City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 21
CW: discussions of mental health and past temporary character death
Masterpost
“Hey Dandelion, do you have everything?” Dick asked as he peered into Danny’s room— or the room that Danny had been using since they moved to this safe house.
Now that they were moving to the Manor, Danny would be getting his actual room with the rest of them in the family wing. For those that had moved out, the Manor wasn’t their only home, but it was still home and their room was still their room. Or at least for Dick and Cass. Jason… Dick knew that it was still harder for Jason.
Thinking about it now, Dick didn’t know if he’d actually ever seen Jason actually sleep in his childhood room again. Jason was always up first, helping Alfred in the kitchen on the rare nights that he stayed over. Once Dick had fond Jason still asleep in the library, book still in hand. Maybe it was something to change. Maybe it could change, now that Danny was there to bring up the conversation.
“Danny?”
“Sorry,” Danny said with a slightly water smile. His little brother was clutching his blue bear, as he almost always was these last few days. “I, um, yeah, I think I have everything.”
Dick sat down on the edge of the bed next to Danny. “But?”
“But?” Danny repeated. His brows crunched up adorably.
Dick leaned over to bump their shoulders together. “But you don’t seem happy. If this is all too soon, we can delay.”
Danny gave a little, unhappy snort. “You all keep delaying for me. I didn’t want to meet Bruce so you kept him away. I didn’t want to tell you things and you all still haven’t made me.”
“We want you to be comfortable and feel safe.”
“I do,” Danny insisted. “I have and I… and I still ran, didn’t I? I was safe and cared for and I ran. And now I don’t want to leave here. That’s so stupid of me!”
“It’s not—”
“It is!” The words seemed to choke Danny. “It is. I trust you! I trust you and Hood and B.B. and I… I still can’t! I want to tell you, but I still can’t…”
Dick wrapped Danny up in his arms, pulling his brother tight against his chest and cradling Danny there as he sobbed. There had been a lot of tears in the last few days, and Dick knew that there would be many more. He didn’t try to shush Danny, just kept him held close until the tears ran out.
“Sorry,” Danny mumbled against Dick’s damp shirt.
Dick took a moment to think of his words. “This family is bad about trauma, which isn’t great because we have a lot of it. But we all know it. And… and you can feel completely safe and still have part of you that’s terrified because of the trauma. That if you speak it or face it or acknowledge it the trauma will suddenly have so much power over you and… and all the worst things that you fear in the dark quiet of the night will be true. It makes you fear that the same people you’re safe with and love you will look at you differently or blame you. And… um…”
He needed a moment to breathe, face buried against Danny’s dark locks, as his own monsters reared up. “And there are people who might. But not… not us. We have been through so much as a family and no mater what we’re still family. And you’re part of that too now, Danny. So it’s okay to be scared or sad or not tell us things, but none of that changes that you’re family. If we argue or get annoyed or cry we’re still family. So don’t be sorry. Please, don’t be sorry for any of it because I don’t want you to be sorry for being family, okay?”
“Okay,” Danny said, breath choked but words still sure. “Okay.”
Dick carded gentle fingers through Danny’s hair. “Look at it this way, you’ve already tamed Damian. That’s a big step in this family.”
Danny’s snort of laughter was slightly lost with the way his was still buried against Dick’s chest. “I don’t think Damian can ever be tamed. He’s like one of those… whatchamacalls it. Those tiny desert cats with the highest kill ratios for predators. Small and kitten shaped but still very wild.”
“Yeah, okay, maybe you’re right. Adorable and stabby is pretty accurate,” Dick agreed. “But it’s going better than it did with Tim! You should ask him about it— actually, you know what, don’t. Don’t ask about it. Water under the bridge. Bloody, bloody water.”
“…what?”
“Yep, never mind! Okay. Let’s double check you have everything,” Dick said, hauling them both bodily to their feet.
When in doubt, distract.
-
Alfred was struck silent when he opened the door. That was not something that happened often and in fact his sharp tongue was something that Alfred prided himself on. But in that moment, he was without words.
Young Daniel looked so distinctly like Bruce at that age, down to the haunted look of desperate hope waging battle against a highly rational mind, that Alfred was thrown back into times past. Back then, even half a decade after past Thomas and Martha’s death, Alfred still had no idea how to handle a child. At least now he had more of an idea.
“Welcome home, Master Danny,” Alfred said and stepped aside to let the newest Wayne enter the Manor.
Master Dick and Master Jason flanked the boy like towering honor guards.
“I am Alfred Pennyworth, and you may call me Alfred, or Alfie if you must. Master Jason certainly seems to prefer it,” Alfred said with a fond look Jason’s way. “If there is anything you need, at any time of day or night, to feel more comfortable here you simply need to ask me. It is my duty and honor to serve this family, which very much includes you.”
“I— ah, thank you, Alfred,” Danny said softly. He was quiet in a different way than young Bruce had been and the Bristol accent was almost shockingly absent, even though Alfred had known it wouldn’t be present.
“Of course. Now, lunch is in about an hour. I thought perhaps you might like to settle into your room a little before the meal,” Alfred said and turned slightly towards the stairs.
Danny obediently fell into step. That behavior was much more like Tim’s had been when he first arrived. Alfred tucked that thought away with the rest.
“You are in the family wing, of course. Master Bruce, Master Duke, and Master Damian are the other permanent residents of the manor. While the others still have their rooms, they come and go,” Alfred explained as they made their way to and up the stairs. “We have put together a room that we hope will be suitable for you, but anything that isn’t to your liking, we can easily change it.”
“We’ll go shopping in a few days too,” Dick said. “We can grab some things then that you might like for the walls and desk.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Danny said quickly.
“Fine’s not the goal, kid,” Jason said. “The goal is to make this home.”
Danny was silent in response to that. Alfred made another mental note to check in with Danny about the room a few times and possibly even to suggest items.
“Master Bruce’s room is at the end of the hall,” Alfred explained when they reached the top of the stairs. “Master Dick’s on the left and Master Jason’s on the right of it. This way we have Master Tim’s and Miss Stephanie’s. While she is not family, there have been enough nights she has stayed over to warrant the space. Miss Cass’, Master Damian’s, Master Duke’s next and this is yours, Master Danny.”
Alfred opened the door to the room with a little bow. As with every room in the manor, it was fitted with a bed, two side tables, a dresser, and a credenza all in the same dark wood. There had thankfully been enough time to paint the walls a two tone blue and bring a desk from one of the other rooms. The star project sat on the desk next to the basic supplies and an air diffuser. Already the room smelled softly of sandalwood. The bed was dressed in blues and creams with an extra, luxuriously soft blue blanket draped across the foot of the bed.
Danny stepped into the room almost cautiously.
Alfred moved back to give Danny room and took an even breath. Danny would settle with time.
“Lunch in an hour,” Alfred reminded the trio of Wayne boys as he took his exit. He’d best made sure that Danny’s first meal here was a fine one. After all, this would be home.
-
Dick entered the library quietly. He might be there to actively disturb Jason, but he didn’t have to be rude about it. Besides, it was nice to see Jason settled in an armchair, curled up slightly around a book. It was easy to see the little kid that Jason used to be like this.
(Dick made himself shake that vision away.)
“So,” Dick started as he settled in, arms crossed, against the back of the armchair across from Jason, “Danny’s first day in the manor seemed to go alright.”
Jason looked up from the book with a soft frown. “Yeah. We’ll see how tonight goes. Worried about nightmares for him. Just since it’s a new place and all.”
“I could see that happening,” Dick agreed. “Luckily we’ll all be close up upstairs if he does have one. You and me will just have to work not to run into each other as we bust out of our rooms.”
Jason’s fingers scrapped lightly against the pages of the book as he fanned them, gaze away from Dick and uneasy.
“Jason—”
“What did you mean about hallucinating?”
Dick’s intended question crashed to a halt against the roof of his mouth as he snapped it closed. What? When had he said…
“Um,” Dick cleared his throat to get rid of the lingering pile up. “What now?”
“When Danny ran, after your panic attack you said you were good, you weren’t at ‘the hallucinating stage yet’.” Jason looked up, pining Dick with that forever green tinted gaze. “What did that mean, Dick?”
It was Dick’s turn to look away as he scrambled to make a new plan of how to approach this. He’d never… how he was after Jason’s death, how it had broken him… that wasn’t something Dick ever wanted to burden Jason with. Bruce’s own lapse of sanity, Tim ending up in the Robin suit, Dick knew how those things weighed on Jason. As if it had been Jason’s fault he died. Dick breathed out a slow, measured breath. Guess there was no avoiding it now.
But Dick wasn’t going to let that information go without using some of it to his own favor. “Fine, I’ll explain but you have to stay and talk through the question I have for you too, deal?”
Jason took a silent moment. “…yeah, fine, deal.”
“Okay. Right. Um…” Dick rubbed his hands together, then circled the armchair and sat lightly down on the edge of the too soft cushion. Had the rich green fabric always been so itchy? “So, it’s nothing major, really, just that I have, before— at just one period actually— when I really stressed and too emotional about things, maybe had some hallucinations. But! But, I knew h—they were hallucinations and not real. It wasn’t like I was listening to the voice telling me to do anything or following after someone who didn’t exist or anything! It was— I dealt with it. It was fine. It hasn’t happened in a long time now.”
“You were hallucinating.”
“Yes.”
“A person.”
“Yes.”
“You could see them and hear them? Jesus, Dick,” Jason said, abandoning his book to rub at his face. “How bad was it? Did they talk back? Did you talk back? Did—”
“Yes! Okay, yes!” Dick exploded out of his chair. “Yes I could hear them. Yes I could see them! Yes he could talk back! Yes I talked back to him! Of course I talked back to him. You… you were gone, little wing. You were gone and I didn’t think— who could have thought you’d come back? You were gone and I know… I know he wasn’t real. I know he wasn’t you, but how I was I going to turn away any chance to talk to you when you were gone? Even when it was just… just my mind being cruel.”
“Me? You were— Dick, you were seeing me?”
The armchair cushioned Dick’s heavy fall back into it.
He shrugged.
What could he say to that? What could he say other than another torn ‘yes’?
“Jesus fucking… Dick.” Jason sounded torn.
Dick didn’t want to look up to see his brother’s expression.
Apparently Jason wasn’t having that because a moment later he was crouched in front of Dick, forcing himself into Dicks view.
“It’s not your fault,” Dick said quickly. Even as Jason’s large, calloused hand came to rest on his cheek Dick kept talking. The words needed to come out. “I just handled coming back from space and the mission to the… to the news badly. And Bruce was in a state. He’d ripped down every photo of you like just seeing your presence would break him and I think it would have! I know you— I know there are issues with you two and I’m not invalidating that, but he was so close to breaking and I was just angry about it all. And then Alfred put up that damn suit in that case like that and all I could— all I could see was the little brother that I’d never gotten to show how happy I was to have… and then I did see you. In a way. It just…”
Dick didn’t realize he was crying until Jason’s thumb wiped a tear away.
“Okay.” Jason took a deep breath. “Okay, so I’m going to need you to repeat part of that.”
“Bruce? Or that I’m sorry? Or—”
“Alfred. Alfred put the suit on display?”
Dick blinked, scattering more tears he ignored. “Yes? Did you— you didn’t know that? Did you think it was— No. Bruce couldn’t even handle seeing a photo of you! I thought Alfred putting that case in the Cave was going to kill Bruce. Drive him to finally let himself be killed like Tim said he was trying to do.”
“Right, fuck that. I’m going down and—” Jason started to stand and then took a knee again quickly and clasped Dick’s face on both sides. “No. No, first, if you ever and I mean fucking ever get to the point of hallucinating like that again you come to me or call me or anything. Do you hear me, big bird? If it gets bad or you think it will you come to me. I’m your little brother. You come to me.”
For a moment, Dick let himself close his eyes. He let himself close his eyes and breathe and take comfort in his little brother being there. “Promise.”
“Okay. Now, I’m going to go smash a case.”
Dick reached out and caught Jason’s hand. “Wait, you owe me an answer.”
“Dick.”
“You said you would! And I promise after we’ll go smash that fucking case together, okay? I’ve always hated it. But a deal is a deal.”
Jason basically deflated as he sat down on the floor at Dick’s feet. He rubbed a hand across his face. Dick felt bad, but he had bared his own soul and payment was due.
“Jay, have you ever slept in your room? Since you’ve been back, I mean. Since you’ve been back, have you ever actually slept a night in your room here?”
There was a long moment of silence where deal or no, Dick didn’t know if Jason was going to answer. Then—
“I can’t, Dick. It’s just— have you seen it? Nothing’s changed! It belongs to a dead kid and I just can’t. I can’t be him anymore.”
“Okay. Tomorrow I’ll clean it out for you.”
Jason’s head snapped to look up at Dick.
Dick shrugged. “This is your home too. Tomorrow I’ll clean it out. I can put it in a bunch of boxes and label it all or—”
“Toss it,” Jason spat and then quickly amended in a softer voice, “Not the books, leave those. And I guess… pack up and notebooks you find and stash them somewhere. You can… if there’s clothing Danny or Damian might like, give it to them. But the rest… toss the rest.”
“Okay, I can do that. And when I take Danny out in a few days you can come too and we’ll out some new things for your room too.”
“Dick,” Jason started, a clear protest. And then he sighed like all the air was let out of him. “Okay. But just like sheets and stuff.”
“Sure,” Dick agreed easily and with a too innocent smile. Before Jason could question it, Dick escaped sideways from the chair. “Now come on, we have a case to smash.”
Jason scrambled up from the floor. “We’re burning the suit after.”
“Of course we are. We’ll torch it on your grave.”
---
AN: Well this was a very dramatic section! Who knew that adding Danny to the family would help the rest of them deal with things! And yep, it's canon that the case with Jason's suit and that damn plaque are Alfred's doing, not Bruce's.
Stay delightful, darlings!
367 notes
·
View notes
Good Boy
Summary: Based on this post from @reidsdimples ! Spencer is being a brat, you put him in his place.
Pairing: sub!Spencer Reid x Unit Chief fem!reader
Category: smut (18+)
Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, bratty Spencer, boss/subordinate relationship, mommy kink
Word count: 5.6k
a/n: for you @lovingreaderfangirl <333 this is basically pure smut ,, don't like it don't read it
main masterlist
Additional warnings: sub!spencer, dom!reader, mommy!kink, handjob, edging (male receiving), overstimulation, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), oral (fem receiving), choking, slapping, slight nursing
You were the unit chief, and while your relationship with your boyfriend, Spencer, usually stayed out of your work life, today was different. Spencer had made a mistake, and to make things worse, he was acting out—whether it was from embarrassment or just a bad attitude, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t going to tolerate it.
"You will go back to that house and do another sweep," you said firmly, not looking up from the open case file on your desk.
Spencer scoffed, crossing his arms in defiance. "That's ridiculous, Y/N! Morgan’s already there," he snapped, his voice sharp.
Your head shot up at his words, your eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Ridiculous?" you repeated, incredulous. "No, Spencer. What's ridiculous is you missing a massive piece of evidence and then standing here arguing with me about it." Your tone dropped, icy and stern. "You will go back to that house and search it from top to bottom. I don’t care if it takes all night. Am I making myself clear?"
Spencer’s eyes flared with frustration, and he bit back, “So, what, you’re punishing me now?”
The edge in his voice wasn’t something you were used to hearing from your usually sweet, thoughtful Spencer. You stood up, moving around your desk with deliberate steps until you were standing close enough to feel the tension between you.
"Are you talking back to me?" you asked, your voice dangerously low, your authority unmistakable.
Spencer swallowed, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he realized how serious you were. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this—so angry, so venomous—but even though he was nervous, his stubbornness kept him from backing down just yet.
Spencer straightened his posture, though his nerves betrayed him, making his hands fidget at his sides. He'd never seen you this mad before—at least, not directed at him—and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. But he felt too deep in this argument to backpedal now.
"I’m not talking back to you," Spencer muttered, though his tone remained defiant. "I’m just saying Morgan’s already there. There’s no reason for me to go too. We’re wasting time!" His voice escalated again, but it wavered slightly, showing the anxiety bubbling under his frustration.
You were having none of it.
“Wasting time? Is that what you think we’re doing here?” you snapped, each word clipped and precise, your gaze locked onto him with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. You were so close now that Spencer could see the tension in your jaw, feel the weight of your authority in the room. You weren’t his girlfriend in this moment—you were his boss, and you were demanding respect.
“Spencer,” your voice dropped, quieter but no less dangerous, “I don’t care how you feel about going back to that house. You missed something crucial, and you need to fix it. You messed up, and you know it. So stop acting like a petulant child and do your damn job.”
The words stung, more than he wanted to admit. His shoulders tensed, and he clenched his fists by his sides, but he couldn’t find the right words to argue back. He was embarrassed—not just because of his mistake, but because he knew you were right. But his pride was wounded, and that was hard to swallow.
"I... I just—" he started, but you cut him off sharply.
“No more excuses, Spencer. You will go to that house, and you will make sure every inch of it has been checked. And if I hear another word of backtalk from you, you’ll be off this case completely. Is that understood?"
Spencer’s breath hitched, his defiance slipping further away with each word you threw at him. He could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on him, and for the first time, he realized just how much he had crossed a line. But he was still too stubborn to admit it.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the edge of sarcasm still lingering, but now laced with a thread of defeat.
You stepped even closer, eyes narrowing as you stared him down. "What was that?"
Spencer swallowed hard, realizing he wasn’t in a position to push any further. “I understand,” he said more clearly, his tone softening. He wanted to reach for you, to find some semblance of the warmth he was used to from you, but he knew better. Right now, you weren’t his to reach for.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, leaving behind the tension that lingered like a storm cloud. You stood there for a moment, watching the door swing shut, anger still simmering beneath your skin, but also a twinge of sadness. Spencer had never acted out like that before, and though you knew you had to be stern, it hurt to see him so distant and defiant.
But this was work. Personal feelings would have to wait.
—
However, there was a time and place for personal feelings to come to the surface, and that time was now—in the privacy of your shared apartment with Spencer.
You had gotten home first. Spencer was still out, likely combing through the crime scene after you’d sent him back to fix his earlier mistake. Frustrated by the lingering tension between you two, you huffed your way through your evening routine. You made dinner, though you knew Spencer would probably be too upset to eat when he got home. He could have the leftovers later. After that, you showered and curled up in bed with a book, waiting for him to return.
When Spencer finally came home, his anger was palpable. He slammed the front door behind him, muttering under his breath as he left a trail of clothes through the hallway on his way to the shower. The bathroom door slammed shut as well, echoing through the apartment. You sighed and rolled your eyes—if Spencer thought his attitude would go unaddressed, he was mistaken. He was in for a real punishment tonight.
After what felt like forever, Spencer emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and towel wrapped loosely around his waist. At least he had the sense to show a hint of submission, you thought.
Without looking up from your book, your voice calm and controlled, you gave your command. "Kneel."
Spencer froze, taken aback by the sudden authority in your tone. He turned his head, his confusion evident. "What?"
You set your book down slowly and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Did you not hear me? Or are you talking back again?" There was a warning in your voice, a promise that you weren’t playing games tonight. "I really don’t want to make your punishment worse, baby."
Spencer hesitated for a brief moment, the weight of the situation settling in, knowing you were in complete control now. He lowered his gaze, the tension between you thick, as he finally obeyed, dropping to his knees.
You stood up from the bed, your movements deliberate as you slowly circled around Spencer, letting your eyes roam over him with a quiet intensity. The soft sound of your bare feet against the floor was the only thing breaking the silence as you took in his posture—tense, but submissive, waiting for what was coming next.
When you stopped in front of him, you reached down and tilted his chin up with a single finger, forcing him to meet your gaze. His eyes were defiant, even now. You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.
"You know you’re in trouble, right, baby?" you asked, your voice sweet but laced with warning.
Spencer didn’t respond right away; instead, he narrowed his eyes at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, as if testing how far he could push. Without hesitation, you slapped his face lightly, the quick sting enough to make him let out a soft whimper. His eyes widened in surprise, but he still held his ground.
Roughly, you grabbed his cheeks in one hand, squeezing his face so he had no choice but to focus on you. "I asked you a question, brat."
“Yes, Mommy," he mumbled, his voice small and obedient now, the fight in him fading. "I know I’m in trouble."
"Hmm, good," you said, releasing his face with a satisfied hum. You began pacing around him again, like a predator stalking its prey, before stopping just behind him, leaning close enough that your breath tickled his ear. "And why are you in trouble, smart boy?"
Spencer swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "Because I argued with you. I was disrespectful. I–I acted like a brat."
A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. "That’s right." You stood up straight again, looking down at him. "And now, you're going to make it up to me, aren’t you?"
Spencer nodded, his face falling into a sad expression, clearly regretting how he had acted earlier. He was always your good boy, and he knew that punishment was rare because he hardly ever misbehaved. The realization of how far he'd pushed you today weighed on him, leaving him feeling small and upset.
"Why are you pouting, baby?" you asked, your tone softening just a touch as you stood in front of him, looking down at his bowed head.
Spencer shrugged, his eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet your gaze. He shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting slightly in his lap, but still, he said nothing.
"Words, Spencer," you reminded him firmly. "Speak up."
He hesitated for a moment before finally looking up at you, his eyes filled with guilt. "I hate that I disappointed you," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I don’t like being punished… you never have to do this. I’m supposed to be your good boy."
You felt a flicker of sympathy for him, knowing how much he valued pleasing you, but you held firm. "Yes, you are supposed to be my good boy," you agreed, leaning down slightly so that your eyes were level with his. "But today, you weren’t. Today, you acted like a bad boy, and now, you have to accept the consequences."
Spencer bit his lip, nodding again, the weight of his actions settling in further. "I know… I’m sorry."
You placed a gentle hand on his cheek, stroking it softly for just a moment before pulling back. "Thank you for apologizing. But you still need to learn."
“Stand up. Don’t keep the towel,” you ordered, your voice cold and almost bored, leaving no room for hesitation. Spencer flinched at the command, the sharp tone slicing through the air as he scrambled to comply. The towel slipped from his body, falling to the floor as he stood there, bare and vulnerable.
“Get on the bed,” you continued, moving with a quiet precision as you retrieved something from the dresser, your back turned to him. “Hands above your head.”
Spencer couldn’t see what you were holding, and that only added to his nervousness. He climbed onto the bed, his heart racing, and stretched his arms above his head, just as you instructed.
When you finally turned back toward him, he caught sight of the ties and lube in your hands, and his body reacted instantly—a slight twitch of excitement mixed with fear. His breath quickened, but his eyes never left yours. He hated the feeling of being restrained, of not being able to touch you, to feel you close. But there was something intoxicating about the power dynamic, about giving himself over to you completely.
You approached him slowly, deliberately, the ties dangling from your fingers like a silent promise of what was to come. Without saying a word, you moved to the head of the bed, taking his wrists gently but firmly and securing them to the bedposts. Spencer’s chest rose and fell rapidly as the ties tightened around his wrists, his muscles straining, already longing to break free.
His eyes searched yours, desperate for any hint of softness, but he found none. You were in control, and he knew it.
"Mommy," Spencer whimpered softly, his voice barely above a whisper, full of need and desperation.
You glanced down at him, your gaze calm and measured. "Yes, baby?"
His eyes flickered with longing as he whined, "I want to touch you."
A sigh escaped your lips, and you leaned down slightly, your fingers brushing lightly along his arm, teasing but not giving him what he wanted. "I want that too, my love," you murmured, your voice laced with a touch of sympathy, though your expression remained stern. "But I can't give you a reward quite yet."
"Yet?" Spencer perked up, excitement sparking in his eyes, the word like a glimmer of hope he clung to.
You smirked at his eagerness, trailing your hand down his chest in a feather-light touch, just enough to make him squirm. "Yet," you confirmed. "But you'll have to earn it, baby. That means no whining, no more attitude. Understand?"
Spencer nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with anticipation, but you could see the struggle in him—how hard it was for him to hold back, to stay restrained when all he wanted was to feel you. "I’ll be good," he promised, his voice shaky. "Please, I’ll be good."
You smiled, your fingers trailing lower. "We'll see, baby. We'll see."
Spencer squirmed involuntarily as your fingers teased his stomach, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. "Keep still, Spence," you instructed, your voice firm but calm, watching as he took deep, shaky breaths in an attempt to regain control over his body.
His wide eyes followed your every move as you reached for the bottle of lube on the bedside table, and he watched, anticipation building, as you squirted some of its contents into your hand. The cool sensation made his breath hitch the moment your hand wrapped around him, his back arching off the bed instinctively.
Without missing a beat, you placed your other hand on his hips, pressing him back down into the mattress. "Spencer, be good," you warned, your tone leaving no room for disobedience.
His body trembled, caught between the overwhelming sensation and the need to obey you. "I’m trying," he whispered, his voice strained as he fought to stay still, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the ties. His chest heaved, desperate to be good for you, but the pleasure was intoxicating, testing his restraint.
You smirked, knowing exactly how far you could push him. "Good boy," you murmured, your hand moving slowly, deliberately, keeping his hips pinned down as he tried not to writhe beneath you, every muscle in his body begging for release, but you weren’t done with him yet. Not even close.
After almost an hour of torture, Spencer was doing everything in his power to follow your rules, his body taut with tension as he tried to stay still beneath your touch. His breath came in ragged gasps, his wrists pulling at the ties as he strained not to buck his hips against you. But you were making it so hard for him—each time your hand changed pace, it sent him spiraling, his mind spinning out of control. You could feel his body tightening, every muscle coiling as he teetered on the edge.
And just when you knew he was close, so close, you let go.
A desperate sound tore from his throat, half whine, half groan, as you pulled your hand away, denying him the release he so desperately craved. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving as he looked up at you, practically begging for mercy.
"Please," he whimpered, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation. "Please, I want—"
You shushed him gently, running your hand down his chest in a soothing gesture. "Spencer," you said softly but firmly, your eyes locking onto his. "What did I say about being good?"
"I-I’m trying," he gasped, his voice shaky as he fought to hold on. "I’m really trying."
You could see him unraveling, his mind quickly losing grip on any sense of control. And that was exactly where you wanted him.
"Then keep trying, baby," you whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his chest. "You’ll get what you want when I’m ready to give it to you. Not a moment before."
You sped your hand up, focusing all your attention on the sensitive tip, moving with quick, intense strokes. Spencer's body reacted immediately, his back arching violently off the bed as a scream tore from his chest.
"Mommy! Please!" His voice cracked, high and desperate, tears beginning to stream from his eyes as he lost all composure. "I’m going to come!"
But instead of granting him mercy, you snapped sharply, "No!" The command echoed in the room, and Spencer flinched at your tone. "If you come," you warned, your eyes dark and unwavering, "I’m not stopping."
His breath hitched, and his sobs grew more frantic. He fought to control himself, but the sensation was overwhelming, his mind teetering on the brink of bliss and despair. The threat of what would come if he disobeyed hung heavy in the air, fueling his panic as he tried, with every ounce of strength, to hold back the release his body so desperately craved.
"Please," Spencer sobbed, his tears mixing with the sweat on his face as his entire body trembled beneath your relentless touch. "I-I can’t… I can’t hold on…"
"Yes, you can," you whispered, your voice soft but commanding as you leaned closer. "You will, or you’ll regret it, baby. Be good for me."
He choked out a whimper, his muscles straining, teetering on the edge of breaking as your hand continued its torturous rhythm, and every nerve in his body screamed for release. But you were in control, and Spencer knew there would be no relief until you decided.
You pressed your palm firmly against the sensitive tip, rubbing harsh circles that sent shockwaves through Spencer’s body. He couldn't hold it any longer—a guttural scream tore from his throat as his orgasm ripped through him, his release spilling across his stomach in hot, frantic bursts.
But there was no mercy in your eyes as you watched him unravel beneath you.
"Oh… bad boy, baby," you tutted softly, your voice laced with both disappointment and a dark edge of amusement. Without missing a beat, you gripped him tightly, continuing your mean, relentless rhythm even as his body spasmed from the intensity.
Spencer writhed beneath you, his sobs louder now as the overstimulation set in, his body too sensitive to handle the unyielding pace of your hand. "Please, please!" he begged, his voice hoarse, his tears mixing with the sweat on his face. "I-I can’t—please stop, I’m sorry!"
But you only leaned in closer, your hand maintaining its punishing rhythm. "I told you, baby," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear, "if you came, I wouldn’t stop. And bad boys don’t get to decide when it’s over."
Spencer whimpered helplessly, his entire body shaking as he endured the overwhelming sensations, unable to escape the torment of your touch. The line between pleasure and pain had long since blurred, leaving him at your mercy. And you weren't done with him yet.
You suddenly let go of Spencer, pulling your hand away from him. For a brief moment, he thought the torture had finally ended, and he took deep, strained breaths, his chest heaving as tears continued to spill from his eyes.
"Thank you, Mommy," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he sighed in relief, closing his eyes as if he could finally rest.
But just as he began to relax, his eyes shot open, wide with shock, as he felt you sinking down on top of him, your body enveloping him in an overwhelming rush of sensation. The overstimulation hit him like a bolt of electricity, and his body reacted instantly, thrashing beneath you in a desperate attempt to escape the intensity.
"Mommy!" he cried out, his voice ragged and broken as his body twisted under yours. His muscles tensed, his movements frantic, but there was no escape.
"Shut up," you seethed, your voice low and dangerous as you wrapped your hand around his throat, tightening your grip just enough to still him. His breath hitched, and his panicked eyes met yours. "I’m in charge," you reminded him, the weight of your authority pressing down on him as surely as your body did.
Spencer whimpered beneath your grip, his mind a haze of overstimulation and helplessness, but he knew better than to argue with you. His resistance faded as he realized you weren’t done with him yet—not until you decided.
"Tell me, baby," you panted, your body moving rhythmically as you rode Spencer, chasing your own release with relentless intensity. Every roll of your hips drove him deeper into overstimulation, but you were in control, and you weren’t letting up. "How does it feel?"
Spencer sniffled, his voice shaky and tear-filled. "S-so good, Mommy," he stammered, struggling to hold himself together as his body continued to tremble beneath you.
You laughed, the sound sharp and mean as you continued, "Thought you couldn’t take it." There was a mocking edge to your voice as you rode him harder, the sensation overwhelming his senses. "Were you lying?"
"No!" Spencer cried, his voice breaking as he clung to the edge of his composure. "It—it hurts, Mommy, but I like it!"
"Yes, yes, you do," you taunted, your tone dripping with satisfaction as you gazed down at him, your pathetic, brainless boy. "You like it when Mommy uses you, don’t you?"
"Yes!" he nearly screamed, his body shaking uncontrollably, caught between pain and pleasure. "Please! Just want to be good for you," he sobbed, his desperation palpable as he surrendered completely to your control.
You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "Then be good, baby, and take everything I give you." Your body continued to grind down on him, mercilessly chasing your own release, pushing him further past the point of no return.
By the time you reached your release, Spencer was a wreck beneath you, his body trembling as sobs wracked his chest. He cried out in desperation as your muscles tightened around him, sending him further into an abyss of overstimulation. Each second felt like an eternity for him, trapped between the aching pleasure and the need to obey you.
Just when he thought relief was finally coming, you lifted yourself off of him, hovering just above him, denying him that final push he needed. Spencer’s whine was pitiful, filled with frustration and longing. "Mommy! Please!" he whimpered, his voice cracking as tears continued to stream down his face.
"Please what?" you asked, your tone deliberately condescending as you leaned back, watching him squirm beneath you. "Use your words, dumb baby."
Spencer swallowed hard, his body twitching with anticipation, his mind too clouded to do anything but beg. "Please let me come," he sobbed, his voice raw and desperate. "Please, Mommy."
You smirked, your eyes dark with amusement as you leaned forward just enough to tease him with the possibility of what he wanted. "Hmm… okay, baby," you said, your voice dripping with false sweetness. "But you’re cleaning it up after."
Spencer twitched at your words, his entire body lighting up with excitement at the promise. The thought of finally getting the release he so desperately needed was enough to make him shiver. "Yes, Mommy," he gasped, nodding eagerly as his breath hitched in anticipation, his mind already surrendering completely to your control.
You lowered yourself back down onto Spencer, and his loud, desperate moan filled the room as he watched you take him in again, the sight alone enough to push him closer to the edge. His body was trembling, every nerve on fire as you rode him hard and fast, the intensity of your movements leaving him powerless to do anything but submit.
His hands tugged against the restraints, his eyes squeezed shut, and with a strangled cry, he found his release, his body jerking as he filled you up. The sensation of you pinching and tugging at his nipples sent him over the edge, his cries growing louder as his body finally gave in completely.
You slowed your pace, riding out the last of his climax, before finally relaxing on top of him, your breath steadying. Spencer lay beneath you, panting and exhausted, his chest heaving as he came down from the overwhelming high.
With a soft sigh, you pulled off him, moving up his body with a deliberate slowness, positioning yourself directly over his face. You looked down at him, your fingers gently brushing through his hair as you smiled wickedly. "Ready to clean up your mess, baby?"
Spencer’s eyes widened, his mouth already watering at the thought, and he nodded eagerly, his voice breathless and submissive. "Yes, Mommy, please," he whispered, his eyes full of adoration as he awaited your command, ready to obey, to please, and to make up for every bit of his earlier defiance.
You lowered yourself onto Spencer's waiting mouth, threading your fingers through his hair as you settled into a steady rhythm, guiding his movements with gentle yet firm pressure. His tongue worked eagerly, desperate to please you, to clean up every bit of the mess he'd made.
“Oh, Spence,” you sighed, your head falling back slightly as you rode his face, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Your mouth is so good, baby."
Spencer whimpered in response, his efforts growing more determined with every sound of approval that escaped your lips. You could feel the way he was trying so hard to be good for you, to make you proud, and it only fueled your desire to push him further.
"Making Mommy so proud," you praised, your voice laced with satisfaction as you tugged gently at his hair, controlling his pace. His tongue flicked faster, more desperate to hear those words again, and you couldn't help the soft moans escaping you as you continued to ride his face, letting the sensation build.
With each passing second, Spencer's mouth worked harder, your praise driving him to do anything for you. His whimpers were muffled by your body, but the eagerness in his touch and the way he responded to your every command made it clear—he was willing to do anything to make you proud.
You continued to ride Spencer’s face, your fingers tightening in his hair as you guided him, making sure he stayed exactly where you needed him. His tongue flicked and swirled in all the right places, and the sounds of your pleasure spurred him on, his hands instinctively tugging against the restraints as he longed to touch you, to feel your body against his.
"That’s it, baby," you breathed, your voice a mix of praise and moans as you pressed down harder, your body shivering from the sensations he was creating. "You’re making Mommy feel so good."
Spencer whimpered beneath you, the vibrations of his muffled cries only adding to your pleasure as you ground down onto him, riding his mouth with a newfound urgency. Your hips moved faster, chasing the climax that was building inside you, each stroke of his tongue sending you closer to the edge.
"You like this, don’t you?" you asked, your voice breathless but firm. "You like being my toy, Spence?"
His desperate whimpers were the only answer you needed. You tugged harder at his hair, pulling his face closer, your pace quickening as the pleasure began to overwhelm you. Spencer’s tongue moved in perfect rhythm with your hips, eager to push you to your peak.
As the tension built, you gasped, your body trembling as you felt yourself nearing the brink. "I’m so proud of you, baby," you whispered, your voice strained as you rode out the waves of pleasure. "So proud…"
With a final, desperate grind against his mouth, the climax washed over you, your body convulsing as you cried out, the release crashing through you in waves. Spencer didn't stop, his tongue continuing to work, not wanting you to take away his favorite treat.
His mouth and tongue continued their relentless work, his eagerness only spurring you on as your cries grew louder. "Oh! Good boy!" you gasped, the praise slipping from your lips as your hips thrust faster against his mouth, riding the wave of pleasure that was building once again.
"You like tasting yourself?" you panted, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts as your body moved with a desperate rhythm. Spencer moaned beneath you, his muffled response sending vibrations through your core, and it only drove you to push harder against him.
"Like it coming out of me?" you taunted, your voice strained and full of need as you felt his tongue lapping eagerly at the mess you had made together. The idea of him cleaning up his own release, desperate to please you, sent shivers down your spine, adding to the already overwhelming sensation.
Spencer whimpered beneath you, his body reacting to your words even as he remained restrained, helpless to do anything but obey. The combination of your command, the praise, and the undeniable power you held over him had him lost in submission, and you could feel the tension building in both of you again.
"Such a good boy," you praised, your voice trembling with the intensity of your pleasure. "So good at doing exactly what Mommy needs." You rode him harder, your body nearing its limit once more as Spencer's tongue worked tirelessly beneath you.
The room was filled with the sounds of your panting breaths, your moans mixing with Spencer's muffled noises as he continued to drive you closer to the edge. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your hips grinding down faster, chasing that final release.
With a breathless cry, your third climax crashed through you, your entire body quivering as Spencer’s tongue carried you over the edge once again. You moaned his name, gripping his hair tightly as you rode out the waves of pleasure, not slowing until every last bit of satisfaction had pulsed through you.
You pulled yourself off of Spencer, and immediately he let out a whine, his lips pouting in protest, not wanting you to take his favorite treat away, he could eat you out for hours. His neediness tugged at your heart, and you couldn’t help but smile as you gently stroked his hair.
"Baby, Mommy is sensitive," you said softly, your voice filled with affection.
Spencer pouted even more, his eyes big and round as he mumbled, "I just wanna make you feel good."
"You did make me feel so good, baby," you reassured him, your smile widening as you saw his face light up, the joy radiating from his eyes.
"Am I your good boy again?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope and a bit of that endearing vulnerability that always made you melt.
Your heart softened instantly, and you leaned down, cupping his face in your hands as you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "You’re always my good boy," you whispered against his mouth. "I love you so much."
"I love you too, Mommy," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, eyes full of adoration.
After you untied him, you took your time massaging his arms and wrists, soothing the slight redness left behind by the ties. You helped him into the shower with you, gently guiding him as he leaned heavily against you, still needing your care. The warm water cascaded over both of you as you softly washed his body, your touches gentle and nurturing. Spencer rested his head against your shoulder, completely relying on your strength, his exhaustion clear as he sighed softly, content in your embrace.
Once you were both dried off and dressed for bed, you brought him back to the comfort of your bed, where you massaged lotion into his arms, making sure he felt taken care of. Your lips peppered soft kisses over his skin as you worked, your voice a soothing murmur as you whispered how good he was, how proud you were of him.
"You’re so good, Spencer," you murmured between kisses. "Always my good boy."
Spencer sighed, his body fully relaxed now as he basked in your affection, letting your words and touch wash over him like a warm blanket. His eyes fluttered closed, a small smile playing on his lips as you continued to kiss and praise him, reminding him of just how much he meant to you.
“Mommy…” Spencer’s voice was soft, hesitant, as he lay beside you, his head resting on your chest.
“Mhm?” you murmured back, feeling the weight of tiredness pulling at you, though still present enough to listen to him.
“Can I suck…?” His voice trailed off, filled with uncertainty.
You giggled softly, a wave of affection washing over you for your needy little baby. "Of course, Spence," you murmured, lifting your shirt to give him the comfort he craved.
Without hesitation, Spencer nestled his head underneath, latching onto your breast with a soft sigh. His body relaxed against yours, and you could feel the tension melt away as he suckled gently, his breathing becoming slow and steady.
You stroked his hair lovingly, the intimate moment between you quiet and peaceful. “You’re such a good boy,” you whispered softly, letting him find the comfort he needed as you both slowly drifted off to sleep, his head resting safely against your chest.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance
104 notes
·
View notes