#it's a new strangling technique
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Billy: That's it, Harrington, you're pissing me off! Leave me the fuck alone!
Steve: I'm TRYING but I need you to stop hugging me!
Billy, tightening his hug: No!
#that's not a hug harrington!#it's a new strangling technique#it's called 'squeeze your enemy to death'#i'm FIGHTING you right now!#Steve's not impressed#harringrove#billy hargrove
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MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader
just luke discovering he might have a praise kink with you. lord have mercy.
warnings: praise kink, dom!luke, pet names, unprotected p in v (don’t), oral s3x (m receiving)
reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes
₊˚⊹♡
“Ah. Fuck, baby, do that again”
Luke let out another strangled moan when you gagged around his cock, your throat tightening. He couldn’t believe you would do anything he asked you to.
It happened every single time. You would literally say yes to anything, the only thing he was sure you were not gonna agree to, was to having sex with him.
Boy, was he wrong.
Now he had you on your knees in his cabin, gagging around him over and over again until he wanted to ask you to stop, but how could he? Everything about this was heavenly to him; your warm mouth, the tears in the corner of your eyes, your swollen lips, your nails digging into his thighs whenever you felt him too deep inside your mouth, his hand wrapping around your hair in a loose ponytail and push your head further into him.
But this wasn’t about him, as much as he wanted it to be. He had promised to fuck you earlier during a potent training session, a promise you would not let slip from your mouth until it happened. And it didn’t, yet.
And he didn’t know why he said it, he really didn’t know, but the way your eyes lit up as if he was a god you could worship, the way there was a sparkle held in them, so bright yet so appealing. You looked inviting to him, he wanted to eat you alive, but he knew that things had flipped the other way around when he said it. He had just gently asked you to stop sucking him off; that was it. But Gods, what came after…
“There you go” he cooed, gently pushing your head back. “Good girl”
It made your guts spin in a way it never happened before.
Luke didn’t know what got into you. You were suddenly out of breath, your chest pressed against your tight t-shirt suddenly stopping its movements and you just stared at him in awe.
He got scared.
“Are you okay?” he gently asked, attempting to place a stray of your hair behind your ear, but he only reached to cup your jaw before you spoke.
“Call me that again”
He tilted his head, confused.
“What?”
You sighed. “Call me that again” you repeated, voice thick with desperation. “Please?”
Luke hesitated, unsure or what to make of your request. His mind raced with questions, but deep down, he couldn´t deny the thrill that suddenly coursed through his body. He leaned in, elbows resting on his knees, as he raised one of his fingers to trail it down your jaw. “Good girl” he said.
The effect was instantaneous. Your breath hitched, and your eyes fluttered shut at his tender touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips.
A dark chuckle erupted from him, a mean action. A fucking praise kink, you had to be joking. He didn´t know how to feel about it, mainly because he didn´t expect you to be into this type of stuff. But as he started to dig into his mind; how your cheeks flustered red when someone complimented your skills, how you smiled sweetly whenever people praised your new techniques, or the way you styled your hair, or how good you dressed. He had it all in front of his nose and never saw it.
But he also realized, you didn´t want this from anyone. You wanted it from him; his words, his validation, his encouragement, his approval. You wanted him to tell you how good you were, you wanted him.
He brushed his thumb over your lip. “My beautiful baby” he whispered with desire. “All you want to be is good to me, right?”
You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks flushing red. Your heart raced with excitement when you nodded eagerly, unable to deny the truth on his words. All you wanted was to please him, to be everything he wanted and more. You saw his grin widened when he flickered his eyes into yours, then back to your lips. He leaned in more, brushing his pink and puffy lips against yours.
“You´re so needy for me” he murmured in a seductive tone. “But I like it. I like knowing that what you crave are my words. That you´ll do anything to please me”
Your body hummed in anticipation due to the intensity of his words. You tried to lean further into his touch, you wanted more. Luke´s finger trailed down the column of your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Tell me what you want, baby” he whispered.
Your head was spinning, leaving you breathless for a moment. “I want you” you confessed in a tiny voice. “I want you to take me, to show me that I´m yours”
“Show you that you´re mine?” he repeated, the mockery evident in his voice. But your eyes glistened, shining with tiny tears due to the previous work he had put you through, and because of the sudden fear that you might have taken it too far. It wasn´t your fault though, it was what you felt. The need to please Luke in any way you could was always there, always with you, and now that you had the chance to do it, you and only you, you didn´t wanna miss it. So, as you looked up at him in awe, mesmerized by his features and figure, like a god, he pressed his thumb over the tiny bit of mascara that had escaped your eyes, removing it, he said; “I can do that”
And he did.
It was not hard to fall into Luke Castellan´s arms and have the need to stay there forever. He was poison, intoxicating in the best possible way. His scent, his touch, his presence —, everything about him had you under his spell, captivated by his allure, by the need to belong to him completely.
With one hand pressed on the back of your head and the other holding a tight grip on your hip, Luke moved with a primal, almost animalistic intensity that left you gasping for air in between the pillows. He sent waves through your body with each thrust, along with a tight feeling on your belly every time the tip of his cock hit that sweet spot.
And his words never seemed to stop.
“You´re doing so good, doll. Behaving like the good little girl you are” he murmured under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.
He had gotten rid of your clothes long ago, after giving you the most intense orgasm thanks to his skilled tongue and fingers, now the only piece of clothing covering your body being your panties, messily pulled to the side, growing damp at scratching Luke´s cock with every snap of his hips.
He was growing his praise to you unconsciously, he had to close his eyes many times to prevent himself from exploding into you. You were just so fucking beautiful, he could just cum due to the sight of you; your hair messily flying over your sweaty back, your hands gripping the sheets, the way your flesh squished together when you squirmed or when his hand would grip tighter.
He had to let you know, eventually. “This fucking body is a crime, baby” he cooed. “It´s so perfect. You´re perfect, taking my cock so fucking well”
Luke´s words sent a cold jolt through your body, electrifying every nerve and sending you further into ecstasy. You felt his words dripping down your spine, flames burning like the intense desire in between you two.
“God, Luke” you managed to choke out. “Don´t stop, please”
He responded with a low growl, his movements becoming more urgent as he began to chase down his own release. Your cunt tightened around him more every time, gripping on his cock inside you in a wet and warm embrace that dripped down your thighs. Each thrust was more intense than the last, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
As your bodies moved In perfect synchrony, the room filled with the sound of skin to skin, punctuated by the symphony of your moans and Luke´s ragged breaths.
“I can´t hold back much longer” Luke confessed, his voice strained with effort. “You feel too damn good”
You clung to him desperately, nails digging into the flesh of one of his thighs as you urged him on. And then, with a final, desperate cry, you tumbled over the edge, body twitching momentarily. Luke followed close behind, his own climax crashing over him like a wave, and inside you.
As your pleasure subsided, you collapsed into each other´s arms, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths as you lay there, bodies still sweaty and shaky due to the aftershock of such an electric moment.
You laughed then, a hand covering your face. “What?” Luke asked, a confused smile painted on his face.
“Nothing” you shrugged off, turning your neck towards him, a shy smile in your mouth. “You´re too good at this”
#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#luke castellan smut#pjo series#pjo#pjo smut#luke castellan x you#luke x reader#luke castellan one shot#luke castellan fic#luke castellan imagine#pjo x you#luke castellan x fem!reader#luke castellan x female reader#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan x yn#luke castellan imagines#pjo x reader#luke pjo#pjo luke
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lazy day with bllk boys
characters: sae, rin, nagi, karasu, reo
fluff
m.list || rules || requests are open :)
note: i had more ideas but i got lazy lmao, feel free to ask for more
Sae + beach day
it’s better when it’s sunny but honestly he just needs it
he goes whenever he has a day off
you two usually eat around the harbor, take cute pictures, visit a little if you can
Sae loves beach more than anything in life but if you ask him he’ll never admit it. Yet that’s where he find himself naturally going when he needs some fresh air and needs to clear his mind. It happened to be rather cloudy today, but it means less people outside so he’s not complaining. He didn’t felt like dealing with people trying to talk to him. Beside you.
You always tag along since you’re a sea lover as well – and that you love collecting rocks.
“Sae, Sae look at this one !” you cheered while getting up and rushing to him. Showing off your really cute, red rock to him with a smile, he can’t help but nod with a little smile in return before offering his hand. You leave it to him so he could clean it up before giving it back to you. It’s an habit now, because you hate it when you have stuff on your hands.
You took his other hand and started walking around the beach again, admiring the view even without sun or boats. It was calm, just like you like as well.
“There.” He gave the rock back to you as he secretly promised and he couldn’t wait to see where you’re going to put it in his apartment.
Nagi + gaming
understand : usual day off
he’s always gaming anyway but that’s the rare occasion you play with him
“Ah… Ah! Aaah!!” you whined, almost throwing the controller across the room. You fell on your back, laying down with open arms. “I think I’m gonna die now. It’s fine, I can’t face the shame.”
“You did great.” Nagi added quietly, already getting ready for the next game. You two were playing Mario Party together, one of the only game you play in fact. “Come on, I choose the next one.”
No answer.
“Come onnnnn.” It was his time to whine but when you still didn’t answer him, he had to use his special technique : laying flat on top of you. A strangle oof left your lips before you tried to pus him. It’s your tall, heavy boyfriend against your limited strength.
“Move !!” you command but it fell into deaf ear. You cry even more, not really in the mood to receive the treatment you gave.
“Okay,I’m sorry ! I’m ready now move please ! I can’t breath !”
“You’re a liar,” he started, pulling himself up on one arm. “You’re still breathing.” You roll your eyes at his statement.
“No shit.” you scoffed before pushing him for good. “I’m gonna win this time.”
Nagi only nod, knowing dawn well you won’t but still loving your enthusiasm.
Reo + bath and skin care
he likes to take care of you and himself
his day off are dedicated to that
+ funny picture to decorate your wall
A mask now setting on you face, your whole body was immersed in hot, bubbly water and all your muscles were finally able to relax. Your back resting against Reo, you look up to catch him looking at his phone, with a mask on his face as well.
You two just had the best skin care routine hour and Reo had the wonderful idea to run a bath. That’s how you ended up with both you hair up and you blowing bubbles around like a child. It’s been a while, you missed it.
“Babe, hear this,” and then he goes on about some news about one of Mikage corporation’s partner and their research. You don’t get about everything about business but you still into it as well, but you weren’t really in the mood. Kissing his jaw, you answered.
“What about I don’t and you try to disconnect a little ?” You took his phone off his hand after whipping your hand. Reo sighs behind you but you didn’t mind. His head laid on your shoulder, waiting for you to come back in the water. After putting a soft, lofi background music you were back in the hot water and in your lover’s arms. Reo slowly stroking your arm while talking about some book he’d like to read, finally leaving work behind. You couldn’t ask for more.
Karasu + reading together
he likes some quality time on his resting day
some tea, a good book and you reading by his side
Karasu couldn’t ask for more when you asked him to make another tea pot. You already have finish it when he only drank 2 cup, but it also mean that you’re really into your book and he loved that sight. You gasping from time to time, holding your month or even when it shows that it takes you everything to not get up to run laps around the house.
You know he likes to have close while reading session but sometimes it just physically hurt you. And he makes fun of you every times. His laughter filling the whole place, light and so annoying but you can’t help but tag along after a few second.
You can’t even give it back because he doesn’t react at all, annoying you a lot, but you accepted it in the end.
All of that with the tea he kindly makes every single time you two sat down in his living room to read.
Rin + him reading for you or vice versa
depends on who’s tired
but he reads better than you
still find it calming when it’s you
“ “I’m just going to do it. Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia.” “Huh ?” I asked –” you quoted, reading one of your favorite book to Rin. He was laying his head in your lap, kind of falling asleep from time to time but still catching up when something bothered him in your tone or the story.
“She’s annoying with her maze.” he noted.
“I think he is to not get it.” she answered, sounding a little offended. “He’s annoying all the time in fact. I get her, but I don’t get him.” she added before going on. Rin knew that, he heard about it enough, yet he never once read it and the last time you said you felt like reading it again, he asked you to read it to him.
You two don’t really share any tastes in books, but you still kind of enjoy it when the other is reading it for you. You usually get fed up by his reading and Rin found yours comforting, but maybe it’s just your voice. He likes the fact that you try, maybe a little too hard, to show the emotions. It’s deep too, in some kind, and he knows you’re especially close, if he may say, to the things you read. It’s like discovering you again.
i hope you liked it !
it's me, i collect rocks. the book y/n's reading in rin's one is Looking for Alaska by John Green.
#blue lock x reader#blue lock#bllk x reader#bllk#blue lock headcanons#bllk headcanons#hcs#reo x reader#reo headcanons#nagi x reader#nagi hcs#rin x reader#rin hcs#sae x reader#sae headcanons#karasu x reader#karasu hcs
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Gojo Satoru X Reader (pt. 1)
pt. 2
CW: teacher-student relationship, male masturbation, lots and lots of sexual tension, third-person perspective
a/n: i just watched miller’s girl last night so this was heavily inspired by it. well…somewhat
Whispers slithered through the hallowed halls of Jujutsu High like ominous serpents - rumors about the scandalous relationship between Gojo Satoru and his sole female student. At first, she dismissed the gossip as absurd. Sure, her mentor could be incorrigibly flirtatious at times, like their first meeting when he mistook her for a new teacher and gallantly swept down to press his lips to her knuckles. Even after she corrected him, the silver-haired sorcerer seemed delighted to have "such a lovely little lady" as his pupil.
He proceeded to give her an unsanctioned personal tour of the dormitories, escorting her to the teachers' quarters, claiming her room was mixed-up just to have her staying close by. Now she has to explain to new students why she’s rooming with that notorious manchild.
The rumors intensified after she officially joined Gojo's class. Though undeniably childish outside the training grounds, he proved an exemplary mentor, deeply familiar with the nuances of her innate techniques. More importantly, he was fiercely protective, exemplified the day he saved her life.
She'd been ambushed during a mission, her ribs crushed by some malevolent spirit. Splayed helpless amid the rubble, she watched in detached horror as the skeletal beast sidled closer, drawn by her agony. Then, a blinding flash of black and white - Gojo had arrived.
The next thing she knew, she was gasping in his arms, pain screaming through her body as he jostled her with calculated roughness. "Glad you didn’t puke on me this time," he teased with a wolfish grin, referencing her violent reaction to her first forced teleportation.
This bizarre, backhanded banter marked the start of a profound intimacy between master and student. What began as a mere academic relationship steadily morphed into something akin to family - perhaps the closest she would ever know. Like now, waiting side-by-side for the train home, his dexterous fingers idly weaving the silken strands of her hair into intricate braids. A futile bribe of mochi had failed to dissuade his pleas to use his teleportation, so she resigned herself to crowded public transit, crumbs inevitably showering her shoulders as he kept himself busy.
Aboard the train, packed amid throngs of exhausted salarymen, she stiffened as unfamiliar calloused fingers trailed up her stockinged thigh. A harsh reminder of her juvenile "uniform" - another of Gojo's juvenile pranks. She clenched her fists, nostrils flaring, determined to withstand this violation with dignity.
Suddenly, a strangled yelp split the air as the unseen hand retreated. She found herself crushed against her mentor's powerful frame, his broad chest pressed to her back, arms enveloping her in an unmistakable claim. His fingers trembled with barely contained fury where they splayed across her abdomen.
After that sickening highway incident, when she awoke battered and bloody amid the wreckage, new rumors swirled about the disturbing closeness between teacher and pupil. Gojo's gentle touch roused her from the hazy brink of consciousness, his thumb swiping some blood from her ashen lips before he murmured, "You look like shit, kid."
From that point, a new routine emerged - one she anticipated with visceral dread, yet perverse longing. In addition to their intensive training regimens, where he enacted relentless "lessons" that seemed calculated to map every aching plane of her body...at night, he would appear in her dorm. Her sanctuary from prying eyes, where he could tend her wounds and brandished injuries with exacting care, stripped down to her underwear.
Even the most casual gestures between them began to carry subtext, like at the school sports festival. One ill-advised taunt from a rival combatant, and Gojo materialized behind her in an instant, hoisting her over his shoulder with barely-veiled possessiveness. His fingers dipped to swat her rear before facing down the offending student, eyes glinting with menace. Mere inches from flaying the young man with his Hollow Purple technique before the principal intervened.
Such public indecencies fueled fevered gossip about the forbidden relationship between the supremely powerful sorcerer and his nubile disciple. Rumors she could neither confirm nor deny...especially after the way he claimed her that night in the sanctum of his apartment.
The celebratory dinner after her sports festival triumph was a blur of italian cuisine and sultry looks. Gojo escorted her back to his flat for "freshening up" before returning to campus. Or so she assumed, until emerging from his steamy bathroom engulfed in a cloud of vapor, wearing nothing but an oversized dress shirt pilfered from his wardrobe. The damp fabric clung like a sensual rumor, outlining her lithe curves in diaphanous definition.
Whatever semblance of self-restraint typically graced Gojo's demeanor nearly disintegrated as he pulled his student into his lap. For a torturous minute, primal instincts threatened to overrule his better judgment - to simply slam her down onto the mattress and fuck her with reckless abandon.
But a flicker of lucidity pierced the haze of lust just in time. This was his precious protégé, the woman who had utterly bewitched him both in body and spirit. He couldn't simply take her like one of his flings. Not without her explicit consent.
Drawing a steadying breath, he reached over to gently take the towel from her hands, using it to slowly dry her hair. All the while, desperately attempting to ignore the insistent throbbing in his groin, the painfully prominent bulge straining against the fabric of his pants.
That night marked the first time he'd allowed himself to truly surrender to the sinful fantasies that so frequently plagued his thoughts when in her presence. As she retreated to her room, Gojo mentally praised his own restraint. But the image of her, draped in nothing but his oversized shirt, branded itself into his psyche.
Only after bidding her a quick goodnight did he seek the solace of his own room to fist his cock with unrestrained fervor, her tempting image fueling each increasingly frantic stroke. When his orgasm finally washed over, her name spilled sacrilegiously from his lips in a guttural rasp.
Come morning, he maintained an aura of unruffled nonchalance around his student, as though the pervious night's events were merely fever dreams. But she could see the hairline fractures in his implacable veneer, instinctively sensing their dynamic had irreversibly shifted after beholding the undisguised hunger burning in his eyes.
Something primal had awoken between them. And neither was prepared to confront the smoldering aftermath.
#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo x reader smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x reader smut
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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.
#sundrop writes#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fic
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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 | Series Masterlist
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Full list of 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, especially those of you that have been waiting for this part to come out!
...
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.
...
If this series is going to get a third part, I would love to see more than 30 comments and more than 60 reblogs, and I would love to know what you guys would like to see from a third part in the series.
I will be honest, I am kind of starting to lose steam on this series already - the reason I have titled is as a Capsule Series on my masterlist is because I want each individual part to be able to be read as a oneshot with no particular big arcs in the story, and no need for a big dramatic ending. Also, if I do come back to this series in a few months or years and want to write more for it, I can.
If you have any ideas for this series - kinks/concepts/moments you want to see happen with these characters, please let me know. Even if those moments don't make it into a full-length third part, I might write your idea into a short spin-off like I did with Loverboy. I always leave the anon option turned on so people can send me messages if they feel shy or they don't want to reblog a fic onto their blog.
#sundrop writes#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid#sub!spencer#sub!spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x y/n
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Iruka Mentions in the Kakashi Retsuden Novel
"The sleep chakra point, a technique he had learned directly from Iruka, the principal of the ninja academy. When Kakashi mentioned in conversation that he had trouble sleeping sometimes, Iruka had taught him a secret jutsu for inducing restful sleep. The sticking point, through, was that it was hard to hit the spot on yourself, given the chakra point was on the back of the neck."
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Kakashi confides in Iruka, and Iruka is more than willing to conduct some private lessons for the Rokudaime.
"Before he became Hokage, Kakashi had only known how to kill people. He had methods of capturing people without killing them, but they all invovled pain and torture. But as time wore on and the country grew stable, the shinobi principle of capture without killing had taken favor. And it was none other than the Sixth Hokage himself who struggled with how to write the guidelines for this new no-kill capture policy. He'd discussed it with Iruka, the principal of the academy at the time, and he had laughed. Kakashi remembered every single word of what he said.
(Iruka) "It's ok. It might not look it, but we do more than just teach students at the academy. We've saved jutsu to make an enemy fall asleep instantly or freeze them on the spot. Everything from old to new is right here."
Distracted by the memory of Iruka's proud face, Kakashi accidentally allowed a bit of fabric to rustle while strangling the ninth shinobi."
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What can I say? Kakashi certainly doesn't need the Sharingan to remember Iruka's every word, his laugh and his proud (most definitely smiling) face. In fact it's so distracting he blows his cover on a dangerous infiltration mission remembering it. Yeeeesss.
Iruka is also the last major mention at the end of Kakashi's novel:
(Sarada) "I'm heading out. I got a present for Master Iruka," Sarada said, holding up a cherry pink paper bag. Strawberry Daifuku from Tami Traditional Sweets in the old city. They were widely known to be extraordinary and quickly sold out, so they were hard to get ahold of, a rare treat.
"Oh right, you're doing a homestay at Master Iruka's, right?" Kakashi said.
"Yeah!" Sarada nodded happily. "Cuz Mom and Dad are away on a long mission. Master Iruka's an amazing cook. He's teaching me all kinds of stuff. It's loads of fun."
"Ohh. He is pretty skilled."
Iruka was a longtime bachelor like Kakashi, but unlike Kakashi, who paid little attention to his personal life to start with, Iruka kept a neat home. In contrast with the desk of the Sixth Hokage, which was always covered with scattered papers and documents, the principal's office at the academy was famously neat and tidy.
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Kakashi knows Iruka's a skilled cook. He knows Iruka keeps a neat home. (I wonder why) Kakashi's also recently developed a bit of an onsen interest. (Iruka's official data book entry lists onsens as his hobby.) They are both confirmed bachelors. Nice.
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Guilt
Masterlist Natasha Masterlist
Relationship: Natasha x Reader
Summary: Natasha finally finds her sister Yelena. Only to discover she has a friend that escaped the Red Room with her. Distrust causes issues between the trio and leads to a break up of friendships.
Word Count: 8306
Y/n's POV:
Yelena and I were on the run for almost two years before her sister Natasha Romanoff found us. We had managed to escape the Red Room together and had been on the run ever since. Yelena had become like a sister to me. She's a year older than me but we've always looked out for each other. Our last few months in the Red Room were horrible and we went through things that no one ever should have to.
Once we escaped, we had a freedom neither of us thought we'd ever have. Even if we did have to move on every few months, we lived life to it's fullest. We moved across Europe, working any job that we could and always finding some shitty one bed apartment that we could live in. The aim was to save up as much money as we could to get to the US. Yelena was sure that was where her sister Natasha was, and I wanted to make sure she got reunited with her family. In the Red Room, they take everything away from you. Knowing that she was able to keep a hold of her sister, meant a lot to Yelena. She deserved to be happy.
I didn't know Natasha really, other than the rumours I heard whilst I was in the red room. As I was 7 years younger than her, I didn't have much to do with her. She seemed familiar but I put it down to the fact that we had training sessions with the older age groups at times and we probably met then at some point.
After she escaped, Yelena was moved to our section. She was punished for Natasha escaping and I helped to clean her wounds. It's how we became friends and over time, why I started to see her as my sister.
The moment that Natasha broke into our apartment in Budapest is something I'll never forget. I had just come back from the shop to find the two of them strangling each other with a curtain. When they called a truce, it was like none of that had ever happened. Natasha was quick to pull Yelena into a tight hug and apologise for leaving her in Red Room and not going back for her.
When she became aware of my presence, Natasha was quick to point a gun to my head. "No! No! Natasha, that's Y/n. Put the gun down!" Yelena shouted, stepping in front of her sister, and pushing her away. "Who's Y/n?" Natasha asks with a bite to her tone. "She was in the Red Room with me. She helped me escape. She can be trusted Natasha." Yelena tries to convince her. She looks me up and down before dropping the gun. "You look familiar." She grunts as she slips her weapon into the back of her jeans. "She was J block. It's where I was moved to when you left." Yelena explains for me.
"Hmm. I think I worked with them a few times." She thought out loud. She's probably right. They often sent the older kids in to practice their technique on us. I had even seen some of my friends killed by them. I was even almost killed in one training session. They were completely brain washed by Dreykov and his men to do horrible things.
After the reunion in Budapest, Natasha offered Yelena a place within Shield, and with that a place to stay with her at the compound where her and her team lived. Yelena only agreed to go if I was allowed to go with them. Natasha reluctantly agreed and before we knew it, we were on a jet flying to New York.
The whole way there, Yelena and I held hands, excited that we were finally safe, no longer having to stay on the run to keep alive. Maybe we'd even get the chance to take down the red room once and for all. For the whole flight, however, I could feel Natasha's harsh gaze on me. It made me feel a little uncomfortable, but I tried to ignore it. Maybe she was just slightly jealous that I had such a close relationship with Yelena.
Over the next few months, my relationship with Natasha did not improve. In fact, I'm sure it got worse, no matter how hard I tried. She just didn't seem to trust me. And because she didn't trust me, the rest of the team were reluctant to do so either. Initially, Yelena tried to get us to all get along. But I could see that she felt like she was in the middle. So, I encouraged her to spend more time with Natasha. She had been desperately trying to get back to her for years, it's only right that they have time together. I'd be ok.
Over time though, Yelena started to spend less and less time with me. At times she would barely talk to me, it was almost like I was a chore for her. The tag along that was only there to help her escape. Now she has her sister and new family, I'm not needed anymore. I've tried really hard to make friends with the others on the team, but it doesn't seem to be going very well. Especially with Steve, he's always harder on me than the others and I can see he has a hatred for me in his eyes.
I considered leaving, but after talking with Agent Hill and Directory Fury, I found a purpose to stay. I could help to take down the red room. They both trusted me, and I appreciated that. I worked with them a lot on a number of missions to get the intel that we would need to finally put an end of other girls ending up like Yelena, Natasha and me.
Having that purpose didn't make it any easier back at the compound. I still was required to go on missions with the Avengers, but that was the only time any of them would really talk to me now. Even Yelena. It really started to hurt. I thought I meant more to her, but clearly not. I don't know why I ever thought that I would fit in anywhere. I spent my childhood locked away and with no family to help me find my way, I was always going to be an outcast.
After a particularly bad mission, I was on the receiving end of a barrage of abuse from Steve and Sam. I hadn't done anything wrong, but they were looking for someone to blame and that landed solely on me. The whole journey back on the quinjet was torture as they took it in turns yelling at me. I didn't have anything to say in response, I know I would only make things worse. But what really hurt was the way that Yelena didn't say a word to even try to stand up for me. Especially when the next attack that came out of Steve's mouth. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were a double agent really working for Hydra and Dreykov. All these solo missions you do. Are you really reporting back to the enemy?" He spits at me. I open my mouth to defend myself, but he quickly holds his hand up to me. "You don't talk!" He hisses.
He takes a deep breath before turning to me once again. "You're just a trained murderer who will never be able to make up for the red in her ledger. You're not worthy of the place you have been afforded here." I have to choke back the sob that fights to get out. My glossed over eyes look to Yelena who instantly looks away. I'm the same as her, the same as Natasha, yet none of them can give me the benefit of the doubt.
Thankfully, the quinjet lands at his last sentence and I'm the first off, the jet. I rush to my room and start to pack my bags instantly. I can't stay here anymore. I don't feel safe. I know that I don't have the teams support and I'm only a danger to them and myself.
I don't own a lot, so it doesn't take me long until I'm packed up. A miserable depiction of my life. I wait until I know everyone will be having dinner and I'll be able to slip out with no issues. Leaving probably will make them think I'm working for the enemy even more, but I won't stay here any longer.
When I'm ready to leave, I reach up and take off the necklace that has hung around my neck for the last two and a half years. It's a spider charm. Yelena brought us each one with her first pay cheque. It was meant to represent our relationship as sisters. Now it just symbolises everything that I've lost. I place it on top of the chest of draws in my room then I grab my small duffle bag and make my way out. As I sneak past the kitchen, I hear them all laughing together. A family that I'll never be a part of.
When I leave the compound, I make my way to Shield headquarters. Luckily, Fury is still there, and I explain everything that has happened. I practically beg him to let me leave and go as far away from here as possible. He offers me the chance to be free, away from Shield and far away from the Avengers, if I carry out one last mission with Agent Hill. I instantly agree when he gives me the details. If I can do one final good thing to help defeat the red room, then I'll take it. It feels like the only thing that I have left to give to this world.
Nat's POV:
Watching the way Steve and Sam tore strips off Y/n on the way back home was hard to see. It wasn't her fault that we failed that mission. But she was the chosen target for their anger. I could see Y/n getting smaller and smaller with each insult that was flung her way.
But I'm sure I saw the moment her heart actually broke. You'd think it was the moment Steve called her a murder, not worthy of her place. That did damage, of course it did, but the moment her heart broke was when she looked to Yelena for any kind of support, only for her to look away. That was the moment I saw the tiniest bit of light left in Y/n's eyes disappear. I should have said something. I should have stood up for her. If that is how Steve sees Y/n, then that is what he should think of me and Yelena, and I know for a fact he doesn't.
I feel immense guilt as I watch Y/n rush off the jet. I've not made her life easy since she's been here. But it's been misguided. I remember Y/n. Of course I do. She was my target to kill. I had been put against her in a fight to the death. But she was strong. She fought well. I beat her to an inch of her life at the orders of Dreykov, only to be stopped from choking her to death at the last moment. He had deemed her worthy of living for the fight she had put up.
I still remember the fear in her eyes as she thought I was about to take her life away. I knew who she was as soon as she walked into the apartment in Budapest. But I didn't know how to be around her, so I didn't try. The benefit of being the Black Widow, is being able to hide how I really feel. What I didn't realise was how much that would affect the team's thoughts on her.
They believed that I didn't trust her so decided they didn't either. I mean, it's good to know that the team support me like that. But it must have been hell for Y/n. She would try so hard to fit in but was met by cold shoulders from everyone. Even Wanda and she will make an effort with everyone. It made my guilt grow even more, but instead of putting a stop to it, I just started to remove myself from the situation. I would hang out with Yelena as much as I could because she was the one person that could make the guilt disappear for a split second. Y/n represents every bad thing I did in the red room, and I let her suffer for it.
But I know now that I need to fix this. I would observe Y/n and I truly believe she is one of a kind. She has such a kind soul for someone who has been through so much hell. Things were bad when I was in the red room, but they only got worse after I left. Yelena had told me some stories and they always ended with Y/n being there for her. I'm glad that she had someone like her during such a horrible time in her life.
I would find myself craving to get to know Y/n more, knowing that my life would only be brighter to have her in it. But I didn't deserve that, so I shut off any thoughts of that. I could not and would not think of her more than a work colleague. I wish I didn't because I don't think I'll be able to make up for everything that has happened over the past six months since the two of them came home with me.
After we got off the jet, I went straight to Yelena's room. She slammed her bag on to the floor as soon as she got there. "What gives Steve the right to talk to Y/n like that. She didn't do anything." She says angrily, pacing around her room. "She was brain washed. We all were. She was always the best of us, the one who kept the small amount of hope that we would all be ok. He has no right to talk to her like that." She shouts as she drops onto her bed.
I take a seat next to her as she breaths heavily. "We should go and talk to her and make sure she's ok." I suggest, earning a nod from Yelena. When we leave her room, we're greeted by Steve. "Tony ordered Pizza, come join us." He says with a smile. "We'll just go and get Y/n and see you there." I say but he stops me. "She's not welcome. The team don't want her there. Now join us." He says sternly. I just look at him in disbelief.
I'm sure I see smoke coming off of Yelena's head as Steve walks away. "That asshole." She mumbles, clenching her fists in anger. I place a hand on her shoulder. "Let's take a moment and then go to her." I suggest but she snaps her head to me. "Why do you suddenly care?" She snaps, but I don't blame her. My gaze drops to the floor before I decide that now's the time tell her the truth. I guide her back into her room and sit her on the bed. I take a deep breath and explain everything that happened in the red room. How I almost killed Y/n and let the guilt affect how I treated her once she was here.
Yelena sat there in shock after I finished admitting the truth. "She never would have blamed you for that. In fact, one of her best friends in there was someone who shot her. We had to do as we were ordered or we got killed or punished, she never held that against anyone." Yelena tells me, which just makes my guilt grow even more, if that's even possible!
"We need to make things up to her and try and get the team to see she's not a threat. I can't believe that I've let this happen." Yelena sighs, and I can feel the pain radiating off her. "Come on then, let's not waste any more time." I tell her, holding my hand out to her. She gives me a smile and takes it. When we reach her door Yelena knocks but gets no answer. She knocks again. "Y/n/n, it's me. Can I come in?" She asks but is met with silence.
"Friday, is Y/n in there?" I ask the AI before we go barging in. "No Agent Romanoff. Y/n left the compound with her belongings 20 minutes ago." The AI responds. Not wanting to believe what she just heard, Yelena opens the door and calls out for Y/n again. "Please Y/n. We're here to apologise." I can hear the desperation in her voice as she goes into the bathroom and opens the wardrobe to see them empty.
Tears start to fill her eyes and then they land on something on the top of the chest of draws. And this here is the moment I see my sister's own heart break. Her hand shakes as she reaches out to pick up the necklace that is waiting for her. "We vowed to never take these off. They were to show that we were always with the other regardless of where we were. What have I done?" She whispers that last bit as she slides down the wall to the floor. I sit next to her and wrap an arm around her as I fight tears of my own, knowing that I'll never be able to fix this for either Y/n or my sister.
"Director Fury has asked for your presence in the meeting room." Friday informs us. I look to Yelena and we both take a moment to compose ourselves before heading out to meet Fury. The rest of the team are already waiting in there as we take our seats. "Who the fuck wants to explain why my best agent has just handed in her resignation." He yells, hitting his hand down on the table. It makes me jump to see his anger.
"None of us have done anything to Agent Hill." Steve defends but Fury's head snaps to him. "Not Hill. Y/l/n." He says with a fire in his eyes. Steve scoffs at his words. "She got what was coming to her. She's clearly been working with Hydra. How else do you explain all these 'solo' missions she's been doing?" He argues, a venom lacing his voice. Fury lets out a small chuckle and we instantly know that's not a good sign.
"Those solo missions were at my request." He states and the air in the room seems to disappear. It's like everyone has realised what has happened. "B-but Romanoff doesn't trust her." Steve tries to defend. Everyone's eyes fall to me. "I've never said that. I had my own problems that had nothing to do with Y/n but my inability to deal with my past." I admit, but I know some of the blame falls to me as well.
"What even were these missions?" Steve questions Fury, again a bad move. "Know your place, Rogers. I don't think you realise the asset we've just lost." Another scoff comes from Steve. "She's not an asset to anyone." Fury slams his hand down on the table once more which startles us all. "Watch what the next words are to come out of your mouth." He growls and Steve instantly shrinks into his seat. "Y/n was helping me to collect information on the red room. As one of the last known people to escape, her knowledge was invaluable to us. It's because of her, we're the closest we've ever been to taking them out." Silence fills the room as Fury explains what Y/n has been doing before Yelena speaks up.
"But I escaped with her. Why did you ask me to help?" She asks, as Fury gives her a pitying look. "Y/n didn't want you to have to relive what happened to you in there or risk losing your family. She was protecting you." Fury explained. Yelena's mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out as she realises what Y/n has done for her. For us.
Fury turns his attention back to the rest of the team. "She thought if she could bring down the red room, that she could prove to you all that she was trustworthy and earn her place here. Maybe even gain a family. But instead, she's left here believe she is and has nothing. So much for earth's mightiest heroes. You can't even be there for your teammate." And with that Fury left the briefing room, leaving us all shellshocked at his revelations.
I can hear quiet sobs coming from Yelena as I try to fight the sick feeling in my stomach knowing she's out there alone feeling like she never meant anything to us. To me. "She's always put me first. Always protected me. She was my sister but as soon as I came here, I tossed her aside, too scared of losing you. I've let her down. I couldn't even stand up for her against Steve." I go to wrap my arm around her, but she shrugs me off. "Don't. I'm so ashamed of myself, of us. How we have treated her. All she has ever wanted is a family. To feel like she belonged somewhere. But I bought her here just for her to feel like she's a monster." She cries before storming out of the room.
The rest of the team are in shock. I decide to share with them what I did with Yelena. They deserve to know the whole truth. If we're able to bring Y/n back, she deserves this team at their best. They are an amazing family. I just wish I hadn't allowed this to happen.
Steve instantly feels guilty after I explain. "I should never have said what I did to her. I misplaced my anger. I just assumed the worse. I'm sorry Nat. You came from the same place as she did. What I said wasn't only disrespectful to her, but you as well." He apologises. I can see the sincerity in his face. "It's not me that deserves an apology. I've let Y/n down more than anyone here. She is a good person, and we would have been lucky to have her in our lives. I just hope that we can repair this." Knowing there is nothing more I can do. I get up to leave to find Yelena.
As I'm walking past Y/n's room, I hear crying. I open the door and I'm greeted by Yelena hugging her pillow close to her. I slowly get into the bed behind her. I wrap my arms around her and let her cry and express what she needs to. "I let her down Nat. I should have been there for her, but I wasn't. How can I ever call myself a sister to her after I just left her like I did? She deserves better." She laments, the pain evident in her voice.
"She's not safe Nat. They'll know it was her that has been doing these missions. They'll be going after her and if they get her, they'll kill her and it'll be my fault." She turns in my hold and sobs into my chest. I'm crying myself knowing that she's right. I've never seen Yelena like this. She's completely broken. I need to fix this for both of them. I can't see Yelena like this, and I just want to have a second chance with Y/n.
When we finally have pulled ourselves together, we get up and start our search to find her. Tony lets us use anything he has to try and find her, but it's no use. For weeks we try to look for her, but we get nothing. Not even a hint of where she could be. I pray it's because she is good enough to go off the grid like this. But in my stomach, I have this gnawing feeling that she's been captured and killed. It's the more likely answer, but I don't dare say it allowed. She has to be ok. She has to be alive.
Three years later
"I've got something!" Tony comes running into the dining room one evening with the biggest grin on his face. "I don't think we want to know what you've got." Sam jokes, causing us all to laugh. "Funny. But no. I've got a hit on the facial recognition for Y/n." Silence falls over us all at his words. "She's in Pennsylvania." He informs us. I feel Yelena's hand grip my thigh at his words.
We never gave up. These last three years, we have all still been looking for her. Determine to find her. The team have been helping us and we take it in turns to trawl CCTV and all of the databases that we can for any hint that's alive and well. So to hear that we finally have something, a possibility of seeing her again after these last few years is such a great feeling.
"What are we waiting for we should go!" Steve jumps up and orders us. It really affected him after we all found out the truth. He spent weeks reading over Y/n's solo mission reports. What she did was incredible and how she hid some of her injuries I'll never know. But I guess when no one gives you the time of day, it's easy enough to do. "I don't think we should all go in guns blazing. Besides we don't know what state she is in." Tony rebuts which causes Steve to reluctantly agree.
"Yelena and I will go. We'll assess the situation and hopefully bring her home safe. If we need it, we'll call in for backup." I say authoritatively. They all eagerly agree before Yelena, and I head off to grab what we need. We pack a bag as we don't know what we're going into. We need to do this carefully. If she's been taken by the red room, we can't screw this up.
Tony has arranged everything for us, including staying in a hotel in the small town she's been located in. Whilst on the quinjet there, I'm doing additional research to see if we have any intel of there being a Hydra or red room base there. After Y/n left, it became harder for us to find any information on the red room. Yelena and I went on missions in place of her, but we didn't get the same results. The red room is still active, but we are so close to ending it. I just hope it hasn't come at too high a cost.
We arrive in a town called Ligonier, a very traditional US town. We land the jet away from any people and make our way to the town centre and our hotel. Once we've checked in, we set up all our tech so we have communications back home with the compound, as well as the software for facial recognition. I can tell that Yelena just wants to go out and search the whole town for her, but we need to be sensible.
So, we spend that evening gathering as much info as we can, Tony being a great help to us from back home. "The facial recognition I got was from a coffee shop on the main street of the town. It's probably a good place to start. Interestingly, there are either no cameras there, or the ones that are don't work. Almost like someone doesn't want to be found." He starts to explain. "Where did you get her then?" I question as I find the location of the coffee shop. A camera from the town hall across the way. It picks her briefly in the back of the frame." He explains.
After coming up with a plan of action, we head to bed but neither of us can sleep. "I'm excited to see her again." Yelena says from her bed next to me. "But I'm also worried that she's not safe or won't want to see us." She adds on and I can hear the pain in her voice. Y/n leaving affected Yelena a lot. She has carried around a guilt that she wasn't there for her and let her be treated like she was. I've lost count of the times I'd find her in Y/n's room crying, terrified that she was dead, and it was all her fault. Truth is, it would all be mine.
"The main thing is that she's safe. We can work on forgiveness after that." I say and Yelena hums in agreement. "You know. I always thought you liked her at first. It's why I tried to get you to allow her to join us so much. But then over time I just realised you didn't like her at all, and I chose you over her. If only I had known, I could have made things right between you." She chuckles lowly whilst my eyes widen.
I feel Yelena's eyes on me when I don't respond. "Oh my God! You do like her!" She squeals, turning so she's facing me. "Shut up. I don't." I weakly defend. "HA! See it's so clear! You like Y/n!" She teases me whilst I huff, knowing that I'm not going to hide it from her. "Are you mad?" I ask timidly which seems to shock Yelena. "Not that you like her. You both deserve to be happy. Maybe a little mad that if you hadn't put your head in the sand, we wouldn't have been in this position of trying to find her after her disappearance three years ago!" She lightly scolds.
"I always thought whoever would end up with Y/n would be one of the luckiest people in the world. Maybe that could be you." She adds on which causes a smile to form on my face. But I quickly shake my head knowing that we have to find her and earn her forgiveness first.
We eventually fall asleep and wake up refreshed, ready to bring Y/n home. We're up early and head to the coffee shop that she was spotted in. We order our drinks and sit out of the way, but still with a good view of the whole shop. After about an hour, Y/n rushes in through the door apologising. "I'm so sorry Jill. Mia did not want to leave this morning. I'll make up for it." She rambles as she grabs an apron from behind the counter. "Don't worry about it Y/n. It's not busy. Take a breath." This Jill reassures her.
We stay for another hour and make the decision to leave, not wanting her to spot us just yet. Instead, we stay locally, to get an idea of when her shift ends. We go back the next few days and just seeing her so carefree makes me happy. "She looks good. I love the blonde hair." Yelena states as we get into bed that evening. "I thought she had been captured, but to see her alive and well is good." I reply. Knowing that she's safe is such a relief.
The next day, we go to the coffee shop for the end of her shift. We decided that we'll try and talk to her today. We're both really nervous, but I'm hopeful that we might be able to start on the road to fixing this. Whilst sat at our same table, I watch almost mesmerised as Y/n floats around the coffee shop. She knows a lot of the people here and they seem to enjoy her being around. "She looks happy." I observe and Yelena nods.
Just as the clock is about to hit three, we're both startled by the door to the shop slamming open and a little girl running in. "Mama!" She shouts as she sprints through the shop. I smile at how cute the little girl is, but I feel my heart in my throat when she is running straight to Y/n. "Hi my baby." Y/n greets the child, picking her up and spinning her around. "Mama?" Yelena questions next to me.
"Can we go home now?" The little girl asks. "Give me 10 minutes sweetie and I'll be ready to go. I'll grab you a muffin whilst you wait." Y/n responds, sitting the girl at a table. Y/n finishes up her last few jobs before returning to her daughter. Wow that sounds weird. I find myself stuck to my seat not entirely sure what I'm feeling. I've missed my chance.
As her and the girl walk out the door, her eyes land on us. They go wide and she is quickly rushing out the door of the coffee shop. Yelena is far quicker than me and has jumped out of her seat and is chasing after Y/n. When I finally get my sense back, I follow quickly after, to see Yelena just catching up to Y/n. "Please, just wait. We've been looking for you for years." Yelena pleads.
Y/n is now holding the scared little girl in her arms as her eyes stare down Yelena. "We just want to talk. To have a chance to apologise. Please." Yelena practically begs. I can tell that seeing Yelena like this is having an effect on Y/n. She lets out a sigh and slowly nods. "Follow me." She mumbles and turns on her heal.
We follow her to a small little house just on the outskirts of town. The garden is immaculate and when she opens the door, it feels so homely. "Mia, why don't you go and play with your toys upstairs. Mama just needs to talk to these ladies." Y/n instructs the child, who seems reluctant to go. "But they're scary." Mia mumbles which causes Yelena to let out a small chuckle. "It's ok sweetheart. I'll be ok." Y/n reassures her.
Reluctantly Mia leaves and heads upstairs. I start to wonder around the small living space whilst Y/n makes us a drink. There aren't many photos up. Most of them are of Mia, but there are some with Y/n in too. This gives me the smallest bit of hope that it means she's not with someone else.
Y/n enters the living room with a tray with three glasses and a bottle of vodka. "Figured you wouldn't want a tea and I sure as hell need this for whatever you're here for." She says as she fills three glasses. There's a silence as we sit, neither Yelena nor I knowing where to start. The sound of the ticking clock is all you can hear and the occasional giggle from upstairs.
I notice that each time we can hear that, Y/n's face lights up. "So, you have a daughter." Yelena breaks the silence. "I do." Y/n responds shortly. "Were you pregnant whilst you were with us? I didn't know you were with anyone." Yelena questions. "Like you would have noticed anyway." Y/n scoffs. "But no. I wasn't. She's not biologically mine." Y/n admits which takes us a little by surprise. "Oh." Is all Yelena responds with. "Where have you been?" I now ask, wanting to know that she has in fact been safe since she left us. "Why should I tell you? You can't just turn up here and demand answers from me. It's been three years." She says firmly. She certainly got her confidence since she left!
"We've been worried about you Y/n. All we've wanted to do is apologise to you after that day. Well, not even just for that day. For everything, for the way I treated you when I promised you, we'd always be there for each other." Yelena answers, a hint of desperation in her voice. "For three years, I have been so angry at myself for getting so caught up on Natasha and not losing her, that I ended up losing you instead. It was like I felt like I couldn't have two sisters and being around Nat and the others made me feel like I had my family. I was a coward to let them isolate you like they did."
I have never heard Yelena talk so honest and openly about something before. It's obvious she is baring her soul her, and I think Y/n realises that too. "All I ever did was try and fit in with everyone. I knew we wouldn't always be together, but I didn't think that was how it was going to go." Y/n shares, pain in her eyes. "You just gave up on me. You couldn't even defend me to Steve." There's a crack in Y/n's voice, which she tries to hide.
"We both owe you an apology for that. How he spoke to you that day was out of line. We can't change what happened, but I hope that we can work to fix what we broke." I step in now. I know I'm going to have to tell her about why I acted like I did. But I'm dreading it. What if I tell her and she never wants to see me again?! I think that would break me. "I also owe you an explanation for why I treated you like I did." I start, wanting to get this out of the way.
"I know why. You didn't trust me around Yelena." She answers for me. I quickly shake my head. "No, that's not it at all." I defend, looking to Yelena who gives me a reassuring nod. I take a deep breath and explain everything to her. How I couldn't forgive myself for what I did, and I dealt with it all in the completely wrong way. She sat there shocked when I finished. Her silence was so tense. I was sure she was about to kick us out and tell us that she never wanted to see us again.
"Did you want to kill me?" She asks and I'm quick to deny it. "Of course not! I could never want to hurt you." I admit and she smiles. "You were controlled Natasha. We all did things that we didn't want to. But we had to to survive. I would never have held that against you." She tells me with such sincerity, it causes me to start crying. Knowing that she doesn't blame me brings such relief, but it also brings anguish at the thought of how I treated her.
"I'm still here sat in front of you. I'm alive and well with the most beautiful little daughter. You didn't ruin anything that day in the red room." She shares with a wide smile. "Yeah, about that child." Yelena jumps in. "Where did you get her?" She asks and I laugh at her blunt question. "When I went to hand in my resignation, Fury asked me to carry out one more mission for him. In return he would allow me to go free from it all. I instantly agreed. The mission was easy, but I came across a small baby, she was a little over a year old. I have no idea how she got there or what their plans were for her, but I couldn't leave her. When I arrived back at Shield with a baby in my arms, Fury stepped up for me. He helped me adopt her and get this house with a job and a new identity. Somewhere safe where Shield are still able to protect us if we need it." She explains.
If it's possible, it makes me lov-like her even more. She's so selfless. "Protect you. Are you in danger?" Yelena asks in a panicked tone. "Not directly. But with the red room still running, there will always be a chance they come for the both of us." She replies. "You know I never stopped seeing you as a sister." Yelena blurts out of nowhere. Y/n has a small smile on her face at those word. "I never did either. But I knew that the compound wasn't the place for me anymore. It was where your family was, not mine." Hearing those words is hard to take. We should have been the family she deserved but we weren't and it's all down to me.
"Do you have that family now?" I ask but I notice her head drop a little. "Mia and I make do. The people here are nice and look out for us." She responds. "Come home with us." It's my turn to now blurt things out and the request takes both Yelena and Y/n by surprise. "Hey! I was supposed to be the one to ask her that. Cyka." Yelena complains with a pout.
"But she's right. Come back with us. We can be the family you deserve. And you'd be safe too. Mia would never have to worry about the red room." Yelena directs towards Y/n. "I could make sure my niece is safe." Yelena smiles. "Your niece?" Y/n questions with a smirk. "You're my sister whether you want to be or not, so therefore she is my niece." She argues whilst Y/n lets out a hum.
"Mama! Can I have a dwink pwease?" Mia rushes down the stairs out of breath into Y/n's arms. "What did I say about running down the stairs?" Y/n scolds. "Sorry Mama." Mia apologises with the cutest little look. Oh she is going to have everyone putty in her hands. "I'll get her a drink. Milk?" Yelena jumps up, already trying to prove herself. "Please." Y/n nods holding Mia against her.
Mia's big eyes land on me and I smile at her. "Who is she?" Mia whispers to her mama. "That's Natasha. And that loud one over there is Yelena." Y/n responds, earning a gasp from Yelena. "I am not loud!" She shouts which causes Mia to let out a loud laugh in response. Yelena comes back over and hands over the glass of warm milk to Mia who happily sits and drinks.
"So... will you come back with us?" Yelena asks and Y/n sighs. "I don't want to have Mia in that environment where everyone hates her mama." Y/n responds. "They don't hate you. They understand what they did was wrong. Steve has been feeling guilt ever since you left. He was ready to jump on the quinjet with us and be here with us to apologise to you straight away." I tell her, wanting her to know that it will not be the same as it once was. "Besides, I won't let anyone say anything against you. I won't make that same mistake again." I say quietly, almost coming over as shy. "Me too. We'll protect you." Yelena confirms.
Y/n thinks for a while. "Ok, but I promise if anything like that happens again, I'm gone for good. I don't care about me, but I will protect Mia with everything I have." Y/n agrees which makes both Yelena and I jump up in excitement. "Why are they so happy?" Mia asks, placing her glass on the table. Yelena rushes over and picks her up and spins her around. "You're coming to live with your Auntie Yelena!" She shares excitedly. Considering this kid has just met us, she is so excited at the thought. Y/n just shakes her head at their antics, but she looks to me and our eyes meet. I smile at her which she easily returns.
We stay with Y/n for the week whilst she sorts all her affairs out here. We have called the team and told them that Y/n is coming home with us. We may have missed out a small detail of the child, but we wanted to surprise them all. I could tell that Y/n was nervous on the flight home. Mia was asleep, curled up on Yelena's lap, whilst Y/n was staring at the wall, her leg bouncing.
I take a seat next to her and place and hand on knee. "It's going to be ok." I try to comfort her. "I won't let anything happen to you. To either of you." I reassure her. "You've got Yelena and I completely. You're safe." She rests her head on my shoulder and looks towards the two sleeping children. "I think I'm more worried about the influence Yelena is going to have on Mia." She jokes, breaking the tension. "Oh, that I can't help you with. Yelena is a force even I can't control." I joke in return, earning a laugh from Y/n. Something that has become my favourite sound.
When the jet comes into land, Y/n gentle wakes Mia up, whilst I give Yelena a slap on the shoulder to rouse her. Y/n holds Mia on her hip, who is clinging to her mama as the ramp of the jet starts to lower. We're surprised to see such a welcoming party. Everyone is there, including Fury and Maria. I can see that it's overwhelming Y/n a little, but she takes a deep breath and starts to walk forwards.
"Agent Y/l/n. Good to see you again. You too little one." Fury greets booping Mia's nose. He quickly clears his throat when he notices we're all looking at him in shock and mutters something about important work to do before leaving. That leaves us with the team and the nerves have hit Y/n again. "Who's this?" Tony asks pointing to the child in Y/n's arms. "This is Mia. My daughter." The team gasp at Y/n's response. "Hi." Mia whispers giving a cute little wave. "No one hurts Y/n or my niece. If you do I will make your life hell." Yelena protectively growls. There's an agreement from the team as they slowly make their way forward to greet Y/n. Each giving their own apology.
"I'm going to build you a specific section here at the compound. I'll make sure you each have your own room and a living space. A place you can call home." Tony excitedly rambles on as he guides Y/n inside. "In the meantime, I'll arrange for your room to be kitted out for the two of you." He carries on. I can see the appreciation in Y/n's eyes as Tony rushes off, ordering Friday to order a new bed.
"Uh, Y/n. Could we talk?" Steve approaches Y/n, which causes Yelena and I to naturally step between them. "Please I just want to apologise." He pleads. "I'll take my little munchkin. Don't fuck up." Yelena warns, taking Mia from Y/n's arms. "fuck..." Y/n's head snaps to Mia as the colour drains from Yelena's face. "You are going to fix that." Y/n growls at Yelena who instantly apologises and rushes off, telling Mia that she can't say that word again.
I step away, but make sure I'm in ear shot should Steve not be being truthful with his intentions. "I just want to apologise for what I said that day and how I treated you whilst you were with us. I'm not going to make up any excuses because there aren't any. I was out of order, and I hope over time you can forgive me. You were an asst to this team, I was just too blind to see it." He's genuine in his delivery and I can see the cogs turning in Y/n's head. "Over time I think I can forgive you. Just don't be an ass again. I've got more to lose this time and I will do anything to protect that." She warns and I'm so happy that she is standing up for herself. "Of course. You and your daughter are safe here." He reassures her.
Content with the apology, Y/n moves further into the compound to find the two troublemakers. I follow to see Yelena and Mia asleep on Y/n's bed. "Remind me why I agreed for these two to live together?" She sighs. "Because we both unfortunately have her as our sister." I tease causing Y/n to laugh. "I know that Mia is safe here as long as Yelena's around." She whispers and I wrap my arm around her. "You're both safe here. I'll make sure of it." I tell her firmly. She looks up at me and our eyes lock on each other. I know that I will protect this woman with my life.
Two years later
I couldn't be happier in this moment as I hold Y/n close to me as the music plays. "I can't believe you're finally my wife." I whisper to her as her head rests against my shoulder, our bodies swaying to the beat. "Took you long enough to ask." She jokes and I pinch her side. "Hey! I had a real fear you'd say no." I defend weakly. "Unfortunately, you managed to worm your way into my heart that there was never going to be a chance I could keep going in this life without you. I was just waiting for you to take the leap." She responds, lifting her head to lock her gaze with mine.
"Oh, shut up. I had this from our daughter too. Bugging me every day to marry you. In fact, I think I was ambushed!" I tease and she laughs. "Well, you're stuck with me now. I'm not letting go." She replies. I lean down so my lips are hovering over hers. "Good, me neither." I whisper as I connect our lips in a soft kiss. "When are we going to tell our little spider that she's going to be a big sister?" I ask, placing my hand on my wife's stomach. "After the honeymoon. I want to have this time together first." She answers to which I easily agree. I will do anything for my wife and my kids.
#Natasha Romanoff#Natasha#Romanoff#Natasha Romanoff x Reader#Natasha Romanoff x Y/n#Natasha Romanoff Fanfiction#Yelena Belova#Marvel#Marvel Fanfiction#Avengers#Avengers Fanfiction
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WHAT IF GENYA COULD WRITE?
It's canon that Sanemi can apparently read but not write, but they never mentioned anything about his younger brother now, did they?
I'd like to think that Genya, in fact, CAN actually read and write, and here's my ridiculous reasoning:
Genya has to repeatedly go to the Butterfly Mansion for checkups due to his demon snacking. I imagine Shinobu Kocho would be very curious about the terrifying Wind Pillar’s brother he refuses to acknowledge, and so would engage him in conversation every now and then.
Sure, Genya is shy around women, but eventually he would have to talk to her anyway, right?
Shinobu will find out about his illiteracy at some point, and offer to teach him the basics. Grudgingly Genya accepts, because perhaps if his brother refuses to talk to him he could write an apology letter.
Gyomei would even ask him to read things out to him, due to his blindness and Genya’s newfound literacy, maybe in between breaks of their intense training because there’s nothing like reading out prayers after a long hard day of standing under waterfalls.
Muichiro would probably also be in the Butterfly Mansion for checkups on his amnesia, meaning he and Genya surely would’ve bumped into each other a couple times (Genya mistaking him for a girl the first time they met and proceeds to short circuit). Befriending him, Genya would start writing short notes for Muichiro to stick on things to help him remember stuff he was supposed to do, after five minutes of wondering who wrote it.
But we all know how hot tempered he is, so he probably blew up multiple, and I mean MULTIPLE, times struggling to get through spelling and wording and grammar and strokes and kanji and-
Which leads to my theory that one of the reasons he’s so flustered around the Butterfly Girls is because they’ve all seen how he’s exploded and sobbed over the most basic of reading and he’s internally praying they won’t expose him to the Kamaboko Squad, because let’s be honest, Zenitsu would laugh until he died from asphyxiation and Inosuke would declare him a loser (before freezing and realizing he too, cannot read or write).
Going back to his apology letters, I imagine once he mastered writing, he'd write about a thousand letters detailing his apologies, regrets and begging for forgiveness to Sanemi, with Shinobu kindly passing on the letters and making sure (forcing) the Wind Pillar opens and reads them all. He refuses to give an answer, even though Shinobu suggested she pass on the message for him verbally seeing as he can't write (he nearly strangled her for even saying that), but one day when he came back from a mission and was recovering in the Butterfly Mansion Shinobu discovered a bundle of Genya's letter neatly tied and arranged in his pocket.
I think Genya would also write letters to his dead siblings, talking about how he wished they were here, places he's been to that he wished he could've taken them, his slayer training, the people he met, new things he's tried out, his darkest thoughts, how he wished Aniki would at least acknowledge him, would they still love him the same if they knew he ate demons and became one, that he called their brother a murderer, that he was utterly useless in the Corps because he couldn't master a breathing technique?
After his death, Sanemi discovers the stack of letters when he was going through Genya's things. Shockingly, it seems that the Wind Pillar still has tears left to cry.
If you guys enjoyed this please check out Letters to Sanemi! Leave a comment, it means the world and beyond for me
#genya shinazugawa#kny genya#shinobu kocho#demon slayer#thoughts#kny#kimetsu no yaiba#kamaboko squad#sanzuyaps
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ride to the beat | lee jihoon
pairing: lee jihoon x fem!reader
word count: ~1.8k
warning(s): smut under the cut!! (mdni), pwop (porn with minimal plot really), dick riding, unprotected sex, semi cream pie, squirting, cum eating, semi public sex, getting walked in on, marking kink, slight dacryphilia, illusions to getting head (m receiving), let me know if i forgot anything! - don’t mind grammatical errors/typos (i tried)
the studio was warm, the little space heater doing its job fighting off the chill of the outside world. jihoon was diligently working on a soft beat, it wasn’t anything important; he just wanted to mess around with some new mixing techniques but he was still getting stressed over it. his eyebrows were knit together and his jaw was clenched as his leg bounced with irritation.
“ji, take a break.” you mumble as you come up behind him to wrap your arms around his shoulders. you rest your chin on his shoulder as you watch his fingers move across the knobs and sliders.
“why take a break when i can work on this beat?” he mumbles, relaxing into your touch.
“it’s stressing you out,” your fingers trail down his chest gingerly. “and i can think of something that can help you relax.”
“yeah?” he breathes out quietly as he leans back into you, his hands leaving the table to reach back and touch you in anyway he can. you hum quietly in response as you pull away from him, pulling his chair with you so there’s enough room for you to crawl into his lap.
his fingers are quick to grab your hips, effectively pushing you down onto his growing cock. he groans lowly when you rock your hips experimentally before leaning in to capture his lips in a kiss.
he’s hungry when he kisses you back, his lips bruising as he pulls you incredibly closer to his body. he groans into your mouth as he bucks his hips up into yours, chasing the warmth that’s seeping through your shorts.
“fuck,” he whispers when you pull away for air. “more.” his lips chase yours as he kisses you again, his fingers poke under the end of your hoodie (really his hoodie). pulling away just enough he whispers “can i?”
“of course.” you smile as you lean back in to kiss his lips, your fingers finding their way to the nape of his neck. tugging his hair gently. groaning quietly, jihoon nips at your bottom lip as he pulls away to kiss down your jaw and neck.
his fingers find their way back to your hips where he grips at them as he rolls his hips along with yours, groaning at the friction. desperate and extremely hard at this point, jihoons fingers leave your hips to reach between your bodies to tug at his sweats.
“ji,” you whine quietly when he lifted you up enough for him to free his cock. you were eager to sit on it as you wiggle around while he tries to remove your shorts. “just move them to the side.” you huff.
“they’re so fucking tight.” he grumbles as he got a good grip on the tight spandex and just ripped a hole in them, a quiet promise to buy you new ones left his mouth before he’s biting and sucking at your jaw. his fingers move quickly to pull your panties to the side before he’s lining up his cock. “you’re dripping.” he grunts, slick sliding down to his balls as he rubs the tip of his cock through your folds.
“i could be creaming all over your cock too if you’d jus-“ you let out a strangled moan as jihoon thrusts his hips up, fully bottoming out and shutting you up as you melt into his body.
“aren’t you supposed to be helping me relax? stop running your bratty little mouth and ride me like you mean it.” he mumbles into your neck before biting and sucking a new mark. with determination you start to rock your hips, rolling them so his cock hits deep, and with a deep groan from jihoon you start to bounce slowly.
with jihoons face buried in your neck and you hand tangled in the hair at the crook of his neck you start to bounce faster. your both moaning and whining quietly as you try to get his cock to hit all the right places, but it was a little hard with the minimal space you had one the chair.
“that’s it baby, ride to the beat like the good little whore you are.” he mumbles when he realizes you’re keeping to the beat of the song he was working on, whether it was intentional or not he found it incredibly sexy and held onto you tighter.
ji.” you whine quietly, your voice laced with desperation.
“what is it, baby?” he mumbles as he nips at your collarbone that was peeking out the collar of the hoodie.
“need more.” you mumble as you try to ride him harder, but it wasn’t satisfying you, and quite frankly it wasn’t satisfying him either. in the blink of an eye jihoon hoisted you up and laid you against the table top. the knobs and sliders dig into your back a little bit, but your mind was muddled with to much pleasure for you to care as jihoon began to fuck into you faster and harder than before.
your breath is taken away from the sheer force of his thrusts as you let out strangled moans, your hands clinging on to his jacket as he doesn’t let up his pace. his fingers dig into the junction of your hips, giving him leverage in pulling your hips against his as he uses you like a toy.
“that’s it baby, cry for me.” he mumbles as he leans down to kiss at the tears that began to well in your eyes before kissing down your cheek, stopping to suck at your jaw - leaving behind marks that are going to be a pain in the ass to hide later.
“more,” you breathe out in between moans. “please.” you gasp when he snaps his hips harder, hitting deeper causing your toes to curl. you body jerks aggressively against the table, the beat he was working on changing with each thrust.
“fuck, you feel so good.” he groans against your neck, nipping it harshly before standing up straight so he can watch the way your eyes roll and your back arch. he could tell you were close, the way you clenched around him and tightened your legs told him everything he needed to know. “wanna cum baby?” he mumbles lazily as he brings his fingers to your swollen clit.
“yes.” you whine, nodding your head as your hands grip at the arm that’s between your legs. jihoon smirks when your legs tense up, he lifts your hips a little to get a better angle as he thrusts harder. it didn’t take long in that position for you to finally. one undone. your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your legs tense as you clench around jihoons cock - milking him for what he was worth as you squirt.
midst of you squirting you became to tight and essentially pushed jihoons cock out of your spent pussy, causing the rest of his cum to spurt out against your tights and hoodie. he mumbles sweet nothings to you as he rubbed gently at your legs, helping soothe you after you drenched the front of his jacket and sweats.
before either of you could process what’s happening the door comes swinging open as mingyu very loudly announces his presence.
“ji have you seen my-“ he stops mid sentence and stride as he stares wide eyed at jihoon standing between your legs. “i am so sorry!” he yelps but doesn’t take his eyes off of either of you.
“mingyu,” jihoon glares at him as he uses his body to shield you from the younger male. “didn't you see the ‘knock before entering’ sign on my door?”
“no..” he mumbles before realizing he was staring. he’s quick to turn his back to you as he finally asks his question. “i was going to ask if you’ve seen my switch charger.. i thought i might’ve left it in here the other day..”
“no i haven’t seen it.” jihoon sighs quietly as he kinda of draped over your body to gently kiss at your nose when he notices you’re coming out of your daze. “now if you could leave that would be great..”
“right of course,” he mumbles embarrassed. “i’m sorry again.” he goes to walk out the door but jihoon stops him.
“actually, could you bring me two change of clothes please.” he noses against your cheek. “something comfortable like sweats or shorts and a couple hoodies.”
“yeah, i’ll leave them outside the door.” mingyu closes the studio door and runs down the hall.
“are you ok baby?” jihoon mumbles as he helps you sit up after pulling his soiled sweats back up. he sits down in his chair again to pull you into his lap so you’re more comfortable. “i’m sorry mingyu walked in like that.” he kisses all over your face causing you to giggle.
“it’s ok, really.” you smile as you play with his slightly damp hair, the sweat making it stick to his forehead. “his switch charger is in here though, it’s plugged in by the couch.”
“so that’s what that is.” he sighs and shakes his head. he leans back in the chair and closes his eyes, smiling when you kiss at the underside of his jaw. a comfortable silence fell over you too as you continue to gently kiss at his jaw and neck, his hands kneading gently into your ass cheeks.
“the song sounds nice.” you finally mumble again at his neck. jihoons perks up a little as he listens to the beat, it sounded a whole lot better then it did before you two had sex.
“it sounds a whole lot better,” his hands squeeze your ass a little. “thank you baby.” you can’t help but giggle quietly.
“what did i do?” you hun quietly.
“well first of all, you helped me relax.. second of all, you made the song sound better.” he smiles lazily at you.
“yeah only cause you fucked me against the table.” you trail your hands up into his hair to tug on it, leaning up to kiss him on the lips as you smile. in the middle of you two making out again you hear a knock at the door followed by footsteps quickly rushing down the hall again.
“let’s get cleaned up.” jihoon mumbles against your lips, causing you to pout.
“but you’re hard again.” you wiggle in his lap, hissing quietly at the overstimulation.
“you’re insatiable and sensitive.” he stills you by gripping your hips.
“my throat isn’t sensitive though.” you give him a mischievous smile.
“god you’re going to be the death of me.” he mumbles as he lets you go. squealing quietly you slid off his lap and got on your knees in front of him, his legs spreading wide allowing you to situate between them. you may be insatiable but so is jihoon, it’s why he never says no when you want to sit or choke on his cock.
feedback + reblogs are greatly appreciated!
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Hello 👋 can we get a platonic! bungo stray dogs x scarlet witch! baby fushiguro! reader where baby!Fushiguro is feeling mischievous one day pulls pranks on everyone -except Dazai because obviously he’s the favorite- maybe they finally find out it’s baby!Fushiguro because the last person she pranks is kunikida. For Kunikida she puts a spell on his desk that the moment he opens one drawer a crazy whole bunch of different butterflies come flying out and baby!Fushiguro is just dying with laughter. Ranpo most likely knew you were responsible for the pranks already but wanted to keep silent and watch. Then at the end baby!Fushiguro is sleeping in Dazai’s arms and she activates her ability to turn off gravity and obviously they can’t wake her up knowing that if they try to she’ll get grumpy.
scarlet witch! baby fushiguro! reader pranks the armed detective agency using chaos magic
jujutsu kaisen x reader x bungo stray dogs
masterlist of the series
╰➤ CW(s): possible spoilers for bungou stray dogs, mentions of scarlet witch's powers and abilities, extremely fluffy
╰➤ PAIRING(s): platonic! bungou stray dog x child! reader (armed detective agency, but mostly dazai bc the favorite)
before you read: hi, in case you're new, you're megumi's younger half-sibling, and while you don't have cursed energy, you do have scarlet witch's powers and abilities! aside from that, as a special scarlet witch variant, you also have the ability to travel across the multiverse. how chaotic! furthermore, like your half-brother megumi, you are being cared for by gojo satoru, who also serves as your adoptive father. for more info, please see the masterlist.
as the harbinger of chaos that you were, and with reality-warping abilities far greater than any that exists in the world of gifted mafias and detectives, as well as your home world, the world of curses and cursed techniques—it was only natural for you to put your gift to use.
"[name]-chan!~" ranpo called your name.
ranpo, being the sharp detective that he was, noticed how you seemed to be in a particularly good mood today. in fact, you've been extra bubbly since you arrived in their universe.
"you seem to be in a good mood today," ranpo observed as he extended his hand to ruffle your [color]-hair locks as you sat on the seat next to him, swinging your legs back and forth.
"it's nothing!~" you exclaimed with a closed-eye smile, enjoying your uncle ranpo's head pat.
you and ranpo perked up, directing your gaze towards yosano, who was sitting on her desk and suddenly spit out her drink, completely taken aback—something that none of you were used to seeing given how cool and calm your auntie yosano was.
"yosano-sensei?" dazai questioned, blinking at the short-haired woman, "what's wrong?"
"someone swapped the wine in my locker into grape juice instead," yosano exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at the contents of the wine glass she had just filled, "damn.."
"oi, dazai, stop messing with yosano-sensei," kunikida said to the bandaged-man who was lounging at his desk, making a paper plane for you out of one of the report papers that was lying on his desk.
"ehh? that wasn't me, kunikida-kun," dazai exclaimed, a childish pout immediately appearing on his face in response to the accusation.
"really now?" kunikida questioned, raising his brow and placing a hand on his hip.
"yes, really! you're such a jerk, kunikida-kun!" dazai huffed, folding his arms across his chest, "i would never ever pull off such a thing to yosano-sensei because knowing myself, i would have done it to you instead!"
"WHY YOU—" kunikida was cut off.
fukuzawa had entered the office, covered in colorful confettis from head to toe, just as kunikida was about to grab dazai by the collar and strangle him alive with his bare hands.
ranpo's eyes widened as he tried to suppress a laugh and a smile, "p-president.."
"w-what happened to you?" naomi inquired, cupping her mouth to cover her own laugh.
"i supposedly had a box of rice buns in my office, but when i opened it... it was confetti instead," fukuzawa exclaimed, puzzled.
"that's so strange, president! the same thing happened to me earlier too, but instead of confetti, my packed gyudon turned into party streamers when i opened it," kenji raised his hand, completely unfazed and still smiling, "city life sure is exciting! you never know what happens next."
"are you sure it's not you, dazai-san?" atsushi asked as dazai handed you the paper plane he folded before he gasped and clutched his chest dramatically.
"atsushi-kun, how dare you! it wasn't me!" dazai exclaimed, motioning over you, who were still laughing and cheerfully swinging your legs as you waved the paper plane in the air with ranpo still behind your seat, "i'm playing with [name]-chan over here!"
"well, whoever is pranking us sure is good," sighed tanizaki, entering the office not long after fukuzawa with kyouka trailing behind him, "instead of confetti and streamers, powdered sugar exploded in my face!"
"i got ribbons in my hair..." kyouka muttered quietly, covering her face with her hands as her face flushed with embarrassment. Instead of flowers, kyouka's hair was adorned with ribbons.
"tanizaki-kun! kyouka-chan! oh, no! not you guys too!" atsushi's eyes widened at the sight of tanizaki being covered in powdered sugar and kyouka with ribbons in her hair.
after that, atsushi went over his own desk to find a tissue for tanizaki to wipe his face, but as soon as he found the box of tissues, something went wrong. as atsushi pulled a tissue, he noticed that it was connected to the others in the box by a chain or link, similar to a bunch of tied up handkerchiefs for a magic show.
"EHH?! THE TISSUES ARE TIED!" atsushi cried out, continuing to pull the tissues from the box.
"well, if it isn't dazai, who could it be?" kunikida sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he walked towards his desk.
"it's definitely not me. i'm hanging out with [name]-chan as well," ranpo shrugged, chuckling softly, "but this sure is entertaining to watch. that's nearly the entire armed detective agency members pranked."
you could hardly stop laughing at this point. ranpo's gaze was fixed on you as you played with the paper plane that dazai had given you, and he couldn't help but smile. even though ranpo knew what was going on with the agency today, he was letting it slide just this once.
kunikida approached his desk and opened his drawer, expecting to find papers and writing utensils presumably just to proceed with work despite the pranks that was being pulled off left and right, but instead found a swarm of butterflies—all sorts of colorful butterflies to be exact, the sight of which reminded him and everyone else of yosano's breathtaking thou shalt not die ability as he yelped and stumbled backwards in surprise.
with that, you burst out laughing, unable to hold back your laughter, and everyone in the office realized who was behind the pranks today—it was none other than the reality warping little witch they knew and loved.
"[name]-chan!" "[name]!" they all cried in unison.
"you prankster!" exclaimed dazai, extending a hand to pinch your cheek, which you simply giggled at.
"so, it was [name] all along," kunikida's lips graced into a smile as he sighed.
"of course it'd be [name]-chan, she's capable of warping reality in the blink of an eye. if it were dazai, it'd take him a long time to prank us one by one, unlike her, who can just cast spells or whatever without us even knowing," ranpo grinned as he looked at you.
"how did you do it, [name]? you had it planned, didn't you?" fukuzawa chuckled quietly, tilting his head and smiling softly.
you nodded in agreement, "and i did with my wiggly-woos magic at a molecular level!"
"chaos magic is truly a rivaled special ability," atsushi remarked, folding his arms across his chest, "[name]-chan got us good with it."
with everyone watching in awe, you lifted your index finger and using a red glow of psionics to transform the paper plane dazai folded you into a pretty blue monarch butterfly, "i'm glad i did because i've been practicing a lot, but the thing is uncle ranpo, i don't do spells. i've been told that reality can be whatever i want."
however, after using your wiggly-woos magic for that, you let out a yawn, prompting you to rub your eyes, which they undoubtedly thought was extremely adorable of you. in their eyes, you were a sleepy little kitten who had grown tired of playing all day.
"so cute!" both naomi and kirako squealed as they stared at you with a awestruck look.
"are you alright, [name]-chan?" dazai asked softly, noticing your suddenly sleepy state.
"mhm.. just sleepy.." you muttered quietly, yawning once more before giggling, "sorry.."
"well, except for ranpo-san and me, you pretty much pranked everyone with your wiggly-woos magic," dazai smiled at you, extending a hand to ruffle your hair, "that must have tired you out, right, [name]-chan?"
"i guess so.." you nodded drowsily in response.
"aww, come here sleepy little bella~"
with that, you made grabby hands towards dazai, indicating your want to be carried. dazai snatched you from your seat and drew you into his embrace, allowing your tiny figure to lean against him, your head against his shoulder, while you gripped the fabric of his brown coat.
dazai giggled at your sleepy and cuddly state, taking his hand to boop your nose, which you laughed at, but as soon as he started swaying gently, cradling you in his arms while humming a tune that seemed oddly familiar to the one that your adoptive father, gojo satoru, would hum to lull you to sleep, your eyes became heavier as you yawned more.
it wasn't long before you were dozed off in dazai's arms, all snuggled up in his embrace.
"[name]-chan fell asleep!" atsushi exclaimed quietly, a smile spreading across his face as he placed his hand on his lips, "how cute!"
"not only did she not prank dazai, but she chose to sleep with him instead of her uncle fukuzawa," tanizaki stated, shaking his head, "[name]-chan truly has favorites and it shows."
"and she didn't prank ranpo-san either," yosano sighed, chuckling softly, "talk about favorites."
"of course! it's only natural for [name]-chan to have me as her favorite. i'm her best uncle detective," ranpo smugly folded his arms across his chest before it faded into a pout, "but still, that makes me better than the boss, though i'm pretty sure the second favorite is that port mafia executive [name]-chan likes a lot."
"NOT THAT SLUG!" cried dazai all of a sudden in a comical and dramatic manner.
speaking of the "slug" with the ability to manipulate gravity, you whined softly in your sleep as dazai's raised voice prompted you to turn in your sleep.
"ah, sorry, [name]-chan! so sorry," dazai hushed you, apologizing and cradling you in his arms as he walked over to his desk and sat.
however, as dazai did, everything in the office began to glow red, alarming everyone. before anyone, including dazai, could react, all of the furniture, objects, and even themselves began to float upwards as if they had zero gravity as they became surrounded with the same red glow that was similar to nakahara chuuya when he makes use of his gravity manipulation.
"we're... floating," atsushi said, his arms spread wide as he tried, or more like struggled to balance himself in mid-air.
"even dazai-san is floating?" kyouka asked quietly, her gaze fixed on dazai, who was curled up slightly as he continued to cradle and hold your sleeping figure in his embrace despite floating in mid-air along with her and the others.
"for some reason, [name]-chan's chaos magic doesn't get nullified by dazai's," ranpo exclaimed, munching on a snack as he lay on his back in mid-air with an arm behind his head and a leg over his other, "it is most likely because [name]-chan's ability is counted as multiple abilities or simply because it is "magic," which conflicts with dazai's ability."
"that actually makes sense. [name]-chan is capable of more than just turning things into confetti, streamers, and butterflies. she can also travel across the multiverse, heal people, and most importantly," dazai exclaimed before stating his last sentence in a slightly disgusted tone, "control our gravity like that shrimp."
"oi, dazai, wake [name]-chan up! we still have work to do!" kunikida exclaimed, flailing his arms around in the air.
"you know i can't do that, kunikida-kun!" dazai replied back, his gaze narrowing slightly, "[name]-chan is going to get grumpy and throw a tantrum. don't you remember the last time?"
"dazai has a point, kunikida. we can't wake [name] up," fukuzawa cleared his throat, sweating as he remembered you crying and upset because they had woken you up. you were there up about it for nearly an hour, and it would have lasted longer if they hadn't brought you to the port mafia for chuuya or koyou to calm you down.
"well, floating around like this isn't so bad," yosano exclaimed, twirling around in mid-air before softly laughing, "it's pretty fun."
"yosano-sensei is right; this is relaxing as well!" kenji agreed, floating on his back with his limbs extended out, resembling a starfish.
"say, dazai, how long does [name] usually sleep?" kunikida sighed in defeat.
"hmm, [name]-chan usually sleeps for about an hour, but given how tired she is right now... i'd say more than an hour, kunikida-kun," dazai exclaimed, sweat dripping from his brow as he chuckled, motioning over to you drooling in your sleep, wetting his coat, but he continued to hold you and cradle you in his arms, patting your back.
"oh." was what all kunikida muttered back.
[ author's notes ! i was supposed post an angsty fic today, but didn't feel like it—so have some fluff instead :) i found myself enjoy writing this. it was just so cute <3 my heart is sooo full. anyway, i hope you liked it anon, and everyone who read this and made it this far. tysm for requesting hehe ! ]
#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd oneshot#dazai x reader#dazai osamu x reader#edogawa ranpo x reader#ranpo x reader#kunikida doppo x reader#kunikida x reader#yosano akiko x reader#yosano x reader#nakajima atsushi x reader#atsushi x reader#tanizaki x reader#nakahara chuuya x reader#chuuya x reader#bsd imagines#bsd scenario#bsd x reader#bsd x y/n#bsd x you#bsd headcanons#bsd scenarios#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#platonic reader#platonic relationships#platonic
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I Never Die, I Only Breed: Level 4 - (G)I-dle Minnie
You're in a room—there is a bed, there is a mirror, there is a door. More importantly, there is a battle pass in your inventory, and as you exit and make your way down the hall to Soyeon, you can't help but wonder what's next—Shuhua was straightforward, Yuqi had an oral kink, and Soyeon loved anal, what would the next level be about?
"Hey Soyeon, what's on the next level?" you ask as you bend her over the desk with little resistance. Despite her queenly behavior before, she wanted to feel you again, and willingly she bent to your will in action, if not word.
"Mmm— Fuck! Don't ask me questions while you're pushing into me!" Soyeon moans before settling down a little, adjusting to having you in her again. "I dunno, Minnie just does her thing. Most don't even play the game enough to get there, she's expensive to get to."
"Yeah she is, I only got this from an achievement, I wouldn't be able to afford it otherwise." You wave the battle pass in front of her.
"Oh whoa, you did? Hmph lucky! You should go check it out later."
"I will, but first I need to take care of you." You lean yourself over Soyeon, pinning her against the desk. Soyeon whines and scratches uselessly on her desk as you use your Johnson & Johnson perk to satisfy her needs, filling both her holes simultaneously.
"Fuck, oh f-fuck yes, that's it, fuck me!" Soyeon croons, and your hand wraps around her throat.
"Are you making demands of your peasant—" Soyeon freezes, suddenly scared she had triggered you.
"No, I'm sorry—" But you shut her up with a fierce kiss and a soft, if menacing, clarification.
"Are you making demands of your peasant, my queen?"
"Yes! Your queen demands you breed her, please!" Soyeon walks on a knife-edge, trying to remain regal while still pleading for your seed. You had more important things to do though, so a strangled whinny is all that escapes Soyeon as you hold her down and fuck her like common livestock. You give her what she wants though, and with a harsh gasp into her neck you let yourself go, fertilizing the royal womb.
"I'll be back again I'm sure." You're already pulling out.
"Yes, please, thank you..." Soyeon responds politely and dreamily, still riding her own peak—orgasms are the great leveler in your perceived class difference. You give her one last possessive kiss before heading for the level 4 door. You flash the battle pass in front of the lock, causing it to disengage with a loud click. You take a deep breath and walk through. The sight in front of you takes the deep breath away.
"Welcome, new player."
Minnie sits atop what looks like both a bed and a throne—a bed with a headboard garish enough for a throne, or a throne with a "cushion" as large and as deep as a bed, you're not sure which. She's dressed in a golden bathrobe, and yes, golden, in that it seems to shimmer in the light as she approaches you.
"Shall we start the tutorial?" Before you could question what she meant Minnie has pulled you to the bed-throne, and while she manages to get on top of you initially, you easily overpower her, slipping your hands beneath her silk golden robe.
"Oh! You're a natural!" Minnie gasps as you feel her up, admiring her fit figure. "Yes, go ahead and make me cum!" Huh, you thought it would be some chore or task to do, but Minnie climaxes easily to the most simple of techniques, and in the face of your many finger and tongue perks, her body is rolling in pleasure on the bed.
"Wait, wait, oooh!" Another peak takes her before she pushes you away. "We should, whew, we should get on with the tutorial. Now, this is where you cum in me!" This is easier than you thought, and eagerly you take a position on top of Minnie. You start thrusting right away, wanting to see how quickly you could complete this level, and it earns happy moans from her.
"Oh that's deep, keep going, just like that!" Minnie is clingy, wrapping her legs around you. Your orgasm comes quickly, and soon you've filled her up. "Very nice, now on to the real game."
Wait, that wasn't the game?
"Now then, let's see if you were lucky enough to breed me..." Her garish headboard now displays a screen. On it a claw machine is shown, but rather than toys and figures below the claw, it is a swirling pool of white. You watch with obscene fascination as the claw moves about, before descending and pulling out... a sperm? Or rather, a ball of many sperms. Disgustingly it shakes them all off before holding one tadpole-shaped cell by the tail. The sperm cell is dropped into a test tube, and a label is slapped on it. Grand music plays, and the screen becomes blindingly bright before the label is peeled away to reveal four stars.
"Aww, my body picked a 4-star sperm, sorry, not good enough."
"Wait what? What about all the other sperm cells!"
"Oh, would you like to use your free ten-roll?" Minnie taps her tummy, and the screen now shows the claws picking up 10 different sperm cells. One bright white screen later, and ten test tubes are in front of you, and the result...
"Oof, only one 5-star, sorry. You need a 6-star to be successful."
"I'll just roll again then!"
"Sure, that'll be 600 Minnie Dollars." You check your inventory: 6 CUMCA Kred, 5 Woogi Power, 5 Yeoro Bun, 150 Neverpoints, but no Minnie Dollars.
"I don't have any, how do I get it?"
"Oh, well if you come here daily you'll get some each day just for coming, isn't that great? Here's day 1!" Minnie hands you 10 Minnie Dollars, which is just a regular American dollar with Minnie Mouse on it.
"This is nothing, I need 600 for one roll! It'll take me two months at this rate!" Minnie waves her hand dismissively.
"No no, I give more each time, you get 150 Minnie Dollars a week just for logging in. There's also quests!"
"Quests?"
"Mmhmm, tasks that you do that reward you with more Minnie Dollars."
"I have some of the other currencies, can I buy Minnie Dollars with them?"
"Yes! We have a store too!" The screen now moves to a shop screen. "We have 70 Minnie Dollars for 1 CUMCA Kred, 55 for 2 Woogi Power and 1 Yeoro Bun, and for Neverpoints, 10 for every prime number amount, multiplied by their position in the prime number list."
"What? Why does it have to be so confusing?" Minnie ignores your question completely.
"Ahem, there are also Minnie Dollar bundles you can buy, the best value is the Neverland Xceptional Diamond Extravaganza Bundle for 99 dollars, which gives you 12000 Minnie Dollars!"
"Wait, I can spend 99 dollars to get 12000 dollars? How does that work?"
"It is 99 dollars for 12000 Minnie Dollars."
"Yes, what's the difference?"
"It's 99 dollars for 12000 Minnie Dollars."
"What's diff—" Then you choke when you realize she meant 99 real dollars.
"T-That's ridiculous!"
"No no, don't worry, you'll get lucky soon, at 500 rolls you'll hit pity and I'll 100% get bred."
"500? Why is it so high? That's basically 300 dollars!"
"It's only 250 dollars with the best value bundle!"
"But I can't buy 50 dollars worth at best value, only 100 dollars at a time!"
"That's just how the game is monetized. Besides, if you could afford the battle pass to get in, this should be no problem."
"B-But I got it from an achievement!" you sputter powerlessly.
"Oh, hmm, I dunno then, you’ll figure it out! Are you going to roll further?"
"N-No, I'm done for now, what quests can I do?"
"It'll show up on your mirror, goodbye!" Unceremoniously your screen fades to black as Minnie walks away, and that familiar sinking feeling hits you before you land in your bed.
You're in a room—there is a bed, there is a mirror, there is a door. You stare at the mirror, waiting for the quests to show up—how are you going to get enough Minnie Dollars for rolls? You notice a blinking little red dot on the side of the mirror, and you tap on it to reveal your quests. It was split into "Daily" and "Weekly" sections. For dailies you had:
Finish Level 1
Finish Level 2
Finish Level 3
Each rewarded you with 50 Minnie Dollars. For your weeklies you had:
Finish Level 1 with Shuhua on top
Finish Level 2 in Yuqi's ass
Finish Level 3 in Soyeon's mouth
Finish Level 1 10 times
Finish Level 2 5 times
Finish Level 3 2 times
Okay, so some specific "endings" and some that needed grinding, it's doable, and each one gave you 200 Minnie Dollars. You sigh and get to it, starting at level 1.
"Hi oppa!" Shuhua greets you warmly.
"Hey Shuhua." After a short makeout period you lay down, pulling her on top of you. "Want to be on top?"
"Really? That's rare."
"Yeah, I have to do it for a quest."
"Quest?" You explain to her what you needed to do.
"It's going to take forever, argh," you lament, but Shuhua mounts you, stopping further complaint.
"Take your time, we'll do it step by step, load by load. You're going to have to do me 10 times right?"
"Mmhmm. Oh, oh fuck Shuhua!" She grinds on top of you rapidly, and before long you're completing two quests immediately, shooting a load deep into her.
"9 more times to go."
You go into a trance as you grind out the quests—you finished in Shuhua 9 more times over several runs before moving on to Yuqi. She was less enthused about her quest, but allowed you to do her once in the ass before she insisted you finish in her mouth the other four times.
"You got yummier," Yuqi comments as she swirls and swallows your load.
"Really? There's no perk for that."
"Hah, maybe it's an acquired taste. What's your next quest?"
"Soyeon twice, have to finish in her mouth once," you read out loud.
"Oh that's easy, I'll hold her mouth open and you can just fuck her face, come on, let's go!" Yuqi's already beckoning you to level 3.
"We can't do that Yuqi!"
"Oh please, is it because of your "queen" roleplay with her? Trust me that little subby queen will be happy choking on your cock." Yuqi stomps into level 3, and Soyeon turns to both of you in surprise.
"W-What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be—"
"Drop the act unnie, he needs to finish in your mouth." To your surprise Soyeon actually drops to her knees, and you're groaning at her skill as she wraps her tongue around your shaft—she is arguably as skilled as Yuqi! The last thing you see before orgasm is Yuqi waving goodbye to you while returning to her room.
Soyeon's hands are on your ass, urging you to thrust forward, and you do so, spewing your thick seed down her throat—it breeds her all the same, and she humps the air slightly, as if imagining herself riding you to completion. You world fades to black as you finish your two loads, and Soyeon whines, pushing her fingers into herself for at least some satisfaction. You grab her wrist, but it quickly weakens as you gasp with your last breath.
"I'll be back soon."
You're in a room—there is a bed, there is a mirror, there is a door. You notice in the mirror that you have completed quests, and you quickly tap on them to claim the rewards. You are now 1150 Minnie Dollars, 10 Yeoro Bun, 5 Woogi Power, and 1 CUMCA Kred richer, and all you have left is to finish level 3 again. You return to Soyeon's level, and this time you make it up to her, putting her on the bed before burying your face between her legs.
"Yes, yes eat your queen, eat me!" Her thighs press against your face, and you pause your eating to kiss them, leaving small hickeys on her flawless thighs. Soyeon's feet are wild, dragging her heels over your back as you returned to tonguing her. You tease her clit with light kisses and slight grazes of your teeth, drawing breathless moans and half-pleads for you to finish her off. Soyeon gets what she wants when you suck on her clit hard, and her yells, her slick splashing your chin, her thighs closing in around your head, they all tell you what her body is doing.
You get on top of Soyeon while she rides out her climax, and she welcomes you in with open arms and legs. Your finish is quick, but Soyeon's still high on her own climax, and she purrs as you fill her up again, not even complaining that you didn't fuck her ass this time. With the last quest complete you return to level 4.
"I'm here to do more rolls!"
"Oh goody, come on then!" Minnie welcomes you in, shedding her gold silk robe immediately. You join her on the throne, and this time she is riding you. For all the "struggle" to grind and earn enough Minnie Dollars, sex with Minnie seemed somehow perfect—she nibbles your earlobe, whispers dirty ideas into your ear, of all the things she wanted you to do to her and the others. Her breasts jiggle tantalizingly as she rode you, and noticing your gaze, she cups them, pushing them up to lick her nipples, teasing herself and you.
"Fuck Minnie..." She seems to know exactly what buttons to push, so when she takes your hands and places them over her pert ass you give in easily, pulling her flush against you and squeezing her cheeks while you dump a load into her. She smiles brightly at the feeling, a light orgasm taking her, milking you thoroughly.
"Mmm that was good, now then, let's see, how many rolls do you want?" The two of you turn to the screen on the headboard.
"I have enough for two."
"Okay, two it is then." Two times the claw dips into the cum puddle on the screen, and two sperm cells are extracted and labeled... "Aww sorry, only a 3-star and a 4-star sperm. Maybe next time."
"What are the rates for getting a 6-star?" you ask Minnie, dreading the grind once more.
"About 0.2%? I forget, it's in our Terms and Conditions somewhere."
"That's so low! It'll take forever!"
"That's why there's the pity mechanic! Besides, why complain, you get to fuck me every time you come back for a roll."
"I guess, the sex is good for sure."
"Excellent, I want to give you a sense of ecstasy and pleasure whenever you roll, regardless of the outcome."
"R-Right. I guess I'll come back once I have more rolls."
"Of course, don't forget your quests, and don't forget to check in when we have our banners! Those provide a rate boost for rolling a 6-star." Minnie kisses you before you are falling back to your bed.
You're in a room—there is a bed, there is a mirror, there is a door. You sigh as you look at your balance of 150 Minnie Dollars—time to get back to grinding. There were no upgrades to boost your rates, so over the next few weeks you make sure to login daily and weekly, doing quests and having a good time with Shuhua, Yuqi, and Soyeon. You do notice the rate up banners, appropriately given names such as "Super-fertility" and "High-potency"—oddly enough that was whenever you had eels in a meal—and you make it a point to visit Minnie then. But your luck is terrible, and you still fail to roll a 6-star after many loads into her.
"Hey, what's my pity counter at, surely I must be near 500 now, no?" you ask Minnie after another set of failed rolls.
"We're not supposed to tell you this, but I like you, I’ll just say that you're so close to hitting pity." Minnie looks around, as if someone is watching, and leans in to whisper in your ear. "You're at 498."
"Wait really, only two more?" You check your inventory. "I have enough for one roll now."
"Do you want to roll then?" Minnie asks. You shrug and nod. The screen plays the animation you've seen numerous times by now, and you zone out, waiting for the inevitable disappointing outcome. You're so zoned out you almost miss Minnie's reaction if she hadn't grabbed you by the arm.
"Oh my god, you did it! It's happening!" Her skin's abnormally warm, and you watch in wonder as her cheeks turn red. An even grander musical tune plays as you finally roll a 6-star sperm, but you're too occupied by Minnie to even notice. Her entire body is taut, every muscle twitching as the strongest orgasm you've seen her have takes hold. Her toes curl, and she's grabbing on to your arm desperately.
"Kiss me, kiss me, I'm going to scream!" You lean in to capture her lips, and Minnie screams in bliss into your mouth—on your 499th roll, you have successfully bred her. She's humping the air, and you bring a hand down between her legs to help her out. Her lips eagerly accept your fingers, and Minnie groans, humping your hand like a cock, fucking herself vigorously until she's spent. When you finally break the kiss with her Minnie looks absolutely glowing, in both orgasm and pregnancy.
"That was amazing, felt better than anything I've felt before." Minnie gasps, her thighs still closed around your hand. "Congrats, you've finished this level, you should go on to the final level."
"Later, I don't think I can go on right now," you mutter, the dopamine of finally rolling a 6-star draining away with your spent consciousness.
"Come back, come do me again and again, I want to feel you in me..."
You're in a room—there is a bed, there is a mirror, there is a door. You stumble out of bed, and the mirror is flashing with a new achievement.
ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! For completing level 4, level 3 is now optional
"Free2Play, Free2Breed" ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! Rolls are no longer needed for breeding, leftover Minnie Dollars can be converted to other currencies at a rate of 107 Minnie Dollars to 1 Neverpoint
Hmph, of course the conversion rate is cheap compared to what it cost to get them, but you can't complain at no longer needing to roll for success. To your shock a large number of newly buyable items appear in the shop. They're priced cheaply, but are oddly mundane, stuff like "Flowers", "Books", "Chocolates", and so on, and it goes on for multiple pages. You'll figure it out later, but for now you're going to do Minnie properly. As soon as you enter level 4 you're on top of Minnie in the bed-throne, kissing her neck and marking her possessively.
"Gonna breed you again."
Minnie grabs you by the robe, pushing it off your shoulders before nipping at your neck, marking you similarly. You tear her robes open and ogle at her body once more—her skin is flawless, her lines curved perfectly to your tastes, and the line between her legs? Wet and ready for you. Minnie pulls you in and wraps her legs around your hips, her eyes smoky with lust.
"Do it, don't hold back." Her moan is angelic as you push in, and she clings on to you for dear life as you start thrusting, becoming the lover you never knew you wanted. "Mmm that's so deep babe, I'm yours, god fuck me deep, fuck me slow."
You bottom out inside Minnie, and the little husky groan she releases drives you nuts. You want to hear it over and over, and Minnie makes sure you hear it each and every time. "Ah! You fucking stud, my stud, you don't need 500 tries to breed me, just once is enough!" Her nipples are hard enough to scratch your chest, and you grab her breasts greedily, palming and squeezing them as you wished. Minnie arches off the bed, giving you more access, and you take advantage of said access by wrapping an arm around her slim midriff, pulling her against you to fuck her harder.
"Fuck, yes, just like that, more, I want more!" Her pussy's already contracting around you, already hastening your release, and Minnie becomes the ragdoll you never knew you needed when she climaxes. You huff and grunt into her neck, and she takes every remaining hip-bruising thrust with ease, her head lolling back into the pillow. Minnie’s warm heat rubs over your shaft just right, and her moans only serve to make you groan louder. You can't last much longer, you won't last much longer—you don't last for another second.
"Yes!" Your shout of triumph mixes with her whine of joy, and Minnie leaves her own bruises on your hips as she squeezes you tightly against her, making sure you're spewing your load as deep into her as you can. There is no doubt you've succeeded as she trembles and shakes through a second orgasm immediately, her thighs quivering against your sides. She only relaxes when you've stopped throbbing, and she only lets you go when you've softened and slipped out of her, ensuring every last drop, every last "roll", has ended up inside her womb.
"I'm so glad you succeeded, now I can experience this every time you drop by," Minnie sighs into your chest.
"Likewise, I'm glad I don't have to do the rolls anymore."
"You're definitely not the only one." Idly Minnie strokes your cock, and you quickly get hard under her handiwork. "Again? You can go to the next level later in another run."
"It's like you read my mind," you mutter as you pull her on top of you. Minnie really is the perfect lover, exactly as designed. You’ll be visiting her again and again, even after the game is over.
*To be continued*
Current Perks:
Magic Finger I-III
Stoneskin Totem I, II
Lickitongue I
Going the Distance I
Learnway I
Stay ready by staying hard
Johnson & Johnson
All Holes Lead to Rome
Inventory:
Battle Pass, cOCk-a-dildo
Currency:
500 CUMCA Kred, 750 Woogi Power, 999 Yeoro Bun, 1337 Neverpoints
A/N: Bit of a weird one, definitely focused more on the gacha mechanics, but then it doesn’t lend itself to actual smut, so I just put one scene at the end. Lots of random references to gacha game mechanics: There’s the whole theme around gacha games being addictive and “tailored” to make you play, just like Minnie is the perfect lover to get you to come back, so much so that you don’t even want to go to the next level just yet. The deliberately confusing currency conversions, the dubious best-value “NXDE” bundle and questionable pricing strategies, all common complaints about gacha game or games with lootboxes. One throwaway line about EA’s “Sense of pride and accomplishment” too lol.
Also I guess the real and sad randomness of actually getting pregnant in real life, it can be hard for people that are trying, for one reason or another.
Anyways definitely one with less emphasis on the smut, and more about the “game”, so hope you like it, thanks for reading!
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Hi Squiggily I hope your having a nice day so far, can I please request ler! Shoko and Suguru lee! Satoru. I love these three so much and I wish we got to see more of them in the anime/manga.
But of course anon! :D I've gotcha covered- these three give me utter LIFE! (Honestly same- I wanted more! T-T) I hope you like it!
Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):
@thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @rachi-roo @chibisstuff
“Hit me!” Gojo’s declared, grinning.
“Bet!” Geto winded his arm, ready to do so.
“....hm.” Geto lowered his arm, suspicious. “What happens if I do?”
“You won’t be able to.”
The green haired student raised a brow. Then he reached into his pocket, pulling out an eraser. Without any warning- he chucked it at Gojo’s head.
Boink!
“Gah! Okay- bad example.” Gojo rubbed his forehead, cheeks dusted pink as Geto and Shoko laughed. “Try to punch me! I need to be in immediate danger!”
“No way- what if your new technique doesn’t work?” Geto’s brows furrowed as he looked upon his friend. Sure, he wanted to strangle Gojo from time to time, but to really punch him out…”I’m heavy handed- you might die.”
“I’ll be fine! Trust me!” Gojo grinned, eyes dancing behind his glasses. “What- scared you’re gonna look like a wimp?”
Geto’s eye twitched, smile dangerous. “Very well.”
A fist was raised. Gojo raised his chin, closing his eyes.
“Ehehe!”
What came wasn’t the stinging pain of a fist, but rather a sudden jab to his ribs. Twisting around, he found Shoko standing behind him with a cheeky grin. “What- Shoko!”
Another poke- then another. “Come on- block me. You said you need to be in danger, yeah?” She snickered as he squirmed, giggles pushing past his lips with little resistance. “This counts as danger, yeah? Or this? Or this?”
“Ahehheheahha! S-Shohohohoko, you suuhuhuhuck! Gehahahhahaha stahhahahap!” Gojo pressed his arms into his sides, trying to block out her hands. “Suuhuhuhuhuguru, heheheehhelp!”
“Help huh? I suppose I could.” Geto grinned as he walked over, fingers poised and wiggling. “Come here, Satoru.”
“Oohoho no! Dohoohohn’t you dare!” Gojo tried to run, darting left and narrowly avoiding their grasp. He was running now, flying down the path with Geto hot on his trail. “No! No stay away-AH!”
A curse formed at his feet, tripping him and sending him tumbling. Geto was on him seconds later, fingers finding his ribs once more and drawing out even more laughs from the pale haired teen. “Suhuhuhuhuguru dohohohohoohn’t!”
“Don’t what?”
“Tihihiihihihickle mehehhehehehe!”
“Tickle you? Okay! Shoko you hear that? Satoru wants us to tickle him!” Geto called over his shoulder to their friend, still tickling. “Come help me!”
“Okay.” Shoko tossed the but of her cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath her foot before bouncing over.
“Nohohoho! Nohohoho, not you TOHOOHHOOHOHO!” Gojo all but squealed when two extra hands came down upon him, pinching along his knees. “NOHOHOHOHO NOT THE KNEHEHEHHEHEES!”
“Oo, bad spot? And I thought his ribs were bad!” Geto laughed, adjusting himself so Shoko had more room. “Do you think his hips are too?”
“Only one way to find out.” Shoko reached down, squeezing his hip with delicate fingers.
The noise Gojo let out couldn't be described as human.
“AHEAHAHHAHHA! STHAHAHAHAP IIHIHIHIHIHIT!” Gojo cried through his mirth, tears forming behind his sunglasses as he swatted at their ever present hands. No matter where he blocked- something on him was ticklish! “PLEAHHAHAHAHSE ENOOHOHOOHUGH!”
The tickles came to an immediate halt. Gojo gasped for air, lying across the ground as he weakly curled his arms around himself. “Ahehehe…hehehe..thihihis suchks. It dihihihdn’t work…”
“What, your so-called force field?” Geto raised a brow. “Maybe you need to work on it more.”
Shoko was quiet. Then she scooted up to Gojo’s face. Without warning, she brought down her raised arm, pen in hand. Gojo’s eyes widened-
The pen stopped inches from his nose, suspended by an invisible force.
“Wow. It worked.” She mused, pulling her hand away and watching the pen hover over Gojo’s gaping face. “Guess you need to be in true danger for it to work.”
“Wow…HA! I KNEW IT!” Gojo cheered, yelping when the pen dropped, bouncing off his sunglasses. “I knew my limitless technique would work!”
“You're truly getting stronger by the day.” Geto spoke softly as Shoko and Gojo laughed, trying to stab him again with the pen. “Hey- does that mean what I think it means?”
“What?” Gojo and Shoko asked, pen halfway down to his face.
“If you can recognize you’re not in immediate danger, your limitless technique won’t activate. Or that what’s to come isn’t all that unpleasant.” Geto started to grin, enjoying the look of shock and embarrassment spreading over Gojo’s face. “Does that mean you like us tickling you?”
Shoko perked up, equally amused. Gojo flushed as he backed away, looking anywhere but them.
“Oh what do you know- my little test worked! Hehe- I better go report it to the Masa-Sensei; gotta go- BYE!” Gojo all but scrambled to his feet, running for the hills and his friends laughed themselves silly.
Thanks for reading!
#jjk#tickle#tickle fic#jjk season 2#jjk season 2 spoilers#jujutsu kaisen season 2 spoilers#gojo satoru#geto suguru#shoko ieiri#fluff#I love them your honor
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October 7th, 1996
Dear diary,
Will gave us back our assignments today and he really liked it! I can't help but feel like his opinion is biased though, which is kind of a bummer. I mean, I'm glad that I got a good grade and I'm proud of it so I feel like it deserves the grade it got, but... I don't know. I feel like it would have been more satisfying if it had been graded by someone who hadn't spent Friday night fondueing marshmallows with me at his own dinner table.
Same happens in English now - I always take pride in my essays, but it's hard not to worry that Mike's taking it easy on me, even when he said he wouldn't.
At least I gave Will the copy of Morning Glory after we already got our grades back because that would have been even more damning. Which is exactly why I waited until lunch to pass by his classroom and hand over the tape I'd made as promised, away from prying eyes. Danny walked with me - I'd told him all about our dinner on Saturday over the phone - and in hindsight I probably should have known to expect Mike would be there as well.
They were having lunch together at Will's desk, and through the window I could see them startle as we knocked, but quickly smiled and waved us in when they noticed it was me. As soon as we stepped into the classroom I could tell that Mike was sizing up Danny, even though he already knows him from his English class, and knows he's perfectly smart and polite. He didn't say anything and his expression didn't give anything away as he shifted his attention back to me.
I have to say it's kind of weird having that kind of ... consideration? It's sounds strange and might not make sense but... I've never had a brother before - not like that at least. As annoyed as I want to be over him scrutinizing my life - which he still has no business doing by the way and if he even tries to meddle I will strangle him - it feels nice to have someone watching out for me.
Not that I need protecting from Daniel of all people - he's the sweetest, most considerate boy I know. He's always smiling and it's genuine. I've never met anyone who seems so genuinely happy and kind at all times. It's kind of amazing to see.
But anyway, I gave him the tape and after he'd thanked me I just had to ask Mike if he'd seen the painting Will had made in class.
He'd given us this new assignment - we're back on paint, thank god - and Will had used the projector to show us some new techniques we could try out. He'd started drawing a face from memory and it slowly became obvious that it was Mike - or well, Mr. Wheeler for everyone else in the class. He paused and blinked for a second and then he added antennae and turned him into an alien, making everyone laugh. I don't even think he'd realised what he'd been drawing until he'd seen the whole picture, turning him into an alien to make fun and distract everyone. I wish I could draw like that though - just get lost in a trance and see where my mind ends up. I feel like it would help clear up a messy mind.
Anyway, after he was done with the sketch and actually got around to showcasing the paint techniques - using blues and greens to stick to the alien theme - it actually turned out really cool.
As expected, Will squirmed in embarrassment as I brought up the painting but he pulled it out for Mike and Danny who of course thought it funny as well. And seriously, Will is crazy talented - even this silly five minute painting was insanely well done.
We talked for a while, but Daniel and I still had to get lunch so eventually we had to join the others in the cafeteria.
By the time we got to seventh period English, Mike had hung up the painting in his classroom. He even had a frame for it and everything!
Seriously, where did he get that thing on such short notice?
Love, Holly
#slower updates because i have exams for two more weeks#holly wheeler#the third wheeler#mike wheeler#stranger things#will byers#byler#fanfic
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In 2016 we had But Her Emails. In 2024 we have Biden Is Too Old. The sources of these two lines haven't changed: the flailing GOP with an assist by bothsiderist news media.
Yes, it's the same old distraction technique to draw attention away from the leader of the Republican Party who is an adjudicated sex offender who just lost a gigantic lawsuit based on his past use of fraud.
It's time to push back and aggressively. And successful messaging is repetitious messaging – get used to repeating things if you wish to cut through the noise.
But the main thing is not to freak out and to play offense instead of being defensive. For example: Why are so few people on our side bringing up Trump's unhealthy lifestyle? Drinking 12 Diet Cokes® a day and copious chomping of double cheeseburgers wouldn't be recommended for somebody half his age. And what kind of drugs is he being prescribed?
[A]ll of the #BidenTooOld coverage is about as new and revelatory as #ButHerEmails. If nothing else, it proves that a scandal holding that the president forgets things is always going to go down smoother than a scandal in which a special counsel flagrantly violated a long-standing Justice Department practice and protocol not to “criticize uncharged conduct.” As Sullivan was quick to point out, CNN and the New York Times and every U.S. corporate media entity and its cousin jumped onto the bandwagon.
[ ... ]
Perhaps one way to navigate yourself through this seemingly insoluble morass would be to ask yourself why Biden, who is stipulated #Old, has managed to helm the most successful presidency in modern history. Booming economy, eye-popping jobs reports, first gun violence reduction bill in decades, $1.9 trillion American Rescue Plan plus COVID relief, Inflation Reduction Act, infrastructure prioritized, judges seated. Pick your metric—there have been a lot of wins. And the reason this old man who sometimes forgets things like dates has gotten all this done? He has, for the most part, surrounded himself with experts, genuine scientists, respected economists, and effective governmental actors and advisers.
Governance is not an action film. There is no minute-to-minute psychodrama involving someone in a tight black T-shirt mincing along the outdoor ledge of a skyscraper, ninja-kicking his lonely way down to the stairwell, where he karate-chops the well-armed baddies and then commando crawls his way into an empty vault with the glass chest where the nuclear reactor sits. No. Despite our fascination with the Great Man theory of American lawmaking, the presidency is an office that largely turns on superb staffing, visionary planning, deft political negotiation, and artful execution. Joe Biden doesn’t actually have to remember every single detail himself—he has to use his judgment to employ and empower a large contingent of skilled experts to execute upon their agreed-upon vision.
If you are unconvinced, the best evidence that we keep falling for Great Man fantasy propaganda is the unmitigated failure of the first Donald Trump presidency. Here we had a self-described loner literally trumpeting his I-alone-can-fix-it worldview, all embodied in Great Man megalomania. He managed to accomplish virtually nothing: Almost none of his promises for single-handed economic revitalization, world domination, or intrepid urban crime-solving panned out. His great dreams were either strangled in infancy by staffers or halted by courts. And whether you believe that this happened because Donald Trump surrounded himself with incompetent yes men or steely adults in the room, both versions serve to offer proof of concept: Donald Trump accomplished close to nothing because the people around him were either too inept to put his vision into practice or too skillful at blocking him to allow him to put his vision into practice.
Put another way, if you or anyone you know finds themselves reacting to the Biden Is Old revelations with the thought that, sure, Donald Trump is a 91-indictments-richer, adjudicated sexual abuser, defamer, liar, violator of national security, self-enriching, fascist-boosting insurrectionist, but it’s OK because he will surround himself with people who might check those impulses—well, doesn’t it rather intuitively make more sense to instead vote for the highly effective, internationally respected, but yes, sometimes forgetty guy who is surrounded by people with day planners?
A president is a lot closer to being a CEO than a superhero. And when it does come to being businesslike, Trump has declared bankruptcy six times – approximately six more times than Biden. Trump's business "skills" lean heavily towards fraud, deceit, and bullying.
The real reason we all keep falling for Great Man horse race stories is because they are good for fueling fantasies of all-powerful big daddy presidents who control every tiny aspect of governance in their tiny wee hands. If that is your jam, well, it would make sense to vote for the only candidate who believes in the same dream. If it’s not, the question is reducible to rather simple stakes: Do you want the Big Daddy who surrounds himself with sycophants and nutters and people with shared last names, or the one who surrounds himself with competence and expertise? This doesn’t seem, on balance, like a really tricky call. Do we prefer presidents who can backflip and ninja-kick their way to total world dominion? Perhaps. To my knowledge, nobody ever made a Tom Cruise movie about listening and learning and compromising. But if you still believe governance to be a sober and serious enterprise, vote like the alternative is chilling, because it is.
Trump flatters himself as a "stable genius". But it is Biden who brought stable governance back to the US. Being a constantly ranting gasbag is not an indicator of competence.
Very little attention is being paid to psychological age. Trump is just 42 months chronologically younger than Biden, but Trump acts like a toddler who is not yet 42 months old.
Parents with kids who were constantly having temper tantrums and being frequently disruptive would consider taking those kids to a child psychologist. Being a disruptive narcissist in his late 70s does not make Trump seem youthful but instead more like a case study for arrested development as a toddler.
#but her emails!#the age issue#joe biden#maturity#donald trump#trump's temper tantrums#trump's immaturity#trump's narcissism#trump's artrested development#trump's unknown prescription drugs#trump is an adjudicated sex offender#trump is mentally unfit to be president#vote blue no matter who#election 2024
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to save her pt1
See my full list of works here!
Part of the 500 Follower Celebration
requested by: @my-gf-loki
Summary: When Loki loses a wager against Thor, he has to spend a few hours on Midgard and play by his brother's rules. When he meets you, he suddenly no longer felt too sour about losing.
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings [spoilers]: major character death
Things to be aware of: Story takes place in 1990s
"Hogun has developed more various techniques in combat, I am positive he will prevail in this little showcase," Thor declared proudly as he watched his warrior friends engaging in a friendly match for the sake of their training.
Loki simply tutted at his brother in response, confident in his prediction of the outcome was quite different from the god of thunder's. "Fandral's height and arm reach will grant him the advantage he requires to best Hogun in this match, Brother."
"So smug once again, little Brother," the blond god chuckled. "How about we make this more interesting with a wager?"
"I'm in," the god of mischief responded with a taunting tone. "When I win you must spend the remainder of the day as a goose. Only when you retreat to your chambers to sleep for the night will you return to your regular form."
Thor merely laughed heartily at the wager, seemingly self-assured that he would not be partaking in any shapeshifting this fine day. "And when I win, Brother, you will spend until nightfall within Midgard, walking amongst the mortals wearing their tourist apparel."
"Enjoy your time waddling and honking."
"Enjoy your afternoon in Midgard."
The brothers waited with bated breath as the two warriors had exchanged blows, evenly matched with Fandral's agility and Hogun's speed. After a few minutes of metal clanging and lighthearted battle cries, a strangled sound of disbelief echoed across the training field as Hogun stood above Fandral victorious.
"It seems we are off to the Bifrost, Brother. Remember, you must stay until nightfall, and you must walk among the mortals. No scurrying into your libraries and book shops idling the time away. People should see you. I will have Heimdall presiding over this to ensure that you will abide by these rules."
Thor had decided that he would choose where within Midgard Loki would be sent off to, which was how the raven-haired god found himself walking the streets of New York City, perusing the stalls to find a merchant that offered tourist's apparel.
Equipped with some Midgardian currency acceptable in this country, he approached the first merchant he found, grumbling his intent to buy one shirt that ostentatiously stated that the wearer "hearts NY", handing over the amount required to purchase the inferior garment.
"You don't look too happy with your purchase there, buddy," a voice spoke up from somewhere beside him. He looked over to see the one who belonged to that all too casual sounding voice that seemed as if there was sympathy behind her sentiment, but also just the slightest touch of mockery. A combination that he prided himself that only he excelled in; for that reason alone, he wanted to see this person face to face.
When he saw you, he needed to take a moment to compose himself. Truthfully whenever he visited Midgard he never once took the time to properly look at the people walking around him, refusing to take in their features, let alone pay attention to how engrossed they were in such mundanities of their day to day lives.
But one look at you, with your inquisitive doe-like eyes, your hair neatly falling to the middle of your back with half of it pulled back into a nondescript hair tie, eyebrow raised in a clear expression of amusement, and the god who usually had so many words he could tire out any partner in conversation…was at a loss for them. With your elegant features and your almost aristocratic posture, you seemed just as out of place as the Asgardian in this garment store.
"I lost a wager to my brother," he mumbled in explanation, bringing you to begin melodically chuckling in response. "I am to walk these streets adorning this garish garment until nightfall. Apparently a representative of his will be overseeing my activities to ensure that I will be playing by his rules."
"Yikes. Sorry, buddy. Sounds like that sucks a fat one. You have my deepest sympathies." While your words sounded sincere, the smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth remained, compelling Loki to smile at the sight of you despite his efforts to remain stoic…or even surly at the predicament he was about to find himself in.
"And what of you, milady? What brings you to this establishment of kitschy garments?"
"Milady?" you questioned in awe. "I have never met anyone who actually used that unless they were playing a bit. You're not an actor, are you? Going a little too method into your role there?" He furrowed his eyebrows at you, shaking his head in response. "Huh. Maybe I just haven't met too many people across the pond then. Gotta change that one of these days…" you trailed off before lightly hitting your head with the bottom of your palm. "Oh, right. What brings me here. Well my aunt and uncle are in town and I've been assigned with getting them some Big Apple souvenirs. So much fun…not."
The god nearly felt the sharp pang of loss as you approached the merchant to purchase the garments you'd chosen for your relatives. He wasn't quite ready to conclude your conversation yet; your presence had not been as grating as that of the other people he'd encountered in this realm. He could stand to be around you a few more minutes. Hours even. He was even willing to explore the possibility of spending days around you, if you'd let him.
When you turned around to face him, he braced himself for the inevitable farewell. Never having even gotten your name. But then your next words had his heart beating a little harder in his chest. "So you have to walk around here for a few hours, huh?" He nodded mutely at your question. "Well then, I have a few hours to kill. Honestly just prolonging the inevitable inquisition from relatives that just revolve around why I gained weight or why I'm perpetually single, and I will gladly put that off until the second coming of Christ so…you want some company?"
You were offering to accompany him? Willingly? What had he done today that had the Norns smiling down on him so? "I--I would love some company," he stammered, clearing his throat and trying to smoothen his suddenly rough voice.
The smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth had affected him so strangely; he could swear that he could feel himself beginning to yearn. All he knew at that moment was that he wanted to see that smile again, that he wanted to give you reason after reason to smile in his presence. "Well, I always think that it's a terrible idea to be in the company of strangers, so let's fix that real quick, shall we?" You held your hand out to him. "I'm Y/N."
He took your hand in his, but instead of shaking it, he turned it over in his grasp and bent down to press his lips to your knuckles. "Hello, Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Loki."
You spent the next few hours walking down the length of Broadway, and the god found himself given the rare opportunity to talk to someone without being interrupted or being told to stop because he'd gone off on tangent after tangent. No. Instead, he'd found that at every detour his stories had taken, you'd listened and followed right along with him, asking questions that further proved to him that you were just as engaged in the exercise as he was.
When he saw that the sun had nearly fully set and the city had begun to be shrouded by the night sky, a heavy weight had settled over his heart, the disappointment over his time with you coming to a close sinking in. It was clear from your expression that to some degree, you shared the same sentiment. "Looks like it's time to rejoin the land of the nosy relatives," you grumbled.
"Well that may very well just be the beautifully tragic thing about family and the double edged sword that is unconditional love."
You shook your head at him in clear disagreement. "I don't believe that love should be unconditional. Gives people cute ideas. You tell them that you love them and that you'll be there for them no matter what and suddenly they find themselves testing the limits just to see if there really are none. Unconditional love means that someone can exploit and abuse that love, and at the end of the day you'll still be there, gluing the very same heart that they shattered back together to hand it back over to them. I refuse to ever let anyone have that power over me. Even family."
Once again Loki found himself taken aback at your response, having him believe that you were far from Midgardian after all. These humans thrived on the idea of that type of love, wrote such poignant literature about it, some even died for it, and here you were refusing to succumb to the concept of it. Choosing to be rational instead.
An approach that he agreed with, an outlook on the universe that he shared.
Before he could process the words, they slipped out of his mouth. "I like you, Y/N."
His outburst of sentiment had you breaking out into a beaming grin. "I like you, too, Loki." You briefly took his hand in yours, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go once more. "If ever you're in town again, look me up. My last name's Y/L/N. I work in the Oracle building in Manhattan. Near Central Park."
And then, as if you hadn't blindsided him enough times today already, you did so one final time, as you stepped closer to him, stood on the tips of your toes, and lightly pressed your lips to his cheek. "Until next time," you whispered, before promptly turning around and walking away from him.
Next time, he thought to himself, allowing a smile to ghost across his features.
When Thor was once again feeling confident about setting up a wager against his brother, this time over a duel between Volstagg and Hogun, Loki found himself looking for the less likely outcome and placing his confidence behind that. His intention was clear only to himself: He wished to lose so that he may have a reason to visit Midgard again. To see you again.
"Next time" had finally come.
He held back a knowing smile as he watched Hogun win once again, ready to revisit Midgard again. Ready to look for you. Thor had decided that for this visit, he would need to sit in a coffee shop and fully engage in conversation with any mortal that approached him. There were to be no illusion casting to fool the mortal, no mentally disconnecting from the conversation. He was to be fully present.
Not an hour later, Loki found himself in New York once again, observing the city dwellers how they proceeded to communicate with one another, and shortly after stepped into a phone booth to peruse the directory for one Y/N Y/L/N. It was just after the luncheon hour when he situated himself upon a seat in a cafe close to the structure displaying the name Oracle on its facade.
He passed the time nursing a cup of coffee, watching the door as the humans filed in. Perhaps he'd missed his window? Had he taken too long searching for your building?
"Hey, stranger." His gaze snapped up at the sound of your voice, a smile finding its way to his face at the sight of you. "This is a nice surprise."
To say that he was elated at the turn of events, to have you be the first mortal that approached him, albeit he did have to mastermind this "chance encounter" in order to increase the chances of it being so, was an understatement. He invited you to join him for a coffee, which quickly turned into two and a shared slice of cake, as you talked about your duties and aspirations in life.
How despite what the realm thought about him he didn't wish to be King, but rather only to be given the opportunity to aid in the betterment of the Nine. To be seen as more than simply a troublemaker. He had more to offer than wiles and tricks; he could provide council, strategize, even fight with the best of them. If only he were to actually be given a chance to prove it.
Once again you listened intently, even held his hand through portions of his story, telling him how these people were fools who failed to see in knowing him for majority of his life what you'd seen within a few hours of being in his company. You told him how you could see that he was brilliant, that if you were in the place of these people who clearly desperately required council you'd seek out someone objectively intelligent, rather than just someone you were familiar with.
"These people don't deserve you, Loki," you said softly, keeping your hand within his gentle grasp. "And you deserve so much better."
At your words he found himself yearning for that better to perhaps be a life with you. It mattered not where it would be, whether it be Midgard or Asgard or anywhere in the Nine Realms. He knew it irrational to think such thoughts upon knowing you for barely a heartbeat in his extensive lifetime, but he so desperately longed for that life regardless. And even more desperately, he longed for you to want that life as well.
He looked to the sky to allow himself a brief interlude from your piercing gaze, dread setting in as he saw the sun beginning to set. "Darling, I have to apologize, it seems I've held you from your duties for an extended period. I would understand if you need to--"
"Don't worry about it," you dismissed his concerns so casually. "Nobody in that office notices a woman's presence until she makes a mistake." A rueful smirk colored your features as you finished your statement with, "And I haven't made any mistakes so far. So I'm blissfully invisible."
He reached across the table to lightly hold your chin with his free hand. "You're far too beguiling to be invisible, dear Y/N." You let out a warm exhale against his thumb when he lightly ran it across your bottom lip. "A woman like yourself deserves to be seen."
"Well maybe I should only be seen by the right people," you murmured in response, your gaze unwavering in its intensity as it locked onto the god's. "Are you only here again until nightfall?"
He could feel the melancholia setting over your heads like a taunting shroud, a ticking clock waiting to chime and bring you both out of the little pocket of peace you'd found in this little cafe. "I'm afraid so, dear Y/N." He shifted his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking along your cheekbone. The ache in his heart intensified as you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as if you were relishing this very moment the same as he was. "I wish to see you again. Soon," he uttered before he could hold back the words.
Your eyes opened and met his once more, shining with a fondness that threatened to steal the air from his lungs if he stared for too long. Which he was; he couldn't find it in himself to look away. "I would like that very much." You reached into your bag and handed him a large rectangular device. "If you find yourself with plans to visit again, call me before you do. It's the only number programmed on there anyway, and it's not like the company would miss one phone from stock. Call me, and I'll take the day off work."
Your Highness, it is time. Your brother is anxiously awaiting your return, Heimdall's voice echoed in Loki's mind. It was as if you'd heard the voice as well because you stood up from your seat and walked over to his side of the table.
"Until next time, I suppose," you said softly, placing your hand on his shoulder and leaning in to press a kiss on his cheek.
"Next time," he muttered, looking upon you with longing coating his every word as he watched you walk out of the establishment to return to your duties. He looked to the sky and addressed Heimdall. "Not a word to my brother about her."
"Brother, I am convinced you are intentionally losing now. How have you wagered wrong thrice in a row? I believe you much more analytical than that," Thor goaded as Loki once again lost in wagering on the outcome of a sparring match between Volstagg and Fandral this time.
"Perhaps you do not give yourself enough credit, Brother," the god of mischief remarked in an attempt to deflect his brother's train of thought. "It is pitiable that you would rather believe I was losing intentionally rather than that you were genuinely triumphant."
"Say what you wish, Brother, but I know you better than you might think. Not only did you lose for the third time in our little wagers, but you seem…delighted that you'd lost." He gasped in such an animated manner that Loki compared him to a child…perhaps a toddler, who'd been given a few too many sweets at the table. "You met someone on Midgard, didn't you?"
The raven-haired god blanched at how quickly he'd come to the right thought. "I know not what you're talking about, Brother," he mumbled.
"Nonsense. Tell me about her." He glared at Thor. "Him?" More glaring. "Come on, Loki. At least tell me one thing about this Midgardian."
"There is no Midgardian," he lied through gritted teeth. His brother always somehow found a way to obtain the things he desired for himself; he couldn’t entirely blame it on Thor, for it was simply the way of nature. People liked his jovial disposition especially when put in stark contrast to Loki's. All he longed for was that he could prolong that inevitability and keep you for himself just a little while longer.
"So you obtained that archaic-looking device from Midgard for what then? Sentimentality?" The sarcasm was dripping from the god of thunder's voice as Loki dialed the only number programmed in the device, laughing boisterously as he received an even more pointed glare from his brother. "Listen, Brother, don't tell me about this person if you wish. I can remain content in at least knowing you have someone who lights you up the way you are now."
"Hello?" a voice spoke from the device. Your voice. "Loki? Is that you?"
He quickly brought the device up to his ear, speaking into the bottom of it. "Y/N. Yes it's me. You said to call once I have plans of visiting again. I should be there within the next two hours. Is it too short of a notice for—"
"Not at all." He could nearly hear you smiling as you said the words. "I'll call in sick for work today and you'll call me when you get here?"
"That sounds excellent, darling." He turned his back to Thor so that he wouldn't see the smile growing on his face. "I look forward to spending the day—" A feeling of dread settled over him as he heard the sound of skidding tires and horns blaring over from your end of the call, first distant but quickly increasing in volume…and proximity.
"Loki?" you said softly, the dread and confusion audible in your tone. The final words he heard from you before the sound of metal crunching like cheap aluminum came through to his end. Followed by the sound of your device hitting the ground.
"Y/N?" he choked out. Part of him already knew you wouldn't answer, but he had to try regardless. "Darling?" His voice was barely audible. There was nothing but sirens and panicked voices that all melded together as he heard his pulse drumming violently in his ears.
All he knew as he felt Thor's hand clap over his shoulder, the device dropping from his hand just as his knees hit the hard floor of his chambers, was that his world had shattered around him.
A/N: Ngl writing the last bit broke me a little because the precious bb was so happy he was gonna see her again and then…🥲😭
Everything taglist:
@lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @my-gf-loki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @kats72 @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @creationsbyme @coldnique
#loki x reader#loki x female reader#loki fanfiction#loki fanfic#loki laufeyson fanfic#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#mcu fanfiction#muddyorbs writes#fic requests
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