, it was absolutely wet. Slick like a pretty pink floral second skin as it sat below his waistline, making his sticky pubes and his sensitive cock look even more sinful while he sat marinating in his own load. 

You couldn’t help yourself - you reached forward and greedily groped his cock through the lace. You went so far as to trap the sensitive pink cockhead between your fingers and wring the roughness of the fabric around it, knowing that it would get a reaction out of him. Spencer sobbed with overwhelming pleasure and bucked his hips forward, such a beautifully broken sound. When you continued the motion, he surged a hand up to grab your wrist as he twisted his body slightly away from you - clearly overstimulated. 

You stopped the roughness in exchange for a gentle petting of your fingertips, and you leaned in to nose across the skin of his neck once again. 

You surprised yourself when your next words flew out of your mouth, almost without restraint. 

“Hey, shh. It’s okay, Mommy’s just looking.” You told him in a hushed tone. 

The moment that the word escaped your lips - Mommy - your gut dropped with crippling fear. You thought that he would hate it or become disgusted by it. But he let out another whimper, and when you looked into his eyes, you were met with nothing but a sharp burning and a reckoning that he had absolutely no clue he would have liked to call you that up until then. 

You left the air blank for a moment, giving him time to adjust - time to back down from it if he wanted to. Or time to rise to it if he wanted it just as badly as you did. 

“M-?” He squeaked out, and you gave him patience. “Mommy?” He said quietly, testing the waters. 

He found that a warmth washed over him, and he liked it far more than he thought he would have. 

Your breath caught in your throat and you held back a moan. Your muscles shook slightly as you resisted the urge to jump him - to make him say it again, with more desperation, with more lust. There would be plenty of time for that, you told yourself. 

“Yes, baby?” You answered quietly. 

“Can I take them off now?” He asked, referring to the panties feeling damp and cold and uncomfortable on his skin at this point. “You said you had some pajamas for me?” 

You smiled at him. “I’ll take these off and clean you up a bit and then I’ll get you some pjs. Okay, baby?” 

He nodded. 

“Yes, M-Mommy.” He stuttered slightly, still wearing in the nickname - but he loved it. 

He loved how it was warm and comfortable and familiar, and much less formal than calling you ‘Miss’. 

‘Miss’ was a nice teacher, someone good at making rules, but ‘Mommy’ was someone he could make a home out of. At least he hoped that’s what the two of you were doing. ‘Mommy’ didn’t seem too strict about the rules, and honestly, Spencer liked that. 

You helped him peel out of his slightly wet pants and completely ruined, soaked underwear. (You would definitely be washing those for a future use.) You tossed both items into the hamper, and then peeled off his cute (once again mismatched) socks and tossed those aside too before you grabbed a washcloth and soaked it with warm water to clean him off with. 

The entire time you wiped down his cock, he let out sweet whimpers and gently bumped into your touch. By the end, it was almost difficult to keep him clean, because his cock was fully hard and leaking precum slightly as you smoothed the warm cloth over his lower tummy and made sure to gently clean off his balls. It was oddly adorable, him making a mess faster than you could clean it up. 

When you were satisfied with this, you tossed the cloth into the sink and gave him a kiss on the cheek, telling him that you would be back shortly with a change of clothes for him. 

It was only when he was standing alone in the bathroom that he felt exposed - only then realizing how truly well… naked he actually was. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to be embarrassed by it as he awaited your return. 

After what felt like far too many minutes for his taste, you returned with something pink and soft looking in your hands. 

The panties had been surprising, and while itchy, had made him feel… oddly pretty. He would be hesitant to admit it aloud, but you were already making him grow to like the color pink and how it made him feel. 

You unfolded the piece of clothing and held it up for him to look at. It was a pair of long pajama pants that obviously belonged to you. (Spencer worried that the waistband would be too large for him, even with the tie that was available). They were made of a silken, soft material that seemed like it would be very light and comfortable to wear. They were a rosy pink color, very girly and feminine. Very pretty. He also noticed that you hadn’t brought a shirt for him, but he supposed that he didn’t have to worry too much about that. You had already seen him naked. Twice now. 

“Good?” You posed. 

Spencer nodded. “Thank you.” He said, giving you a small smile. 

He felt that warmth coming over him once again when you helped him step into the pants and even pulled the fabric up over his body, going so far as to secure the tie around his waist, making sure the loose fabric wouldn’t fall off his hips. The thin, very unforgiving fabric easily showed every single detail of his cock through it - his hardness now perfectly outlined in pink, which only made the heat growing under your skin swell to a dangerous level. 

Lastly, you grabbed his glasses off the counter and put them back on his face, making sure that he would be able to see fully and pay attention during his next ‘lesson’. 

“There.” You said, giving him another sweet kiss on the lips. “Mommy’s good boy is all clean.” Spencer preened at these words. “And pretty as a picture.” 

You delighted in the obvious blush that this last comment drew from him. You couldn’t help it - you loved praising him so sweetly, especially if it drew those kinds of reactions from him. 

“Now, baby, I want you to go sit on the couch and wait for me.” You told him gently. “I have to go and put on something a little more comfortable for myself.” 

You held back a devilish smirk. Of course, he had to think that this would mean you were going to put on some casual cotton pajamas - something genuinely comfortable and not at all a fulfillment to the male fantasy. And sure, you felt comfortable in lingerie. It made you feel beautiful. 

That was part of the reason you were going to do it. 

That, and you felt the need to make everything special for Spencer. This was going to be the first time he saw you in such a state of undress. Of course, you could argue that him seeing you in your panties and camisole a few nights ago had been pretty much the same, and he had looked upon you like you were a goddess then. But it had been practically dark then and you wanted this to be well lit and truly a fantasy come to life for him. 

“Yes, Mommy.” He said, giving a small nod. 

He left and walked out to the living room, going to sit on the couch as you had instructed, and you felt a delightful mischievous streak as you went into your bedroom and picked out what you would wear. 

As you got dressed, you thought more about what he had said. 

He wanted to give you an orgasm. 

It would be very nice to have him inside of you. He had one of the nicest cocks you had ever seen - he was so long and beautiful, and seeing him inside of the fleshlight had caused you to imagine what he would feel like inside of you. 

But you knew that if you let him fuck you, he would be clumsy. He didn’t have the technique or experience. Or the stamina. That was definitely something you wanted to work on first. And with how he had reacted from cumming in his pants earlier that day - something you had wanted, he likely would have a crash and be terribly anxious if he came while fucking you and you didn’t get to cum first. 

Making you cum seemed to be his primary goal. 

That brought you to the thought of putting him on his back - riding him, essentially using him like a human dildo. It would be intensely hot - having him below you, completely at your mercy. Getting to listen to his moans and whines and getting to see him completely fucked out underneath you while his perfect cock throbbed deep inside of your pussy. It would be perfect. 

But - he wouldn’t learn anything that way. If he wanted to learn how to make you cum, it certainly wouldn’t happen like that. He would be fucked stupid and you would cum, and you would certainly enjoy yourself. But he would be brain dead and cum drunk. He certainly wouldn’t learn or retain anything from the experience. 

No - if he wanted to learn how to make you cum, and if he wanted to put his genius to good use, then there was one certain way to do it. 

You were fully satisfied with your plan. You took one last look in the mirror, and you were fully satisfied with your look, too. 

You had put on a push-up bra with a black and red lace pattern, something that displayed your breasts well. With the padding and the ‘push-up’ effect, it definitely gave the cartoonish, fantasy effect that you were going for. You had on the matching garter belt, which had a few lacy roses adoring it. You didn’t have it attached to anything, though you had considered wearing stockings, you didn’t think Spencer would like the texture of them. You thought he would much prefer to feel your naked skin against him. You simply liked the look of the garter belt hanging around your waist, accenting the plushness of your stomach. 

You also put on a pair of the matching lacy black and red floral panties - they were fairly cheeky, letting half of your ass hang out, and fairly sheer so that your trimmed pubic hair could be seen through the fabric in the front. And lastly, you had thrown on a sheer, long black robe over the whole thing, giving a very ‘Moulin Rouge’ look to the whole thing. Along with a pair of six black heels - the kind that hurt your feet and you would only use to, well - go to bed and keep your legs above your head while wearing. 

You looked like a sex dream, if you did say so yourself. 

Rather than walking into the other room to get Spencer, you went over to your bed and propped yourself up on some pillows in the middle of it, making sure the fabric of your robe was billowing and appealing around you before you called out to him. 

“Spencer, honey, I’m ready!” You called out. “You can come in now!” 

You heard him coming down the hallway and you swelled with eagerness, almost too excited to see what his reaction would be. 

When he pushed the door open, he immediately froze when his eyes were met with the sight of you. 

Standing in the doorway put him right at the foot of your bed, and he thought for sure - at some point between here and the museum, he must have died and gone to heaven. Framed by the twinkling lights that were wrapped around the head of your bed, propped up on a variety of fluffy pillows - you were an image of perfection. 

Your breasts were pushed up to your chin, especially with the angle you were laying at, so perfectly framed by the floral lace of your bra. There was so much for his eye to greedily consume, and he didn’t think he should be allowed to consume it all so shamelessly. The curved planes of your body, the beautiful, soft zig-zags of your stretch marks, like guides laid out for his tongue. The fabric showing just enough skin, showing off every curve of your womanly body, so thick and ready to dominate him at a moment’s notice. 

There was a gentle power in the way you were lounging back, framed by the black, soft fabric of your billowing robe - your whole body relaxed as you waited for him. It made him want to press his forehead to the floor in a bow to you, made him want to beg just for the precious permission to touch you. 

“Is - that-? Your-? Paja-mas-?” He squeaked out, every single word becoming a pitch higher, making his shock all the more apparent. 

“Kind of.” You told him with a giggle. “This is what I wanted to wear for my good boy.” 

“You - you wore this for me?” He swallowed thickly around these words, clearly in disbelief. 

If you weren’t mistaken, you saw his cock twitch inside those silken pink pants. You loved how even though the fabric covered him, the outline of his cock was so entirely visible. The band of the pants being loose had caused them to slip so low on his hips, even causing the top bit of his pubic hair to be visible as he stood there, entirely uncaring (and likely unaware) of it. 

“Yes, baby.” You told him. “Now, come sit on the bed.” 

Spencer rushed to follow your instruction, almost tripping over your bedroom rug in the process. That caused you to bite your lip, holding back a grin - you wouldn’t want him to think you were laughing at him, after all. 

Spencer gently sat on the edge of the bed with his feet still on the floor, his bum just barely grazing against your thigh. You found it adorable that he was still being so timid about making contact. 

You spread your legs wide, and gestured between them. 

“Come sit here.” You told him. 

“Oh.” He said quietly. 

He stood up then and looked at the space between your legs. His expression was very comparable to a man afraid of heights looking like he was about to take a dive off a cliff into deep water. 

“It’s okay, Spencer.” You assured him. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, remember?” 

“I know.” He said quietly. “It’s just - it’s all so new.” He whispered. “I - I want to be good.” 

You wondered if the last part was about his ability to behave and follow the rules, or… if it was about something else. 

“Spencer, baby, are you worried about impressing me?” You wondered aloud. 

The expression on his face at this was very telling - a flicker of embarrassment, his hands twitching as he ached to play with his fingers, wanting to distract himself from the conversation. 

“Look, I know you’re new to all this. I’m not expecting you to be some sex expert, or a porn star or something.” You assured him. “That’s why I’m here to teach you, baby.” 

“What if I do it wrong?” He asked, his voice still so timid, so small. 

“Then I’ll show you how to do it right.” You told him. “That’s why I’m here. I’m not gonna laugh at you, or yell at you. I’m just gonna show you what I like and how to do it right.” 

It should have been obvious. Someone of his talent, his caliber, someone who had everything come so naturally to him his entire life, someone who had accomplished so much at such a young age - he was terrified of tackling something unknown, something he was afraid to mess up. He was afraid of being a bad student. 

He had just enough time in the living room to sit and stew in those insecurities, and now you had to lovingly battle them. 

“Come sit with me, baby.” You urged, leaning forward to pat the space on the bed between your thighs. 

You scrunched up the fabric of your robe so he wouldn’t sit on it, and finally, he moved to crawl between your legs - kneeling on the bed with his feet tucked underneath his bum and his hands fidgeting in his lap. His knees were slightly brushing against your inner thighs, but he wasn’t sitting terribly close to you. That was something you left alone for now. 

You sat up slightly, leveling your body with his, and ran your hand along his arm, trying to soothe him. 

“So, you said you wanted to learn how to give me an orgasm, right?” You posed. 

Spencer nodded. 

“Come on, use your words.” You told him. 

“Yes, Mommy.” He said quietly, clearly still feeling insecure and hesitant. “I want that.” 

He could only imagine how beautiful it would be so see you writhing in pleasure - to hear you calling out his name as you orgasmed, breathless. To see your body arching up off the bed as he brought you to climax. He could only imagine the headrush it would cause him to know that he had caused it for you. 

“Well, I think the best way for you to do that is by using your hands.” You explained. “Stimulating me with your fingers.” 

“My hands?” He questioned, looking from you down to his hands in his lap. 

Honestly, it was never something he had thought about. Yes - he used his hands to make himself orgasm, but that was only because he was alone. The act of masturbation was more like a mind-clearing chore for him than anything. (Before you came into his life and turned all of his ideas about sex upside-down.) 

He did have to consider that you used your hands to stimulate yourself, to masturbate - but he had no clue how. 

But he guessed that would be part of the learning process. 

“Yes, baby.” You smiled eagerly. “And I know you’re gonna be good with your hands. You’re very skilled because you do all that sleight of hand and close up magic.” 

Spencer felt a rush of confidence at the praise, and couldn’t stop the grin that formed over his face at your words. 

“Well, you see, sleight of hand doesn’t actually require that much dexterity or skill, like playing a sport does, because it’s more so about practicing the same movement over and over again until it becomes ingrained muscle memory.” He explained, easily sounding in his element. 

You couldn’t believe how easily he had set you up for your next words. It was almost like he had walked into a trap. 

“Well, what I’m going to teach you is also about repetitive movements.” You explained. “And it will definitely become muscle memory for you over time.” 

Spencer smiled fondly hearing this. He was now more confident that he would be good at what you were going to teach him. 

“So… where do we start?” He asked, becoming that eager student once again. 

“Here, let me look at your hands.” You told him. 

He was slightly confused by this, but didn’t have time to question it because you snaked your hands under his palms where they were sitting in his lap. His dick had wilted slightly from the anxiety, so he was only half hard in his pants. But he let out a small whimper when you accidentally crazed against it as you took his hands in yours and lifted them up to get a good look at them. 

“It’s important that your nails are trimmed.” You told him, lifting his hands up close to your face to get a good look. “You don’t want your nails to be too long, or you might accidentally hurt me. And that’s just a general rule whenever you’re putting your fingers inside someone.” 

He became slightly intimidated at the idea of putting his fingers inside you, but he tried not to let it show. 

“I trimmed my nails last night.” He said, proud that he had done something good. “It’s a good grooming habit.” 

He didn’t want to bring up the fact that - per his germophobia, he always kept his nails trimmed because he was afraid of too much build up getting under his nails and making him sick (even though he washed his hands multiple times a day). But he was just glad he could do something to please you. 

You couldn’t stop staring at his hands. It was something you had noticed before in passing - but they were gorgeous. He had such strong, prominent muscles here. Long, thick fingers - he was going to do very well at this. Once he was well trained up, you knew you weren’t going to be able to go for very long without having those fingers inside of you. 

“Very good, baby.” You said, finally snapping out of your lustful revere. 

You raised one of his hands up and kissed the back of it. And then, continued on, kissing a path along his hand to his knuckles until you reached the tip of his middle finger. As natural as ever, you gently sucked his middle and ring finger into your mouth. Of course, you were just playing around, admiring. His hands were so nice that you couldn’t help but to have one in your mouth. 

“Oh,” Spencer moaned quietly. 

When you looked over at him, he was staring you down with lustful eyes. His lips slightly parted as his gaze locked onto the place where your lips drew his fingers in, taking him down to the second knuckle. You gently swirled your tongue around the digits as you enjoyed the thickness in your mouth. You could lightly taste floral soap on his skin and knew that he had washed his hands in the kitchen sink when you had sent him out to wait for you. 

After a moment of this, you pulled back, your lips separating from his skin with a wet ‘smack’. (Though you wanted it to be longer - you loved those fingers, you could have easily held them in your mouth for a long time). 

“Yeah, these are good fingers.” You assured him, giving him a deliberate wink. “You’re gonna be good at this, Spence.” 

Spencer shuddered with pleasure at this. 

You leaned back onto your pillows, making yourself comfortable while he watched in awe. 

“I’m gonna take off my underwear now. Is that okay?” You asked gently. 

“Yes.” He said, nodding eagerly. “Yes, Mommy.” 

You lifted your hips to wiggle out of them. When the fabric was at your knees, he naturally met you halfway, taking the panties down your calves and very delicately untangling them from around your high heels. He concentrated on the task in a way that told you he wasn’t even trying to take a premature glimpse at your naked cunt. It was entirely endearing. 

Once he had the fabric completely untangled from your shoes, you naturally moved your legs to bracket them around his body once again. This completely exposed your wet pussy to the cool air, and he stared at the underwear in his hands, clearly perplexed about what to do with it now. 

“Just toss it on the floor, baby.” You told him. 

He did so, and then, with nowhere else to look, his eyes locked onto your naked pussy for the first time. 

Paintings and pictures had shown him the scientific side or even the objective beauty of the female anatomy. But seeing you laid bare before him, adorned in lacy accoutrements - this was truly sexy. 

His blood ran hot, and his cock throbbed to full hardness in a dizzying record time as he laid eyes on the glistening lips of your pussy. Seeing how real you were - the way your skin tone faded from the shade that matched the rest of your body to the more raw, wet skin of your inner folds, clearly swollen with need. Your pubic hair, slightly trimmed and glossy with your wetness - everything about you was so real and it made Spencer’s cock ache. 

“Scoot a bit closer, baby.” You told him, hitch your knees apart further, spreading yourself open for him. “Can you see okay?” 

Your pussy made a wet sound as it spread open for him, and he let out a quiet gasp in awe as more of you was bared to his eyes. You were so beautiful, so raw, so perfect, so hot - he almost couldn’t handle it. 

You knew he was likely becoming too entranced to answer the question. With the way his eyes were so tightly locked onto your cunt, you guessed that - yes, he could see just fine. Just seeing the utterly entranced expression on his face caused a throbbing heat through you, you were sure that if he paid enough attention, he would be able to see the wetness actively dripping out of you. 

“Spencer, look at me.” You ordered sharply. “Look at Mommy.” 

Spencer forced his eyes up to your face, and you smiled at him when he managed to follow the order. 

“How much do you know about the female anatomy?” You asked him. 

“I - I’ve read books.” He answered quietly. 

“Good.” You told him, trying to be encouraging. “Do you know where the clitoris is?” 

“I - um-” Spencer looked down at your pussy and found himself suddenly nervous again, not knowing if he should touch you, or if he should point, or-

“You can put your hands on me.” You told him. “I’m here to teach you, baby. Let me be your… in-person diagram.” 

Spencer nodded. 

Then, as naturally as he possibly could, he reached down and put a gentle hand on the top of your mound. He was so feather-light that you had to forcefully hold back a laugh, feeling ticklish at the touch. With his palm mostly spread out mostly over your pelvis, he used a thumb to pull your pussy lips back. 

Then, he saw that very obvious swollen button staring at him. With the pointer finger on his other hand, he sought it out like a guided missile, entirely confident in his answer. Before he could truly think about it - he poked your clit with that singular finger, pointing to it as his answer. 

“There.” He mumbled quietly. 

“Oh-!” You breathed out sharply, your hips surging toward his touch. 

His touch had been so abrupt (especially after so much anticipation on your part) that it sent an unexpected shockwave through your body. 

Spencer immediately recoiled, believing that he had hurt you. 

“I’m sorry.” He quickly apologized. “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?” 

He drew back both his hands instantly, curling them up to his chest as if he had done something terribly wrong. 

“No, no you didn’t hurt me!” You quickly assured him, putting your hands up in a surrendering motion to drive the point home. “Everything is fine, baby.” 

“Then what-?” He asked, his voice very meek and small. “What was that?” 

“I’m sensitive, baby. My body is sensitive. And I wasn’t expecting you to do that.” You chuckled. 

Spencer gave a small frown, clearly believing he had done something wrong. 

“The clitoris has a lot of nerve endings.” You explained, giving a chuckle to try and lighten the mood. “That’s kind of the point. That makes things more pleasurable.” 

“Oh.” He said. 

After a moment, his body began to relax as he chugged with thought, his eyebrows knitting tight like they always did when he was pondering something. 

“Oh… so that was… that was a good stimulation?” He posed. 

“Yes.” You told him. “I want you to touch my clitoris because it feels good. It’s one of the easiest ways to make a woman feel good.” 

He nodded, and then he moved his hands to touch you again. But you had a thought first. You caught his hands halfway, and held them in your own as you spoke. 

“Listen first.” You told him. 

He looked at your face obediently as you explained it to him. 

“Typically, for women, there are two types of orgasms,” You put on your ‘teacher’ voice once again, and he relaxed and put his hands back in his lap, clearly eager and ready to listen, wanting to absorb the information to the fullest. “A clitoral orgasm or a vaginal orgasm. Can you guess what that means?” 

Spencer thought about it for a moment. 

“An orgasm achieved by clitoral stimulation versus an orgasm achieved by vaginal stimulation?” He posed. 

You grinned. “Very good. Good boy.” 

He grinned back, easily soaking up the praise. 

“So, it depends on the person you’re with, but generally, most women achieve orgasm through a combination of both clitorial and vaginal stimulation. And a good rule of thumb is to always ask someone what they enjoy,” You told him. He nodded at this. “And also, looking at someone’s facial expressions and body language can tell you if you’re doing well at stimulating them. It’s like profiling.” 

“Well… what kind of facial expressions and body language should I be looking for?” He asked. 

You found this oddly amusing. To you, it was obvious that a back arching and lots of moaning and an ‘O’ face meant good sex, but Spencer was truly just that fresh. He simply didn’t know. 

“Well…” You took a moment to gather a mental list for him. “Typically, someone makes a lot of involuntary body movements if the stimulation is good. Good sex stimulates your nerve endings, so it makes your muscles twitch, and it can even make your limbs flail around or make your back arch off the bed.” 

Spencer nodded, his face still very intense and thoughtful as he took this in. 

“And when people are enjoying sex, they usually make a lot of sounds. Gasps, moans. They might swear or call out your name. And most people do just tell you that they’re enjoying it,” You giggled. 

Spencer nodded again. Then he posed a thoughtful question. 

“What about facial expressions?” He asked. 

“I know it might sound strange… but, you’ll know an expression of someone lost in pleasure when you see it.” You told him. 

These words made his whole body tingle. And naturally, made him wonder what your face would look like when you were lost in pleasure. 

“What do you prefer?” He asked. “Do you prefer clitoral stimulation or vaginal stimulation?” 

“I prefer a combination of both.” You told him. “That’s usually what makes me cum the hardest.” 

“You mean ‘cum’ as in orgasming?” Spencer said, repeating back this vocabulary to you with pride. 

“Yes, baby.” You told him with a nod. 

He beamed at getting the answer correct. 

“I thought we could start with clitoral stimulation and then move on to vaginal stimulation.” You explained. “Usually it’s easy to… warm up with clitorial stimulation. It makes the vaginal muscles more relaxed before penetration.” 

You found it odd to be using such clinical terms - the words were so stiff in your mouth, but you supposed that it was the healthiest way to explain everything to him. 

Spencer nodded eagerly at this. 

“You should wet your fingers first. Maybe spit on them?” You posed - this was a selfish request, wanting the delight of seeing him suck on his own fingertips. 

“That doesn’t sound the most sanitary…” He said quietly, cringing. 

Hearing him say this presented a new goal in your mind - getting him so fucked out and pliant that mister ‘it’s actually more sanitary to kiss’ would let you spit directly into his mouth. 

You chuckled at his words, though. 

“Okay, well… there’s lube in the drawer instead.” You said, motioning toward your nightstand. “Like I said last time, there’s no such thing as ‘too wet’.” 

Spencer nodded eagerly and sat higher up on his knees to reach for the drawer. When he pulled it open, his eyes immediately grew wide at the array of… objects you had in there. Thick, veiny things, some round things he couldn’t even begin to propose the purpose of, something with small dots on it that looked like a cartoon tentacle-? 

Knowing that he would become too distracted by these things and want to start asking questions, you reached over and grabbed the bottle of lube and snapped the drawer shut while his mind was still racing. 

“Focus, baby.” You told him, putting a hand on his cheek and forcefully prodding his attention back in your direction. 

He definitely had a lot of questions about those things. But he would ask you those questions later. (Because he certainly wasn’t going to forget about anything he had just seen.) 

You handed the bottle of lube to Spencer. It was almost exactly the same as the one you had given to him and used with the fleshlight, except it was strawberry scented and the liquid was lighted tinted tinted pink as an association with the scent. It was your favorite to use with toys because the scent was absolutely delicious as a perfume in their air (and at this point, it was something you knew that you unconsciously associated with an orgasm). 

You were naturally wet. You were throbbing and needy for him. But you knew that it would be nice to be extra slicked up to help him along. 

After a moment of struggling (in which you pondered if you should interfere) he popped the cap, and then he looked from the opened bottle of lube to his hands. 

“Right, so-” He mumbled quietly. 

He poured a dollop on his extended fingertips that easily got carried away and dripped into his lap, and he gasped and began looking around for something to wipe it off his borrowed pants with. 

“You can clean it up later, baby.” You told him. “Things are gonna get a little messy right now.” 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Right. Yeah-” 

Then, he looked back to the bottle in his hand, and before putting it aside, he poured a dribble of the pink liquid (likely more than he had intended) onto the top of your mound, causing you to gasp quietly as the coolness dripped down over your hot, needy pussy. 

“Is that good, Mommy?” He asked quietly, moving to put the bottle aside. 

“That’s very good, baby.” You encouraged him gently. 

“Okay - I - I’m going to - touch you now.” Spencer told you, announcing his movements in an entirely adorable way. 

You nodded. “I’m ready for you, sweet boy.” 

Spencer put his non-lubed hand gently on your inner thigh, and then angled two of his fingers back toward your clit again. This time when he made contact, he was much gentler, and you let out a sharp breath through your nose, warm tingles spreading through your pelvis at the feeling of him touching your swollen clit with such intention. 

With his middle and pointer finger, he began a strange sort of spearing motion, rocking his hand into your pelvis. He touched your clit as though it were a literal button he was trying to push over and over again in order to make you cum. The movement didn’t do much for you - except draw a slight stinging from the area. 

“Baby,” You caught his attention, drawing his eyes up from where he was intensely focused, staring hard at the place where he was touching your pussy. 

“Spence, it’s - it’s more like this,” 

You motioned with two of your fingers in the air, drawing small circles, demonstrating to him what he should be doing. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled quietly. 

“It’s okay, baby.” You assured him, reaching out and petting a hand through his hair. “It’s okay. You’re learning, right?” 

He nodded. “I’m learning. I’m gonna do better.” 

“I know you will, baby. You’re Mommy’s good boy.” 

This bit of encouragement and praise seemed to fuel him, and he took this new instruction with vigor. 

He went back to work using the motion you had just demonstrated and immediately, the difference affected you. His thick, cautious fingertips circling tentatively around your needy clit sent tingles up your spine, causing a warming glow to spread through your body that was slowly, but surely building up your orgasm. The beautiful artificial smell of the lube wafted through the air, and with the sight of Spencer in front of you, his forearm flexing slightly as he worked, it was all too perfect. 

You let out a gentle moan, and Spencer smiled. 

“That’s good?” He asked, looking from the spot where his fingers worked on your pussy up to your face. 

“That’s good, baby.” You told him, the stimulation causing you to become slightly breathless already. “You’re doing so good for me.” 

Spencer continued like this, running his other hand along your thigh, clearly feeling needy to touch and enjoy the softness of your skin now that it was freely available under his hands. His touch spread a warmth throughout your body that had you squirming under him, letting out more gentle moans under your breath. 

Spencer watched you in awe, so entirely pleased with the results. 

“You - you can go a bit faster, baby.” You told him, finding your throat slightly dry as your breathing sped up, more blood pooling in your needy cunt as his touch demanded it. “Speed up your fingers.” 

“Yes, Mommy.” He easily obeyed. 

Hearing those words in his sweet voice in addition to his touch, his fingers now moving in fast, delicate circles on your throbbing clit - it brought sparks through your body and caused slight tremors through your thighs. 

It wasn’t going to be the most earth shattering orgasm you had ever experienced, but it was going to be a good one, mostly because it was Spencer. Because you had him in your bed, calling you Mommy, wearing a pair of your silky pink pajama pants that his hard cock was now leaking a stain into. All while he concentrated on learning how to please you like it was the most important book he had ever read in his life. 

“Oh, Spencer!” You called out, arching your hips toward him. “Doing so good for me, baby! So good-” 

Spencer stopped his movements suddenly, and your voice caught in your throat as you looked at him with tense confusion knit over your brows. 

“What - what about the vaginal stimulation?” He asked. “You said you wanted me to do both, right?” 

You couldn’t hold back the breathy chuckle in your throat. 

If it had been anybody else, you would have immediately thought that they were edging you intentionally. But no - that wasn’t even a thought in Spencer’s head. He was simply eager to learn more, wanting to do the most to give you the best orgasm possible. He wasn’t content with mediocre. When he learned something, he wanted to be the best at it. And that thought caused any disappointment about your fading orgasm to be replaced by pride - you had somehow captured the best, sweetest boy, and you were going to use that to your full advantage. 

“Right, baby.” You said, still catching your breath. You swallowed to gather some spit in your mouth to talk properly before you continued. “Okay, you’re going to continue what you were doing with this hand, but first,” You said this pointedly, motioning to the hand that was unmoving near your clit, not wanting him to continue and impair your ability to properly explain. “You’re going to work your fingers inside me.” 

“What if I hurt you?” He asked, clearly timid at the idea that he might hurt you in any way. 

“You won’t.” You told him. “You start with one finger, because that’s smaller, so you won’t hurt me. And then once my body has adjusted to that, you can add another. So it won’t hurt.” You assured him. 

“So, I just need to use two fingers?” He asked. “Also, how do I know when to put the next finger?” 

“You can add three fingers.” You told him. “And I’ll tell you when to add the next one. And you’ll know because you’ll feel the muscles relax around you.” 

Spencer nodded. 

“So… what’s the best… kind of… movement?” He asked, awkwardly gesturing with his free hand in a way that made you giggle. 

He blushed with embarrassment at this, and you rushed to speak in the hopes that he wouldn’t feel awkward. 

“You’re going to move your fingers in and out. Like simulating intercourse. The repeated penetration feels good.” You told him. “Be gentle at first, and I’ll tell you if you should go harder or faster.” 

Spencer nodded. 

He began slow, gentle circles on your clit again, and you let out a small moan at this. And then he moved his other hand down, skimming the fingertip of his pointer finger along your folds until he felt it - that pulsing entrance waiting for him, needy. He thought he imagined it, but it almost felt like your body was trying to suck him in. 

“It’s okay, baby.” You told him, your voice gentle and encouraging, slightly hazy with pleasure. “You’re doing so good for Mommy.” 

These words caused his cock to throb inside of the borrowed pants, and feeling a pulse of confidence because of it, he pushed the thickness of his finger forward and breached your entrance with his touch for the first time. 

It was such a brand new feeling - having your wetness surrounding his digit, feeling your muscles clamping down on him. Feeling how hot your body was, especially compared to the lifeless coolness of a silicone fleshlight. It made him moan louder than the sound you easily trapped in your chest. You found yourself dizzied with a wave of pleasure at seeing his face so fucked out and hearing him moan like that because he was touching you. 

“You like it, baby?” You asked breathlessly, angling your hips into his clumsy, unmoving hands. 

Clearly he was so pleasure drunk and hazy that he had forgotten that he was supposed to be fingerfucking you. He was simply exploring, enjoying the feeling. You didn’t fault him for it, and you didn’t want to rush him, even with a filthy, needy ache growing deep inside of you. 

“You’re so warm.” He replied, his quiet voice edging between awe and another moan of his own. 

His eyes flickered between the place where he was touching your pussy and your breasts, heaving slightly with your labored breathing, and your face. Your lips dropped open slightly with pleasure, your eyes becoming glassy. He loved it so much. He loved you. He couldn’t get enough of this. 

“Your body is so hot.” 

You grinned widely at this. 

Maybe a huge part of the endearment came from the fact that you knew he meant temperature, and not the typical slang meaning your appearance. It was something that clearly surprised him, feeling how hot your pussy was while being in direct contact with it. 

“Thank you.” You told him. “Can you fuck me now, Doctor Reid?” 

“I - Right.” 

Spencer resisted the urge to apologize again, knowing you probably wouldn’t like it. And he tried to ignore how much it turned him on to hear you call him ‘Doctor Reid’ in this context. Instead - he set his attention on pleasing you. 

He concentrated on picking up a good rhythm - moving his fingers on your clit in circles while he gently drew back the other hand and began moving it slowly in and out, trying to penetrate you in a pleasing way. He instantly became entranced by the natural wetness dripping out of your pussy, covering his finger, his knuckles, spreading to his palm the more he moved his finger. He was fascinated by the way your muscles did seem to give way to him, your body opening up as if you wanted more. 

“Add another one, baby.” You moaned quietly. “Another finger.” 

So his instincts served him right. At least somewhat. He hoped that he could remember this for next time, and please you better with less of your instructions, working more off of knowledge and instinct like this. 

When he drew back his hand to do as you instructed, you added on some further advice. 

“It also works better if your palm is facing up.” You told him. “The curve of your fingers is working with my body, not fighting against it.”

Spencer had been prodding into your entrance, poking his finger into you in a more exploratory way - but he definitely understood this. 

“Yes, Mommy.” He said. 

He flipped his hand so that his palm was facing the ceiling, immediately fascinated by how sticky his wet finger was. Then he gently prodded forward again, his middle finger joining the first. He continued to draw circles on your clit - a rhythm that became clumsy and unfocused at times, because he was easily distracted by the feeling of your tight pussy clamping down on his fingers, trying to figure out how hard he should go. 

He was being incredibly tame, almost sloth-like in his movements, clearly afraid to hurt you. And he left you burning up, aching for release. The thickness of his fingers felt so amazing inside of you, better than you could have imagined - but he was so timid, and you hoped that you could draw more out of him. 

“Spencer,” You moaned lightly. “Go faster. Come on, be a good boy for Mommy.” 

You reached out and got a hand in his hair once again, gently cupping the back of his head and scratching your nails along his scalp. 

“Yes,” He hissed out, leaning his head into your touch. “Yes, Mommy. I’ll be a good boy. I’ll be so good for you.” 

He kept his eyes locked on you then, and, entirely fueled by the intense feeling pumping through his body, the pure need to serve you - he began pumping his fingers faster. Though it was clumsy at first, after a few moments, both of his hands fell into a natural rhythm with each other. His fingers circling your swollen clit became well timed with the thickness of his fingers pumping in and out of you, and in a few minutes - it became perfect. 

You went from letting out a few solitary sounds to every other one of your breaths becoming a moan, your lips perfectly parted, showing him how well he was doing. 

When he saw your heated eyes and your lips wrapped around those moans so perfectly, that was when he knew it - that was a face of desire. The one he would spend the rest of his days trying to recreate in you. 

“So good, baby.” You moaned out, your words becoming less durable as he stole them away with pleasure. “Go harder.” 

“Harder?” He warbled back. 

His wrist was beginning to shake, not used to this kind of repeated effort. (Truthfully, he wasn’t used to any more effort than hefting around a thick book for a while.) But he would keep it up for as long as it took to make you cum. He would do it until his arm fell off if he got to see you fall apart beneath him. 

“Yes, harder!” You confirmed, giving a firm tug on his hair to encourage him. 

Spencer let out a sharp whimper at this, and angled his elbow further between your thighs, trying to put less strain on the muscles of his wrist so he could do as you instructed. 

He began rubbing your clit with more urgency, and fucked his fingers into you even harder. He let out a moan as the sound then got to his ears - the wet slapping of his knuckles smacking up against the edges of your cunt, so rough and careless. He really was fucking you, he was taking over your body at your command, his touch was being used for your pleasure, and you were definitely being pleasured by him. 

“Spencer!” You howled, a sound that would stick in his mind forevermore. 

It was something that caught his entire body on fire in seconds and made his dick ache with red hot pin-pricks. He was surprised that he didn’t cum in his pants from that alone. But he was far too concentrated on keeping up the pace, fascinated by the way your pussy spasmed around his fingers, the way your thighs jolted and shook in a similar fashion that his legs had a few nights ago. 

“Oh, Spence! Good boy! Good boy, oh-!” 

You let out a sharp gasp and your head tilted back, and you seemed to gulp for air for a few moments while he continued to brutally fuck his fingers into you and rock his fingertips against your clit, angling your hips into the touches as though you were trying to get more from him. 

Though it seemed impossible, his knuckles were flooded with an even further wetness. And though he almost couldn’t bear to look away from your face, he did chance a glance down to your beautifully raw, fluttering pussy and saw that there was a distinct puddle of wetness on the sheets below you. You were the most gorgeous fountain he had ever seen. 

If he didn’t think it was out of place, he would have leaned down to lick you, curious about what your natural wetness tasted like. 

“Oh, Spence!” You squealed, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it almost seemed like you were trying to squirm away from his touch. “Oh - oh, baby! You can s-slow down now! You did - did s-so good!” 

Spencer slowed down, as instructed. And then - when he put it together in his mind, he gently eased off touching you entirely, feeling your pussy spasming and throbbing harshly under his touch. It was fascinating really, the way your body responded to him. He badly wanted to explore it more - explore it for hours uninterrupted. But for now, he had a simple question. 

“Was that the orgasm?” He wondered aloud. 

The unadulterated curiosity bleeding through his voice when he said this had you clenching hard around his unmoving fingers, so entirely turned on by the fact that he was just as awed by you as he was fine art or any thousand page encyclopedia. 

You couldn’t hold back the bright, breathless chuckle that escaped your lungs in response. 

“Yes, baby, that was the orgasm.” You told him. “What did you think?” 

“That was… spectacular.” Spencer told you, sounding almost as breathless himself. 

“You can pull your fingers out of me now.” You instructed, feeling slightly sensitive, unconsciously clenching around the digits and accidentally overstimulating your raw pussy in the process. 

“Oh. Right.” Spencer mumbled. 

He moaned quietly as he did so - loving the purely wet sound it made, like pulling away from a good kiss. He found himself in awe of the string of wetness that followed his fingers from your opening, like a thick string of salvia. He began rubbing his fingers together, studying it with utter fascination as you watched him with that concentrated look on his face again. You wondered how you had stumbled upon such a treasure of a man. 

Your eyes fell from his face to the prominent bulge of his cock still pressing into the front of those thin pink pants, the wet spot his precum made now even wider, and you immediately came up with a new idea. 

“Why don’t you touch yourself for me, baby?” You posed. “Your hand is already so nice and wet.” 

“Oh - I - I - should-?” Spencer stuttered out, looking from his glistening hands to the tent in his borrowed pants, a million thoughts flying through his very vast mind. 

“Hey, shh, it’s okay.” You soothed him gently. “Just tell me if that’s something you want. Yes or no.” 

“Yes.” He said, a desperate whisper on his lips. “Can - can you untie my pants for me?” 

You hummed in agreement and reached over, untying the well secured knot on the pants and then pulling the loose waistband down over his thick, excited cock, letting it spring out to hit his pelvis. He moaned quietly at this. 

“Make yourself cum for me, baby.” You encouraged him. “You were so good for me, you made me cum so good. Such a good boy. You deserve this.”

You began running your fingers through his hair again, something he seemed to heavily enjoy. Spencer - now wildly chasing his instincts, working on need alone and trying to push back all those doubts, reached out with those glistening fingers and gently dipped into your pussy again. The contact on your beating folds caused you to gasp, and Spencer shuddered slightly at this, mumbling out at an excuse. 

“I wanted-” He muttered quietly. “I just… wanted it to be wetter.” 

“Good boy.” You moaned out. You definitely didn’t want to discourage him from doing things like this. 

You wanted to mention the fact that there was a bottle of lube sitting less than a foot away. But clearly he had developed a fascination for your wetness, and you didn’t want to stifle that fascination in him or embarrass him. 

Spencer then took those slicked up fingers and stroked them across his cock. Just the knowledge that it was your wetness, the essence of your pussy touching his cock - that had dizzying waves fluttering through him that almost had him crumbling to fall on top of you. 

It took all of his remaining composure to stay upright. He was so furiously turned on that his cock was leaking precum like a sputtering faucet. He easily took advantage of that, cupping his hand into a well-known grip around his shaft and spreading that natural lubrication down from the sensitive, leaking cockhead to the rest of his dick. This caused his neglected, needy cock to easily light up and unconsciously buck into his own hand. 

“‘s too fast,” He whined out. 

His face took on a desperate frown as he continued to pump his hand over his cock almost mildly, almost as if he were afraid to go harder. 

He looked so beautifully wrecked - with his brows creased downward and his lip caught between his teeth, with that messy hand pumping his own leaking cock. 

“Too fast?” You asked, unsure what he meant. 

“It’s - it’s not-” He stuttered out, his brain becoming scattered and wordless to describe the feeling rushing through him. 

“Hey, shh,” You scratched your nails against his scalp again, grounding him. “Use your words, baby. Come on, be a good boy.” 

“Mommy!” He whined, his hips bucking forward desperately into his own hand, wetly smearing precum to the point where it became noisy. Your pussy throbbed at this and you resisted the urge to reach down and touch yourself, not wanting to distract him. 

“Baby, come on. Tell Mommy.” You ordered firmly. 

He sniffled loudly before he attempted more words. 

“Gonna end too fast.” He whined sharply. 

He sounded entirely petulant - as though he were truly upset that he was going to cum too soon and the night’s activities would be over. As though the two of you didn’t have plenty more nights to play. 

“It’s okay, baby.” You told him, reaching a hand over to thumb across his cheek, wiping away some of the frustrated tears that had escaped. “You did so good for me. You’re so good.” 

“I want more.” He whined out, clearly frustrated. 

“Mommy will always give you more.” You assured him. “But right now, you’re gonna cum for me.” 

He let out a wounded noise, some kind of protest, but his hips jolted as he continued to fuck his own hand. You had him right there. 

“Cum for me.” You demanded, your voice dark and demanding. 

It was a command he absolutely couldn’t ignore if he tried. 

“Mommy! Oh! Oh!” 

He let out a sharp cry as he came, and pumped himself through it. 

Neither of you had considered where he was going to cum. On his knees in front of you like that, he ended up in the perfect position to spill his load right onto your exposed cunt. Just like the last time you had played, he exploded with a massive power. Though he didn’t seem to have any care for where he was angling his cock or what he was cumming on, simply continuing to chant ‘oh, oh, oh’ under his breath with his eyes beautifully screwed shut and his mouth wide open, delicately pumping his hand on his cock to ride his orgasm all the way through. 

Thick, white waves of his cum landed on your pussy - startlingly warm, almost blazen hot compared to the cool air of the room. Something that easily made you moan, especially when paired with the beautiful sight of his orgasmic face in front of you and the way he so carelessly fucked himself, clearly only wanting to achieve his own pleasure and not caring if it was a good show or not - which was what made him so damn beautiful. 

When Spencer had milked himself dry, his cock starting to go soft in his own hand and the pleasant tingles becoming more like harsh pin-pricks of overstimulation, he put a hand on the wideness of your thigh for support, his muscles shaking. And then he finally opened his eyes. 

He felt even dizzier when he saw the sight before him - your gorgeously lingerie clad body and naked pussy now covered in the thick white of his spend. A small voice in the back of his head wondered if you could get pregnant from this, and another told him that - yes, it would be good if you did. You would look so good pregnant with his child. A child the two of you made together would be smart, beautiful, charismatic, brilliant and perfect in every aspect. 

He hadn’t even fully acknowledged that he was in love with you yet, but that was the moment he knew for certain that he wanted you to be the mother of his children. There was no other woman in the world who would be comparable to you - no other woman as perfect for the task. 

(He didn’t know that you were on oral birth control, so it didn’t matter if he had cum inside you - you weren’t going to get pregnant. Not without intending to.) 

“Oh, did I-?” He motioned toward the mess, seeming worried. 

Before he could apologize for it, you reached your fingers down and began lightly padding through it, and Spencer let out a wrecked moan at the sight. 

“You did such a good job, baby.” You told him, still entirely certain. 

Before he could comprehend it, you brought a finger up to your mouth - one covered in the combined essence of yourself and Spencer, and curled your tongue around it, moaning at the taste. Spencer could do nothing more than make unintelligible noises, and you giggled as you released the finger. 

“Good boy.” 

Spencer was dizzy and hazy from all the pleasure, and there was only one thing on his mind. 

“Can I have a hug now?” He asked, his voice still sweet and soft. 

“Yes, baby. Come here.” You spread your arms wide and Spencer practically launched himself at you. 

He laid completely on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him, stroking up and down his back lazily as you enjoyed the peaceful calm of his breathing. 

After only a few moments, you felt him start to fall asleep like that. His muscles turned to jelly, and his breathing came out in long, soft puffs. He looked so adorable nuzzled into your breasts that you didn’t want to wake him up, even if the drying mess between your thighs was becoming uncomfortable, and you knew that he definitely wouldn’t want to sleep in it for too long. 

You continued petting your fingers through his hair gently. You would wake him up in a little while and get cleaned up, you assured yourself. 

You definitely weren’t falling for him, feeling things that extended far outside of sexual attraction. 

Nope. Definitely not.

...

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.

I am not currently working on a continuation of this, and I don't know when I will be. If you enjoyed this and you want to see more from me, I highly encourage you to check out the rest of the works on my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

[angelofsmalldeath-codeine]

Good Saturday, y’all.

Topic of today’s rant: PEOPLE PRINTING AND SELLING FANFIC & GENERAL FANDOM ETIQUETTE

Profiting from fanfic will ruin it for everyone.

I want all of you who gift us your stories to be safe from lawsuits and beware that your content might be stolen.

Not to be on a soapbox and preaching to the choir but here are.

There are many authors pulling their work off AO3 because people acting on bad faith are printing and binding fics to sell on etsy thus infringing copyright laws. Fanfic has always been a grey area and we are allowed to exist in this grey area because we are not profiting from it. The minute money is exchanged, every party involved is breaking the law.

Why am I complaining about this yet again? Because we might be deprived from enjoying fanfic with the freedom we currently have because the fanfic authors will fear getting sued. If third parties are stealing our work and selling it, publishers and studios won’t care to know who sold it. It is your handle (thus IP address) on the sold fanfic. Because, get this, they are doing downloads straight from ao3 with your usernames.

Manacled is being pulled from ao3 because the author will publish it as a book. People are putting the book at risk by selling printed versions of it on Etsy.

I believe many of us who fall on the 20 years of reading fanfic side rather than on the 20 year olds reading fanfic will remember the Anne Rice days. These are not fully over because her son is carrying on the legacy of suing everyone who writes fanfic of her work. And if I may say, she didn’t invent vampires and should’ve taken many seats. I digress.

I am not sure of the levels of awareness within this community and to what extent it can affect all of us. TikTok is a massive contributor to this problem (as it is to many other problems. Again, I digress) since booktok and the binding folks discovered ao3.

You might think, I only post on tumblr so my content is safe. Well, they are finding their way here too. They cringe because tumblr is for old people but they still make their way here with their bad manners and pillaging behaviour.

I want all of you who gift your stories to be safe, lawsuit free, not lose your content and not be afraid of sharing.

I wish I had a definitive solution to this problem but I can only think of small actions:

report the etsy accounts selling fanfic/fanfic commissions,

report the TikTok accounts selling binding for fanfic work,

go back to the days of putting disclaimers on your notes that you don’t own the characters and you are not profiting from the story.

Tagging some authors* here for visibility so you can cascade to more people. Absolutely no pressure tag.

@theywhowriteandknowthings @tightjeansjavi @diversemediums @goodwithcheese @nerdieforpedro @fhatbhabie @undercoverpena @thelightsandtheroses @ezrasbirdie @notjustjavierpena @javierpena-inatacvest @freshlyrage @5oh5 @wardenparker @endlessthxxghts @creedslove @sp00kymulderr @secretelephanttattoo @gnpwdrnwhiskey @whatsnewalycat @pedrostylez @thetriumphantpanda @toointojoelmiller @dancingtotuyo @agentjackdaniels @ladamedusoif @lotrefcp @wildemaven @musings-of-a-rose @justagalwhowrites @morallyinept @pedropascalsx @criticallyacclaimedstranger @pennyserenade @kteague @astoryisaloveaffair @moralesispunk @linzels-blog @metalnecklace

*I can remove the tag if you are not comfortable with being associated with this post.

[naffeclipse]

I absolutely adore every AU you come up with, but I was actually curious if you had already or were considering writing a traditional DCAxReader? Hopefully I can kick this art block soon because there is so much fanart I want to draw of your stories :) Hope your week is going well! (besides the roof disaster ^^;;;)

On another note... AUs are my brainrot and I keep thinking about that post about the large bed... and spoopy ghosts. Clipgeist? No running away from something that can follow you to the ends of the Earth. Poor Y/Ns just can't catch a break lol

I have a few canon stories with the DCA x Reader on my Ao3 but nothing as grand or long as my AUs! I do have a 'canon' story plotted but I don't know when I'll write it. Hopefully one day!

Ah, that's so exciting! I hope you can chisel that art block down hehe 

It's going good (aside from the roof ;-;) I have this week of school before we go on break for Thanksgiving and it can't come soon enough!

Shaking your hand so hard rn!! I love AUs! And a spooky ghost one? Oh ho, I've always wanted to write a domestic monster scenario!

Perhaps Y/N moves into an old, old house with steep roofs, pointed arches above the windows and doors, and a lovely porch. It's two and a half stories tall (the half story is attic space under the roof rafters) with a four-story central spired tower! All dark wood and even darker interiors. You can't desire if it's Dracula's castle or a fairytale home for the happily ever-after-ed prince and princess. It's even got a secret underground tunnel! What more do you need when flipping a home? You love restoration and you intend to keep all its gothic charm while updating it to be, well, livable.

It's also incredibly cheap! Like, stupid cheap, for something that should be incredibly pricey for its prestige style and historical value. Not that you've ever looked a gift horse in the mouth, but even you have second thoughts before ultimately snatching up the house key.

The first night is always unsettling—maybe you hear a voice whisper in your ear despite it being dead silent and there's not a soul for miles, but you'll brush that off as getting spooked by old ghost stories your brain conjures up within the ornate decorated rooms.

From there, things get stranger and stranger still. Your paintbrush is moved and you know you didn't set it there because of the wet paint dripping onto the floor. The electricity is ever fickle, turning off at the most opportune moments during the night, like when you swear you saw a figure standing at the end of the hallway, all thin and scraggly with a ghostly smile and an inhuman head framed with wavering energy that almost seems to glow like embers in the dark!

Still, you continue your repairs and restorations, sometimes softly talking to yourself out loud and talking to the house like it's a wounded animal you intend to restore back to its fittest with all the love you can pour out of your heart. Places need love, too.

The most obnoxious thing is that you can't access the tower—the door is always locked, and no matter what key you try, it refuses to budge. You don't dare risk causing damage by prying it open, but you swear you'll get into that tower one day. There's got to be treasure inside with how mysteriously it stands, just out of your reach. Though, you've mostly put it aside for now. Whenever you jingle keys in the lock, you swear you hear a voice grow angry with you, and the hallway becomes so cold you can see your breath.

So, yeah, you're saving that for later.

The pivotal moment of you even considering a haunting is one night when you find yourself overwhelmed and stressed from the ever-growing list of chores and how everything is falling apart faster than you can fix it. You dissolve on the living room floor into thick tears. You're usually so put together, even when alone. You hate crying. There's no one to hold you together except yourself, so why fall apart in the first place?

Your little moment of getting it out is interrupted when a quilt falls over your shoulders. A soft, heavy quilt of midnight skies and dotted pale blue stars that was never in this room.

You leap to your feet, quilt falling away, and call out in classic horror victim fashion, "Who's there?" but no one answers. In frozen terror, you stare at the room, expecting something, anything to jump out or scream at you, but it's so, so quiet. All is still, like apologetic comfort.

That couldn't have happened. No draft, no forgetfulness could explain how a quilt was draped over you as if by a concerned friend.

You stare at the quilt and decide that you've had a long day. You go to your room, unable to relax even once you're under the covers, feeling something cold and misty above your bed.

When you wake in the morning, that starry quilt is draped over your lying form. You did not put it there.

Something or someone else tucked it around you.

[vmpiires]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘”

𝐂𝐖;; mature content. afab!reader, stoner!choso, non-curse/sorcerer AU, no uses of y/n. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓;; choso’s mind has been spiraling for a couple days now. the fact that you wrote your phone number down on his hand had him going. he wanted to call you. he wanted to text you. but he just couldn’t. in order to be sanitary, he’d write the number down again on a sticky note and scrubbed the ink off his skin. he didn’t have time for a lover…but he felt like making time for you.

₊❏❜ ⋮ part one ⌒

. ݁ ࣪ ، ⌗ masterlist

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 2.33K

dark mode recommended

do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; idk how long this story will stretch but if ya like it,, i’ll make more parts to it. not too many though. i wanna get to geto too (as promised). hope ya enjoyyyy. reblog to support meeee and if you want more :D (also lmk if you wanna be tagged for possible upcoming parts if i decide to continue)

another note: i finally made a masterlist. that shit took me 5 HOURS to make because i was fixing and adding so much stuff. i just wanted it to be pretty. ya should go look at it :P and should i make a AO3??? i see so many writers with them and i was wondering if i should do that too..

final note: guys,, remember this is my personal twist on the mid 90’s era so some things from current time will be put into the story (such as the ability to text without emailing one another or using a pager, familiar current time songs that are added into the 90’s era of this story, certain tv shows/movies that came after the 90’s)

₊❏❜ ⋮ continue to part three ⌒

“choso, we should make the house look like a haunted house!” itadori suggests. october was the season of spooks and scares (as yuji put it) and choso wasn’t into festivities that much but if he had to do it to make his little brother happy, he would do it.

the boys make their way to the nearby department store, letting yuji pick out what decorations should be put up in the house. for a little boy, choso didn’t even even pick up how significantly scary the items were because yuji wasn’t shitting himself out of fear.

“uh…yuji, i know you said you wanted the place to look like a haunted house…are you sure you won’t freak yourself out and start crying?” choso said, stifling his laughter.

“i’m not gonna cry.” yuji crossed his arms. “and i’m not scared of some dumb clowns. they’re just decorations, anyway.”

yuji was more mature than he looked…in the aspect of fear. he was a small boy but things didn’t scare him easily. you could say he’s a risk taker outside his moments of vulnerability. choso knew that he’d might jump back behind him, tightly holding the hem his tan sweater if he saw kechizu. the male finally smiles at the pink haired boy and nods.

“you’re right. they’re fake.” choso says calmly.

as they approach the checkout area, yuji sees the food area. serving simple things like pizza, hotdogs and drinks. the stuff you’d find at a concession stand of a sports game.

“can we get a pizza?” yuji asked. choso paused. he didn’t intend on spending 13 dollars on food from a department store. he had other plans anyway.

“you sure you want that? i was gonna get you a happy meal before we went home.” the male yawned, threading his fingers through his hair. the sudden mention of a happy meal excites yuji like a child on christmas morning.

“never mind, i don’t want pizza.” itadori quickly switches. choso chuckled, knowing how easy it was to get yuji to think about his choices.

“aw, cute kid,” choso heard a voice behind him. the male whipped his head around, his brown hair following along with him, only to see you standing there with a smile.

“is this your little brother?”

choso flushed a red color when he instantly remembered your face, almost making him feel bad for not calling you or texting you since you dropped off your number to him. he was feeling slightly embarrassed.

“uh..yeah, that’s—this is yuji.” he stumbles a bit, trying not to make his embarrassment known. itadori already knows the deal, so he waves at you with a big toothy grin, making you smile and wave back at him.

“um..what’re you doing here?” choso queried, trying to spark a conversation first for once. the male was obviously nervous and you could see his cheeks reddening the more he looked at you. if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he would explode right in front of your eyes.

“shopping, like everyone else,” you teased. “but really, i just gotta pick some stuff up for my mom and then i’ll be on my way.”

your eyes travel over to the shopping cart that yuji was clinging onto, looking at the halloweeny decorations and you smile.

“you don’t seem like the type to be into holidays really,” you start, “did your brother convince you?”

choso also looked at the shopping cart full of stuff and blushed even harder. he was already flustered enough. it couldn’t get any worse than this.

“oh—no..he didn’t,” he chuckled nervously, “i actually really like halloween. the scary shit—stuff…you know, the movies? they’re cool.”

you giggled at choso’s nervous attempts to speak to you about the festivities that he almost never participated in and the quick fix with his mistake of swearing in front of yuji like he wasn’t there.

“oh, so you like horror movies? yeah, you strike me as that kind of guy.” you said. you couldn’t help but notice his medium length hair, just like you had seen the other night when he was working, flowing in the wind that came through as the store doors slowly slid themselves open as customers exited the building.

the male wore an oversized tan sweater with a pair of joggers and some sneakers. you could tell this was a lazy outfit. something you’d call a ‘no one will see me’ outfit.

his eyes were tired and he had a stoic expression, aside from his profuse blushing that began to die down when he finally got the chance to relax, having his hands shoved down into his pant pockets. his irises were so pretty. a pretty shade of purple. you never seen anyone’s eyes look like his before.

the silence prolonged for a moment. the two of you suddenly ran out of things to say. this was perfectly fine for choso. he would’ve lost his mind if he had to keep talking. it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy talking to you. he was just too scared.

but it wasn’t long before that silence was disturbed.

“my big brother really likes you. he thinks you’re pre—” itadori starts before choso swiftly covers his mouth with his significantly larger hand, making you giggle once more.

“i’m sorry about that…yuji just likes to say random stuff when the silence is too loud for him.” choso said trying to cover up his embarrassment.

“it’s okay,” you smiled at him. your words seemed to ease his nerves a bit but it wasn’t enough to completely calm him down. you glance down at your phone when you feel it vibrate against your thigh.

it’s your mom texting you, asking if you’re on your way back.

“oh, sh—shoot,” you say, quickly fixing your mistake before you actually said it. “i gotta go. my mom just texted.”

choso is quickly snapped out of his embarrassment trance and his head swings over to look at you, his hair following along.

“you’re going?” he asked. through his dead and serious expression, you could see a hint of sadness. a very small change in his usual expression. you nod.

“yeah. but listen, you should call me. you don’t have my number just to stare at it.” you remarked before hurrying off, waving at him as you did.

once you were out of his sight, his eyes quickly struck down to yuji. he looked like he wanted to scold the poor boy for publicly embarrassing him in front of you but he decided against it and his expression softened.

“let’s just get home…” the male sighed.

choso was happy it’s his day off. he got to stay home with his little brother to help decorate their home with terrifying decorations for halloween. choso couldn’t help but smile at yuji’s futile attempts to scare him with the masks from the store.

“come on, you aren’t even a little scared?” yuji removed the mask from his face and shook his head to fix his hair, which was flattened and sticking to his forehead.

“not even in the slightest.” choso chuckled before ruffling itadori’s hair lightly. “what about your friends? you try to scare them yet?”

“megumi is almost never impressed. he’s kinda lame….and out of the question.” yuji hummed. “but i can get nobara. she’s always screaming.”

“well, you can do that tomorrow,” choso yawned, “you gotta get ready for bed soon. you got school in the morning and i don’t want you to be tired and falling asleep in class.”

yuji frowned before he’d hug choso. it took a moment for choso to process the moment, given that he wasn’t too used to being hugged. choso finally hugged the boy back before smiling softly.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

yuji nodded and smiled back at his older brother before making his way to his room.

when yuji had finally gone to sleep, the house was quiet, leaving choso staring at the ceiling with his hair in disarray and an unlit cigarette between his lips all while he laid on the bed, doing maladaptive night dreaming.

‘workin out’ by JID played softly from the small radio that sat on the windowsill. his eyes slowly traveled over to the shoe box that stood out from all the other boxes in his closet. there was a bright yellow sticky note at the top with what seemed to have your phone number on it along with your name.

the male sat up on the bed and walked over to the box, snatching the sticky note from the box then walking over to his laptop that sat on the umber colored desk.

choso opened the laptop and navigated to the facetime app and decided to punch in your number. he could feel his stomach turning as the low adverb jingling sound repeated itself.

while he waited for you to answer, he’d take one of the rubber bands off of his wrist and tie his hair back, leaving his bangs to hang down in his face. he even took the time to fix the violet eyeshadow that he always had around his eyes, staining his fingers each time he touched around his eyelids. and finally, he’d press down on the bandage over his nose to make sure it was still sticking.

you suddenly pick up, finally answering choso’s call. your room was a bit dark like his, except you had your tv going on in the background. it was loud enough for choso to be able to hear.

unlike choso, you were sitting on your bed with your laptop. you had your hair tied up in twin messy buns with a little bit of your hair hanging down in your face. you wore a black spaghetti strap tank top, revealing the tattoo on your shoulder, and a pair of grey joggers with mismatch socks.

“i honestly did not hear this thing going off,” you giggled as you pushed the hair out of your face. you had been downstairs grabbing yourself a drink while choso was calling. “i’m sorry i didn’t answer right away, though.”

“oh..no, it’s fine. you aren’t busy are you?”

“no, not really. i was thinking about finishing this show i was watching. have you heard of american horror story?”

“yeah, i heard of it. i just never got around to watching it. i’d rather watch movies than an ongoing series.” choso explained simply before he’d light his cigarette. you nod, completely understanding his side.

“shit, well, what movies do you recommend? horror movies, since we’re in spooky season.” you flash a cheeky smile at him. choso’s heart skips a beat when you finally ask him what he’s interested in. he pauses and begins thinking, taking drags from his cigarette.

“there’s one movie, i can’t tell you all of em off the top of my head,” he begins, “watch midsommar. it’s kinda disturbing but you might like it.”

“is it gory horror or..?” you ask before taking a sip of your drink as you began to type in the movie name into the search bar in another tab, scrolling through websites to catch any good details about said movie.

“you’ll have to see for yourself,” choso places two of his digits around the cigarette, gently adjusting it between his lips before it could slip out. you realize the longer you talked to him, the more comfortable he seemed to be but you could still see that he was nervous.

“maybe we can see about it together,” you suggest to the male. “whenever you’re free, of course.” you add quickly. all of a sudden, choso is blushing just as he did at the store earlier that day. you thought it was kinda adorable how he could look so disinterested to suddenly flustered and scared so quickly.

“i—well..” choso stammered, “yeah, sure…uh, we can watch tomorrow night when i put my little brother to bed. i don’t want him interrupting anything.”

you giggled, “aw, he’s so cute, though. but i get it. little kids can get in the way of a lot of stuff.”

the two of you conversed for what felt like hours. your voice was soothing to choso. each time you began to speak, he just imagined you calling his name…just once.

your call with choso ended around three in the morning, and your cheeks were pink, smiling to yourself as you remembered the random conversations that you two had not too long ago.

you hadn’t felt like this about a guy in a long time. while men were usually throwing themselves at you, choso was clearly the odd one out. he was a bit shy but assertive and smart.

choso’s voice was deep as it came from the depths of the ocean but his words flowed smoothly like butter when he wasn’t tripping and fumbling with his words trying to hide his embarrassment.

his style, his personality, the way he looked. in your eyes he was perfect but there were a million things stopping you from telling him you loved him.

what if he has a girlfriend already? what if he isn’t ready for a relationship? what if he doesn’t want one? he probably just wants to be friends.

aside from all those thoughts clogging your brain, you were aware that you’d be moving to fast by throwing that L word around loosely when you just met him a couple days ago.

“damn it.” choso sighed to himself.

‘you’re falling for her…but you don’t have time for her. what’re you doing?’ choso was beating himself up about the whole entire situation. another cigarette is taken out of the pack and lightened as he tried to calm his anxiety and spiraling thoughts.

he was going crazy. he didn’t know what he would do. he wanted you out of his head. he was starting to feel stupid for letting you swoon him as easily as you did at the bar.

part of him wished he never met you…

but he needed more of you.

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

© EXORSIIAN | © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[ltleflrt]

This whole backlash against printing fics irks the fuck out of me, and I got some shit to say about it. Mostly "Fuck You" but here's some nuance:

On the surface, I understand where the naysayers are coming from. It's a legitimate fear that making a profit from fanworks will bring down the C&D Hammer on fandom. I get that. Do not put on the One Ring, or you'll risk the Eye of Sauron.

But here's the thing. Fuck capitalism. Fuck digital only. We're living in the digital dark ages, and 100 years from now huge swathes of our history, fact and fiction, will be lost to our descendants because there will be no physical copies of our lives for them to find in old libraries and boxes in the attic, etc.

Creators deserve physical copies of their creations, and so do the other people in the world who love them.

I don't want to profit from letting people print my fics. That's why I use Lulu, since they have an option to set zero profit and make the links hidden so only fans in the know can get a copy. Other printing sites I've looked at in the past don't have those options. In fact, the first time I ever even thought about printing one of my stories was when I won NaNo for the first time and one of the prizes was a coupon for 3 free printings of your story. HELL YEAH, that's a copy for me, a copy for my beta, and a copy for the artist who made the cover for me. Perfect! But I ended up not using that coupon, because the site required I set a profit margin, and did not have an option to make it private. Ummm, no thanks. Not worth the risk. And even though the profit margin could be set as low as ten cents, I did not want to make ANY money from my fic, because I know that would be breaking Fair Use rules. I found Lulu instead, and decided to let other people get copies too, because I'm nice. And if I don't, it's not like I can stop them from doing it themselves, no matter how much I'd rather they not do that.

But that's not good enough for the Reporting Trolls. Their argument is that it's not possible for it to be completely profit free, since Lulu makes a profit on the printing costs and the shipping carriers make a profit off the shipping costs. Someone is making a profit, and that's unacceptable, even if that someone is not Me, The Person Who Made The Printing and Shipping Worth Paying For.

I would like anyone who thinks that to delete your accounts where you read fanfiction. AO3, Wattpad, FFNet, LJ, Dreamwidth, hell even Tumblr for the short ficlet stuff that only gets posted here. Because even if the website it self isn't profiting, (AO3 for example), the companies that sold them their server hardware made a profit. Since utilities are privatized, the electric company that runs those servers are making a profit. IF YOU PRINT IT ON YOUR PRINTER AND PUT IT IN A 3 RING BINDER, the paper, printer, and ink manufacturers made a profit from your dinky little print out. The companies that build all the parts for your computer or your smartphone made a profit on your portal to the internet, who profits from your monthly subscription, just like your electric company profits from the power it takes to run your pc or charge your phone battery. IT'S A SLIPPERY FUCKING SLOPE, AND YOU NEED TO LEARN WHEN TO BACK AWAY FROM THE LEDGE.

We live in a Capitalist Hellscape, and if a company could figure out how to charge you to breathe and for every single beat of your heart, they'd fucking do it. So get off your goddamn high horses with this "wELL SoMEonE iS makINg PrOFit" bullshit. Or if you truly believe that, shut off every account you own, turn off your utilities, and go live in the woods and make up your own goddamn stories, which you can only share orally to the local wildlife. They give kudos by biting you and giving you rabies.

(not to mention; these assholes don't go after fanartists who are ABSOLUTELY making a profit off their work. but noooo, Flirty can't format a fic for print and allow other people to pay for the printing service and shipping, while never seeing a penny of that herself, despite all of the GODDAMN WORK I HAVE PUT INTO IT, WRITING IT IN THE FIRST PLACE INCLUDED FUCK YOU VERY MUCH. fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufucky--)

[moonlightspencie]

Next to You

Description: Trying to ignore the feelings you have for your best friend can cause complications. Especially when you find out what they’d risk for you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader

Warnings: mentions of cases (typical for cm), fluffff (mutual pining, friends to lovers, the usual)

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: originally posted on tumblr. then took on a new life on ao3. now it’s back on tumblr.

The last place I ever expected my career to go was working for the government. A stuffy office job was never my style. Luckily, the government job I found myself working was far from a boring life shoved away in a cubicle. Much to the dismay of my family, and to my absolute delight, I got to work pretty much the coolest job I could think of besides being an astronaut.

The elevator doors opened and I stepped out, strolling towards the bullpen. I dropped my stuff at my desk, and went straight for the kitchenette to find Penelope and Derek sitting at the little table near the counter.

“Hey, lovebirds,” I said with a wink.

“Oh, come on. You know you’re my number one,” Penelope answered, throwing a wink back at me.

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Whoa, there. I thought you were my babygirl?”

Pen shrugged with a smirk. “You know I could never give you up.”

I laughed at the pair, grabbing a mug and filling it to the brim with coffee. I sipped at it, just watching them interact, adding in a little quip here and there until I heard JJ.

“Got a case, guys.”

She nodded towards the conference room as she walked past us. I topped off my mug again, following her to the room with the other two not far behind. We all filed in, taking our seats. Hotch and Spencer showed up a minute after we all got comfortable and JJ started speaking as soon as they hit the room.

Spence took his seat next to me with a tight-lipped grin my direction.

“The bodies of three young women have recently turned up in Portola, California, about an hour from Reno, Nevada.”

She introduced them as she went through the slides of where their bodies were found. Lakes and woods surrounded the area, making it easy to hide them without being traced back to somebody. I grimaced at a close up of the face of one of the victims. No matter how often we had to look at stuff like that, I could never quite force myself into thinking it was normal or just a routine. My discomfort must have been apparent, because Spencer reached up to place a hand on my shoulder for a moment, giving me a little smirk. I reached over to cover his hand with my own for a moment before turning back to give my full attention to the case.

“Any connection between the victims?” Derek asked.

JJ shook her head. “None, besides the fact they’re in their 20s. Different ethnicities, hair colors, lifestyles…”

“Very strange. It’s probably not a personal grudge against somebody then. Any signs of sexual assault or impotence?” Spencer asked.

“No, they didn’t find any evidence of abuse on the victims at all, actually, besides a few minor bruises. Probably from the victims attempting to fight back.”

I furrowed my brow. “So, what did he want with them?”

“That’s what we have to find out, and quickly,” JJ sighed, pulling out some photos of a girl in her 20s and passing them around. “A young woman named Rebecca Stevenson recently went missing in the area, and it’s very likely she was abducted. Her car was found on the side of the road, the keys still in the ignition. I’m willing to bet she was taken by our unsub.”

We all glanced at the photos her parents had sent in, committing her face to memory as well as we could.

“Alright, everyone grab your go-bags. Wheels up in 20,” Hotch concluded.

I huffed out a sigh as I plopped myself down in the seat next to Spencer on the plane. I slouched down, shutting my eyes for a moment.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just— I have a bad feeling about this one.”

“Let’s just get our job done as well as we can, and hope the rest works out.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“Usually am.”

I scoffed out a laugh, opening my eyes. “You, Spencer Reid, are one cocky little…”

“It’s Dr. Spencer Reid, actually,” he interrupted.

We both broke out in a fit of laughter.

“You’re ridiculous.” I shook my head, looking up to him.

“We can be ridiculous together.” He nudged my shoulder with a smirk.

“What are you talking about? I’m the normal one.”

He raised a brow.

“Don’t you give me that look.” I joked.

We touched down in a couple of hours, and headed towards the local police precinct. We went through all of the formalities with local officers, explaining the situation and our procedures as much as we could before starting a profile on the unsub.

We ended up needing to take a few hours to sleep before heading to the families of the victims found and Rebecca’s family the next day.

“If we could just have a look at her room…” Spencer started.

“Of course! Whatever you need to be able to find her.”

Rebecca’s mom ushered us through the home, straight to her bedroom.

“She’s been staying here with me. Ever since her father passed…” Her eyes welled with tears. “It’s been hard. For us both. She was— So sweet to come back to stay with me during all of that. I just… Please, whatever you need. Find her.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder. “I promise we will do our best to bring Rebecca home.”

A few tears slipped down her face. “Thank you.”

I nodded, and she turned to leave us in the room. Spencer watched me for a moment.

“Let’s find her.” I nodded, beginning to look around her bedroom. I found a laptop and opened it. “Any ideas about the password, genius?”

He took the computer from me, sitting next to me on her bed. He started making a few guesses, somehow breaking in within a few minutes.

“Got it.”

“Awesome. What do we got?”

“Let’s see.”

He started searching around for any sliver of a clue as to what happened to her. It took several minutes before he found something.

“Uh, she was on a dating site, and had a lot of matches,” he said, searching through some of the messages.

“Think that could be something?”

“Maybe. Can you call Hotch and ask if any of the others were on this site?”

I nodded, dialing him up. We chatted for some time before I was able to hang up. Spencer watched me expectantly.

“They were all on the same site.”

“Okay, let’s find the commonalities.”

We scoured their profiles, finding only one common name: Andrew. But all we knew about him was a first name, age range, and a picture that clearly wasn’t of him. Luckily, we had the worlds best internet stalker on the team. Spencer and I went back to the precinct to meet Derek there, and hopped on the phone with Penelope until we figured out who we were going after. It didn’t take long before she found the most likely candidate.

“Uh… Andrew! Yes, his name is Andrew McClain, I’m sending you all his address now.”

I could almost hear the smile on Penelope’s face at her ability to discover pretty much anything she set her mind to. I would’ve smiled too if it weren’t for the dire circumstances we were working with.

“Thanks sweetheart,” Derek said back before hanging up.

He immediately called Hotch, letting him know what the situation was. The three of us practically ran to the car from the precinct, alerting Emily and JJ of the situation as we went. Derek tore out of the lot, speeding towards our destination as fast as he could go. We met Hotch and the unit chief in front of a mansion.

“No wonder he hid this all so well,” I said under my breath, staring up at the massive place.

“Makes sense why he had girls off of dating sites feeling okay coming over, too. Money can buy a lot of things, and unfortunately love is one of them,” Spencer said, coming to stand next to me. “Or, well, whatever form of affection can be reached through a sense of security.”

“That’s disgusting. Taking advantage of those girls like that.” I shook my head, looking away and towards the team instead. “They never saw it coming.”

“They never do.” Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing at whatever I seemed to be fixed on instead of the house.

Emily and JJ showed up not too long afterwards, and we all quickly went over the plan. We knew who and what we were looking for, and it seemed like it’d be pretty straightforward. We just hoped that we’d find Rebecca alive.

We snuck in as quietly as we could, tiptoeing around the mansion and checking each and every room and door we could find. I was following Hotch and the unit chief as they opened up the door to a bedroom in a downstairs hallway.

“Damn it,” I heard Hotch before I walked into the small room. He said something else to the chief that I couldn’t quite make out.

My steps slowed and eventually came to a stop in the doorway when I saw her. I really wanted him dead now. I huffed out a harsh breath as more agents walked towards the room Hotch was in, and shoved past them all. I rounded a corner in the maze of a house, getting up the steps to the second floor as quickly and quietly as I could, nearly throwing Spencer off his feet as I reached the top.

“Hey,” he said, though he meant it more as a question.

“They found her downstairs. I’m gonna kill him.”

“Hey, whoa.” He reached out to grab my arm as I tried to move past him. “We’ll get him, but don’t go looking alone.”

I nodded hesitantly as we both moved forward, peeking into each room before we heard a noise coming from a room near the end of the hallway. I stepped up first, gun drawn as Spencer opened the door for me. At first I didn’t see anything, then I heard him and whipped around to the far left corner of the room with Spencer not far from my side.

“What are you doing in my house,” he questioned, moving forward ever-so-slightly.

I pointed my gun at him. “We found Rebecca, Andy. You are one sick—”

“Don’t move!” Spencer interrupted, stepping ahead of me as Andy’s hand slowly came back from where he had attempted to reach in his back pocket. “What do you have?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

I stepped to be right next to Spence. “Whatever it is, Andy, it’s in your best interest to keep your hands where we can see them.”

We heard the footsteps of our team starting to trail up the stairs at the sound of our voices. Then, panic struck Andy’s face and he made a movement that was way too sudden for my liking.

Spencer threw himself in front of me before I even had a chance to react, using his body as a human shield. He threw his arms around me, holding tightly, and all we heard was a faint ‘click’.

I stared up at him, both of our eyes wide in shock. My mouth gaped open as if there were anything I could say in a moment like that. Spencer narrowly escaped death because of a jammed gun. He almost sacrificed himself to save me, and the only thing that stopped him was a faulty weapon.

“Spence” was all I could manage to whisper as we stood there, his arms still tight around me as agents made their way in and out with the unsub.

He unwound himself from me, taking only half a step backwards. His hands found my shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

“Am I…” I scoffed, trailing off. “Spencer. You could have died. What were you thinking?”

He put his hands up defensively.

“I wasn’t going to let you die, Y/N.”

“I don’t want to see you die either!” My voice rose, anger settling in with the sense of terror that still lingered. “Why would you do that?”

“I was protecting you.” He kept his cool, and it almost made me more upset.

“I can’t— What if the gun didn’t jam?”

“That doesn’t matter—“

“That doesn’t matter?! Spencer, you would have died. You would have died protecting me, I couldn’t live with myself.”

“And I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.”

I felt the tears beginning to fall. “Why would you do that?”

“Oh, oh no. Y/N please don’t cry.” He pulled me in again, stroking my hair and shushing me as he did.

“I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re here, we’re safe. It’s okay.”

He held me for a few minutes before I could compose myself enough to let go, drying my tears. We went back to the precinct after a quick check-up to make sure everyone was alright, and got the hell out of Dodge as quickly as we could. I was grateful we didn’t have to stay much longer.

We got on the plane, and I took my usual spot next to Spencer, though still unsure what to say or do now that he had literally risked his life to save mine. I let the silence sit with us for a while before deciding to say something.

“Why would you do that?” I asked, quietly this time. My anger had gone, and now all that I was left with was worry.

“It was nothing, Y/N. The gun jammed, we’re both okay. You can’t focus on the ‘what if’ here, just try to look at what did happen. Please.” He pleaded with me, looking at me with those sweet, pleading eyes he knew how to use a little too well.

I only sighed, knowing this wasn’t a battle I’d ever win.

“You scared the hell out of me, Spence. I just— I don’t get why you’d do that.”

“I— I’d do anything for you.” He shook his head as he spoke as if it were the obvious thing to say.

It all came crashing down around me at once and I felt like I was walking around in a daze until we got back to the BAU. All the time I had spent trying to convince myself that my feelings would fade was all for naught— I don’t know how I could’ve ever believed that in the first place, even for a second. How couldn’t I love him, or at least feel as attached to him as I did. It was almost laughable to believe that I could have come to any other conclusion, and as much as I deeply and desperately wanted to keep my feelings a secret, something in me knew I couldn’t anymore. It was too much to keep hidden, especially from him. I just wished I had more time.

Practically the whole team had left soon after we got back and had gathered what was needed for a trip back home. It was late afternoon, and Hotch wanted everyone fresh for the next day anyways. But Spencer just had to be there. Of course, he had to be the one person left there when all I wanted was a chance to gather my thoughts completely alone. And of course, he had to speak.

“Hey,” he called from where he stood at his desk, “Come here for a second?”

My feet shuffled over, barely giving me a chance to say whether or not that’s what I even wanted to do.

“Yeah?” I questioned, getting little-by-little closer to him.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it? You’re being really quiet, that isn’t you.” He looked concerned. I wanted to reach out and touch him. “Was it the case.”

“No, it’s— I’m fine, Spence.” I tried to smile, and I’m certain it looked like a pathetic attempt.

He only raised a brow.

“What?” I sighed.

“You know you can tell me anything, Y/N.” Spencer half smiled with an expectantly raised brow. He stroked my arm gently for a moment before taking a seat in his desk chair.

I breathed in deeply, leaning against the desk where he was.

“I don’t know how to say this,” I almost laughed as I spoke.

He shrugged. “I’m sure whatever it is— it’ll be fine. When has it ever not been?”

I nodded, glancing around as if I would find the courage I needed floating around the room, ready for me to grab hold of. It wasn’t there, though, but I knew I shouldn’t keep him waiting.

“I don’t want to call it love because I’m not convinced that I even know what love is. I will say, though, that I like you Spence. I think about you all the time, and I know nothing is going to come of it. I’ve made peace with that. I made peace with it the moment I really saw you for the first time. When you turned around and smiled at me because neither of us knew what to do on that case in Washington a few months ago. I can play it like a movie in my head. I knew I was screwed, but it’s okay because it has to be.”

“Oh.”

“I couldn’t keep hiding it all. Especially after what happened today, I just couldn’t.”

There was a moment of silence, breath baited as if there were anything left to say. Whatever speck of courage I found while speaking had completely and totally left me. It felt like an eternity before I could speak again.

“I’m sorry. I’m— I should go.”

He nodded, speaking quietly. “Yeah.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, pushing down all of the feelings that were bubbling up inside of me. I nodded back at him, packing up the things I needed at my desk and making a beeline for the door.

The fresh air hit my face and forced me to breathe for the first time, though now a racing heart and eyes welling with tears were in company too. I blinked quickly to try to rid them, and to adjust to the bright sun. Too much had happened in the past 48 hours and all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. We couldn’t save Rebecca, Spencer almost got shot, and now he probably wouldn’t speak to me again. I could hardly get home without breaking down, and the floodgates opened as soon as I hit the couch in my apartment.

I had pretty much cried myself dry when I heard a knock at my door. I wiped my eyes the best I could and walked over, slowly peeking around the door as I opened it. My heart sank.

“Spence?”

His eyes were wide, and he just looked at me.

“What are you doing here?”

“Are you okay?” He stared as he took in my reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. I wanted to disappear.

“I’m fine, Spencer. What do you need? I’ve had a long day.” I rubbed at my face absentmindedly.

He swallowed. “I, um— Can, could I come in?”

I nodded and he slid past me, practically sprinting to my couch, and taking a seat. I closed the door and went to go sit next to him. I watched him for a moment, but he still didn’t speak.

“Look, Spencer, I’m sorry for—“

“No.” He shook his head.

I stuttered. “Wh— Excuse me?”

“Uh… After you left, after earlier, I-I talked to Morgan.” He stared at me again as if I had any clue what he was talking about.

“Okay?”

“He…” He breathed out hard before composing himself. “I misunderstood. He, quite literally, smacked some sense into me. I didn’t understand what you were saying, I really didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

I furrowed my brow in confusion. “What do you mean? How was what I said hard to understand?”

“Well, when you said the part about knowing nothing would happen. I don’t— I guess I interpreted that as you didn’t want anything to happen.”

“That’s not…”

“No, I know that now. I know,” he said, scrubbing at his face as he looked away from me. “Um… I don’t know how to say this.”

My heart began racing for a different reason.

“I thought you didn’t want me. Like you felt bad that you liked me but didn’t want to be with me. I just…” He shrugged. “I-I guess I kinda screwed it all up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He looked to me again, a blush creeping onto his face.

He shook his head as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “I ramble.”

I laughed, unable to keep it in at that point. “You think that would stop me? Spencer, I literally never shut up. Why would I hold that against you? I love when you get excited, even when you’re talking my ear off.”

He smiled, a boyish joy taking over. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I paused. “Spence, you’re amazing. I’ve always thought so. Not to mention you risked your life for me today.”

“Do you— So, you like me?”

“I pretty much gave you a whole confession earlier.”

He looked away, nodding quickly. “I knew it the first time I saw you.”

“You— What? You knew I liked you?”

His brow raised as he glanced back at me. “No! No, I had no clue. I knew I liked you the first time I saw you. You were really nice to me the first time we talked, and I thought you were beautiful. Plus, you’re so smart and funny and you’ve never been mean to me about how much I talk, especially when I remember something about a case or something that has to do with a case that I think could—”

“Spence,” I whispered, scooting in closer to him on the couch. “As much as I love your rambling, I’d really love if you’d just kiss me already.”

He grinned with a little laugh under his breath, leaning in closer.

“Hey.”

I raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“Before we kiss, can I ask you something?”

I tried not to smile. “One question.”

“Would you want to go out with me?”

“Depends on how good this kiss is.”

I started laughing, but was cut short when his lips pressed into mine. His hands grasped my face, pulling me closer. I grabbed his shirt, kissing back with equal fervor. We stayed connected for some time, but it was still shorter than I would have liked: my preferred time would be eternity.

We took a moment to catch our breath, giggling like a couple of kids.

“Was that good enough to date me?” He questioned with a smile.

I ran a hand through his hair, smirking up at him, still practically dazed.

“If I knew it was gonna be that great, I wouldn’t have ever said I’d date you if you did well. Now I think I might have to marry you.”

“Maybe we can try a date first, but I’m open,” he laughed, stroking my cheek. Then his face dropped slightly. “Who’s going to tell the team?”

(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)

[magenta-embers]

My Jikook Journey

Part 2 of my intro.

From "multi-shipper" to "...wait a goddamn minute."

This will be a messy and detail-lacking overview because I could easily do an individual post on each thing I mention here and delve deeper (AMA!).

When I became an ARMY in 2018, I was excited about the treasure trove of fanfics now available to me. The ship didn't really matter, but my bias was/is Jimin (bias wrecker Tae then) so the very first fic I read was a vmin camping one (there was only one sleeping bag, gasp!). For me, shipping meant I'd read fanfics or save fanart of certain pairs together because in a fictional sense/in another universe, they make a good couple. I think this is a healthy approach, keeping that boundary between reality and fiction.

When I mentioned to my k-pop fan step-sister that I was reading vmin, she gave me a weird look. She said taekook is THE ship of BTS, which confused me because vmin seemed to be closer and have better chemistry than Tae and JK. Turns out, she was right. Searching by most kudos on ao3, you get a shit ton of taekook. I accepted it readily and just thought I must be missing something since I was a baby ARMY, so I read those super popular fics and started to enjoy taekook too. I started to focus more on them because... it felt like that was what I was supposed to do.

It's a common problem, isn't it? Baby ARMY who are open to shipping are quickly found and "guided" to taekook before they have a chance to glance in another direction. If they try, taekookers, who are the majority in the shipping sphere, will convince them that taekook is THE ship. Even if they aren't ARMY (my step-sister), they know that much. As a new fan, you just want to fit in, so you'll go along with what's most popular. Some people eventually find their own way, but many don't. Asking questions is vital, but if you do it aloud, you risk getting attacked by a small but extremely aggressive portion of the most infamous fanbase.

Even back then while just innocently reading any well-written fic I could get my hands on, I noticed that Jungkook was usually portrayed as a lot edgier and darker than he really was (manifested the 2023 JK aesthetic) and Taehyung was constantly portrayed as... Jimin. Especially in fan art. For some reason, a lot of the time, the appearance/vibe/personality of Taehyung was truer to Jimin than to himself, and that confused me. "Why not just make it Jungkook x Jimin?" I kept seeing them trying to force Taehyung into the dynamic that Jimin has with Jungkook when their own dynamic was perfectly fine.

Slipping down the pipeline, I started to watch taekook moments/analysis videos because I thought gotta be missing something, right? That's how I found out people are convinced they're dating, and it wasn't just a fun fic/art thing. The videos themselves were... something. There were just way too many red circles, too much slow-mo, and too much mind-reading going on for me to take any of it seriously. Plus, the moments that weren't exaggerated were just close friend skinship. Hell, Taejin were doing more sus shit together than taekook.

And yet people insist on taekook even when taekook do nothing to insist on themselves.

At this point, it was deep into 2019. Jikook were wilding in 2019. Even I was noticing all the... little things that made me raise an eyebrow. The touches that lingered just too long in rather intimate areas, the fond/awed looks at each other, the shameless flirting, the complete lack of physical boundaries, and the normalness of it all between them. That's telling. Even though I was mainly a taekooker with a shit ton of fanart and fics saved to my phone, if you looked at my liked YouTube videos around that time, I had jikook moments videos saved, not taekook, because their moments were just more fun/juicier to watch overall. They just interacted differently than they did with other members.

A quick example would be a video compilation of taekook holding hands. Sure, they're holding hands, maybe even interlocking fingers, but they're usually standing side by side and looking in different directions or just having a neutral expression. But if you watch a jikook one, not only is it much longer, but it's just different. I feel like I'm interrupting sometimes. Even in such a simple action like holding hands, there's a softness, an intimacy there that doesn't exist in taekook. Jikook wouldn't just be holding hands (usually for absolutely no reason), they'd be looking into each other's eyes, smiling sweetly, fully turned toward each other, attention completely captured by the other. How can I explain the look in their eyes? It just doesn't exist with vmin, yoonmin, jihope, etc.

Sidebar: All of those pairs have flirty/sus moments as most really close friendship dynamics do, but they're lighthearted to me and never invoked a true sense of.... whoa whoa whoa, hang on. If Jungkook and Jimin were my close friends IRL and I saw the way they are together, my alarms would go off. As either, "Oh my god, they're fucking," or "Oh my god, they wanna fuck each other." People always say, "Oh, Jimin's like that with everyone." No. No, he's not. Pay attention. Really pay attention to the differences in the dynamics between members. None of them have the "same" relationship. Especially pay attention to how the rest of the members react to Jikook.

Anyway,

So here I was noticing this... deeper intimacy in simple interactions with those two (because I'm a human being with eyes and life experience), and yet my Twitter timeline would just dismiss them entirely. "I love their friendship," "Wow their brotherhood is so beautiful," and "They're all so close," and normally these statements wouldn't bother me because technically they're true, but I started noticing that taekook or yoonmin would brush shoulders and everyone would be like, "Omg taekook/yoonmin married/boyfriends/real," over nothing. Their moments are cute/sweet/funny, but never more than that. The blatant hypocrisy did frustrate me a little, but ultimately I didn't overthink it; I didn't want to be delulu or look too deeply into anything because I still thought I must be missing something. Taekook is the most popular for a reason, right? Right?

But Taekook died for me when Tae told Taekookers to get out of their imagination. I respected that from him and took it at face value. It was the most aggressive shutdown of shipping we've ever had. I couldn't brush him off. It's disrespectful. He's uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, over the next couple of years, Jungkook and Jimin only got more suspicious in the minor interactions and in the big staple moments. Rosebowl. Hickeygate. Etc. Everyone was bending over backward trying to explain away the things these two did with each other, and it's always the same excuses. I was also trying extremely hard to think of any reason other than the simplest one because I didn't want to be delulu.

Because there was no way two members of a boyband were actually in a long-term relationship together. Especially in a conservative country.

Ridiculous. Unrealistic. Delulu.

I was basically telling myself in a mirror that they were just extra super duper close friends with muddy boundaries that meant sucking ears and giving neck hickeys was okay. I did allow there to be the thought that, maybe they're friends with benefits and that unavoidable intimacy now bleeds through into their regular interactions.

That opinion carried until 2023.

Isn't that funny?

2023.

The year so many jikookers gave up and bemoaned that those two weren't close anymore or had broken up is the year that finally convinced me.

What tipped me over?

Jungkook's vlives.

The way he kept watching videos of Jimin when he could just phone him. It reminded me of me watching Jimin, but I'm just a fan; I watch those videos because it's the only way I can appease my yearning to be close to and connected to Jimin, and absorb everything that he does or says or is.

Jungkook doesn't have that limitation, so why's he sitting there like a lovesick puppy with the fondest/most loving eyes when he could have Jimin over with just a call? Why's he sitting there looking like he's also yearning for something he can't have like us, the fans, when he can have it? He has Jimin's number. You don't need to watch yourself tease Jimin. You can just go do it. Just text him, bro.

It felt like he just wanted to bask in Jimin without interruption, without distraction, without having to force his attention elsewhere. Beyond being incredibly sweet, it also felt like Jungkook was making a statement, a point, because he kept doing it. Why? Is he somehow obsessed with his friend and bandmate whom he's seen almost every day for over a decade? If it was to promote him, he really didn't have to do all that? He didn't do it for the others, not to that extent.

Watching Jimin, talking about Jimin, singing Jimin's songs, fkn playing Letter on guitar. (The naked vlive flirting session? Lord, what.)

The man kept having vlives with a significant Jimin focus. He insisted on it enough times that it felt like he was trying to slap some sense into me. His insistence bothered me enough for me to finally do a deep dive into jikook.

Down the rabbit hole, I went. The more I learned, the more my jaw dropped. Where the fuck was all this info on my timeline when these motherfuckers were celebrating the most basic kpop boy interactions as if they were wedding vows? I even ended up seeing pictures/info we as fans were never meant to see at the bottom of that hole. If you know, you know.

Eventually, I ended up on this video (bless this fucking channel).

I want everyone to understand that I had zero knowledge of established relationship timeline theories. I went into this video blind, just trying to find the point in time when JK started to warm up to Jimin. That's not what I found. I found something so much better.

Especially 2013-2015 had me in awe. I think I cried. Jimin and Jungkook had a fattest, cutest mutual crush on each other. Absolutely. And because they were young, not that famous, and still rookies with media and camera training, we get a lot of insight into those two that we wouldn't get in later years when they learned how to mask and behave more "idol"-like. Jimin was especially loud, almost sadly loud. If you haven't watched the timeline of at least those early years, I implore you to. It actually blew my mind and broke/healed my heart. It's really bittersweet to see two teenage boys with little to no experience in anything romantic trying to come to terms with themselves while also coming to terms with each other. It's like watching a coming-of-age romance movie.

I saw clear shifts from when the relationship hit turning points in certain years. I proposed a timeline in my head based on that. Imagine my fucking surprise when I found out other people have also come up with timelines, and more surprising yet, they were all unbelievably similar to mine, down to what changed in what half of the year. I, who had no previous knowledge that this was even a thing. I just noticed it all on my own. We were all seeing the same thing. The same changes. No red circles, no slow-mo, no mind reading. It's all in the body language.

I panicked a little because overall it seemed too good to be true, so I reached out to a taekooker friend to send me her best evidence videos and receipts because I just had to make sure I wasn't going totally delulu here. I needed to see that the other biggest ship had interactions and moments on the same level with that same consistency, maybe even their very own relationship timeline to bring me back down to Earth. But... there's nothing. Really, there's nothing between taekook. Not one moment where I was like, oh? You'll find hours-long jikook content videos that are absolutely jam-packed with content, significant content, but that sort of depth just doesn't exist for taekook. Instead, you get conspiracy theories.

I watched most of the videos on that best of jikook channel and several other staple channels. It wasn't as if I bought into everything presented. I still rolled my eyes at many things that were blown out of proportion by some creators, and jikook isn't free from red circles and slow-mo and bullshit. And yet, I was still overwhelmed by the mountain of crisp receipts dumped on my head.

Jikook have much, much more solid evidence supporting the theory that they are together than evidence against it. I took the facts as they are, took my social experiences for what they are, took my psychology background for what it is, and concluded that they are most likely together, probability-wise. At the very least, they are the ONLY pair in BTS that have ANY legitimate possibility of being romantically involved. If jikook isn't real, then none of the other ships have any hope whatsoever, let's not kid ourselves. It's them or none of them.

They also have much, much more evidence that they are together than with any random man or woman you wanna throw at them. There needs to be valuable evidence or a total shutdown for me to tip the scale. I'm going to need Jimin or Jungkook to state, "I am not dating anyone at all," or "Get out of your imagination," or a bighit relationship announcement, or a clear video of lip-on-lip action or very intimate interaction with someone else.

Frankly, I don't give a single fuck about a grainy pic/video when it's 2023 and there's no excuse for that. I don't give a fuck who owns the same vase or cooking pots. I don't give a fuck if either of them hugged a woman. These are not evidence. These aren't even as good as the worst Jikook evidence.

At this point in time, Jikook is still the only viable option with the information we currently have available to us. This is my opinion and I stand by it.

At the end of the day, the thing I want most is for Jimin to be happy. Currently, it seems that Jungkook makes Jimin the happiest (as Jungkook says). As long as that holds true, I'll be here. If that changes at some point in time, I'd accept it.

But until that day comes, what the fuck else am I supposed to think?

E.

[kksverse]

Huddled

A/N: Hi! I am new to Tumblr and am not really sure how to set up the posts/requests/masterlists, but if you guys enjoy this and want more just comment or message me! Not sure if I like it or not so enjoy!

I also have it posted on AO3 here !

Summary:

 When a mission in rural Russia goes south, the team is forced to find shelter to hide from the brutal Russian winter. 

Or 

Getting sandwiched by 2 big men is no big deal until its König and Ghost

Pairing: Ghost/OFC/Köing

Word Count: 3268

Calina had always had a strong affinity to the moon and everything that surrounds it. She believed that it was because her mother named her after the moon. She would spend nights in the Russian wilderness, a place in which she called home, bathing in the moonlight until eventually her father would find her asleep outside at dusk, cursing her for forgetting her coat and coaxing her into the warmth of her home. 

Nights where the moon was at its fullest were Calina’s favorite. That's why when she woke up to her head pounding and her ears ringing, she felt nothing but peace. 

The light of the full moon cast down on her face as she took in her surroundings and for the first time since she gained consciousness, felt her body. 

Suddenly, she felt the coldness of the snow nipping at her back through her clothes. Pain radiating from every part of her body and her head felt too heavy to pick up from the snow. She felt like screaming, crying, and throwing up all at once. 

Because worst of all she remembered. Remembered everything. 

Her dad. The militia. The raid. The explosion. 

Anger and grief fueled her body as she rose from the ground. Fire burned all around her as the place that held her captive for the past two years burned to the ground along with her captors inside. 

For the first time in two years she was outside and had no idea where she was. She didn’t even know if she was still in Russia. 

Suddenly a twig snapped behind her, gasping as she turned around with her fists formed in some protective stance. Her heart almost jumped out of her chest as she took in the masked giant in front of her donned in military attire. She wasn’t entirely sure that her punch would even tickle the man but she continued to keep them in front of her. 

When König was first informed of the rescue mission in the middle of nowhere during the nastiest winter Russia has seen in 20 years he thought nothing of it. For a man of his size nothing seems to faze him. However, when the chopper dropped them off within the perimeter the intensity of the situation hit him. 

“‘Just another mission’ huh big guy?” Soap chitteered towards him as he noticed the change in König’s demeanor. 

Ghost huffed beside him, “You should never underestimate the cold. Would rather get hit with 10 bullets before my dick freezes off” 

“Wouldn’t want some Russian kid to mistake it for the nose of their snowman would you?” Soap bickered back laughing as Ghost rolled his eyes in response. 

“Focus up now, this is an extraction only mission. Remove the girl safely with minimal risk. That means not shooting for the sake of it. After the extraction has been confirmed, meet at the meet up spot and wait for the signal” Price stands at the entrance of the chopper signaling for his team to drop. 

The team stealthy drops from the chopper and once they reach the ground static from the comms fill their ears as Price gives them a farewell. 

The team rounded the perimeter as they approached the small cottage in the middle of the forest. König didn’t feel right about this extraction and he couldn’t shoulder the feeling as he gave Ghost coverage to the opening of the cottage.  

As they breached, König felt uneasy as he didn’t hear Soap come in on the comms confirming entry. Ghost turned back to look at him, giving him a confused look. A loud noise within the cottage made them inch their way inside. The walls were decorated with weapons of all kinds, ranging from international military warfare to underground black market weapons. 

Ghost and König suddenly heard Soap's voice yelling in the distance. Before they could even make their way to his side, someone ran right into Ghost's arms knocking him down as he was taken by surprise. König immediately had his weapon drawn at the intruder but quickly lowered it as he confirmed that it was the girl that they were supposed to extract. 

She fought against Ghost but as soon as she saw that he was not her kidnapper she quieted down enough for Ghost and König to quickly evacuate the cottage. Running out into the snow they heard gunshots fired from the windows and immediately threw themselves to the ground to shield themselves from the bullets. After it went quiet, König looked towards his teammate to make sure him or the girl were hit but he was surprised to only see Ghost beside him. Looking around he quickly spotted the girl running away from the cottage. 

Standing to go after her, he was immediately taken down again by a hot blast behind him. That's when he knew he was absolutely fucked. 

“не двигайся! кто ты?” Calina’s hot breath turned into frost as she confronted the man. 

“My name is König. I was a part of the mission designed to extract you” An accented voice replied. 

Calina felt goosebumps crawl up her arms as he spoke and she did everything to convince herself that it was the Russian winter and not the deepness of his voice. 

“How do I know if you’re telling the truth?” Calina’s arms are still raised in front of her in a protective stance weary of König. 

König said nothing but instead reached into his tactical vest pulling out a gold necklace. Calina's heart dropped as she recognized the necklace that her mother would always wear before she passed away. Her father always kept it on his person like it was the most important thing in the world. Dropping her hands to her side, König stepped forward and dropped the necklace into the palm of her hand. Calina tried not to let the memories of her father resurface to prevent embarrassing herself in front of some man she didn't even know. 

Suddenly, she felt hands around her waist as König pulled her behind him with his gun pointed into the darkness of the woods. Calina held in a breath as she tried to look around König's back to see what the threat was. If her kidnappers survived the explosion and were coming back for her. A chill ran down her spine at the thought of going back. 

"Friendly!" Another masked man appeared from the forest, he wasn't as big as König but he still towered over her. She could tell from the uniform and the way that König's body relaxed against her that König knew this man. 

"Ghost what the hell. I could've shot you" The man named Ghost stepped closer to them and she realized that he had on a different kind of baclava on than König. Where König's was a blank material Ghost had a skull painted on the front of it. 

"Have you made any communication?" Ghost questioned his teammate. 

"I tried the line but got no response. The comms must be down. The area is clear I haven't spotted anyone else, we would have to get to higher ground" Both König and Ghost glanced up the mountain beside them. Calina followed their gaze, growing up the mountains were forbidden during the winter. The fresh snow was harder and more dangerous to climb than compacted snow, making those who do climb the mountain idiotic in the face of the elders. Calina could hear her Babushka warn her about the dangers of the winters and honestly she didn't know what her Babushka would do in this situation but she knows what she would do. What she has to do. 

"We should go up that path" Calina poked out from behind König to gesture to the trail underneath the thick trees. Ghost looked surprised at her appearance and looked to König but König must've said it all with a look because he didn't otherwise say anything. 

"As you say, I will lead the way. Stay close"

Calina couldn’t describe why being surrounded by two giants of men lit a fire in her stomach rather than make her scared. Pushing the thought off to the lack of human contact and touch within the last two years she tried to ignore the feeling of Ghost against her back following her up the mountain with König in front of her blocking the downward wind. 

However, the three of them stop suddenly as they hear a huge crack in the earth. Like it was the call of her people, Calina knew instantly what it meant and grabbed König in front of her, throwing him back onto a rock beside them. 

“Avalanche!” Calina yelled to Ghost behind her as she reached to pull him to safety but instead of finding him standing behind her he had lost his footing and was fighting against the loose snow. 

Calina hurriedly reached down to grab his hand but as they connected hands she quickly realized that she was not strong enough to hold onto his body weight against the pull of the avalanche and she was quickly pulled forward against the rock at the added weight. 

Bracing for the coldness of the snow, she was surprised at the sudden heat against her entire body. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she realized that König was practically laying on top of her body reaching for his team mate and preventing her from falling into the avalanche. Pure muscles worked above her as König pulled Ghost onto the rock. Trying to calm the fire in her stomach, she rolled out from under König after Ghost was pulled to safety. 

“You got quick reflexes,” Ghost said to her as he brushed off the snow from the layers of tactical wear. 

“I grew up in these woods, it was mostly muscle memory” Calina avoided looking into their eyes trying to calm her beating heart. 

“Either way you saved our lives. We are in your debt” König looked at her in a way that made her want to combust. She hated how seductive that sounded and she absolutely loathed the way Ghost was staring at her like he could read her mind. 

Not trusting her voice she quickly stood up, instantly feeling a rush of ice cold air on her face. Coldness seeped into her bones from the lack of protective clothing. The light jacket and linen pants did next to nothing at keeping her warm and as the adrenaline in her body wore off the more she was being affected by it. 

Ghost noticed her body shaking from the cold and the strong urge to protect her almost knocked him off his feet. He tried to remind himself that she is a part of their extraction and nothing else but the way that her scent carries over to him as the wind goes through her hair and the feel of her body pressed against him as she unconsciously goes behind him to block herself from the wind makes him want to abandon all sense of control. 

However, he realized that he wasn’t the only one feeling that way as he looked at his teammate finding a similar light in his eyes as he remained locked on the woman cowardly behind him. 

Shaking off the thought, Ghost searches out in the distance for any form of shelter to get her, them, out of this weather. Looking through his NVG’s he finds a small shed located half a mile away. It looked small for the three of them but it would have to work. 

“There is shelter to get through the night, just half a mile north” König nods to Ghost to lead that way allowing Calina to get in between them once more. 

Calina tried to calm her shivering offering the thought of persevering for half a mile and then she could be warm. But she knew that to be unlikely, the only shelter she can imagine in such an isolated place is not livable. Meaning she will not be sleeping in a bed nor among thick blankets she doubted they would even be able to light a fire, the realization of that almost sent her to tears. 

She trained her eyes on the back of Ghost, noticing his body also being affected by the cold. His body visibly vibrated from shivering, his arms stretched across his chest trying to preserve body heat. Calina quickly sobered up from the cold and realized that these men were not born and raised through Russia’s winter. Her body and blood was born for these mountains. The softness of her body was made to combat these temperatures. 

However, these men were made of pure muscle and none of the softness that kept her somewhat warm. By the time they reached the shed the toughest members of the 141 were broken down into two trembling masses. Calina quickly rushed towards the door of the shed and pulled it open against the wind. Ghost and König shuffled in while she closed the door making sure no wind could creep in. 

König had never felt so cold in his life. He could feel it in his blood clinging to his bone. It was embarrassing that he couldn’t stop shaking. His hands vibrated against him as he stood on wobbly knees. 

He has crossed the most dangerous of organizations, the deadliest of humans, and yet this night the cold will finish him off. 

It was humbling to say the least, to watch a woman that has experienced nothing but solitude and isolation amongst her own fathers murderers for the last two years was handling this better than him. He and Ghost watched as she searched the shed for any blankets or extra clothes, though they doubted they would fit either man. 

Tears were forming in Calina’s eyes as she pulled a thick soft blanket from under a box. She could almost laugh as she realized that she would be able to survive through the night. For the first time that night she was finally able to relax and for the first time in two years she was able to sleep knowing she was safe. Turning to Ghost and König, she held the blanket in front of her proudly as a way to show them that they were probably not going to die tonight. Suddenly all thoughts left her brain as she finally realized the situation in front of her. 

She would have to sleep with them. In this small shed. Sharing one blanket. 

A familiar heat arose in her stomach at the thought of being sandwiched between these giants. A moan almost escaped her as she could imagine the warmth of being between them. 

Sometime in between the time of entering the shed to her finding the blanket, Ghost and König had both removed their wet clothes leaving them both in long pants that were under their uniform. Both males were shirtless and for the first time Calina realized that she could see their faces. 

Her mouth remained open as her eyes filtered between the two of them. They were devastatingly handsome in a roguish way that she expected. As she moved towards them she realized the height difference felt much more as they towered over her. 

“You should remove your clothes” König’s voice rattled.

Looking down at her clothes she noticed that the bottom of her pants and top were soaked from the avalanche and being pressed against the snowy rock. 

She refused to remember the feeling of being pinned by König. 

“Don’t fear you can trust us. You will get sick if you sleep in those wet clothes, liebling” König’s voice was gentle as he grabbed the blanket. Ghost quickly gathered some hay from the corner to soften the cold hard ground beneath them. König handed Ghost the blanket as he settled on the hay waiting for Calina and König. 

König was gentle in helping Calina out of her shirt and pants. He didn’t miss the way she covered her belly or chest after getting out of her wet clothes and König didn’t miss the way his heart squeezed against his chest at the sight of her. 

Calina’s heart was beating fast as she felt ghosts of König’s fingertips against her body. She tried to not feel embarrassed about her body as more of it became revealed. She definitely tried not to think of running back out in the storm when she realized that she didn’t have a bra on. She faced König and Ghost bare chested and was surprised when she wasn’t met with total disgust. 

Instead, König looked at her with a hunger and awe in his eyes while Ghost just looked like he wanted to devour her. Their attention almost made her feel warm but a sudden gust of wind knocked against the house making the shed feel like an ice box. A violent shiver racked through her as König held out his hand gesturing to the makeshift bed of hay that Ghost was occupying. 

Calina settled on the floor facing Ghost leaving some room between them. However, that served no purpose as König squeezed in beside her pushing her body flush to the front of Ghost while König was pressed against her back. Warmth immediately seeped into the three of them as König covered them with the thick blanket that thankful was big enough to cover all of them.

A silence filled the air as Calina was trying not to freak out at being sandwiched between two of the hottest giants she has ever come across. She could feel the ripple of their muscles as they both shuffled to make themselves more comfortable in such a limited space. She remained as stiff as a board as they adjusted themselves hoping that they can’t feel her body in such an intimate space. 

A warm arm stretched out behind her and tightly wrapped around her torso pulling her snuggly the hard chest behind her. She let out a gasp at the feeling of being pressed to every inch of König’s body, trying not to think of what König thinks of the skin beneath his hands. 

Ghost watched as Calina blushed at the feeling of being held in such an intimate way. He wondered how long it had been since someone held her like this, since someone cared for her. Reaching his hand out, he ghosted his fingertips across her hairline down to her brows. She was looking at him so softly it made his heart squeeze beneath his chest. He could feel her chest rising and falling against his own and tried to not think about the way that it affected him. 

Nearly impossible to get closer, Ghost gently grabbed her arm that was pressed against his chest and guided it around his waist. He could feel her hesitate before she completely melted against him. She nuzzled her head into his chest and wrapped her leg over his own. The thoughts in his head were going static but he ignored them as he leaned down to press a smile against her hairline.

Calina was absolutely buzzing from the attention, she felt absolute warmth rush through her body and sit in her chest. A smile permanently etched on her face as she felt the pull of sleep. 

Ghost and König watched as she fell asleep and went limp in their arms, their hearts fluttering when they saw the smile that she held in her sleep. Neither looked at each other but both knew they were thinking the same thoughts. 

Saving the conversation for another day, they followed Calina into the depths of sleep.

[ineylesian]

hey!!!

I was wondering, how would Ghost react to the reader scolding him?? like, something happens that disrupts the mission and it's his fault and the reader scolds him, not aggressively, but still I would like to know Ghost's reaction

Also, the idea that he and the reader have a romantic relationship but he's still a bit strict :)

(I used the translator to write all this!! sorry if there are any translation errors, English is not my native language :D)

WALK AWAY FROM THE SUN

— SIMON “GHOST” RILEY X READER

— AO3 | MASTERLIST | EVENT

— WORD COUNT | 3k

— WARNINGS | canon typical violence, hurt/comfort, mentions of weapons, arguments, mentions of trauma.

— SUMMARY | you often meet ghost at his shortcomings, but nothing serious as this has yet to happen.

— AUTHOR’S NOTE | tysm for the request 🫶🫶 i wanted to expand on this just a lil but made sure to keep the original prompt, i hope you enjoy!! hope the scolding isn’t too strict :)

Ghost thinks he’s having trouble breathing.

He doesn’t know if it’s because of the worry sanctioning in his chest, or the bullet lodged in his ribs. It takes a few seconds, he breathes, and a slightly ragged puff of air crawls its way back up his esophagus. Shallow wounds never hurt him, but ones that fester in the mind nearly paint his vision black. 

It was a bad mission, destined to go wrong the moment Price laid out the plan. Too many HVTs to secure in such a dangerous zone, touched down in a land similar to post scorched earth. Calls of concern were dismissed by Shepherd, this mission was too important to let go, and they were to complete it, no matter the cost.

Nevertheless, things went south, fast. Nearly an entire squad of foot soldiers dead in under one hour, and only 2 out of 4 targets eliminated. It wasn’t long before Price called in evac, the mission’s end along with it. There was always time again to try again. Until the screaming started, and Ghost was nowhere to be found.

It was capture or kill, and it was certain no one was getting captured at this rate. You’d seen it all, the look he gave Price as he was getting into contact with Shepherd, and the miniscule shake of his head as he tightened his gear. The screams were yours, are you out of your fucking mind?-- hair whipping against the wind as you watched him disappear into the flames, yelling for the pilot to touch down. 

Any sane soldier would have shaken their head and waved to confirm exfil, but this was nothing near normal. The 141’s purpose isn’t sanity, it’s loyalty. Price wasn’t going to allow himself to lose more than one soldier, and it was apparent that you were leaving with or without his permission. He strapped a tracker to your vest before you jumped.

Ghost wasn’t expecting to get shot. Maybe the adrenaline kicked in too early, or maybe the opportunity was just too good. The last two HVTs right in his line of sight, running through the open, unarmed. 

Or so he thought.

He sits slouched against a wall, the hand clamped over the bullet’s entryway growing progressively more damp as the minutes pass. He should’ve expected someone with a target on their back to run around with a gun, anything lethal, even, especially after watching his friend’s jugular fly from his neck. Pointed a gun and blindly shot. A rookie mistake that put him and his whole squad at risk because of some halfhearted words Shepherd hammered into his head. 

He believes in no matter completely. Maybe that’s where he comes short.

Frankly, Ghost isn’t even worried about the lingering pain in his abdomen, or the fact that the last target escaped. He’s worried about the person coming to find him. Something in the back of his head grows into a throbbing pain in the frontal lobe and he closes his eyes, hoping it’s not you that’s coming.

Who could he be kidding? Of course you were going to come for him. You always did, and always will. It’s a danger that follows when you happen to love someone you run into the frontlines with. Something that was going to get one of you killed one day, purely because he knows he’d do the exact same thing.

Ghost curses under his breath. You’re just like him sometimes, blindsided and hard headed as they come. 

Falling debris and the thud of boots join the rasp that serves as his breathing. You’re here, and it looks bad, worse than he expected. Your eyebrows are knit tightly together, and he can see the dribble of blood that rolls down your chin due to how hard you bite your gums. Your skin is laced with sweat, and you’re panting, hard. 

He’s only been bleeding out for three minutes. With you here, it feels like an eternity, and the grasps of something much worse than death are holding time still. When he finally shifts his lips to speak, you shove a cloth against his ribcage, hard. All that comes out is a strangled grunt, and he falls silent. No one renders him as speechless as you do.

He hasn’t felt so small since his father. It’s deserving, every last bit of it. He let go of himself and you still came to save him. He should be feeling nothing short of gratitude, yet he only feels as though someone dragged him into the undertow and left him to drown there. The way you refuse to meet his eyes strikes harder than any other bullet, and for the first time, he doesn’t know what to do. 

All he can feel is the fear that you have instilled in him, and his consciousness slips before he can think of anything else.

—

Forgiveness is a hard thing to earn. In the 141, it seems more rational to die than seek it.

Ghost doesn’t consider death. He’s considered nothing, not since a bullet put him into a coma for a week. In that time, he dreamt of choppy waters and black riptides. The slosh of imaginary waves greeted him more times than your voice did.

He only remembers it once. You asked one of the nurses how he was doing. When she said he’d wake up, you left.

You don’t wait up on people, Ghost knows that. No part of him holds the expectation that you would’ve cared just a little more and stuck around. You knew he’d live, and that was the end of it. You walk away from the sun when it burns you.

When it comes to the battlefield, you’re cold as ice and follow rational orders to a tee. You keep your head on straight until you don’t, because taking care of others feels better than sprinkling soil over an empty grave. The way you think is profound yet humanity never fails to escape you, it’s what dragged you to him, stone-eyed and indifferent on the surface. 

People around him always say it’s impossible to get attached in the military. He almost believes them, but he thinks of you and all else fades. Like a moth to a flame, he knows you’d follow his trail into hysteria. He knows it frustrates you, habits such as those are hard to shake. You’ve spent too much time by his side to quit. Couldn’t shake you even if he wanted to.

It reminds him of three years ago, with you curled up beside him in the depths of Syrian mountains. You’d offered him some bourbon for the pain– he’d been stabbed in the leg, covering up with the excuse that it’d help with the cold. You knew how to tempt him, just one drink turning into the whole bottle empty at your feet. Only you could make him succumb to something like that, listening to you ramble on about how careless he was to get stabbed, hours of it, the coziness of you and the blankets drilling static into his head.

Ghost could hold his alcohol better than you. Barely felt a buzz from the drinks in his system. But this.. your head lightly bobbing against his shoulder, haphazardly checking on his bandage before kissing the exposed skin beside it. You were right, his whole body was on fire, so enamored with you, the feeling of home creeping along his skin in short, fatigued breaths.

He vaguely remembers when you turned to your side, hands hot on his pulse and sinking underneath. Everywhere, you were everywhere. You had taken him by storm and the buzz of the bourbon heightened his senses to a point where it was nearly unbearable. It took every fiber of his willpower to listen, straining against the irrevocable hold you had placed on him, fighting to restrain himself.

Amidst the haze, you asked him if he would do something for you. In that state, Ghost thinks he would’ve tried to overthrow the entire planet if you wanted him to. Instead, you uttered something short of ten words, and he made one of the biggest mistakes of his life when he answered.

“Promise me you’ll look out for yourself, Simon.”

Your inquiry seemed small, fragile, and simple to be compliant with in the moment. He shuns himself for failing to remind you of who you were, what you were fighting for, and that looking out for yourself is a restraint only some can hope to afford. It’s a luxury that separates people who want to save the world from those who do.

“Alright, then.”

Drunk or not, he made a promise. Broke it just as easily. He resists the urge to bash his head against the wall as consciousness returns to him, opting to thank the nurse with a few words scribbled on a napkin before disappearing. 

As much as he wants to scrub the sickening scent of antiseptic and illness from his skin, Ghost can’t bring himself to visit your room right now. He knows you’ll check the infirmary soon– despite what you say he knows you stop by, even if it’s for a second, yet he opts to leave base regardless if you come to find him or not. He’d rather speak to you when you’re on those terms. Guessing by the freshly washed sweatshirt that sits zipped up to his neck, you probably don’t want him dead. 

He’ll cut his losses there.

—

The early hours of the morning creep along the skyline, spilling over the roads below. You walk, dismissing the dull ache in your feet from miles of dug up sidewalk and the scorching ground you had run across some days ago. It’s not long before the breeze picks up the scent of saltwater, light ripples rock calmly against marsh and you sigh.

You knew he’d be here. Always came when tragedy struck and life wasn’t fair. It reminds you of a homage after nights of terror in Urzikstan, peaceful, and nothing else. Somewhere you go when you can’t quite reach the ocean.

Ghost sits with his back to the sun, perched against a dock overlooking the water. Your legs come to a stop, and you stand still, wondering if this was all a mistake. Maybe you should just turn around while you can, run to the safety of a home that only carries a lingering scent of him. Here, the breeze makes you nauseous. 

Everything here is riddled with sorrow and buried in tears. The cycle repeats, you think you deserve to cry.

You take a look to the sky and the clouds point you offshore. Saline winds pull you farther and it’s too late to reconsider leaving when your foot creaks against the dock. Ghost catches you in his peripheral, approaching slowly, the distance polarizing. It feels like glass is lodged in your feet. The gap waged feels something like No Man’s Land. 

Ghost sits on the edge, one leg hanging over the water while the other sits folded at the knee. You lean against a support beam across from him, one glance and you think you might choke. Flashing rays dawn over the baclava settled over his face, drawing light to the skin bridged above his nose. Eyebags crawl and tear at paint ridden skin, blond eyelashes fluttering against smudged black, over the one part of him that feels normal. Nothing else does.

He stares ahead, umber hues washing over ripples cast by fish in waiting. You feel like you do everytime you come here, except sadness is held back by frustration, boiling underneath your skin and rising to the surface. Moments pass, the breeze dies down and beckons for you to speak. 

“You broke your promise.” Pressure settles within your chest. Hurt floods the atmosphere and Ghost’s eyes leave the water. He thinks, you lie in wait, arms crossed defensively over your chest. 

“You can’t rely on intoxicated words.”

It’s fair, yet completely unfair at the same time. You know it was an unreasonable thing to ask, came straight from the alcoholic worry that seethed in your mind. Normal people don’t make promises they know they won’t be able to keep. People that care too much ask of them.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

Ghost says nothing. You know he wanted to keep that promise. Held it over his heart for three years, let it slip under his sleeve as all other things do. Something that happens when war is all you know. He knew you, too, but warfare is different from anything else. You understand that.

The smell of antiseptic reeks off of him, the sun licks at black paint and chips crumble. He’s nonchalant on the surface like always, but you know him. Underneath blood stains the hole in his abdomen that put him here. He leans toward it as if pain has become him.

He’s always been like this, body hungry for violence, mind begging for reconciliation. It’s how his mind is wired, shutting doors on people makes them want to close it in another’s face. You learned to coincide with it, but there’s still a line. The fact he crossed it so easily sparks the worry within and you fight the tears that push against your sockets.

Anger resides and reels back in, lapping at the shore and bringing you to your knees. You fear you’ll lose him that way.

It’s all you think about.

“What made you think that was a good idea?” You bark, grasping his chin to face you head on. “You think putting yourself in danger is no big deal, don’t you? Worried everyone sick because of a stupid HVT.”

He sees right through you. Worried me sick, he hears it as he would an echo. It’s a profession of worry, he knows you worry because you love him. 

“We all have to make sacrifices.” His response is a dull front, you hear the guilt laced within. “You know that.”

You do. Things stay strict on the battlefield and remain that way. Until it’s him. When there’s Ghost, there’s always Simon. You learned to make that exception because you understood that. Ghost is not afraid to die. Simon is.

“What good are you to anyone if you throw yourself in the line of fire?” You spit, pointer finger snapping to hover above his wound.. “There’s no guarantee that someone will always be able to save you when things go wrong. You know that.”

He knows that, and he knows you. 

You know there’s a darkness that lingers within him. It’s inevitable. Something that festers, building up until it’s strong enough to lash out. It’s selfish, cares and waits for no one. A walking death sentence that hangs over his head no matter the value he places in his life.  It chases him in his dreams, trails a dark shadow over his head that turns him into the person he fears he’d become. Adapted him so the only thing he feels when he pulls the trigger is recoil.

“We win together, and we fail together, Simon. It’s not your responsibility to change that.”

He hates that side of his head that made him think otherwise. Hates himself more when he makes you worry. 

Old habits die hard. It’s not easy to take, the way he knows those parts of him linger. You know when it comes, the front he manages with surgical precision shatters and he breaks down into hysteria because it’s too much for one person to handle. 

Regardless, he tries. You love him for that. He loves you because you walked into his life and it gained purpose.

All that’s good in his life comes from you. The first nights in his life he felt welcomed to sleep because you were in bed beside him. Days fly by and he changes. You change with him. The small room he occupies at base doesn’t seem so lifeless anymore because you’re always in it. 

He damns the way you smile at him, infectious, a snapshot memory he keeps in his thoughts. Thoughts that draw a compass in his mind that routes home to you.

Every part of him feels selfish for making you feel this way. It tears through him as a knife does and his nerves flay from the heat.

“I’m sorry, lovie.” It feels like he’s suffocating, drawing on the tears that slide down your face and drip onto your hands. He takes dampened skin and holds onto it as if he’ll lose you forever if he lets go. “‘M so sorry that I made you worry. Bastardish thing to do.”

His accent is heavy, dripping with resent and pleading for composure. It’s everything and nothing all at once. Your tears stain his hands and he feels like he always does when things go wrong. Except, it’s always you who quells him in the midst of nightmares. His mind races at the stutter of your breath, hands fumbling to push stray hairs out of your eyes.

“I love you, so much. Wouldn’t ever wanna make you worry, yeah?”

Silence passes for a minute. Seagulls chirp and water sloshes against eroded rocks.

Your eyes peek out from his hands, slotting your arm between his, reaching up. You tug and his mask bunches up at the nose, fingers smoothing over the surface of his skin, warm, grasping for affection. You yearn for his touch and he gives it to you without question.

Ghost tastes of gunpowder and the bask of the sun. It reminds you of home, slightly chapped, never wanting more than what he can give. He’s gentle, canines gently poking against your lips, perfectly still. You sigh inwardly at the feeling, reveling in all that he is until you can breathe no longer.

“You’re such an idiot.”

Your chest heaves, breath leveling with a rough scoff. His eyes crinkle like they do when he notices you packed extra eye black for him. Mouth parted, a ghost of a smile curving at his lips.

“I know, can’t seem to get myself sorted.”

There’s an underlying meaning to it. Passes through like the wind that cards through your hair. Guilt rides the waves, but you don’t want to cry anymore.

You just want to heal. Ghost understands that more than anyone else.

[floralcyanide]

ᴡᴀʟᴋ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴏʀ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴ ɪɪ — ᴄᴀʟʟᴜᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇʀ

callum turner x reader

One of Callum's group members pulls a stunt that puts their life at risk, and you must calm Callum down.

✣ warnings: allergic reaction, smoking, mentions and use of needle

✣ word count: 0.6k

✣ author’s note: here's another part of the camp counselor au! it's a little short but I think I'll be writing more short fics for this au.

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

Boys will be boys. This means tween boys will dare each other to do things, even if it’s dangerous. A peanut allergy isn’t exempt from dares, unfortunately. Callum learns this quickly and harshly when one of the boys in his group consumes a peanut butter cup despite his life-threatening allergy to peanuts. He was dared by another boy in the group named Dallon to eat it, and Cole, who was the one allergic, wasn’t going to pass up a dare from Dallon. Cole didn’t want to be a wimp, so he ate it. Immediately, his throat begins to feel funny, and his tongue sits heavy in his mouth. Dallon starts to panic when Cole’s face turns red due to a lack of oxygen. Dallon bolts to where Callum is standing and talking to you in the mess hall.

“Uhh, Mister Callum?” Dallon wrings his hands nervously.

“Yes, Dallon?” Callum kneels down in front of the kid.

“Cole needs help.”

Callum looks over to where some kids are starting to gather around Cole, who is now struggling to breathe. Panic surges through Callum, and the both of you hurry over to the boy.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Callum asks Cole, and the boy weakly points to the candy wrapper.

“He’s allergic,” you say, eyes widening in realization, “Do you have an EpiPen?”

Cole nods, pointing to his backpack on the floor. Callum is rubbing Cole’s back to keep him as calm as possible, trying to keep himself calm as well. You rummage through the bag and find the pen. Luckily, knowing first aid was required to be a counselor, so you know how to use an EpiPen.

“Okay, Cole. You’re gonna feel a pinch in your leg,” you warn, uncapping the EpiPen and then injecting the needle into the boy’s thigh.

“Cal, go get the head counselor. Cole’s gonna have to go to the hospital, I’m afraid,” you grimace, “He could still go into shock.”

Callum nods and jogs out of the mess hall to call the head counselor over the walkie-talkie. He’s an absolute wreck. Watching a kid struggling to breathe was not on his to-do list today. Especially one of the boys in his group, for whom he is responsible. Callum wipes his sweaty forehead as you join him outside as the head counselor arrives and escorts Cole to the nursing cabin. Just as you are about to say something, Dallon walks up to you and Callum.

“It’s my fault, I dared him to eat it,” he frowns, “I didn’t think allergies were that serious.”

“It’s alright, Dallon,” Callum sighs, “But now you know what happens with allergies and not to do it again, right?”

“Right,” Dallon nods, “Am I in trouble, Mister Callum?”

“I think something like this is up to the head counselor, bud. But I don’t think you’ll go home just yet if it was an accident.”

The kids are given an extended lunch and are granted permission to go and play in the field by the lake until the head counselor figures things out. Cole is alert and breathing fine when paramedics arrive. You and Callum are hiding behind a nearby cabin as Callum sucks down a cigarette.

“He could’ve died,” Callum shakes his head, “And it’s because I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Even if you were, boys are gonna do boy stuff. You should know this,” you nudge him in the side, “When you’re that age, you’ll do anything you’re dared to. Cole may know how bad his reactions get and can tolerate them. Or maybe this was the first time he had a reaction to nuts. Either way, he handled it like a champ, and you were there to comfort him. You did great.”

“If anything, you did all the saving,” Callum snorts, “I would’ve chickened out trying to stab a kid with a needle.”

“Yeah, it’s scary, but at that moment, all that matters is helping the kid.”

“True,” Callum says, putting out his cigarette.

You kiss his cheek, “Let’s go before we get caught, or worse, someone gets hurt again today.”

[cutie4me]

Best Soukoku Fanfics That Bring Immense Nostalgia!

Someone on YouTube asked for recommendations for Soukoku fics so how could I give up such an opportunity to share some of my all time favourites?! Some of them will make you cry. Some of them will make you smile. But most importantly, the immense wave of nostalgia you’ll feel after reading some of these fics are surreal! I swear, sometimes I wish I’d forget about these fics just so I could rediscover and read them all over again! All these amazing works are on AO3 so please check them out and support the authors! I’ll continue to update this each time I find a new SKK fanfic!

“Overturn even the heavens and the earth” by sssoukoku

Chuuya uses corruption but Dazai’s too late to save him, or is he?

“My skull crown” by YunaYamiMouto

Mori is dead so Dazai has to go back to PM and take the throne as the new PM boss.

“Baby Executive” by BlowingYourMind

Chuuya gets turned into a child and goes through the life stages growing older under Dazai’s care, Dazai manages to develop empathy and a widespread of new emotions around each new stage of Chuuya. (Cross posted on Wattpad!)

“I Was Screaming Your Name Through The Radio” by ElectricSplatter

I’ve not read this yet but it’s really popular and has a lot of positive reviews from what I’ve heard. It’s a rockstar/band AU but it’s super long, probably the longest one here.

“The God and his Vessel” by Churroburrito

Arahabaki lives in Chuuya and they can interact and sometime Arahabaki can come out to talk to people. Arahabaki is surprisingly sweet and overprotective of Chuuya, quite like an older brother. (I absolutely adore Arahabaki and Chuuya’s dynamic in this fic!)

“Silly delusions” by Grinch1234

Arahabaki and Chuuya are one person and Arahabaki is a God stuck in a human’s body confused with how humanity works. He tries on many occasions to convince Dazai that he is a god to only one time in which Dazai actually believes him.

“I’ll always come for Chuuya” by anonymous

Dazai and Chuuya back in PM and Dazai tries to distance himself with Chuuya cuz of his feelings to the point Chuuya loses trust in him and thinks Dazai’s grown bored of him because of his new friend, Odasaku. (Such a shame we don’t know who the actual person one because this fic was so well written and such an emotional rollercoaster!)

“We Are Never Ever, Ever Getting Back Together (Right?)” by sabiEMr

ADA and PM do an exchange thing where Chuuya works at ADA for a while and Atsushi works at PM. Chuuya tried to get over his relationship with his ex Dazai but it’s not really ideal when you’re now stuck with your ex at his workplace.

“Unexpected” by lemoncandy751

Soukoku get paired together for a project and they hate each other… except when they start to fall for each other. Well that was unexpected!

“It takes two, to create a whole” by X_DRAMA_QUEEN_X

Roommates/College AU. Dazai’s a player and Chuuya gets stuck being his roommate and they absolutely despise each other with a burning passion. Chuuya gets a little too close to Fyodor and doesn’t know who to trust anymore. Is it Dazai playing the mind games to make Chuuya fall for him or is it Fyodor? (It’s over on Wattpad as well!)

“If we can’t run together, why did we from the start?” by amythecinnabunny

Immortal Dazai x multiple reincarnation of Chuuya. Dazai loves each of them differently and learns to find and fall for each Chuuya reincarnation again and again! (I cried too much with the angsty ending of this. Lots of character deaths).

“Inseparable” by milwritescausewhynot

Highschool AU where Chuuya and Dazai have known each other for 12 years and are practically inseparable! They love to pull pranks on each other but when a certain prank of Dazai’s is taken too far that it puts Chuuya’s life at risk they must face the consequences of being apart for each other’s safety (due to Dazai’s guilt) yet still yearning for each other.

“Pretty Little Thing” by wallows_4

Chuuya, an assassin, is assigned a job to kill the Prince of a very wealthy and successful kingdom. Chuuya walks in thinking this will be easy when no threats are present, but the next thing he knows everything is dark. When he wakes up again, he is "interrogated" by three idiots. And the stupid prince is insistent on him being his personal pet!

“Of Libraries and Liberties” by Grinch1234

Chuuya Nakahara is the escaped government experiment known as A5158 seeking refuge as the librarian of his own little library sanctuary. Osamu Dazai is the notorious boss of the Port Mafia and by some illogical miracle, they manage to cross paths.

“Still, Still, Still” by icedlightroast

Actor/popstar Dazai x Rockstar Chuuya idustrial rivals AU! After a public drunken tweet confession professing his true feelings for his rival, Chuuya has no choice but to play the ploy of fake dating his rival, Dazai, to help this mess he’s made in his career. Except Dazai is a completely incompetent asshole who Chuuya can’t help but hate himself for falling for. Besides, there’s more to Dazai that meets the eye.

“Untainted Memories” by serenathea

BEAST! Chuuya shares his memories and emotions with the original Chuuya, and Dazai has to fix the mess and pain he has created.

“I can’t dare to dream about you anymore” by kiroiimye

High school AU where Dazai and Chuuya have been best friends and next-door neighbors since childhood, never seen apart despite their differing, respective lifestyles as the genius class president and the school’s beloved soccer star. Everything is perfect, except for the fact that Chuuya’s been in love with Dazai since forever and Dazai has a girlfriend.

“Always Yours” by anonymous

Kingdom + Omegaverse AU where Dazai has been betrothed to Chuuya since they were both children—an arrangement that never particularly interested him—until their wedding night, when he sees the omega’s face for the first time. (EXPLICIT Rating for NSFW scenes but you can skip those if you wish)

“The Shepard and His Shadow” by LynyrdLionheart

Everyone knows the monster in the woods is why the village suffers a lack of resources. It's been that way for centuries. Then Dazai meets the monster, and everything he knew turns out to be a lie.

“The Life We Could've Lived” by Xena_Lemon

A very confused Dazai wakes up in a Highschool AU instead of his usual Agency dorm room. And strangely enough, Chuuya’s the only one who seems to be from his world (him and the mysterious girl who keeps watching them).

“Four Years Ago, Four Years Later” by Nightingale231

Chuuya knows before Dazai, does, really, that the younger man will run. Before anything - even before Mori and the home he has carved for himself in the Port Mafia - he will take Dazai's side where it matters. He hates the mackerel, he does; yet he wants Dazai to follow the goals that Odasaku set for him, because he… (loves him).

“Silver Claws, Silver Tongue” by CandiWolfe

In which Chuuya gets turned into a cat whilst on a mission and (unwillingly) seeks the misfortune of Dazai’s help to not only temporarily nullify the ability but to track down the bastard who dared turn him into a wretched feline. Except doing so is easier said than done. Especially when they’re from a whole new foreign organisation.

“How To Woo Your Husband in Seven Days” by moonlitsorrows

When Dazai accidentally performs a grave accident that angers his precious chibi husband and forces him out of their shared apartment and out onto the streets, he tries his hand at his backup operation of “How to Woo your husband in seven days” with seven articulate plans in hopes that it would finally convince Chuuya to invite him back home. Except each plan just seems to fail and give the redhead an even bigger blooming headache. Plan 7 was the last straw. Maybe Chuuya should finally invest in some long awaited (and deserved) divorce papers after such a hellish week of putting up with that stupid mackerel of a husband’s BS.

“Another Love” by infernaa

Dazai desperately wanted to get rid of everything dark and ugly in his life. Even if it meant leaving his love for Chuuya behind. (Slight Sigma x Dazai).

“When Will You Confess?” by Chuchu_hua

Dazai and Chuuya have been best friends since childhood. One day, Dazai gets himself a girlfriend and Chuuya feels jealous. He then realises he has feelings for his best friend, but doesn’t want to confess. One night under the stars plus the influence of wine becomes one heated make out session. The two continue to have random make out sessions, but don’t think to put a label on their relationship. One school dance is what it took for Dazai to grow a pair and finally admit his feelings out loud.

“Empire of Dirt” by arkastadt

Artist Dazai's bored and lives in a mansion, Mechanic Chuuya's the mysterious garden boy working for his family, and fate brings them together over and over again only to rip them apart. (Super angsty major character death! You have been warned! EXPLICIT Rated for NSFW).

“They said the eyes are the windows to the soul.” by Aprusalve

5+1 fic of Kyouka as she observed Soukoku and tried to guess their relationship and one time she finally decided to ask.

“catch me once, catch me twice” by seedus

Chuuya gets stuck in an ability loop where he’s basically wiped out of existence and Dazai decides to become the Demon Prodigy once more to hunt down the ability user responsible for daring to target his dog and bring him back.

“Something More Than A One Night Stand” by ShireHorses

It was supposed to be a one night stand and nothing more. The last thing Dazai expected was to catch feelings for Chuuya. Much less hurt him so badly by saying the night they spent had meant nothing. It hadn’t mattered when Dazai had said that to all the previous women he’d slept with so why did it pain him so much to see Chuuya cry and act so cold? (EXPLICIT Rated for NSFW scenes).

“build a temple in me” by oursorrows

Dazai wants to surprise his husband, Chuuya, on their one year anniversary, and he can't help falling in love all over again. (EXPLICIT Rated for NSFW scene).

“Tempus Fugit” by Imabukuhoe

Teenage Soukoku time travel to a their future are in for the shock of their life as they witness many (good) things they never expected to happen in their lives- and that they’re gay for each other but we don’t talk about that just yet. (EXPLICIT Rated for NSFW scene! Cross posted on Wattpad as well! It’s angsty midway through but with a happy ending!).

“No Longer Human” by Wolf___Spirit

When a stranger starts stealing people's abilities, the ADA and the Port Mafia team up to figure it out. However, something goes wrong and Dazai loses his ability in the process. The big problem? His ability not only nullified the abilities of others, but also his own emotions. And now, for the first time in his life, Dazai has emotions, chaotic and in turmoil. In the midst of this identity crisis, Dazai sets out to explore the world with Chuuya as his grumpy bodyguard, only to discover that he has never felt so...alive. And then they find out that if they don't find a way to give him back his ability, Dazai will die within two weeks. In a race against time, chaos ensues.

“Twisted Ties” by Cutie_4Me

Serial Killer Chuuya tries to hunt down his stalker who's been stalking him by breaking into his apartment only to be met with an unexpected and (un)pleasant surprise. (Yes- I’m shamelessly promoting my own fic)

"Backstage Pass" by the_most_unhappy

When world-famous violinist Dazai Osamu announces his early retirement, a part of him is sure he will never love music again. He’s in his twenties, but he’s already tired of everything. Meanwhile, up-and-coming frontman Nakahara Chuuya is everything Dazai is not: reckless, smug, and a rockstar. They’re total opposites. They could never fall in love, right? (Implied Sexual Content But Nothing Explicit)

"More like a crash" by Jickas

Chuuya loses his memory and Dazai decides this will be a great opportunity to mess with him. But what happens when he goes a little too far and old feelings begin to resurface?

"Everything or Nothing" by Wellthathappened (Cataclysmic_Calamity)

College AU where Chuuya finds out that the boy he drunkenly made out with the night of orientation is his new roommate. His arrogant, smug, very straight roommate. And the boys are each convinced the other is trying to ruin their life by making them go absolutely insane. But of course, things don't go as planned and they somehow ended up with the typical fuck buddies arrangement. Feelings become more complex and they both soon find that the other is hiding something, a secret that could very much rupture everything in their relationship. (EXPLICIT Rated for multiple NSFW scenes and sexual exploration).

^Based off the song 'Everything or Nothing' by Picture This.

"Lost in Translation (Found in Love)" by archerwrites

Dazai is convinced (forced) to join his friends for a year spent in Paris, and he doesn't know a word of French. Chuuya is just hoping to get through school without any strange encounters, and he doesn't know a word of Japanese. They collide (literally) and the situation devolves from there. They figure it out. Falling in love in Paris is a very romantic cliche, after all. Even if there's a language barrier between them.