#no idea why this took so long to write but it's here now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

middlingmay · 2 days

Text

This one's for @pirateaangel, who requested a feelings realisation fic based in Stalag Luft III, with Gale in denial, Bucky acting out, and a chase into the night.

I hope you like it! Read under the cut.

I do accept fic requests if you have them, though feeling a bit of the midweek blues so would particularly welcome something upbeat this week!

After the men were seen to, and Gale had personally checked they had all the meagre offerings a desperate place like Stalag Luft III could possibly offer - blankets, one pillow, and a bunk to put ‘em on, medical attention (if not intervention), and some barely passable food and water - perhaps John Egan should not have been the first thing on his mind.

But there he was, as large and demanding and present in Gale’s head as he ever was in person. That had been the way of it ever since Bucky had wormed his way into Gale’s affections, into his friendship: whenever the responsibilities of leadership waned, and Gale was left with a few moments of quiet, his thoughts invariably turned to John, at least for a moment.

What trouble is he gettin’ into?

He better not have forgotten to eat again.

He’s gotta stop pissin’ off the Colonel. For a guy so affable, he sure did have a problem with Colonels.

Gale wasn’t some obsessive dame or nothin’. Just, someone had to look out for John whilst he looked out for everyone else, and Gale got the job.

Gale liked the job. Whenever anyone jokingly offered to take the other Major off his hands for a while, Gale would smile with the rest of them, but managed to keep John as his, well, as his somethin’.

And here in Poland, now that the quiet had descended and the men were all privately coming to terms with their new lot in this war, Gale wondered who’s job it was now.

Who told him that Gale went down? It was chaos, and he wasn’t convinced anyone would have observed any chutes. John would have sat there, fresh faced and relaxed after enjoying his leave in London, and have to hear 'No record', about where his buddy went down.

Gale wondered if it was vanity that made his assume John would be at least a little cut up about it. Lord, he hoped John didn’t drink over him.

If there was a way for him to write John, let him know he was okay, he would have done it. He woulda done anything, to spare his friend the grief.

Because if it were the other way around? If he’d had to find out that John had gone down, with no record, whilst he’d been yucking it up in London? Gale woulda drowned in that kind of guilt. Only the responsbility towards the other men in the plane with him the next time he took to the air would stop him from doing something reckless and final in the name of John Egan, KIA.

And in the relative privacy of his bunk, in the dark, Gale let himself wonder if that was normal? If it was something other men felt about bonds forged and severed by war.

And like always, he pushed the thought away. Course it was normal. It was known. There was no Buck without Bucky. And vice versa. Which gave him hope of a future out of this POW camp. So long as John was out there fighting the good fight, Buck could still exist.

It was also why he was equal amounts elated and devastated to see Brady two days after their internment at Stalag Luft III.

After Gale had secured them a bunk, and the fellas left to give Brady and Murph their space to settle, Brady had grabbed Gale’s wrist as he went to walk away.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you alive, Major,” Brady said, though there was no trace of joy on his face. Only something grim and sad.

“What is it, Brady?”

It took the pilot a few moments to gather his courage but he tugged on Gale’s wrist and he sat on the edge of Brady's bunk and listened.

“John was the commanding pilot on the mission.”

And Brady, for his part, got the front hand seat to both Egan and Cleven's grief at hearing the other went down. He watched the breath leave Major Cleven, watched something shutter behind his eyes, watched him swallow convulsively around words he didn’t want to ask but desperately wanted to know.

“Is he—do you know if—?”

“He bailed. I made sure of it, Major,” and Brady grabbed him with a mad sort of desperation, trying to make Gale understand in a way he couldn’t with John. “We were right behind each other, but we got seperated on the way down and the German’s were shooting at us as we fell…”

No record. More or less.

So that’s what it felt like. Cold, icy panic stabbing at his belly. Roiling nausea sparking up his throat. A floaty, buzzing sense that blinded him to Brady, and the fellas, and the bunk house, and landed him in a flak-ridden freefall with John Egan.

Had it been a hard landing? The kind that killed you on impact? Had it been soft and now he was all alone in enemy territory? Had he died before he hit the ground, or had German guns put one through his head and he fell to earth limp and gone, like a doll?

“..jor? Major!”

Brady looked at him concerned. The other fellas had returned and were shooting looks their way. Gale wasn’t sure how much they heard. Digging down to find that steel core John liked to tease him about, he stood from Brady’s bunk.

“Brady’s just informed me he’s missing one from his crew. Major Egan might still be out there.”

An excited chatter erupted amongst the boys. Benny grinned and slung his arm around Crank. The effect John had on people was astounding. In the middle of this miserable goddamned place, he still brought cheer and hope.

He let them have it, even if Gale wouldn’t allow it for himself.

Then, after a few more days, when the men were getting more and more despondent at the lack of familiar faces staggering into the camp, he heard it.

“Bucky! John!”

“Murph? Crank?!”

“Do any of you know if Buck made it? Do any—”

And of all the things swirling in his head as he stumbled towards the barbed wire fence, he found himself shouting, raspy and loud, “John Egan! Your two o’clock!”

He’d seen the back of John, grubby and dirty and greasy like the rest of ‘em when they'd came here. But when John whirled round on hearing his voice, and Gale saw the blood and the bruises and the sticky, rotten evidence of everything that had tried to keep John from stumbling into their camp - from coming back to him - and he saw John lighting up with relief and joy aimed at the sight of Gale, that fierce feeling he kept in his chest for John flared and caught and burned, and damn near choked him with the horror of it.

Because when John all but collapsed into his arms, and Gale couldn’t stop himself from clutching him right back until the tips of his fingers were white, he knew. He knew he loved him in ways he didn’t love the rest of their men, and he loved their men from the 100th. But Gale loved John in ways that kept him up at night. He loved him in ways that had him knowing just how many freckles John got in the sun, especially over his eyes. He loved him in ways that hurt with worry when John wasn’t there, and with a fury whenever John put himself in danger.

Gale loved John in a way that was dangerous here. And as he led John back to their hut, and got him squared up with a bunk next to his and called for a medic and got him clothes and bedding and water and food, he vowed to himself that he wouldn’t let his love endanger John.

Not here, not now, not ever.

And he tried, but he struggled.

It was ingrained into him, taking care of John. John was the mama hen of the 100th, don’t be fooled. He’d joked once about making a nest for the dodos when he was shipped off to England ahead of them all, but it wasn’t really a joke. He got the boys little things to make them more comfortable, made sure they got the chance to blow off steam to keep them sane, went toe-to-toe with the higher ups to defend the boys as best he could, and was the hand at their back when they stumbled.

Gale wasn’t like that. John liked to rib him and tell him he was the 100th’s poster boy, but in one of his more serious moments, he'd expanded:

“I’m serious, Buck. I don’t just mean all this,” he’d gestured all over Gale with a lopsided grin. “The boys look up to you. They copy you, try to emulate you. When they see you calm and steady, that’s what they do. When they see you thinking all careful, they give a little more thought, too. Ain’t no bad thing.”

But with John, caretakin’ came natural to Gale. And in the camp, it was no different. And that was the problem.

Whenever John winced, Gale was at his side propping him up, hands soothing over his back. But as soon as he righted himself, Gale abandoned him again for space and distance.

When John started coughing Gale gave him his own ration of hot water and helped him drink it down through the spluttering, but when John tried to touch his hands, in thanks or comfort, Gale snatched them away.

One night when Gale let his guard down and was telling John about how they got there, his eyes were far away and he didn’t see John’s hand reach out. But he felt the shock of John’s finger tips tracing the scar on his cheek.

Gale had frozen, words stuck in his throat and muscles locked as John rubbed his thumb back and forward.

And God, did it burn. It burned and tingled so good and Gale wanted to sob and drop his head into John’s hand but he couldn’t. He’d get them killed. He had to get them out of here in one piece and get back to Marge and marry her to keep both him and John safe from Gale’s love.

So when John opened his mouth to speak, Gale snatched up John’s wrist in a tight grip, and said firm and fierce, “Don’t.”

Things changed after that.

The distance that suddenly sprang up between the Majors became painfully clear to the rest of the 100th stuck with them in Stalag Luft III. Hell, it became clear to folks outside of the 100th, who had listened to heroic, humanising stories about the Buckies - the famed leaders of the Bloody Hundredth.

Gale avoided John at all costs. He still tried to do little things for him, he couldn’t help that compulsion, but when he left a biscuit from his Red Cross package on John’s pillow just before lights out, he felt it hit the back of his head as soon as dark hit. When he tried to give John easier jobs as he and the rest of the boys built up their strength, John would glare at him and take himself off to the tree stumps or the races the boys set up out of spite.

And if John hated him, that would have been easier. But when Gale overheard someone bitching about his orders, he also overheard a smack and a curse and caught sight of John stalking away from a young man clutching the back of his head. When Gale tried to give his food away just to cheer someone up, he felt John’s glare on the back of his head and more than one fellow had refused Gale’s offer, stammering and glancing between Gale and wherever John glowered behind him.

Gale just couldn’t stop loving him.

It came to a head when they tried to rebuild the radio.

Something in Gale had crumbled when the goons found the first one, and he threw himself into building a new one. And John, temporarily forgetting his righteous fury with Gale, constantly dropped bits and pieces he remembered they needed from the last one in front of Buck.

And one night, after everyone had gone to sleep and by the barely-there light of one dull candle, Gale thought he finally finished it. He let out a stunned breath, the cold billowing it in front of him, and fell against the back of his seat.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered from his bunk before scrambling from under the thin and ratty blanket. “You okay? What is it?”

Gale eyed the radio warily before flicking his eyes to Bucky. “I think - I think it’s finished.”

John’s eyes lit up with delight and pride and Gale flushed but couldn’t look away.

“Alright then,” he smiled. “Never doubted you. You wanna give it a try?”

The notion filled Gale with terror, but also with a desperate sort of eagerness and he couldn’t have said no if he tried. So he didn’t say anything, and only nodded.

With trembling fingers, and John by his side hurrying into the chair next to him and dragging himself as close as he could get, Gale tried to bring the radio to life.

Nothing.

But it was alright. The last one took a couple of tries, too.

But again, nothing.

And nothing.

Gale’s eyes burned and his throat tightened and the disappointment felt like lead shot right in his belly.

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed softly in his ear. One of those large, heavy hands came up to Gale’s neck and squeezed. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

And it was too much. It was too much because that hand was the only thing grounding him and Gale wanted to grab on to it and never let go. He wanted to bring it to his mouth and press his lips against the callouses and the veins and the heartbeat underneath. He wanted to trust it to muffle the cries of frustration he was choking on.

He slapped John’s hand away and the sound cracked in the silence. The hurt cutting through the softness Bucky somehow still retained for him hit him louder though, and Gale dragged in a breath so ragged, he hoped it sounded like anger.

Anger he could nurture right now. Not love.

But so could John. Oh, so could John.

Those dark blue eyes sparked angry in the dull light and he muttered low and spiteful, “The fuck is wrong with you, Buck, huh? What’s your problem?”

He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t tell him despite the words thumping against his chest, beat after beat after beat.

“I ain’t got no problem,” Gale hissed, jaw tense and somehow, miraculously, managing to hold John’s angry gaze with his own. “If you hadn’t been such a child lately, I’d have been able to focus on this properly instead of keeping an eye on you—”

John’s eyebrows met his hairline. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

And before Gale could snipe back John barrelled over him. “Whose the one that’s scrounged up most of your materials for both radios, huh? Do you have any idea what I head to do to get all that? Twice? No. Because youv’e had your head up your ass about something, avoiding me. Keeping an eye on me? Gale? You can barely stand to fuckin’ look at me.”

Gale bit the inside of his cheek bloody trying to ignore the crack of John’s voice, which the older man coughed away with a sneer and a grit of his teeth.

Through the blood and saliva, Gale said, “You’ve been impossible to be around, John.”

Impossible. Because every moment Gale spent near him, it was harder and harder to control himself and remind himself why he couldn’t just have what we wanted, who he wanted, the love he wanted, just this once.

“Like you would know?! What - what did I do, Buck? Huh? What did I do? ‘Cause I’ve been spiralling here, barely holding it together, and the one goddamn thing that has me holding it together is you, and now it feels like I don’t even have that.”

“John-” Gale pleaded. He pleaded, to John, to whatever force, heavenly or otherwise that might listen and bless him this repreieve.

And John reared back in his seat and Gale saw the worst thing he might have seen in this war: defeat settle in the eyes of Major John Egan.

John who whispered thick and sorrowful, like loved ones at a bedside vigil, “That’s it, huh? I did go and lose you to this war after all?” And in the protection darkness offered, Gale saw that John let his eyes fill with grief he wouldn’t quite let spill.

“Why did you go, Buck? What did I do?”

In violent contrast to the softness of John’s grief, Gale sprang from his chair, the wood screeching against the floorboards and grabbed him a tangled, gnarled fistful of John’s shirt. John didn’t fight back; he only reared back in shock and his legs sprawled open to try and keep his balance as Gale stepped into the space between and bent Bucky back at a painful angle over the back of his chair and snarled in his face,

“You made me love you, you goddamn sunnuva bitch.”

And Gale took a full, harsh, selfish kiss all his own. He breathed in sharp at the drag of dry lips which told him that they might be down but they were fightin’ and alive, and he pushed into the heat of Bucky’s mouth and let himself claim one hungry taste of John Egan, before he made his hands, which had somehow come to clutch Bucky by the throat, push him away.

“That’s why.”

And Gale stalked out into the night. Curfew be damned.

He got maybe, half way down the side of their hut, heading for the shadows that would hide him from the goons, before he heard footsteps he would know blind come running after him.

Well. If Bucky was going to retaliate, may as well be now in the dark, in one of the few hidden spaces they had, instead of in front of their men in broad daylight.

John had never been a violent man, but maybe if he decided to smack some sense into Gale, he could knock this feeling out of him.

So when a hand grabbed Gale’s bicep so hard it pinched the skin and he knew there’s be bruises like fingerpaints there tomorrow, he didn’t fight it. He let John drag him further down the gaps between the huts and shove him against the cold and damp wood. He let John grab his neck and the back of his hair, and he didn’t say anything even as the man faltered when he got a look of Gale’s face. What did he see? Defeat? Desperation? The grief that in a few short moments, Buck and Bucky, the most important, defining, greatest relationship of his life would be over, all because he let his control slip just once-

“Then we’re even, you stupid, stupid bastard.”

John slid his hand around the back of Gale’s neck, tightened his hold on the back of his head and hauled Gale up until he was damn near on his toes, and he wasn’t even that much shorter than Bucky, and swept Gale up in his scent, his presence, and his taste.

John kissed him. Out there in the dark, on the precipice where Gale thought he would be expelled from John’s orbit altogether, John kissed him. It weren’t sweet like he imagined John kissed the dames, and it weren’t rough like Gale had kissed him.

John kissed like he was hungry. He pressed full and heavy and kiss after kiss onto Gale’s lips; sucking on his bottom lip, nipping at its plumpness, and when Gale sobbed when John angled his head just so and pulled Gale in even further, John slid his tongue against Gale’s and the shock, the vibrancy, the life it sent thrumming through him had him weak. And John continued to devour. The hand at Gale’s head came under his chin and tilted his head up so John could lick all the way down Gale’s tongue, caress him on the way back up, only to do it all again. Gale’s breaths were short and panting. Was this what is was like to come back to life? When they restarted your heart? He felt his heartbeat, their pulse, in his mouth and it guided him to yank John down and give as good as he got. He swallowed John’s groan down his throat. He finally, oh finally, got a handful of those curls and pulled, and John whined high and pretty and got his hands under Gale’s thighs and hauled him up, just off the ground, so the only thing keeping him upright was John’s body pressing him against the back of the hut and one of John’s thighs which slid between Gale’s own legs-

And Gale had no choice but to break off the kiss with a curse and another tug on John’s hair. “Fuck, Bucky.”

Pressed chest to chest, their heartbeats felt like rapid fire.

And Bucky’s hands, holding onto his waist, and the breaths Bucky huffed into Gale’s ear, and the solidity of his presence slowly lowered Gale back down to earth until his feet touched the ground.

Bucky dropped his head to Buck’s.

Gently, sweetly, he kissed Buck’s crown. “Next time, Buck, save a girl some heartache and just buy me some flowers.”

A little hysterical, Gale snickered into Bucky’s neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbled against the skin. “I just don’t know how—”

John hummed and pulled Gale back by the scruff and dropped his head so they were forehead to forehead. “Me either. But you’re the smartest person I know - when I’m there to get’cha outta your head, at least.”

Gale kicked his shin half-heartedly.

“You and me, Buck,” John said. “Just like I told you.”

And for now, Gale let himself believe.

#clegan #john egan #gale cleven #fic #mota #masters of the air #buck x bucky

69 notes · View notes

ilypaigebuckets · 12 hours

Note

Can you write a fic about Paige comforting you after noticing that you’ve been down the past couple of days and she tries to help you destress and feel more energetic

Vitamin P - Paige Bueckers x Reader

plot: paige comes back to your shared apartment to find you stressed and drowning in assignments and helps you feel better.

WARNING: the reader definitely experiences some anxiety, stress, and depression in this fic! please do not read this if you aren’t in an okay headspace to consume this type of media! please look out for yourself :)

‘This is going to be the death of me,’ you thought to yourself as you ran your hands through your long hair. You’d been working on the same assignment for the past hour, and had hit a wall. The past month had definitely been one of your hardest since you’d started college. You’d never had trouble with your studies before, so you had no idea how to handle the feelings you were feeling. With your head in your hands, you groaned and let the tears fall. The whole room felt blue, and your couch felt like an ice cold stone.

You were so caught up in your overwhelming emotions, that you didn’t even hear your girlfriend come through the door. As soon as she saw you she instantly felt horrible. Had you been this upset when she’d left for practice earlier in the day? Had she missed it? What was causing you to hurt this much? Was it her? A million questions bounced around in her mind, but she knew the main priority as of now was getting you to feel better.

She walked up to you and patted your head softly, “Hey angel. It’s gonna be okay, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay. I promise.” Paige reassured you as her long fingers scratched your scalp. She sat down on the couch next to you and opened her arms so you could crawl into them if you so wished. Of course, you leapt at the opportunity and threw yourself into her lap. You inhaled her sweet vanilla perfume and buried your face into her neck. It almost made you feel better instantaneously. almost. The tears were still falling, and all Paige could do in that moment was hold you and reassure you.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay to cry. Can you tell me what’s going on?” You lifted your head and nodded as you stared at your girlfriend with teary eyes. Your cheeks were stained with tears and Paige reached her hand up to wipe them away. Your lover left her hand on your cheek and you nuzzled your face into it, any possible way you could be closer to her you would take. “It’s all too much. School and everything. Why can’t I handle it anymore? What’s wrong with me? I feel like i’m suffocating. It’s so much Paigey, it’s all too much. I can’t handle it anymore and I-“

“Shhh,” Paige hushed you as you started spiraling again, and held you even tighter than before. “You are amazing, okay? You’re my baby. I’m gonna take care of you.” Paige really hated seeing you like this. It was like she said, you were her baby. All she wanted to do was take care of you. She put her hands under your legs and started to stand up. Once you figured out what was she trying to do, you wrapped your hands around her neck and your legs around her torso.

She took you into the bedroom and sat you on your shared bed. Then, went into your drawer and pulled out some shorts and one of her t-shirts for you to put on. “Here, baby. Can you shower and put these on for me?” You stood up from the bed and nodded, and Paige gave you a quick kiss on the cheek as you passed her to the bathroom.

While you were in the bathroom showering, Paige got to work. She quickly made you a snack and a cup of your favorite “sleepy time tea”, and put your favorite blanket into the dryer so it would be nice and warm for after you got out of the shower. She then got changed herself and waited for her love to finish showering.

Once you were out of the shower, you changed into the clothes Paige had picked out for you. You decided you’d do your skincare routine. Despite it being tedious, you knew it would inevitably make you feel better. After that was all down, you came out of the bathroom to see Paige waiting for you in bed. She looked up and smiled when she saw you.

“Hi baby! Did you have a good shower? I made you some tea and something to eat. Here!” She handed a mug and a bowl to you and you pecked her sweet lips as a ‘thank you’. You quickly drank the tea and Paige fed you apple slices like you were a baby. “P, you know I can feed myself right?” You questioned her. Sometimes you really didn’t know if she knew you could do things by yourself or not, it seemed she was always trying to do everything for you (not that you minded). “Yeahhh, but I love babying you. You’re my princess.” You blushed at the comment. “Speaking of doing things for you,” Paige started, “let me brush your hair! Here, sit up baby.”

Now that was a train you could get on. You loved when Paige played with your hair. Whether she was brushing it, braiding it, or just playing with it, it didn’t matter. She was always so gentle with it and it helped you relax. She always paid careful attention to start from the ends and work her way up so she didn’t damage your hair, and she got out every tiny tangle. When she was done, Paige pulled you in close to her chest and kissed your forehead. “You feeling better, baby?” She questioned you hopefully. You just giggled and nodded your head.

“Yeah I guess all I needed was some Vitamin P. Thank you for always making me feel better, babe.”

“You would’ve done the same for me, I love you. Thank you for remembering how strong you are.”

“Thank you for reminding me!” You replied, already half asleep. Now that you’d had your dose of Vitamin P you were officially ready to get some Vitamin Zzzz.

#paige bueckers #wlw post #paige bueckers x reader #lgbtqia #lgbt #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #paige buckets #paige bueckers x oc

95 notes · View notes

moonshine-nightlight · 11 months

Text

Snapped - Part 3

Mech’s not sure why the aftermath of this mission is hitting him so hard, but he’s doing his best to calm down when Gwen’s presence shatters his control. Now it’s a count down to see if he can figure out how to put a stop to the instincts and hormones that are running wild inside him—before he does something they’ll both regret.

Science fiction, alien romance, male alien x female human

Story Status: COMPLETE

AO3: Snapped Chapter 3

[Part 1] [Part 2] Part 3 [Part 4 - NSFW]

“Right now,” Mech begins, trying to think of the best way to explain this without giving anything too revealing away. It doesn’t help that his mind and instincts want to tell her, his trust in her overriding his knowing that she doesn’t want him in that way. “My brain has decided to flood my bloodstream with hormones to an alarming degree, which are in turn, affecting my thought process and making my brain produce even more chemicals in response.”

Gwen nods and Mech tries to think on how to continue his explanation instead of how her hair would feel, slipping through his fingers as he–. “I need to either reverse, neutralize, or however I can stop more reactions from happening. Then I need to see if I can flush any of these hormones out of my system. While the sedative is helping for now, we’ve got a time limit before I won’t be able to think again. In that case, you’ll need to lock me in my quarters and hope I can just wait it out.”

“Sounds like we should work now while we can,” Gwen says, but he watches her head over to one of the ship’s computers and start pulling up the security for unused cabins. Smart girl. Mech purposely looks away from what she’s doing and back to cycling through possible serums. If they get to that final option, he wants locking him up to succeed even if his mind has forgotten why it needs to. Mech appreciates her not drawing attention to this option or arguing with him. It’s in everyone’s best interests that, if he can’t find a solution, he’s locked up where he can’t get to her. Gwen continues, “What was that, um—you called it a sedative, right? What was that supposed to do?”

“It was supposed to slow down the release of additional hormones and counteract some that had already been released,” Mech replies, trying to stay focused on the content of her words and not how pleasing he finds her voice. Not being able to see her helps, but he can still sense her heat, her scent swirling through the closed room with ease. He pulls up the sendative’s formula and the sample of blood he fed the system, trying to see if there are any obvious reasons it’s failing.

“How well is that working?” Gwen asks, but she saw his reaction, his lapse in control, earlier. She must know the answer already.

“Not well at all,” he confirms. He can see now it’s not that the sedative isn’t working. It’s outnumbered and overwhelmed. His blood has a truly staggering amount of hormones, still being released in waves. The sedative has already bonded with as much as it can. “I thought it would have a more significant impact, but it could only do so much and it’s already used up, so to speak.” He would have to take a lot more for an additional effect. That would likely lead to blocking the release of necessary chemicals as well as an overabundance of the compound the bonding process produces. “If I take enough to handle the problem, it’ll poison me.”

“Ok-ay, yeah, no—don’t want that,” Gwen replies, turning her back on the screen she’d been using—so hopefully whatever room she set up to quarantine him is prepared now. That sends some ripples of relief through him—he’s not sure how he’ll able to weather the hormones one his own, but at least she’ll be safe. Hopefully, she’ll stop looking so concerned once he’s locked away. Although, when had he turned back around to look at her?

“So what’s the next move?” Gwen asks, interrupting his thoughts. She nibbles on her lower lip as she thinks and he wants to replace her teeth and tongue with his own. Her lips must be so soft and– “You gave your computer something to analyze, right? What did it say?”

“The program identified my condition,” Mech says, forcing his eyes away from tracing her collarbones, all the lovely skin her pretty dress is still leaving on display, to the screen in question. He pulls the case studies back up. “It’s happened before, but not often and under different circumstances.”

“Like what?” Gwen asks, her voice more curious than concerned, but another glance he can’t help her reveals she’s only trying to act that way. She always starts messing with her hair when she’s worried. The strands twirl around her finger and he wants to see them haloing her head as she lies underneath him, moving as he–

“Two people at once,” Mech manages as he stares furiously at the screen. Recriminations sound through his head just loud enough to drown out any imaginings of what she might sound like as he claimed her as his mate. He begins running through some of the medications they tried on these individuals. They’d all been on his home planet when the imbalance seized them. Does he even have all of these materials? Their weathering of their systems was primarily done with supportive care as they gave into the insistence of their hormones. Mating for days in some cases until the hormone surge was satisfied. His voice is rough once more as he continues, “So they were able to help each other.”

“But there’s just you,” Gwen realizes, worry and sympathy in her voice. She’s such a compassionate person. Surely she would understand his predicament, if he just explained. Maybe she would be willing to help him. She wouldn’t want him to suff–no, Mech cuts off his traitorous thoughts, knowing he would hate himself if he awoke from the surge to learn she’d mated with him out of pity or worse, that he’d tricked himself into hearing what he wanted to hear. “And you said I was only sort of helping.”

Mech bites back the words to explain in graphic detail exactly what she’s doing to him. Her presence remains a double-edged sword—a distracting one that is as liable to defend him as it is to cut him. “Right.”

“Sorry,” she says and her voice is so falsely casual he has to turn around. He sees her shrug and give an attempt at a smile. “Only human I’m afraid. Still, better than nothing, yeah?” She looks like he might blame her for being human, like she feels bad she can’t do more when it's a miracle she’s being as tolerant of this, this disgraceful lapse in control on his part.

“Of course.” Mech can’t have her thinking any of this is her fault. He reaches out to comfort her, to reassure her that she’s not failing at anything, that there’s nothing for her to feel guilty for, before he remembers why that would be a mistake. His arm falls back to his side, useless. Instead he tries to meet her eyes, needing her to understand. “I’m very grateful you’re here, Gwen.”

Her eyes measure his words before her smile turns far more genuine and it’s like the first drops of rain after a drought, refreshing and revitalizing. He can see the individual flecks of gold in her brown eyes, the delicate curls that frame her face, the red of her lips.

A beep draws his attention away, causes him to realize he’d stepped closer to her without even noticing.

“Okay, it’s generated a list of formulations we can create here with the supplies on hand,” Mech says, forcing his mind into the science as deeply as he can. Trying to lose himself in the problem rather than in Gwen.

The news is as sobering as it can be. By virtue of the previous cases affecting couples, most of the treatments heavily relied on their mating. Significantly, they require complimentary pheromones as a key ingredient to lessen the intensity of the effects. Dosing the affected individuals with each other hormones in addition to those introduced via actual mating, tricking the hormones into thinking they already had enough of what they craved. Judging by the one couple who surged at the same time, but hours away from each, that was also how the duration was shortened.

Human hormones of his “mate”, if he were in close enough prolonged contact, would likely help, but they could not be extracted from the venom for extra dosing because humans didn’t have any venom. And it would need to be human sexual pheromones, more concentrated than just the typical riotous blend they generated in abundance. So even that solution is heavily reliant on mating with Gwen, which is the one thing he definitely cannot do.

He furiously types updated parameters into the system, ruthlessly screening out all suggested formulations that required the use of complimentary mate hormones. He can see, out of the corner of his eyes, that Gwen has drifted closer, clearly attempting to understand what the results might be since he’s stopped explaining.

Mech can’t let her get any closer. “Most of these require supplies we don’t have or chemicals from the other who’s afflicted. I’m trying to narrow it down to a list of solutions I can actually make.” She still takes another distracted and curious step closer. He can’t even make his mouth form the words to tell her to stay back because he wants her closer. Wants to feel the heat she gives off against his skin, he wants to take in her scent directly from the source, lick the taste of her and—

“Can you get that other case of materials? I think it’s just back up of what’s here, but maybe there’s something else in there I forgot about,” he asks and Gwen brightens at the chance to help.

“Sure thing,” she replies and heads over to the other side of the room.

Mech turns his attention back to calculating which of these proposed solutions has the most promise and is the most efficient use of the compounds on hand.

He actually is able to refocus on the problem. He’s starting to hope that maybe the sedative just needed more time to kick or that he can create a more targetted one that won’t have too many negative side-effects. He doesn’t even notice when Gwen comes over, a cabinet or two down from him, with the case he asked for. She opens it and slides next to the other. It's only then that he looks at her again. He forces his eyes to stay away from her, forces them to stay focused on the carefully labeled packages and plants from his home in the case.

Just as he thought, there’s really only one or two that are different from the primary case—minor seasonal fluctuation in when they were assembled. Still, he dutifully plugs those new compounds into the system and waits to see if that alters the results.

The distant sound of the air filter system kicking on almost doesn’t rate notice either until it blows a strong stream of Gwen’s scent right into his senses. His nostrils flare and so do his spines, his claws extending into the wood of the countertop instantly.

“Mech!”

He’s already flung himself back towards the door, eyes lit up as he tries to get out of that tempting, delicious airflow. “Turn it off!” he hisses, closing his eyes as he anchors himself in place. Gwen doesn’t answer, but he can hear her pushing the cart aside to get to the control panel on the wall.

Despite his best effort, the airflow has re-circulated Gwen’s scent thoroughly throughout the medbay. He feels the pull to where he can sense she is. Humans have such strong pheromones by nature that Gwen’s typical scent is more than enough to convince his mind in this state that she’s ready for mating. His mind is spinning as he digs his claws into the wall as he strains to hold onto the knowledge that he can’t go to her.

His senses are in such an aware state that the sudden rush of cool air over his head feels more like a faucet of cold water. He lets out a surprised noise, that was not a yelp, and blinks up to see the vent over the door wide open. Tilting his head back down, he sees Gwen still at the controls, clearly running some sort of air purification program, pulling the air from her side out of the room and pushing out fresh, sanitized air from his side.

Mech had forgotten that of course the medbay was equipped with more than the ship’s typical air filtration system. While obviously they couldn’t run a full air sanitation program with two living people still in the room, this refresh is still very helpful. Gwen’s eyes meet his own and he’s surprised by how much worry he can see in them. He thinks his eyes are still glowing, but he’s careful to relax his spines, breathing deep of the fresh air and withdrawing his claws from the wall. “Thank you,” he says, mind actually fixed on the gratitude he feels for the clear head and only minorly on how lovely her hair looks as artificial wind tugs at it.

Gwen gives him a shaky smile and wisely keeps the program running, staying where she is on the other side of the room. “Glad I still knew how to do that. Never thought I’d have any reason to be grateful for that shipment of squezares for bursting.”

Mech shudders in memory of the smell that had spread throughout the ship what that particular cargo had been damaged. “Not sure it was worth it.” Gwen’s smile gets more solid at the joke and Mech finally feels something like solid ground under his feet. He hadn’t noticed how much her scent was affecting him. Staying as close to the fresh air vent as he can, Mech reaches over and manages to pull the diagnostic screen to him. But before he can look at the results it’s populated, Gwen speaks up again.

“I know you said that even if I’m not a graviel, I’m better than nothing,” she says, looking hesitant and frustrated and guilty for no reason Mech can think of, “but are you sure that’s true?” Gwen meets his eyes and he hates how desperate she looks all of a sudden. His reaction to her increased scent must have really worried her. The mental clarity the fresh air has brought him is overwhelmed by his innate desire to comfort her. He takes a step closer on instinct, needing to sooth her anyway he can. She holds up her hand, this time telling him to stay back and it cuts far deeper than he knows it should. Because she’s right. He should stay away if he’s the reason she looks this distraught, the reason they're in this whole mess. “Because I still don’t understand what’s happening to you and it seems like I’m making things worse. Every time it’s gotten worse has been my fault.”

“Not your fault,” he insists. “I promise it’s my fault. I keep forgetting or trying to—” He cuts himself off before he can say “claim you as my mate”. Between his own mind and the way, no matter what filters he puts on it, the system keeps insisting he do so as well the thought is always on the tip of his tongue. “Trying to act as though you’re affected too, like the other cases.”

“Are you sure there isn’t more I can do?” Gwen pleads. “You’re holding yourself back and it's hurting you. I’m not gonna break or get mad at you or whatever. It’s not as though your instincts want to fight me or something, is it?”

“No, not…” Mech swallows down venom and forces himself give an answer, any answer to get her to back away from this line of questioning. Even now he can feel himself wavering. Would it really be so bad to tell her the truth? What if she wants—No. He can’t let himself think such things. But he can’t have her thinking he wants to hurt her either. Not that he seems able to help it, going by the look on her face. All he can do is shake his head and hope she can hear the truth in his voice, “Nothing like that.”

“Mech…”

Gwen gives him a look he can’t interpret, only that her skepticism is clear to him. But at what he has no idea and with all his hormones raging it's too easy for that confusion and fear to meld into frustration. “It’s very hard to think, alright?” he snaps. “It’s heard to hear, in a sense, anything that isn’t what my body is telling me.” He needs her to understand what’s at stake. “If I stop being able to hear you…”

“But if you don’t want to hurt—” Gwen tries to argue, a stubborn look on her face. If only she understood what she was pushing for and how much he wants to take her up on that offer, damn the consequences.

But he can’t. He knows the risks, knows the consequences. Even now, his instincts also want to keep her safe and happy, even as they want to claim her. Mech’s pretty sure that’s the only reason he’s as lucid as he is. That he’s resisting as well as he is.

“Accidents happen, Gwen,” he replies, frustrated at his inability to articulate the danger to her without giving himself away. “I’m stronger than you, physically. I could hurt you. And I didn’t just mean literally hear you. I meant interpret any communication, including physical movement, as signs of possible distress. I’m essentially drunk. People do all sorts of dangerous and potentially harmful things, when out of their mind, even if they don’t intend to. Even if they wouldn’t under normal circumstances.”

“Okay, okay,” Gwen puts her hands up. “I get it. I just think that if chemistry isn’t working—which it really doesn’t seem like it is—that you should just stop beating around the bush and tell me what your instincts want.” She looks over at him earnestly. “I don’t know shit about your biology or chemistry, but maybe I could help you figure out another way to handle everything. Something practical instead of scientific. I feel like I’m trying to help with one hand tied behind my back.”

“Gwen,” he runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

Gwen glares back at him, the frustration in every line of her body mirroring his own. “Just tell me!”

“Fine! You really want to know? My instincts,” he lets the words out through gritted teeth. He no longer has the strength to keep them in any longer. All his focus has to be on not acting on them. “They want you. They want me to claim you,” he chances a look at her face, “Make you mine. My mate.”

“Oh!” Her eyes go very wide before they dart away from Mech’s, likely embarrassed for him. And herself. And this whole cursed situation. “I’m sorry. I know you must…” She bites her lip which Mech really wishes she wouldn’t. “Sorry. How can I stop…” She makes a vague gesture at herself.

“You can’t,” he replies bluntly. “You need to be here so I don’t think you’re in danger or with rivals, but you can’t touch me or I might not be able to hold myself back, not quickly enough.” He swallows, finally articulating his greatest fear which feels more real now that she knows. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Gwen’s whole expression softens. “You would never hurt me.”

“Wouldn’t mean to,” he allows, flicking his eyes back to the screen, but all the words are out of focus.

“Wouldn’t,” she replies stubbornly, jutting her chin out. To his relief she doesn’t keep pushing it, allowing the sound of the vents working to fill the room as he finally is able to read the screen.

She can’t seem to keep silent long. “Do you know why your instincts picked me?” she asks tentatively. “Or why now? If we knew that, maybe we could reverse it or fix it.”

“Don’t know why now—makes no sense. Must just…” Mech shakes his head. Probably just a matter of time. “Here,” he pulls up a fieldguide and throws it over to the screen near her. “Find that.” He points to a particular plant that’s in a seasonal variety only in the second case while he pulls the original main case over to him with his tail. He can’t risk going any closer to her than he already is for the moment. Even doing it that way, he knows it's only shame that she knows his weakness that’s keeping his tail from reaching out to her.

Mech can’t dwell on what he reveals and the only good consequence is that he’s embarrassed enough, and afraid enough of how this might affect their relationship going forward, that it's actually helping to quell the hormones in his blood. Still, he knows he can’t lose focus and so he throws himself into creating the most promising looking medication. It’s untested, but it should compensate for the lack of an actual graviel mate to wait through the reaction with. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to get him into the secure room Gwen’s prepared. Maybe by the time this chemical snap has blown over, Gwen will have not forgotten, but be willing to pretend he never said anything.

He crosses from one wall to the other on his side, feeding the machine there the compounds he’s prepared. “Can you add the amount on the screen?” he asks, voice gruff and awkward. “Then close the lid, that’s the last ingredient.”

“Sure,” Gwen says. He hates and is grateful for how normal she sounds, like he hasn’t just disrupted the perfectly calibrated balance their friendship had managed to reach.

He doesn’t dare look up, waits for the sound of the lid closing and of her footsteps as she crosses back to her side. Even that short trip closer resulted in some of her scent blown his way and she smells like temptation distilled down to its truest form.

He sets the machine running and carefully breathes shallowly until the vents have once more blown away her enticing scent.

“Mech, really, why me?” Gwen asks, interrupting the quiet. She sounds cautious but unwilling to leave well enough alone. He almost can’t handle that question. “Why would—”

“Of course, it’s you!” the words burst from him without thought, without permission. He’s already bared more of himself than he’d prefer, but this question is the worst because how can she even ask it. “Who else could it be? There’s no one—” He shakes his head and glares at her, unable to help himself. “There’s only you. Always you.”

Her eyes are wide as she looks at him, genuine shock evident. “Mech…”

[Part 4 - NSFW]

#my writing #story: snapped #snapped #alien #sci-fi #science fiction #alien romance #osha compliant #3rd pov #mech #gwen #heat #please dont @ me about the science #its all made up and its for an alien anyway so prove me wrong lol #next part will not be osha compliant #no idea why this took so long to write but it's here now

91 notes · View notes

camels-pen · 2 years

Text

had a dream about randomly waking up and being Conner and M'gann's future kid or smth with absolutely no clue as to how i got there and now i'm thinking of a dp yj crossover with Danny being their kid and ending up in the same scenario.

like, he has enhanced strength and has a lot of powers similar to a martian, so this could actually work p good.

Okay, i see this as going one of two ways:

Danny is actually their kid, but Danny's memories of his past life (DP canon) catch up with him and mess with the memories of his current life.

Danny is not their kid, he has no idea how he got here and why these people insist he's their son. He's half-convinced this is one of Vlad's schemes and/or that they're kidnappers. (I'm leaning more towards this one)

Either way there would probably be a lot of Danny freaking out and trying to run away as soon as he could. This includes, of course, a panicked use of his powers, which surprises Conner and M'gann enough for him to escape.

At this point, he'd try to make his way to Amity Park and either find that it doesn't exist, was completely destroyed, or there's no evidence of ghost attacks/the Fentons/Sam and Tucker/anyone Danny might recognize.

Danny... has a bit of a rough time.

Regardless of which option I choose ('actually their kid' vs 'not their kid'), the reason things are different in Amity is because this is years in the future and also a different universe. It's probably Clockwork's fault tbh.

Danny doesn't know he's in an alternate universe so he kinda just, yknow, gets real sad and falls asleep in the park or something.

Conner and M'gann get some help and track him down. They're pretty heart broken to find their little boy sleeping on a bench with clear tear tracks on his cheek. They take him back to the bioship and discuss how to talk to him when he wakes up and how to help him with his 'new powers'.

When Danny wakes up in Conner and M'gann's house, he's much more resigned and quieter than before. Kinda listless too.

He doesn't know where he is, FentonWorks was destroyed/doesn't exist so he can't go into the Ghost Zone and ask Clockwork for help, and Vlad hasn't shown his face so he's just... stuck with these people.

there'll probably be a meeting with Dinah or something after a while of Danny showing the same behaviour and eventually, maybe, perhaps everyone will figure out Danny's from an alternate universe, but for reasons I haven't determined yet, he can't go back.

Eventually Danny will realize that Conner and M'gann aren't so bad, especially compared to his real parents, and will start to warm up to them. Maybe there will be a key moment when he actually seeks out one or both of them for comfort that cements them as trustworthy adults, at the very least.

then blah blah fluff blah blah angst blah blah story and Danny warms up to them a lot more and starts thinking of them as an uncle and aunt in his head (ignoring the fact that they act more like parents than Jack and Maddie ever had)

THEN there's gonna be this big incident where every hero available is asked to help out, including Conner and M'gann, and Danny is staying with uhh, Lucas Carr or one of C&M's other friends.

Danny sneaks out to go help, obviously, and Conner and M'gann are Not Happy and trying to send him back home, but oops too late, no one can leave now because The Incident has become much Much worse and will probably destroy the Earth if they don't stop it soon.

At one point, The Incident makes a portal into the Ghost Zone, a portal that's within eyesight to Clockwork's lair, a portal that Danny could easily fly into and go home, but that would mean leaving before The Incident was resolved and he couldn't do that. He also couldn't leave without saying goodbye.

So he stays, and he fights, and he does everything he can to help.

And then

The heroes are down. Many are injured or out cold. No one is unscathed. There are only a handful of people left standing, including Danny, Conner, and M'gann.

They won't be able to resolve The Incident with just the handful of people awake and able to move. But Danny has an idea. A very very bad idea.

He looks at the portal, allows a brief moment of mourning, and then absorbs the energy of the portal into himself, literally channeling the energy of the Ghost Zone through himself, to make a huge beam or ecto-construct or massive blast of ghost ice to resolve The Incident.

The downsides to doing this is how absolutely drained he feels afterward. Oh, and by using up the portal's energy Danny caused the portal, possibly his only way home, to close.

Conner, as the strongest dude still awake and moving, watches over The Resolved Incident, and M'gann holds Danny as he mourns his home.

#nemotime #DPxDC #dp yj crossover #dp dc crossover #long post #I'm imagining this as post-YJ s4 of course #im not gonna mention spoiler stuff though #but if i ever write this... lets just say i have Ideas #there would definitely be more seperate moments of Danny with Conner and Danny with M'gann #plus Conner and M'gann are probably gonna disagree on some things here and there of course #like what im trying to say is i basically wrote them as a unit in this post but i would write them as seperate people #with differing opinions and stuff if i wrote this fic #The Incident is probably ghostly in nature #which is why Danny went after them. definitely not because he was worried about them #wow this is A Lot longer than i was expecting lmao #aw fuck #now im thinking of Danny pulling a Tim and going on a ConnerQuest like Tim's BruceQuest #man that'd be something #i cant think about this though #i cant get sucked into making another post when i already took so long making this one jshdjgadfg

90 notes · View notes

caterpillarinacave · 1 month

Note

You wake in the morning your mind made up, there's no point in rushing headlong into these things, you'll stick around where there are free accommodations, at least for a little while, in the meantime you can search the area more and develop a better understanding of your situation, you head to the bathroom to clean up, when you go to untangle your hair you notice the blue from before has disappeared, you pick up the brush from the store and separate out a small amount of hair and run the brush through, it turns blue, you see that the brush is still clean but if you want to brush with it you will end up with a head of colorful hair, interesting, you set aside the brush and go back to cleaning yourself up before heading out to the main place to find the others and let them know of your decision to stay for a while, the older one seems pleased, they get you some spare clothes and finish setting up your space with things to fulfill your basic needs.

Your decision to stay turns from days to weeks to months, at this point you've learned the basics of the language around you, some simple words can be read, and a lot of the mannerisms have become much more familiar, the chirps, you've come to find, are verbal punctuation marks, depending on the chirp they literally vocalize "!!!" or "?", it's pretty cool. Additionally you've developed a deeper and friendlier relationship with both of the homes occupants, the younger one becomes more amicable as you take on some of the chores around the farm, which is what you have come to understand their home is, though the crops and animals are different and the farm methods aren't what you remember from your world, in any case, you help where you can, sometimes you go into town with the others and help with the shopping or other errands, the town is friendly, the area is nice, you've noticed the seasons do change similar to how they would in your world and the autumn turns to winter and leads to spring, though the people here split their seasons into seven distinct sections and their separation of time, like years and months or even days, are confusing, so you don't pay it too much mind, you find that despite wrapping yourself in the clothes and culture of these people you continue to remain yourself, no alterations afflict you, though it has only been some time, you don't think the world changing you physically is a huge thing to worry over anymore, you still check the number of fingers and toes you have each morning anyway, better safe than sorry or at least caught unawares.

You've kept an eye out for any sign of the mentioned key or any other way home, but nothing comes up, even when you manage to ask the older person what they meant before, they admit they really only know what the person who passed through told them, in order to go back to a world when the door closed you needed a key that opened the other side of the door, the person before you had searched this world a long time for that key, but when nothing ever came of it they moved on, before that though they had stayed here which is where the older one had learned some of your language and of your situation.

It's some time in the Spring like season several months in that you are hit with a cleaning bug, the other two went into town earlier so you get to work, while you had already searched the house before for anything that might hint at how you should proceed, you never found anything and the inhabitants themselves had been more useful and you quit looking eventually, imagine your surprise then when you stumble across a journal under a bookcase written in a language you can read, you pause your cleaning immediately and as you consume the book you learn that this was left behind by the person who had come before you, the journal is dated ten years ago and has entries detailing the events of their journey here as well as long discussions on their theories and observations of it all, from the book you learn several valuable pieces of information: there are multiple doorways on this world but they all seem to lead to the same next world although not the exact same place as far as they can tell, the next world is largely unknown but from what they can tell is safe enough in that you can breathe the air, in this world there is a secret organization, or perhaps cult, that studies these doorways but the author is not particularly impressed with them for some unspecified reason, the doors close automatically and cannot be kept open by any means, no going back without the Backwards Key or more specifically the black side key unless someone else opens the door from the other side, interestingly anything that passes through the door has a chance of developing a magic of its own which the writer is confused by (they brought over a bottle that now never runs out of water and a bag that replicates whatever gets put in it, the science behind this is discussed in depth for many pages but just gets chalked up to magic), they think that the doors open to alternate universes rather than across space to other planets but they aren't sure, the plan they chose to follow was to start going forwards through the doors and hunting for one of the keys to the black side then head back and go home, you don't think the plan panned out, this journal has given you more information to work with and much to think about but ultimately still leaves you with not much in the way of choices.

This set up is peaceful, the longer you stay the more parallels you find with your own world and despite missing loved ones from your old life the stability of this new one has begun to lull you into a sense of security, going forward could mean starting over, seeking out the secret organization could spell trouble, just travelling further than this town on your own would certainly be a hassle, staying here and continuing to learn about this world offers an opportunity of safety but you definitely don't see a future in which you reach home this way, do you choose to continue living as you have been?

#OKAY OKAY OKAY I’m sorry I took so long to answer #Here’s the deal: I’m not just hopping back through that door #Seems like a bad idea. Cult on the other side sounds like a worse idea.#If it all comes down to “travel to next world with the current information” or “stay here forever” I might stay here forever #Hell I might stay here forever even if I could get back- but boy do I want the option #First things first: write everything down. Everything that es happensed so far #Write it twice actually if not a few more. One to leave in the hut and one to leave near the door #Write not just everything that’s happened but translations for this worlds inhabitants language how society seems to function ectect #The thing is while going through the door isn’t a great idea the leads aren’t dead here #Traveling hella far probs isn’t a great idea either. However a few things are interesting #1. The hairbrush: why is it turning my hair blue? Why does it go away? Why is it a brush from my world?#2. The walkie. There’s a downright decent chance it will never really work but I’ll try anyway. Leave it on all the time just in case #3What’s up with the berries? Do all berries in this world taste like this? Is it just ones by the door?#4. The other stuff found in the brambles- can I piece anything. About it together? Have they been dropped by other people?#So I do doubt staying here will get me a WAY home #but I might be able to determine other things. Like while I might not be able to get “home” I might now how conceptually I could #So I’m still not super sure what to do. It’s great I have the safe haven.#In terms of actual actions I’m going back to visit the door. I’ll bring a copy of what I’ve written to leave by the door incase someone-#stumbles through. I’ll try the berries by the door and ones further away (since nothing seems harmful ti me here yet I’ll assume they won’t #be poisonous. YOLO I guess.) Then try the walkie nearer to the door #it might be worth it to open the door but not go through. Since I’ve opened it twice before and only walked through once I know you can ope #it see the next world and close it. You won’t pass through unless you walk through. I wonder if I could try the walkie with the door open #or even throw a letter or some sort of communication through. See if it’s possible to hear a response or establish communication?#worth a shot because now I have free time and curiously #yes no anon #guys I got lost in a black berry bush

0 notes

unknownmads · 5 months

Text

CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI

CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)

☆☆☆

thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.

Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).

Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.

Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website

Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.

Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.

Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.

~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~

Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.

~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~

he wanted to be nonchalant.

Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called

“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”

Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.

Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.

Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

13K notes · View notes

chastiefoul · 4 months

Text

0:56 a.m. | nanami kento

0.6k words

“kento,” you whispered into the silence of the night and the dimmed lights on your room. It’s been way past midnight and you hadn’t been able to sleep, contrary to your boyfriend who’s lying beside you—his breath steady and calm.

when your voice didn’t budge him out of his slumber you tried once more.

“kento.” this time a little louder.

he then muttered an inaudible word, still closing his eyes. his hand wandered though, tightening his hold around the back of your shoulder; bringing you close to his chest. better, but the gesture was not enough for you who’s not feeling even a little sleepy, as mischief ideas filled your head.

third time’s a charm, they said. so you called him once more.

this time it finally did something as he hummed a reply, his free hand rubbed your side in a calming pattern, his hand went underneath your shirt that’s all rode up. he settled his grip just an inch under your chest, his thumb slowly moved up and down. “that tickles,” you said as you put a hand over his, refraining his little movement. Although, you’re sure he could hear the smile on your voice.

he finally opened his eyes as he gave you a lazy little smile and you swore you didn’t remember seeing anything more gorgeous than that. “why aren’t you asleep, hm?” his voice a tone heavier than usual, a tad husky as it laced deep with sleep. “i can’t sleep,” you whispered, like telling a secret to your best friends in a slumber party. “right. so i don’t get to either, yeah?” he replied, a smile on his face; and it’s only fondness shine across his feature.

“i mean, i understand if the old man needs his sleep even though tomorrow’s weekend. so by all means,” you said playfully, and that earned a deep chuckle from him. “don’t tease, who said we should have an early night today?” he raised an eyebrow, and for such a calm sleeper he now couldn’t stop his wandering hand as he’s diligent on giving you back-scratches—not that you’re complaining. “yes, but that was before my confidence in being able to fall asleep crumbled right before my eyes,” you claimed, feigning a serious tone. “i see, my mistake.” his eyes narrowed affectionately and you had a feeling you could say the dumbest excuse and he’d let you get away with anything.

you felt the need to sit up and do something but before you could even do that he held you down gently. “none of that, you’ll feel even more restless, love.” you couldn’t even protest at that since you knew he’s always right. “then what do you suggest we do now?”

“it’s a we problem now, hm?” he stared at you in amusement, knowing who dragged him into the sleepless night as well was none other than you. “is that a complaint i hear?” you threw him a questioning look. “it’s excitement, of course.” he laughed softly as he stroke your hair ever-so-gently.

“i should just start rambling maybe it’ll get me tired,” you said randomly and he just nodded without offering any question. “sure, i’m listening.” his hand didn’t stop moving. “where should i start?” you asked, relying on his answer. And of course it came easy for the man who seemed like he knew all the right words. “start anywhere, love. you could repeat anything, skipped over some words, or even tell it backwards and i’ll be here to point it out,” he said lovingly.

and you don’t know if it’s just his power you didn’t know about but it’s not even ten minutes after you started talking and as he kept doing the little gesture you could feel the sleepiness coming, welcoming you to one of your best slumber in a while.

idk how it took me this long to write this man. i love him so much.

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #nanami kento #kento x reader

3K notes · View notes

blacktabbygames · 5 months

Text

Slay the Princess Concept Art

We shared a bunch of concept art on Twitter today. Sharing it here, too, where you can find it all in one post. Post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution (or just play the game already if you haven't 😉)

Going to start with the first piece of concept art Abby drew for the game.

In the earliest stages of development, we toyed around with the concept of there being multiple "end game" forms of the Princess.

The initial outline, rather than being tied together by an overarching metanarrative, structured a full playthrough as a 5-6 chapter long, self-contained journey down a single route, determined by your decisions in chapter 1. Here's an alternative late-game form:

The idea of deviating end-game forms didn't lost for very long, though. As we explored the game's themes more deeply, it made the most sense for there to be a singular "true" form.

If your reality is shaped by subjectivity and perception, then the "truth" has to be what's left when that subjectivity is swept away. the Shifting Mound's final design feels like that initial truth for the Princess, though there's also another truth if you push back against her and press on into the final cabin.

We really liked this "void" design, and I played around with the idea of it being an intermediary to the final form. The "void" Princess would be what you saw upon encountering the final Princess without understanding your own truth, but once you had that understanding, you would see her as the Shifting Mound, as depicted in the game.

That gave way to the intermediary design of the SM being a sea of disembodied limbs, and we also took parts of both designs and incorporated them into the protagonist (particularly the wings.) You can see the eyes and feathers for this void form in the ending card of the original trailer below:

You can see extremely early concept art for the spectre (top), nightmare (top-right), stranger (left), beast (bottom) and ??? (right) as well!

The eyes became a motif in the Nightmare route (Paranoid's manifestation of the fear of being watched), but I also like to think of them as a part of The Long Quiet's truth. You are space and emptiness, but you're also that which observes those things, and it's your perceptions that give the Shifting Mound shape.

Anyways, on the note of the original original concepts for the game, the Princess was initially going to remain human for several loops before taking on more monstrous forms. Some concepts of that are below. Had to get Abby to tone down some of the more horrifically cartoonish designs because they creeped me out and I didn't want to romance them in a video game.

We had to hold our cards close to our chest in the non-metanarrative early drafts, which is part of why, even in the first demo, the cabin doesn't really change much in chapter 2. More room to subtly play with the concept of transformation over time.

There were a lot of reasons we moved in a different direction for the full release. The branching was unmanageably large to write, and the game felt like a slog to write.

Using an overarching narrative as a framing mechanism in the final version gave us a lot more freedom to explore wildly divergent ideas within routes while still driving the player towards the originally planned finale.

Anyways, now we've got some concept art for individual princesses. There's a lot more than this lying around somewhere, but it's all in sketchbooks, and we'll probably wait until we make an art book to show it off.

First is the tower, who really didn't change much at all. (She got a little thicker, I guess. All of the Princesses did)

Not a lot to say about her, other than the fact that we knew we wanted a set piece where she gets so big that the trees and cabin orbit around her.

The stranger went through many many redesigns over the course of development. Here, she was a "princess skin" filled with a hive of sentient bugs. The script wasn't working for me, though, so instead she became a peak behind the curtains without the necessary context to know her.

A lot of people ask how these earlier drafts of the Stranger route would have played out, and the answer is I can't tell you, because I couldn't figure out something worth writing.

The writing process for individual routes didn't really start with outlines or plot beats. Rather, the routes started from a theme and a relationship dynamic, and I organically found their outcomes by exploring actions within those themes, and then seeing if those passed Abby's editor brain.

Neither of us found actions we wanted to explore with those versions of the Stranger, at least actions that weren't a beat-by-beat retelling of chapter 1, which contained way too much variation to put on a single chapter 2 route.

If each princess examines a relationship formed by perception and first impressions, the Stranger examines one that's fundamentally unknowable. One where you've seen too much, too quickly.

An insect hive-mind pretending to be a person seemed like a good starting point, but it was too difficult to write any interactions that didn't immediately feel knowable, if still strange. So the final version of the Stranger was designed in such a way where her unknowability makes interacting with her on a human level fundamentally impossible, and you don't get to have a real conversation with her unless you satisfy extremely specific criteria.

Anyways next up is the razor's final form. We decided she needed more swords.

Hearts became an accidental motif very quickly in the development process, too. (The fact that it is only strikes to the heart that fell her in the demo was accidental, but it felt poetic so we extended it to the rest of the game.)

So on top of adding more swords, we made her heart visible. This is something we did with the fury as well, as a way of showing their emotional (and physical) vulnerability.

Here's an early version of the Adversary and what would eventually become the Eye of the Needle, back when she was still called the Fury. Originally her hair was going to be fire (as seen on the right), but it didn't feel right in its execution.

She's hit the gym since this concept art. Good for her :)

And we're going to end with the Beast, who at this point was called the Adversary. I think this was before the Witch was added? The Beast was originally designed to be a Questing Beast who lurked in the shadows, where you'd only see glimpses of her, and where each glimpse would make her appear to be a different animal. This was too difficult to execute, though we gave her a more chimera-like appearance in the final game.

This design was from when we still has the Voice of the Obsessed, and the route was going to be a more feral mirror of what eventually became the Adversary, but it felt too thematically similar while being less interesting, so we moved in the direction of making the Beast about consumption as a form of love.

Anyways, that's all we've got for you right now. Hope this was fun!

#slay the princess #interactive fiction #character design

3K notes · View notes

inkedbybarnes · 1 month

Text

his baby

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky won't call you by your name.

word count: 400+

warnings: 18+ minors dni. established relationship. tooth rotting fluff, or worse... allusions to smut. a whole lot of usage of petnames mainly being baby, bucky being obsessed with the reader (that's a warning, i say), lowercase writing.

i have no idea what this is (okay, maybe i do) but it happened. really cheesy, but i guess i'm into that sometimes. hope you like this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“where's my baby?”

those three words kept echoing all throughout the compound this morning. most of the team were up and awake to welcome bucky, steve, and sam who just arrived home from their week long mission.

but his baby was missing.

“oh, god. here he goes again.” sam shook his head, fatigue written all over his face, but a bit of amusement from bucky's behaviour still shining through. he couldn't deny how admirable bucky's adoration for you was.

“calm down, punk." steve pat his shoulder reassuringly. “i'm sure she's here somewhere.”

“yeah, but where?” bucky asks again. “i haven't seen her for a week. i miss her.”

“you think he remembers her name?" clint jokingly asked.

“she has multiple names, remember?” tony answered. “baby, sweetheart, love, sweets, and.. what's the other one? i swear, there's another, or maybe two?”

before one of them could find the answer, bucky popped right in front of them to ask another question.

“is my baby okay?” his brows were all scrunched up, genuinely worried about you. “did you tell her i was coming home? i told her before we took off. why isn't she here? she's always—”

“okay, lover boy. your baby is alright, she's still sleeping in your room, i think.” tony answered him, finally calming him down. “and can you call her by her name when it's just us around? we're starting to think that you forgot what her actual name is."

“what? she's my only baby, it's not that hard to figure it out." bucky shrugged, causing at least three of the avengers to run their hands through their face at his answer. “and why is she still asleep? is she sick?"

natasha raised her hand, a guilty smile on her face. “i'm the reason for that. i made her stay up late with me last night to watch five seasons of a show we discovered accidentally,” she explained, a proud smile now replacing her guilty one. “she might be a little cranky from the lack of sleep, so you better have something for her when she wakes up.”

“oh, i do.” bucky grinned like he already knew what to give her and was prepared for it. “all of you might want to leave the tower for the entire day if you don't want to hear me giving it to her.”

what used to be the shouts of bucky looking for you were now replaced with the grunts and complaints of the team because of bucky's answer.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x fem!reader #inkedbybarnes

2K notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 26 days

Text

Chasing Cars | Masterpost (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆status: on-going (next update: May 17th, 2024)

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female reader, Namjoon x OC, Jin x OC, Jimin x OC, Taehyung x OC and others.

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆total word count: 182.9k (lmao my fingers slipped)

☆a/n: I got the idea for this fic just a little over a year ago, following a power outage that lasted for a few days where I live and Jungkook's live where he kept coming back with different outfits (the white dress shirt hit me right in the gut). It took me a long time to write, as I was working on multiple other projects at the same time, but I am so so happy to be ready to share this baby with you guys <3

☆Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing this monster <3 (and for all your encouragement and support)

☆And a special thank you to @wintaerbaer and @btsborahaee for encouraging me and supporting me whenever I screamed to you about this fic

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

➳Teaser (Jungkook pov): the day he met you (1.1k)

You fucking touch her, you're dead.

➳Chapter one: when the Incident happens (11.8k)

Jungkook is Tae's best friend.

➳Chapter two: when Jungkook teases you (10.2k)

You know I hate that nickname.

➳Chapter three: when Valentine's Day happens (13.1k)

You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.

➳Chapter four: when you and Jeon Jungkook clash (9.5k)

I was just going to say that we should keep this between us.

➳Chapter five: when you have to go back to reality (12.1k)

We just pretend nothing happened, no?

➳Chapter six: when Jungkook hosts his friends over (9.6k)

I really want to kiss you right now.

➳Chapter seven: when doubt makes you question everything (15k)

Why do you want to believe the worst of me so bad?

➳Chapter eight: when secrets are unveiled in New York (13.5k)

I want you.

➳Chapter nine: when a party makes Jungkook jealous (11.2k)

You make me insane.

➳Chapter ten: when time slips through your fingers (10.1k)

I don’t want to lose you, peach.

➳Chapter eleven: when Jungkook visits Taehyung in Paris (8.4k)

Can’t wait for you to be back.

➳Chapter twelve: when it breaks (7.3k)

I can’t be with you.

➳Chapter thirteen: when it's too late (8.9k)

I have to talk to him.

➳Chapter fourteen: when the truth comes out (12.2k)

We never told each other how we felt.

➳Chapter fifteen: when you find your way back to Jungkook (7.4k)

You came?

➳Chapter sixteen: when Jungkook takes you out on a date (8.9k)

I think I was waiting for you my whole life.

➳Chapter seventeen: when forever awaits you (9k)

Getting to love you is the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.

Drabbles in Jungkook's pov (might add more as the story goes on)

➳Drabble 1: the engagement party (453)

Have fun while it lasts.

➳Drabble 2: after a call in Paris (596)

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

➳Drabble 3: a conversation with his mother (644)

Nothing strengthens a man more than heartbreak.

➳Drabble 4: a conversation with Taehyung (1.1k)

It’s never been like that with her.

☆☆☆☆☆

#chasing cars masterpost #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #chasing cars #chasing cars series

1K notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 26 days

Text

do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

part one | part two | part four

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time.

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned.

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire.

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground.

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati.

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing.

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face.

“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy.

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep.

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes.

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment.

“But we made such good plans,” he laments.

You kiss his cheek.

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win.

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy.

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them.

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all.

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets.

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table.

His eyebrows raise.

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly.

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly.

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face.

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably.

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor.

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly.

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s a ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips.

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him.

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again.

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything?

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands.

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against.

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment.

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention.

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think.

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have.

“Do you want to?”

Woah.

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how?

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea.

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try.

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do.

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch.

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches.

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him.

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is.

The size sinks in a quick second later.

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response.

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening.

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch.

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath.

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed.

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously.

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre.

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation.

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh.

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong.

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head.

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him.

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it.

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out.

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours.

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs.

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident.

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you.

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped.

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is.

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought.

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?”

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers.

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his.

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek.

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind.

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower.

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears.

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate.

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again.

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away.

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile.

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers.

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible.

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him.

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence.

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets.

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can.

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips.

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing.

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt.

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer.

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance.

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom.

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?”

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls.

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck.

He really wants to tell you right now.

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest.

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt.

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated.

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him.

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going.

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face.

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now.

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw.

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again.

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him.

“Stand up.”

You frown.

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy.

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him.

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing.

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no.

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh.

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again.

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and his grip tightens ever so slightly.

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening.

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there.

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him.

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit.

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all.

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath.

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty.

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh.

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it.

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words.

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

2K notes · View notes

sansaorgana · 1 month

Text

— THE GIFT

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — You were born to be Feyd-Rautha's wife. You arrive to Giedi Prime to get adjusted to the new environment before your wedding. Your betrothed is trying to court you properly... but he only knows The Harkonnen ways of doing so.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — After a whole month of writing Thrown To The Wolves, I felt weird writing something with Feyd with a different Reader and a different plot. 🙈 But at the same time I was excited to explore a new scenario. 😄

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, death

WORD COUNT — 3,700

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THE GIFT

Giedi Prime was an unfriendly place – cold and colourless, nearly lifeless as well. The people you were seeing reminded you of machines more than humans. You were terrified as you realised you’d spent the rest of your life there. The Harkonnens were even worse. Rude, harsh, not very talkative. Your future husband had looked you up and down on your first day in a way that turned your blood cold.

You missed home. You missed your family. But you knew it was impossible to ever go back. You could run away – if you somehow managed to bribe the servants to help you – but it was impossible to hide from your destiny. You had been born to be Feyd-Rautha’s wife, and most importantly, to give birth to his child.

You were a daughter of an important Lord, therefore you weren’t opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage. You knew nothing else was waiting for you in this world and no one would ever let you marry a person of your choice. But why was Feyd-Rautha your betrothed? Out of all the people in the galaxy, why did you have to be promised to a Harkonnen?

Ever since you had been a little girl, your friends had been teasing you about it. Repeating the dreadful gossip about Giedi Prime and your betrothed who had become a famous and dangerous gladiator in the meantime. And now you were finding out that the gossip was not true – reality was even worse than anything you had heard and expected of this place and of this man.

You were supposed to spend three months on Giedi Prime before your wedding, away from your home and family, to adjust to the environment and the customs. Then the wedding would take its place and you’d become the na-baroness of The Harkonnens.

On your first morning you were woken up with breakfast brought to your bed by the servants.

“Why can’t I eat with my husband’s family in the dining room?” You asked them while sitting up and resting on your pillows.

The pale and bald women looked at each other significantly. Everyone looked the same here, you felt like a freak.

“Baron Harkonnen and his nephews do not eat their meals together, unless it is a special occasion, a banquet of some sort,” one of them explained. “Everyone eats their meals in their own private chambers.”

“I see,” you nodded and sighed at the sight of the food. It was as colourless as everything around. You missed the bowls of fruit and yoghurts you had been getting on your homeplanet.

After swallowing the last bit of your breakfast, you took a shower and let your new servants dress you up. The Harkonnens had requested for you to leave all your clothes and personal belongings at home. They wanted you to be as detached from your old self as possible. You were gifted a whole wardrobe of new outfits instead. All black.

You wondered if they’d ask you to shave your head, too. You dreaded that. Your hair was like an armour you could hide under. Your servants had no idea how to manage it so they left it loose. You brushed it with your fingers since there was no brush.

When you saw yourself in the mirror you thought that on your homeplanet you’d be called a feral woman. In a black, long dress, hair unkempt and dark bags under your exhausted and empty eyes that lacked any sort of emotion.

You were supposed to have classes about The Harkonnen culture. You had been studying it since you were a little girl but they did not trust your progress and they wanted to test you in a more practical sense. Your teacher was an old man with a contemptuous smirk, a close advisor of the Baron and most likely his spy.

He had been asking you questions for the past hour to which you answered perfectly well. It was becoming difficult for him to hide his surprised facial expression.

“You’ve been trained well, my Lady,” he admitted.

“This is all that has been expected of me,” you explained with a nod, your voice was hollow and emotionless as you realised how true your words had been. Your whole personality was limited to be the future Harkonnen Baroness ever since you had been a little girl. You couldn’t possibly tell what you would be like under different circumstances. You had never been given a chance to find out.

“Very well then,” he hummed to himself. “I’d like you to roam freely around the fortress and try not to get lost. Tomorrow during our class you will ask me questions about the things and places that made you curious,” he informed you and bowed down before leaving the room.

You looked around, expecting someone to fetch you but no one was coming. He had to actually mean that you were allowed to roam freely around the fortress. Carefully, you left the room and chose to turn right. You had arrived from the left side of the corridor so you were naturally more curious about the right side and exploring a brand new territory.

You were too scared to try to push any doors, though. You didn’t want to walk in on things that would possibly make someone beheading you for seeing. The occasional guards passing you by were looking at you suspiciously but they were not saying anything. After a while you stopped seeing them at all and realised you were in a dark maze of endless corridors that you had no idea how to get out of.

Trying to go back, you only ended up getting lost even further as you were going deeper and deeper into the maze. Your heart started to pound in your chest and your hands began to shake as they turned cold. The corridor was cold in general – much colder than the rest of the fortress. And it was terrifyingly empty.

You decided to stay in one place and wait. Someone had to eventually look for you, right? You hoped for it to be true. Trying to hug your own self for warmth and comfort, you rested your back on the cold, grey wall, taking deep breaths in.

Suddenly, a loud and animalistic cry emerged from behind one of the black doors. You were startled by it and your body began to tremble even more. You wanted to get away as far as possible from that door but when you were about to turn around and run, they opened and your heart squeezed in your chest.

To your surprise, it was your betrothed leaving the mysterious room. He was wearing gladiator attire and holding a blade in his hand with blood still dripping. His eyes widened at the sight of you and you froze.

“What are you doing here?” He asked in his deep and raspy voice.

“I… I got lost, I’m sorry. I’ve been told to roam freely around the fortress and explore on my own but I got lost…” You explained as you shivered.

Feyd-Rautha approached you slowly like predators approach their prey. You took a step back and felt the wall behind you. You were trapped.

“Lost, you’re saying?” He smirked as he hovered over you. Your heart was pounding so fast in your chest that he just had to hear it. He rested one of his hands on the wall above your head and leaned in even closer. “You’ve accidentally gone underground where I train on my slaves,” he smiled almost playfully, showing off his black stained teeth.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to..” You gasped but he shushed you with a soft hiss.

“Did I say it was forbidden?” He asked and you shook your head. “Come, I’ll show you,” Feyd straightened himself and reached out his hand towards you as if he was a proper gentleman.

Everything inside you was screaming to run away and to not follow him anywhere. But you were aware that he would catch you in a second and your attempt would only most likely enrage him. And very soon you would belong to him anyway. You would be his property whether you wanted it or not.

You held his hand and he froze at the feeling of your ice cold and shivering fingers.

“You are cold,” he pointed out. “And scared.”

“I am not scared,” you lied. You had been taught that The Harkonnens hated fear and cowardice.

“And a liar,” Feyd-Rautha sneered and led you inside the mysterious room he had previously left.

It was big and dark like every other room in that fortress. There was a dead body of a servant in gladiator gear laying on the floor in the puddle of his own blood. The walls were covered in all sorts of weapons.

“This is where I train,” Feyd announced proudly. He had to think it would impress you but it only made you sick, especially the sight of the dead man on the floor. You had never seen death in such a brutal and ugly way before. But now you were sure it was not the last time.

Feyd was visibly waiting for your response as he let go of your hand and took a step back to tilt his head and watch your expressions carefully. You realised it was a test of how much you were able to handle as his wife.

You wondered what would happen if you failed all the tests. Would they just send you back home or would they get rid of you? Were they even able to do that? You didn’t want to find out.

“It is impressive, my Lord na-baron,” you admitted with a shaky nod of your head and he winced at your words which made you furrow your brows.

“Don’t address me like a servant, pet,” he clicked his tongue and you nodded, slightly uncomfortable at the way he had called you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised. “How should I address you then?”

“However you like,” Feyd shrugged his arms and approached you once again, raising his bloody blade slightly as you flinched. It brought a smile to his full lips. Looking deep into your eyes, he licked the blade clean. You clenched your jaw and tried to keep a poker face on but a knot formed in your stomach at the disgusting act.

You hated to admit that he was attractive for a Harkonnen. There was a magnetic energy about him that made you attracted to him like a moth was driven to a flame. Even his harsh and unpleasant voice was leaving you wanting more.

Feyd brushed your hair with the tip of his freshly cleaned blade, carefully, making sure not to cut any strand.

“I want you to always wear your hair like this,” he looked even more intensely into your eyes.

“That would be inappropriate,” you tried to explain. “It’s not considered elegant.”

“I said, I want you to always wear your hair like this,” he repeated like he couldn’t understand why you were trying to argue. He was a spoiled na-baron and completely not used to people disobeying him. So, you just nodded this time.

“Then I will,” you promised. “If I could only get a hairbrush, though. Or a comb. So they don’t tangle,” you pleaded and he squinted his eyes at you as the tip of his blade moved to under your chin. You swallowed thickly at that gesture.

“A hairbrush or a comb,” he repeated your words. “That can be arranged,” he added and you smiled nervously at him. “What are you scared of?”

“Of the blade under my chin perhaps?” You raised an eyebrow at him and he chuckled, however his hand remained still.

“Weren’t you sent here to be my wife?” Feyd’s smile dropped in an instant. He was serious again and you took a deep breath in, tugging on the folds of your dress to hide how sweaty your hands had become.

“Yes, I was,” you nodded.

“And what do you think of that?”

“I don’t think. I have been preparing for that since I was a child,” you answered.

“I want to be a good husband,” his sudden confession made your eyes widen. In one swift move he took the blade away from you and replaced it with his hand as he held your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes. “My uncle says that a wife should not be an enemy. He wants me to court you properly,” he explained.

“Is your uncle experienced in marriage?” You asked, curiously. You had been taught that Baron Harkonnen had never been married.

Feyd laughed at your question as his grip on your chin tightened. He moved his face even closer to yours, your nose nearly brushed his and it made you hold your breath.

“Can you think of a woman who would not become his enemy after being forced to marry him?” He asked you and you dared to chuckle at that.

“So, I assume, I do not have to worry about you becoming like him one day?” You bit on your lower lip, realising that he indeed did not want to hurt you.

Perhaps that whole uncomfortable and threatening situation was his idea of intimacy. You wouldn’t be surprised.

“My uncle is not my role model,” he only answered and took a step back, removing his hand from your chin. “I don’t have idols.”

“What do you worship then?” You furrowed your brows.

“Blood and honour,” he answered with all seriousness. “Allow me to give you something, my pet. A gift for my bride to be,” he proposed and you hesitantly agreed, not wanting to hurt his feelings by refusing.

You expected him to approach one of the walls and hand you some of the weapons. But, to your surprise, he kneeled down next to the dead body laying on the floor and he opened its chest with the sharp tip of his blade. You gagged quietly and covered your mouth with your hand, trying to look away as the metallic smell of blood hit your nostrils, leaving you nauseous.

The sound of his heavy footsteps made you look in his direction again, not wanting to offend him in any way. He was walking towards you proudly with a real human heart in his hands, blood dripping off of it on the floor, leaving a trace. With all your force you stopped yourself from squealing at the sight. No amount of training and studying The Harkonnen culture had prepared you for this.

Feyd-Rautha reached his hands out as he offered you his foul gift. He was staring at you intensely, expecting praise of some sort or admiration. However, you had none. You let the wet organ slip into your hands as you gagged once again at the sensation and a shiver went down your body. Your reaction caused Feyd to tilt his head and squint his eyes.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“You don’t like it,” he pointed out after a short while of silence and you got scared of upsetting him.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just…” you started, trying to nervously explain yourself.

“You don’t like it,” he repeated, both annoyed and disappointed.

“I appreciate the gesture,” you tried to assure him. “I will keep it,” you promised.

“Why don’t you like it?” He asked once again, ignoring all your words. You sighed.

“It’s just not something I’m used to. In my homeworld, we don’t give each other human hearts,” you explained softly.

“What do you give each other?” His question was genuine and curious.

“Haven’t you studied my customs like I have been studying yours?” You asked but the answer was obvious.

“My uncle says it is not important for me to know your culture because you are here to become one of us,” Feyd explained. “The only thing I have been studying was the blade,” he added. “So, what kind of gifts do your people give?”

“Flowers,” you answered. “For example.”

“There are no flowers on Giedi Prime,” Feyd pointed out. “No seed blooms in our soil.”

“I understand,” you nodded, nervously. “I am grateful for your gift, Feyd-Rautha. I appreciate your courtship,” you assured him but your voice and hands were shaking as your face was visibly disgusted.

Someone knocked upon the doors and Feyd barked at them to come in. You turned around and saw two guards sighing out of relief at the sight of you.

“There you are, my Lady!” One of them approached you. “We’ve been searching everywhere. Let us escort you back to your chambers,” he bowed his head.

You nodded at him, relieved as well at the sight of them. You wanted nothing else than to go back to the familiar part of the fortress and to finally leave this awkward and uncomfortable situation with your betrothed.

Still holding the heart carefully in your hands, you walked out without even glancing at Feyd-Rautha. The guards took you to your chambers where the worried servants had been waiting. They gasped at the sight of your gift.

“What is it, my Lady?” One of the girls asked you.

“It’s a gift from Feyd-Rautha,” you explained as they all widened their eyes. “I have no idea what to do with it,” you admitted.

“Feyd Rautha gave it to you, my Lady?” The servant swallowed thickly and you nodded. “Do you know what it means, my Lady?”

“No,” you shook your head and handed the organ to another girl. “I desperately need to wash my hands and change my dress,” you said and disappeared into the bathroom where you spent fifteen minutes getting rid of the blood.

You took the stained dress off and threw it on the floor before walking out back to your chamber. The girls were already preparing the heart as they put it in a jar full of some odd liquid.

“It will dry in there, my Lady,” one of them explained. “Na-baron must be really enamoured with you, my Lady, or perhaps he is trying to show his best side to you.”

“Enamoured?” You snorted at her. “It’s gruesome.”

“It’s the most romantic thing a Harkonnen man can give to a woman, my Lady,” the other woman added and you gasped.

“I haven’t been taught that…” You whispered, feeling extremely stupid for the way you had treated Feyd-Rautha before. You had to anger him dearly and his rage was not something you wanted to deal with. “What is the equivalent of such a gift for a man? What can I give him in return?” You asked the servants and they looked at each other’s faces, surprised.

“There is no equivalent, my Lady,” one of them answered. “Harkonnen women do not court. Only men do.”

On the next day, when you were leaving your chambers to go to your class, you spotted the doors nearby opening and your betrothed walking out of them. Your room was in the same area as his so it was no surprise but you didn’t expect to see him at the same time in the morning. At the sight of you, he looked down and walked past you without a word, which made you feel bad for him and for the way you had treated him. But it also made you anxious because his uncle has been right about marriage. You didn’t want Feyd-Rautha to be your enemy.

Giedi Prime was far from perfect and your betrothed was an odd, psychotic creature. You couldn’t change your destiny, though, so you had to embrace it to make it bearable.

“Feyd, wait,” you rushed after him and he froze when you grabbed the sleeve of his robe. He turned around and looked at you coldly.

“I am in a hurry,” he drawled.

“So am I. But I wanted to apologise. I have been studying the Harkonnen culture for years but I have never been told of the meaning of such a gift,” you explained, feeling your cheeks getting warm. “Please, forgive me. I didn't mean to reject you.”

“The heart was of a low quality,” he admitted as his face softened slightly. “Next time I will give you the heart of a real warrior, a real enemy. Not some slave,” he added. “My uncle has already reprimanded me for that.”

You broke a smile at him. It was adorable in a way how this scary and dangerous man was following his uncle’s guide on courtship, trying to be on his best behaviour around you. It was making you feel powerful in a way.

“I would like to return the favour but my servants have informed me there is no such tradition,” you confessed. “What can I do for you to forgive me?”

Feyd-Rautha hesitated for a moment as he looked away, thinking intensely about something. Then he laid his eyes on you again and leaned in to join your lips together. You were startled at first, your heart pounded in your chest. Raised to become his wife, you had never kissed anybody before and saved yourself for him only, however it felt as if his soft lips were truly made for yours. You put your hand on his chest and opened your mouth to invite his tongue in. He devoured you, greedily wanting to explore your mouth and feast on your taste. His hands pulled you closer by your hips and you put your free hand behind his head. Seeing him for the first time in real life two days ago, you had been slightly uncomfortable at the sight of him. But now you did not feel any of that.

Even if you hadn’t been prepared to become his wife, you’d still want him. You had been born to be his.

Feyd’s hands moved up and cupped your face before breaking the kiss and moving away gently. You took a deep breath in as he stared into your eyes and caressed your loose hair.

“You’re forgiven, my pet,” he told you. “By the way, I’ve ordered a hair brush for you.”

MASTERLIST

#dune imagine #dune x reader #dune fanfic #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen imagine #feyd rautha harkonnen fanfic #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction

2K notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 9 months

Text

Show You What Devotion Is ❤️‍🔥

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: SMUT, fluff, MINORS DNI 18+

Word count:..... 12k...

Summary: After a lustful encounter on the jet, you and Spencer decide to try out a friends-with-benefits relationship. What you didn't expect was for his sex drive to be so high, and your need for him to lead you to his bed every night of the week.

Warnings: So many 💀, oral (M and F receiving), public sex multiple times, multiple creampies, protection never mentioned, fingering, car sex, alcohol consumption, pet names, degradation, sir kink I think at some point, choking, mentions of spit and other bodily fluids, I'm sure there are more, too.

A/N: Well. Here it is. Big thank you to Jungkook for releasing the song that gave me this fic idea that I was fully convinced was just going to be a nice little song about the number seven. Here's my masterlist, and my requests and asks are open if you want to shout at me for writing 12,000 words of filth! Settle down somewhere comfy for this one 💀 Song inspo:

Monday

The jet was calm and quiet with just the two of you on it as you stretched yourself out over the seats, desperate to find a comfortable position to curl up in and find some sleep. You had been out the entire weekend on a death-row interview, and after three days of dealing with high security prison inmates and their guards, you were feeling a bit restless. You hated the feeling of being cooped up in there, even if you knew you’d be getting out eventually.

You were just thankful that they’d sent you in the jet, because you sure as hell couldn’t imagine driving back right now. And as your only company was Reid, who wasn’t a fan of driving himself, especially over such long distances, it would have been a crappy end to an even crappier weekend. You looked up at the man now, and realised he was also trying his best to fall asleep, but he had a tense look on his face, and he was shifting in his seat, unable to get comfortable.

“Can’t sleep either?” you asked him, finally accepting that you probably weren’t going to get any relief any time soon. His eyes shot open, and he looked at you, finally registering that it was you that had spoken to him and not some figment of his imagination.

“Something like that, yeah,” he said, and looked away, letting the silence fall over you again.

“Do you want to maybe play cards or something?” you asked hopefully, desperate to find something to do for the last hour of your flight. From everything you’d learned about the man opposite you in your six months as a member of the BAU, you knew it probably wasn’t a good idea challenging him. But between being absolutely destroyed at cards and being caught in the discomfort of exhaustion with no ability to sleep, you’d choose the card games any day.

Besides, you could do with learning a little bit more about your coworker anyway. Despite earning your place on the team, and befriending most of the others pretty easily, Reid had always seemed a bit standoffish to you. He was always polite, of course, but the others had warned you that he didn’t take well to change, and your addition to the team was a pretty notable change in your team dynamic.

You were now the youngest member of the team, and you’d been trained in press liaising as a part of your training at the academy, so you took on a different role from the others to allow JJ to get out into the field more now that she was officially an agent. It wasn’t that you thought he disliked you, it was just that he needed to get used to you. Or at least that was what you were telling yourself.

It was why you were on the jet in the first palace, having asked Hotch for the opportunity to shadow Reid while he was working on the interview. He’d given you a look when you lied that it was to gain more experience, but he didn’t have anything against you trying to get Reid to warm up to you a little bit more, so he didn’t complain, and let the two of you go. But you hadn’t realised just how busy you would be with the work, and you hadn’t exactly become the best of friends either.

“You don’t want to play cards with me, Y/N,” he replied coolly, not even looking at you.

“Emily said you usually try to swindle people when you first play cards with them, why aren’t you trying that with me?” you asked, growing a little frustrated that your attempts were being blocked. It’d been the same when you’d invited him out for a drink the night before, and when you’d asked if he wanted to share a takeout in your hotel room the night before that. Polite rejections and the feeling of incompetence that left you wondering if you’d done something wrong.

“You’re too innocent for me to swindle, Y/N. It’d be too easy.”

“That’s pretty arrogant, don’t you think?” As a last ditch attempt to get him to bite, you thought insulting him couldn’t possibly hurt.

“Shit, okay, one game, the cards are in the cupboard over there.” He acquiesced and nodded behind him to the small kitchenette at the end of the jet.

“Why do I have to grab them, you’re closer?” you pouted a little bit, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking away again.

“You’re the one who wanted to play,” he grumbled. Rolling your eyes you threw off the blanket you’d wrapped around yourself and stumbled over to grab the cards.

On your way back however, the plane lurched to the side and you stumbled, dropping the cards everywhere and falling straight into the lap of Doctor Spencer Reid. He tried to catch you in his arms, but you’re position made it difficult for him to help you further. Having fallen face first, your torso was now pressed into the seat next to him, the rest of your body bent over his knee as if he were getting ready to spank you any minute.

One of his hands was pinned under your body weight, and the other that had come out to steady you was gripping dangerously close to your chest, not exactly helping with the mental images you were already fighting.

“Shit, I’m sorry I think we hit some turbulence,” you winced and tried to standup, and he groaned at the loss of contact as you moved.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he let out the curse as you stood up, but you weren’t upright for long before your legs gave out underneath you, another lurch from the plane depositing you directly into his lap, your legs straddling either side of his and your chest pressed up against his. This closer position allowed you to feel more of him pressed against you, and your eyes widened in realisation.

“Fuck, Spencer are you hard right now?” You groaned from on top of him, stilled by the realisaton. He scowled at you, again, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Sorry, it’s just been a long weekend, and I couldn’t…” he let out a frustrated sigh and you waited for him to continue, suddenly not so eager to get out of the embarrassing position.

“Have you been hard this entire time? Shit, that’s why you didn’t want to grab the playing cards, didn’t want me to see you like that, right?” you could hear the grin in your voice, and you knew you were being risky but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Shut up, Y/L/N, I really don’t need this right now,” he groaned out again, but made no move to push you off.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I know what you need right now.”

“Don’t fucking tease, Y/N, I’m serious. Let’s just pretend that this never happened, okay?” His mouth was saying one thing, but you were pretty sure from the hands that were gripping your hips now that he wasn’t exactly being the most honest with himself in that moment.

“What if I…. helped you out?” you whispered it out almost silently, and Reid’s eyes snapped open to look at you.

“Don’t joke with me right now, Y/N, it isn’t funny and it isn’t cute.”

“I’m not joking.” Your eyes locked and you didn’t say anything else, content to watch him wage a war in his own mind, curious about which side would win.

“Get on your knees,” he said eventually, and you did, climbing out of his lap and kneeling next to his seat, your heart-beating out of your chest now. “Good girl.”

The heat pooled between your legs with those words, and you let out a small whimper as he popped the button on his pants. He pulled out his dick and you stared at it in wonder. You could see the precum shining on his tip as he gave it a few preliminary pumps, his mouth open as he finally found some relief.

You slid your hands up his legs and rested them on his thighs, watching his face and ready to pounce on him the moment he gave you the word.

“Look at you, desperate little whore. You want to suck me off that bad, baby?” he crooned at you, and you found yourself unable to answer.

“Bet you’ve been trying to do this all weekend. Trying to get me back to that hotel room of yours, trying to get me to drink with you, when what you really wanted was for me to stuff my cock down your throat, right?”

It was taking all of your willpower to not just reach your tongue out and lick your way up his shaft, now, your body practically begging for you to touch him.

“Well, go ahead princess. Go ahead and show me what a needy little whore you are.” You waited for no further instruction, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and your tongue around the tip.

You played with it for a few seconds, giving him a few strokes while you waited to see his reactions. He grabbed a fist of your hair, making sure to push it away from your face so he could see exactly what you were doing at all times. With that, you started pushing your head down on more and more of him, seeing how far you could manage to get before hitting the back of your throat.

When you hit your max, you pulled off of him and did it again, starting to pick up pace as you worked your hands over the few inches that couldnt fit.

“Fuck that’s it, princess, just like that.” He moaned, not taking his eyes off you for even a second.

You bobbed your head up and down on him now, feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with each noise he let out.

“Sucking me off right here on the jet, such a little slut, aren’t you?” he said down at you and you couldn’t help the moan you let out around his cock, the vibrations causing him to tighten his grip on your hair and hiss out a curse.

“That’s it keep going, just like that baby,” he whispered, his hand now starting to push you down a little further on his dick each time, his head thrown back in ecstasy. You knew he was getting close, and you were desperate to feel his cum down your throat.

“Fuck, yes, just like that baby, just like that keep going.” The muscles in his legs were tense under your hand as you pushed your head down right to the base of his cock, stretching yourself past your limits and breathing him in deeply. After that, it was only a few more seconds until you could feel the hot spurts of cum hit the back of your throat.

You looked up at him through his orgasm, and you swore it was the best view you’d seen before in your life. His mouth was open in a moan, and the hand that wasn’t controlling your movements was raked through his own tousled locks.

Eventually, he pulled you off of him, and you swallowed the remaining cum still inside your mouth, going as far as to catch the few drops spilling out with your fingertips and delicately lick it off, knowing he was back to watching your every move.

He pulled you up to a standing position, his eyes still locked on yours, and you could see he was getting ready to give you another instruction, to use you again to find his own pleasure. Before he had the chance though, an announcement on the PA system had him jumping as far away from you as possible.

“Hey, sorry about that earlier turbulence folks. We’re about ten minutes out of Quantico, so we’re about to descend. You know the drill, seatbelts, please.” The pilot was off the line as quickly as he came on it, and you were left in silence once more.

Fumbling with his pants, Reid put himself together again before guiding you into your seat and taking up his place again in the seat opposite.

“I didn’t mean for it to end like this, shit we don’t have time for me to return the favor…” he seemed apologetic about that and you were finally snapped out of your daze.

“Reid, you really don’t have to do that… I just helped you out a little, is all.”

“No, I’m going to pay you back for this. I swear.” And there it was again, the pounding of your heart as he looked at you like that. You unintentionally clenched around nothing, your frustration almost doubling knowing there could’ve been more if you’d had more time.

“Feel free to say no, of course, but how do you feel about making this a regular thing?” you asked, your voice low, trying not to reveal how desperate you were to be under him right now, certain it would put him off.

“Like a… friends with benefits, thing?” He asked, his head perking up in curiosity.

“Yeah. If you want.” You gulped down. “Obviously, you can say no. We’re coworkers, so it could become weird, but it could also be really convenient to have someone on cases to help you out if you’re ever, you know…”

“Y/N, you’re rambling,” he smiled at you.

“I know, I really want you to say yes,” you admitted then immediately cursed your lack of filter.

“Yes.” He said. And that was that.

Tuesday

To say that stepping off of the jet had bought you back down to reality would be an understatement. After parting from Spencer with a terse wave and a strained smile, you’d spent your entire commute home thinking you’d just fucked up in the most major way possible.

As far as you could tell, the man didn’t even like being in your company and was just okay with you being his coworker, and then you’d suggested you give him a blow job on government property? Yeah, you were insane. That was the only possible explanation.

Needless to say, you got no sleep that night. You could only imagine how shitty you looked dragging yourself into the bullpen the next morning, coffee in hand and twitching like a rabbit that knew it was being followed by a wolf.

“God, Y/N, you look like you’ve been through hell and back. I thought you and Reid only went for an inmate interview?” Emily questioned you as soon as you stepped through the door.

“Yeah, yeah, it was okay,” you squeaked out, not quite adept at hiding your emotions just yet. “I just didn’t get much sleep is all. Shitty hotel beds, you know?” You smiled at her, and she nodded from experience.

“Oh, tell me about it, this one time I was sharing a room with JJ and the metal springs in the mattress we’re just sticking out the top. It’s a miracle these places make any money.”

“Well, they always have FBI Agents blasting through desperate for a room, I guess,” you joked with her half-heartedly, still feeling the tension in the room.

“What are you guys talking about?” He creeps up behind you to join the conversation, but you know it’s him. You turn around and finally get a look at him. Reid stood there, looking relaxed, with a small smirk on his face. His hands in his pants pockets, leaned back against Emily’s desk next to his, effectively cutting off your route to your own desk behind him.

“Y/N was telling me about the crappy motel you guys got lumped in this weekend. Bummer right?”

“I don’t know, I slept just fine. You do look a little tense, Y/N,” he looked at you again, and you couldn’t help the glare you shot at him. He was messing with you. The fucker was actually messing with you.

“I must’ve just pulled the short straw.” You send him a strained smile, trying to end the conversation there.

“You should’ve said something about it on the jet, I would’ve let you rest instead.” You freeze then. Surely he wasn’t going to reveal to the entire office, or at least to Emily, what the two of you did on the jet.

“You didn’t have to play cards with me, you know. I know how exhausting it can be to keep up with me. I have pretty good stamina.” This time you didn’t hold back and you did shoot daggers at him, which only achieved bringing him one step closer to laughter.

“Ooh, rookie mistake. Don’t play with Reid, Y/N, he’ll take you for all you’re worth.” Emily shot back before making her way to the kitchen area, content with the advice she had given.

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” You mumbled, eyes still locked with Reid’s as you made to push past him. His hand brushed yours as you did, and you almost jumped at the contact. God, why was he doing this to you. Up until yesterday, he hadn’t ever bothered to even look in your direction, and now he was making you dizzy at work and you didn’t know how to deal with it.

The rest of the day you did your best to ignore him, and you really had to try. Everytime you went to grab yourself another drink, he’d trail along behind you, leaving you to make a U-turn to ask Morgan or Prentiss questions instead. If you went to get some files, he’d do the same, and you found yourself grabbing the wrong files in your haste to avoid talking to him again.

It was a ridiculous game of cat and mouse, and you knew that eventually he would catch up to you, and then you would have to come face to face with the man who had consumed your thoughts for the last 24 hours. In all honesty, you weren’t sure if it was dread you were feeling or anticipation.

In the end, he resorted to a more direct method that you couldn’t ignore.

“Hey, Y/N, I need to discuss some of the files from this weekends interview, do you have five minutes?” he said it loud enough for those around you to hear, so there was no escape. You took a deep breath and acquiesced,

“Great, let’s go grab the files and we can get started.” From all your self-defence training, you knew you should never let your assailant get you to a secondary location, but with him, you knew there was no escape. You let him guide you to the storage room, not even bothering to make small talk on the way down.

The door wasn’t even closed before he turned on you and started talking.

“If yesterday was bad for you, then we don’t have to ever do it again, but if you keep ignoring me like that, they’re going to realise that something is wrong.”

“Take a second to think about why I’m ignoring you, Reid. You’ve practically been on top of me all day, I can’t think when you’re around and I have work to do,” you whisper shout at him, even though theres no one in the file room he’s pulled you into.

“I wasn’t on top of you, I’d have enjoyed it very much had I been on top of you. Instead, I’ve been trailing behind you because you won’t talk to me.” He replied, shoulders lifting to his ears in his defense.

“Do you not want to do this anymore?” he asked you and you took in a sharp inhale of breath. He was giving you an out. You logically knew that you should take it, push down whatever it was you were feeling and pretend like yesterday had never happened. But all thoughts of doing just that left your head as he moved one step closer to you.

“Spencer…” you whispered into the room, as he moved closer still, eventually coming to cage you in against the wall.

“Do you really not want me to repay you?” he moved his hands down your body, a ghost of a touch really, not at all enough for what you wanted and getting nowhere near where you needed.

“Spencer, we shouldn’t be doing this at work. What if someone comes down here?”

“Doing what? I’m just asking you a question.” He gripped your thighs and pulled you again him, and you could feel the length of him against your stomach. “And besides, that didn’t matter to you yesterday.”

“Fuck, Spencer…” you groaned out, screwing your eyes shut. He trailed his hands further still and they finally found your ass over your skirt.

“I felt just as unsure about this earlier, you know. Thought it was going to create a weird tension in the office. Then you walked in this morning, wearing this skirt and suddenly I didn’t care. Just needed to have you.” He pulls your leg up, pressing his in between your thighs before you can think of closing your legs in modesty.

“I just want to feel you, will you let me do that?” He whispers against your skin and you whimper as his lips ghost over you.

“Yes, yes Spencer, please…” your brain shuts off and you give in, and suddenly he has your skirt around your waist and you tights and panties aorund your ankles in what seems like only a flash of a second.

“So fucking perfect and obedient for me, aren’t you, pet?” You whimper as he trails a finger along your sensitive clit, and you twitch as he begins his movements, rubbing slow circles into you.

“Fuck, look at you, clenching around nothing. I was just going to come in here and make you cum on my fingers but you’re begging to be filled, aren’t you, Princess?” He murmurs finally pushing on finger into you as he continues to to rub your clit with his thumb. You bury your head into his shoulder and try your best to muffle the disgusting moans dripping from your mouth as you plead with your coworker.

“What was that, pet? You’re going to have to say it a bit louder, I can’t hear you?” He picks up his pace and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to spill down your face.

“Fuck me. Please, Reid.” Not removing his hand from between your legs, he unbuttons his pants and you see his cock again for the second time in two days. You can’t believe you managed to get the entire thing down your throat yesterday. You stare at him with lust-clouded eyes, begging him silently.

“I haven’t got a condom, princess. Are you on the pill?” He asks, giving himself a few terse strokes, too far from your reach to help out. You nod vigorously, unable to form actual words now and not trusting yourself to keep quiet as your anticipation builds.

“Perfect baby, now relax and I’ll take care of you, okay?” He gently pulled his hand away from your core, quickly replacing it with his pulsating cock, pushing in slowly and deep.

“So tight for me, baby, you feel amazing.” He pauses for a second to allow you to adjust to his size, but all too soon he’s hammering into you, not caring to control his speed or his strength, just using you like he’s a man delirious with lust and you love it.

You clutch his shirt, and with each and every thrust you scream a little bit, unable to hold yourself back from the pleasure thats ripping through you. You’re making so much noise that after a few minutes, he brings a hand to your mouth, closing it over you and effectively cutting off any noises you make from escaping.

“You need to be quiet, honey, as much as I want to hear you, we don’t need anyone to come around here asking questions.” But you’re too far gone to care, your judgement too clouded, your head and body too full of him and what he’s doing to you to care at all who knows about it. You know he’s right, but you just keep moaning into his hand until finally, your body can’t take the stimulation anymore and you feel yourself tip over the edge, tightening around him as you ride out your high.

“Fuck, that’s it princess, I’m gonna cum inside you, okay?” He says and you use what feels like the last of your strength to nod as you feel him shoot his load inside of you.

You don’t know how long the two of you stay joined there, but the post-sex clarity hits you like a tonne of bricks again as he pulls out and you genuinely start questioning your sanity as he cleans you up and pulls your panties back up into the right position.

“Shit Spencer, we can’t do that again,” you say. “What if someone had caught us?”

“Don’t say that as if you weren’t just turned on by the very thought of that happening,” he shot back. “But yes, we’re going to need some rules if we’re going to keep this up.” You nod at him, and the two of you make for the exit of the room, aware that you’d already been away for suspiciously long.

Luckily, your teammates are all too busy to notice that neither of you return with the files you went to look for.

Wednesday

The knock at your door was sharp and insistent, but you were tired so it took you a few minutes to cross your apartment to reach the door. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to greet you there at 9pm on a wednesday evening, but it sure as hell wasn’t Spencer Reid, looking a little damp from the rain.

“I’m glad you’re home. I thought you would be considering you told Penelope you had no plans when you left earlier, but there was always the possibility that you wouldn’t be and then I would be stuck out here in the rain again and I wouldn’t get to see you and I really needed to see you.” He got the jumble of words out as quickly as he could, not even leaving you enough time to say hello before he was rambling.

“Spencer, slow down. What are you doing here?” You asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Truthfully, you’d spent the last half an hour doing your best not to fall asleep on your couch as you tried to get some reading in, so you weren't exactly the best prepared for guests. You’d rid yourself of your work clothes as soon as you reached your house, the discarded clothes still laying in a pile in your bedroom, and you’d changed into an oversized t-shirt you’d bought a few years ago that was becoming a bit threadbare with constant use.

“I thought we could talk.” He said and offered no further explanation. It was cold and you wrapped your arms around yourself, but the door was letting in the cold breeze that accompanied the rain so you moved aside and gestured for him to make himself at home.

He took stock of your apartment as he walked in and you felt so exposed as he started taking everything in. He was a profiler, a really good one at that, and he was looking now at your bookshelves, the pictures around your apartment, the little trinkets you’d collected over the years. You should have been squirming under the surveillance of it all, but you almost wanted to show him around, talk him through it all and show you every part of you that he hadn’t seen yet. God, you must’ve been crazy.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” you asked, returning to your seat on your couch and gesturing for Reid to sit down, too. He took up a chair on the opposite side of the room, sitting only on the edge of the seat, body tense and shoulders set in a tight line.

“Us. I thought it’d be best if we set some… ground rules you know. After yesterday and the jet…” you sat up then, too and tried not to avoid looking at the mirror you knew was on your shelf, knowing that all you’d see was the crimson staining your face and wondering what he would learn from that.

“Yeah… Yeah of course, we should talk about that. That sounds… smart, I think.”

“I did some research, and apparently we should start with setting boundaries. Things we won’t do, things that would make this easier for us.”

“Right, what kind of… boundaries were you thinking?” Your heart was beating out of your chest waiting for him to continue. The sex between you was so easy that you forgot that neither of you was the best at communicating with the other, that your brain seemed to switch off in his presence and refused to turn itself back on until you’d ended up underneath him.

“There are certain things I won’t do in the bedroom. I don’t like being choked and I don’t…” he trailed off, his face going bright red, “I don’t like not being in control.” He finally finished, looking very shy for a man who just admitted that he took an exclusively dominant role in the bedroom.

“That’s fine with me. Just for the sake of transparency, I’m okay with that. Choking that is. And not being dominant.” You tripped over your words, trying to convey your meaning.

“Great, that’s totally great.” You sat there in silence for a few seconds before he spoke again. “Is there anything you won’t do?”

“Oh right,” you thought about it for a few seconds and then gave him your reply. “As exciting as that was yesterday, I think we shouldn’t be doing that in the office again. I’m not… against public sex, but I’d prefer not to get arrested for public indecency by one of our colleagues.”

He nodded vigorously and looked like he was about to say something else, but you continued.

“Other than that, I’m pretty open. No threesomes though,” You blushed, trying to find the right words to use. “If we’re going to do this, I don’t really want to share you.”

“That’s a good point. We should be exclusive for however long we do this for. The increased risk of attaining a sexually transmitted disease when actively engaging with two or more sexual partners is around 11%, so it’d be safer for us both to just use each other.”

The way he said it was so clinical that you almost flinched, but he didn’t notice your reaction and kept going.

“Is that everything? No other objections?” You thought on his question for a few minutes, and then shook your head.

“Nothing I can think of, but maybe we should keep checking in? Just in case, you know.”

“Yeah, communication is really important in relationships.” He paused for a second, as if realising what he said. “Not that this is a relationship, in the traditional sense, but every human connection can be described as a relationship, so I guess this is a relationship as well. You know what I mean.” You laughed a little at him then, his over-explaination relaxing you a bit, glad you weren’t the only one who was finding this situation unavoidably awkward.

“Spencer, calm down, I understand. Is that all you wanted to discuss?” You look at him with a smile, crossing and uncrossing your legs on the couch, finally falling back into a comfortable position. His eyes trailed down to your legs then, finally taking in your appearance. He raked his eyes up your bare legs, your t-shirt barely hitting the tops of your thighs, his gaze lingering there for a few seconds before he forced himself to meet your eyes again.

“I never did get to pay you back for your help, you know?” He licked his lips, and you felt your pussy clench in anticipation. If this was how you reacted to a simple question, you were well and truly fucked if you thought you’d ever be able to function correctly with him around.

“I said you didn’t have to, remember?” You tried to keep your voice even and low, but your body was alert in anticipation now

“But I want to. Will you let me?” He asked, finally moving himself off of the chair and walking over to you. He knelt at your feet and ran his hands up your still crossed legs, grabbing them and gently coaxing them open.

“Please, princess, let me show you my appreciation.” he begged you and you nodded, giving in so easily to his pleas.

“Use your words.” He said, still letting you know who was in control of this situation, even if he was below you right now.

“Yes, Spencer, yes, you can do it.” His hands were trailing up the inside of your leg now, sending goosebumps up your arms, and growing the pit of desire that was burning for him.

“Do what? You need to tell me exactly what you want, right princess? Isn’t that what we discussed?” He placed a chaste kiss to your knee now and your body was begging you to just twine your hands in his hair and press him between your legs.

“Spencer, please use your tongue and make me cum,” you begged him, and his hands instantly moved to pull your panties down. Once he’d rid you of the garments, he hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you into him, spreading your legs apart and finally looking at you.

“This wet for me already, princess?” he smiled up at you, a devastatingly sweet smile from his devilish position. You whimpered slightly and he finally, finally lowered his head, extending his tongue and taking his first swipe at your core.

You grabbed at his hair then, but he pulled away, grabbed your hands and pinned them at either side at you with his own and then went down again, beginning to lick and suck at your centre once more.

When he reached your centre, it was all you could do not to buck up into his face, involuntarily fighting his grip so you could get closer still to his tongue, feel even more friction as he drew small circles, before closing his entire mouth around it and giving you all the attention you had been craving since your interruption two days ago.

You knew from your experience in the file room that Spencer was somewhat naturally gifted in the bedroom, but you put that mostly down to the fact that he was a good size and had pretty notable stamina. But now you realised he was probably the best you were ever going to get. Most men you’d been with hadn’t even wanted to entertain the idea of giving you head, let alone begged you for the opportunity and then drinking you in like you were the last drop of water in the desert and he was a man parched with thirst.

You writhed and moaned into him, feeling your orgasm gain on you as you felt his pace pick up. Looking down at him and catching his eye was the last thing you could do before your eyes rolled back in pleasure, the smile in his eyes so bright, enjoying having you on his tongue so much that you couldn’t handle it anymore.

He didn’t pull off of you immediately, letting you ride his face through your orgasm, your thighs squeazing him slightly before he let go of his grip on your hands and pulled himself away from you. You gasped for breath on the sofa, still softly twitching in pleasure, as he lifted himself off the ground.

“You did so good, princess,” he said patting your head, and you became instantly aware of the painful erection he was sporting through his pants, face to face with it now he was standing up. You opened your mouth, readying yourself to ask for more of him when you heard a phone ring from the other side of the room.

You didn’t recognise the ringtone, but it seemed like Reid did, as he dropped a curse and quickly moved himself back to the chair he’d previously occupied and picked it up quickly.

“Hotch, what is it?” Spencer murmured into the line, and with that you knew you weren’t getting anything else that night. After a short conversation, Reid hung up, and turned to you again.

“We’ve got a case. You’ll probably get the call in a few minutes. We didn’t discuss this earlier, but it’s best if no one else finds out about this.” He said, gathering all of his things, as you covered yourself again. You made to pull your panties up your legs again, but he got to them first.

“No, these are mine now.” He said, so confidently that you just nodded, slightly dumbfounded, and did your best to not pull him back over you again. You were seriously contemplating it, seeing how quickly you could make him cum when another phone rang, and you recognised it as your own.

He petted your hair again, grabbed the last of his things and stuffed your panties inside of his jacket pocket, and said a final goodnight, leaving you to answer the phone alone in your apartment. You sat there subdued in the moment as you realised you were in love with the man, and couldn’t do a thing about it.

You were in love with him, and he hadn’t even once kissed you.

Thursday

Alaska. The case had taken you all the way to Alaska, and you were suddenly desperate to get back to the rain you’d left behind in Virginia. You were cold and the wetness had seeped into your body from the day traipsing around the dumpsite of your newest unsub and your motel room was cold and you were miserable.

Your motel was small, but still large enough to afford each of you your own room, considering there was no one else passing through town at this time of the year, so you didn’t feel bad about turning your light back on at 2am and grabbing the book off your nightstand, hoping it would help lull you to sleep.

Not even five words into the page, a quiet knock interrupted the unending quiet, faint but recognisable from when he’d knocked on your door only the previous night. Your heart raced as you moved to the door and you opened it for him quickly.

“Hi,” you said as you saw him there, looking just as cold as you felt.

“Hey. My room was cold, and I saw your light on…” he whispered, letting his voice trail off. You opened the door for him and he came in quickly, not waiting to risk anyone seeing the two of you, even if it was the middle of the night.

“Yeah, it’s not just you. I’m one cool draft away from piling all of my luggage over me and hoping it helps me warm up. You’d think they’d have extra blankets or something.”

“Oh, I’m sure they did, I saw Prentiss walking up to her room with a pile earlier,” he laughed and you laughed with him, his smile infectious and the temperature leaving you deliriously sleepy.

“You know, we could probably get warm if we got in together,” he suggested, and before he could explain the science behind it, you jumped at the idea.

“Yes, please, I’m willing to try anything right now.” You dove back under the covers, still wrapped in your fluffy pajamas, lifting up the covers to let him under too. He climbed in after you, and for a second you were wondering if he was just going to lie beside you for a while and then leave when he was warm enough. He quashed those thoughts the second he put his head on the pillow next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him, holding you as if you were a teddy bear.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your mouth as his breath tickled the back of your neck, huddling closer into him until your legs were tangled and your chests were flush against each other.

“Stop giggling and get some sleep,” he whispered down at you through a smile, his eyes closed, unaware of the look of adoration you couldn’t wipe from your face.

“You know if we really wanted to huddle for warmth, skin-to-skin contact would be much more effective,” you teased him, and he groaned into you, gripping you that much tighter.

“Do not tempt me, Y/N. It’s 2am and we’re working a case, we need some sleep,” he whispered down at you, but you were enjoying teasing him, so you continued, unrelenting.

“It didn’t take us very long any of the other times, Spencer,” you burrowed your head into his neck so he couldn’t see you as you knew he was about to react to your challenge.

“You’re a brat, you know that right?” he sighed, looking down at the top of your head and waiting for you to meet his eyes, but you just nodded into him, and he rolled his eyes and fell back into a comfortable position, but the insinuation in your words stuck to him. You felt him shift next to you, and started slowly trailing your hand down his chest.

“Unless you really want to be working this case tomorrow on one hour of sleep, I’d suggest you stop this before you can’t anymore,” he growled into your ear.

“I think I’ll take my chances, you say, your hand finally reaching his waistband and snapping it against his skin once, showing him exactly what it was you wanted. He grabbed your hands to stop your movements, but from the way he shifted his weight, you could feel that he’d already taken your words to heart.

“So fucking desperate for it, can’t even leave you alone for twenty-four hours before you’re sticking your hands in my pants, huh, princess?” His voice was a low grumble in your ear, and that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach was back.

“Well, I’m tired tonight, so how about you show me just how much you want this?” He rolled you over, still pinning your hands with one of his larger ones, and started rolling your pajamas down your legs, just enough to access your pussy.

“Touch yourself, baby, get yourself ready for me,” he let go of your hands now and even in the dark you knew he would be watching your every movement. Lying on your side, you moved one hand down to your clit, beginning to rub slow circles into yourself, letting little gasps and moans escape from your mouth for his benefit.

After a few minutes of touching yourself, getting yourself ready, you reached behind you to Reid’s crotch, fumbling for a second before finally grabbing his dick through his pajamas. He didn’t make a sound in protest, so you continued, stroking his half hard dick until he was fully erect for you.

You gathered some of your wetness on your fingers and pushed two of them inside your pussy, stretching yourself out, beginning to synchronise your two hands so you’d both feel the pleasure together. Spencer was still frustratingly silent, not even moving further than he needed to to allow you better access. Desperate for his attention, you decide to tease him a little bit.

“Do you like that, sir?” You feel his dick twitch in your hand, and throwing a glance over your shoulder, you can see that his jaw is clenched. You panic for a second, thinking maybe he wasn’t into the pet name you’d just dropped from your lips, but he finally responds.

“You just keep working hard to make me happy, princess, okay?” He says and you grin in triumph.

“Yes, sir.” You respond. Instead of picking up your pace, you decide you’ve gone long enough without him inside you so you release him and pull your fingers out of your pussy, licking your juices off your fingers. You push your ass back into position again, lining his tip up with your core as you reach behind you to grab the base of his dick and finally feel him enter you.

Unlike the first time he’d been in you, you didn’t want this to end fast. You wanted to feel him filling you up forever, hold him inside of you. You started thrusting back in torurously slow movements, letting him get so far out of you that he feared he was going to fall out and then pushing yourself back on so deep there was nowhere else he could go.

Refusing to pick up the pace, you continue your movements for the next few minutes, but you feel him growing restless beside you. He lets out little hisses each time he feels the cold on his skin, and he’s breathing deeply, hands bawled into the sheets so he doesn’t touch you like he promised he wouldn’t.

But this feels too much like giving you control, so he starts talking to you again, trying to tease more movement out of you.

“So content to be filled with my cock, huh, baby? You want to savor it, right?” You whimper at every question, the feeling of him inside you and his gravelly voice driving you insane.

“Such a little whore, using my dick to get off when you should be sleeping.” Your pace increased after that, your body desperate to show him how eager you were to be taking all of him inside you.

“Oh? Thought you wanted to keep it slow tonight, slut, you’re getting sloppier.” You were pushing back fervently now, desperate for release, begging him for more and more until you couldn’t take it. Reaching back, you grabbed one of his hands and placed it over your breast, silently begging him to take control.

“Should I give my little whore what she wants?” You simply moaned in reply, unable to do anything else. But that was all he needed and he started matching your thrusts with his own, forcing your pace to increase until your vision was blurry with need.

You were hanging on by a thread now, his fingers rolling the nipple of the breast in his hand around, pinching it hard every few strokes.

“Spencer, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, please, please, please…” you had no idea what you were begging him for, but it seemed like he did, unrelenting in his thrusts.

“It’s okay baby, you can do it. You have my permission.” Once again, you came undone in his arms, and he wasn’t far behind. You fell asleep there in his arms, not even bothering to clean yourself off or make him pull out, just the two of you holding each other on a cold night.

When you woke up, he was gone, and even though you knew it was what was best, you still felt a little crack in your heart start to form.

Friday

It had been over a week since Spencer had sneaked into your room in Alaska and he hadn’t touched you since. With the case in full swing, you hadn’t had the time to sneak off together, and the hotel had since fixed their heating system after a few timely complaints from Rossi and Prentiss, so you had no excuses to gravitate to each other either.

You were back from Alaska now though, and stuffed into a booth at your favorite bar with your team for a post-case celebration. The booth was round, and you were stuck in the middle with nowhere to move, flanked on either side by Morgan and JJ, who respectively had Reid and Prentiss on either side of them, Garcia, currently at the bar, rounding out the bunch.

“Okay, one round of shots for my favorite team of Special Supervisory Agents, and the Good Doctor of course - do not try to back out of this, it’s happening.” Garcia returned with six shots of tequila and you winced. You’d never drank tequila and come out unscathed.

“Penelope I love you, but you know what tequila does to me,” you groan, trying to blink back the memories of the last time the poison had passed your lips. You’d been out on a girls night out, and after a few rounds of tequila and not a care in the world, you’d started answering any and every question the girls had put to you like you were under the influence of a truth serum.

“Exactly, sweetie, and it’s because I know that I want you to drink up, you’ve been secretive these last couple of days and I want to get to the bottom of it.”

“What happens when you drink, Y/N?” Reid asked. You could heart the curiosity in his voice, and like everytime you’d felt his attention on you in the last week and a half, your chest thumped painfully, trying to burst from your chest and reach out to him.

“Oh, it was hilarious. She was a venerable chatterbox, and she was so open with her opinions on everything. She was answering every question with the cutest sincerity.” Garcia filled him in on the details and you wanted to melt into the couch.

“We asked her what drink she wanted next and she monologued for ten minutes about some of the different choices on the menu and whether she thought they would taste good.” JJ continued.

“And when we asked more probing questions, she’d start by saying ‘I’m only telling you this because it’s you three and I love you,’” Emily finished for them.

Thankfully, the three of them had noticed that you were quite a bit past it that day, and that they shouldn’t be really asking you anything inappropriate that you’d regret answering. You were especially thankful for it now though, as you could only imagine the things you’d say about Reid if your tongue loosened. About how he felt when he was inside you, about how he’d given you the best orgasm of your life, about how you were in love with him and afraid that if you told him you’d never have him in your arms again.

“One shot won’t hurt, Y/N. You had like five last time before you started spouting wisdom, what’s the worst that one could do?” You sighed, knowing that you couldn’t say no to Penelope Garcia, and thinking that maybe you didn’t even want to.

“Okay, one shot, and no more.” You grabbed the salt and the lime, got ready for your shot as the others did the same, and then with one quick tip up, it was burning a trail down your throat.

“Great, now that that’s finished, I’m going to get us some real drinks, any requests?” After a few shouts for beers and cocktails, Prentiss left the table and went to order the next round.

“How about a game?” Garcia suggested innocently enough, “maybe two truths, one lie? Truth or dare?” You rolled your eyes at her probing, knowing that she only had good intentions. She’d checked in on you a few times during your time in Alaska as well, after you started moping about the loss of Reid in your bed. It had only been the fact that he’d made you promise to keep your relationship to yourselves that had stopped you from spilling everything to Garcia the morning you woke up and realised he was gone.

“Baby girl, you’re scaring the kid,” Morgan laughed from his place at your side, and you breathed a sigh of relief, until he opened his mouth again. “That being said, is there something you need to get off your chest, Y/N? You’ve been acting all sad recently.”

“I’m fine! Totally fine, just not getting enough sleep, I think.”

“Oh, is it nightmares? We’ve all had them, I think it’s part of the job description now.” Emily returned with the drinks and latched on to the end of your conversation.

“Not nightmares, mostly dreams if I’m being honest,” you sighed out, unable to catch yourself as she handed you your drink. You cursed yourself as you looked up to see the grin on her face.

“Y/N Y/L/N, are you telling me that you’ve been running on minimum hours of sleep because you’ve been getting some action?” Whenever Emily full-named you, you felt like a little kid being pulled into a principal's office. You gulped and sent her a panicked look, unable to deny but not wanting to say another word. From the corner of your eye, you tried to catch Reid’s reaction to all of this. He was nursing his drink on the sidelines, not saying anything, but a small twitch in the corner of his mouth filled in the gaps for him.

“Oh, that’s my girl.” Emily whistled at you from the other side of the table, and for the next half hour you did your best to melt into the table and not make eye-contact with Reid.

Eventually, Morgan made his way to the bar to start flirting with some girls, and JJ, Emily and Prentiss made their way to the dancefloor, leaving you and Reid alone at the table. They’d tried to convince you to get up with them, but you’d convinced them to leave you behind, with promises to join them shortly.

“So, you’re a truthful drunk, then?” Reid asked. He’d moved closer to you when Morgan had exited the booth, but not close enough to draw anyone's attention. Now with the girls gone too, he took his chances and pushed up against your side, your thighs touching, and his arm resting on the back of the booth.

“Don’t start, I barely survived that with my life, Reid, now they think I’m seeing someone,” you groaned into your hands.

“You are seeing someone. Granted it’s just me, and its not what they think…” he trailed off, still staring at you with that smile on his lips, but you barely noticed burying your head further into your hands. It was almost infuriating that he didn’t know that he’d never be ‘just’ anything to you.

“Not helping, Reid.” He chuckled and took another swig of his drink. Obviously the alcohol was starting to have some effect on him, because when he returned his glass to his coaster, the hand that was holding it fell directly onto your thigh. With his other arm practically wrapped around your shoulders, and this movement now, you could only imagine that the two of you looked like a couple having an intimate discussion to anyone walking past.

“What are you doing, Spencer?” You panic a bit, worrying that any second a coworker of yours would catch sight of the two of you and realise just who you’d been dreaming about these past few days. But your back was to the booth and it wasn’t in their line of sight at all.

“Oh, it’s Spencer again, is it? Thought you liked calling me sir,” he whispered in your ear and the feeling of his hot breath on your neck was enough to disable the brain cells that remained.

“Spencer!” You hissed under your breath at him, the heat rising in your cheeks. “Can we not do this here?” You asked, exasperated.

“Would you prefer to do this at my apartment, or yours instead? Or your car is outside, if you just want to get straight to it.” You weren’t used to this from him. Sure he was dominant when you were in the middle of the act, but before and after he was almost ten times more awkward than usual. But with a bit of liquid courage, he’d had you trapped in a corner, unable to escape, and not caring who saw you.

“Spencer, they’re going to see us. That was the rule, they can’t see us.” You whispered in a low voice, not wanting to take it any higher, despite the pounding music in the bar.

“And they won’t but you need to answer me baby, my place, your place or your car?” Your heart-race picked up as you saw the serious expression on his face. He needed this. Needed you so badly, that he couldn’t even wait for a natural exit, needing to carry you off to the nearest convenient location and have his way with you. You realised in that moment that you would drop anything just to give him what he needed.

“Car.” You said, letting go of your worries, and just letting him take care of the situation.

“Perfect, princess. Now, you’re going to lean on my arm and act like you have a headache while I go and make our excuses to the others, okay? Do not say a word, and maybe I’ll give you a nice reward, how does that sound?” You nodded vigorously at his instructions, suddenly very excited for whatever he had in store for you.

You stumbled your way to the dancefloor, tracking down Garcia and the others as Spencer informed them of your condition. The three of them tried to ask you questions, but you were sure that Spencer was serious about that reward, so you kept your mouth shut, leaning against Reid innocently and just nodding your head at the appropriate times. Morgan was still chatting at the bar, and Reid gave him a nod on the way out, knowing that he’d soon be filled in as well, and you were suddenly out the door.

“Good job, princess, you did so good for me in there.” He cooed into your ear as he guided you back to your own car. Unlocking the doors, he threw your bag into the front seats and immediately climbed into the back, pulling you along with him by your hand.

He pulled you over him, making you straddle him. You knew he wasn’t going to take his time with you, not here, but that didn’t matter. You needed it just as much as he did. You wondered for a second if his reward was going to finally be him pressing his lips to yours. You’d changed into a short skirt before joining your friends at a bar, that material so tight over your ass and thighs that in your new position, he didn’t even have to move it out of the way to gain access to you, having already ridden up all the way to your stomach.

“So beautiful baby. If you need to stop for whatever reason, you need to tap my shoulder here two times, okay?” You were confused about the introduction of a new safety gesture, but when he wrapped one of his hands around your neck and squeezed just as he starting rubbing your soaking cunt you suddenly realised it was necessary.

The strong grip on your throat was limiting your breath, the lack of oxygen you were getting intensifying every stroke he made. It was only a few minutes before he was pushing a finger into you, and beginning to pump it in and out quickly. You grabbed at the arm attached to your throat, using it for balance as you used your remaining energy to grind down desperately into his hand. He stilled his movements then, letting you use his hand to get off, humping yourself into him like a bitch in heat.

“You said you liked this, but if I’d have known you meant this much, I’d have done this much sooner.” He tightened his grip around your throat a little bit, still doing his best not to hurt you. You were seeing stars now, the car windows were fogged up from your desperate pants, and you were so close to just finishing right there on his hand.

You felt your vision go black as you finally tipped over the edge, tapping his shoulder quickly as you felt your orgasm rip through you. He instantly let go of you and caught you in his arms, wrapping them around you, and instantly doing everything to make sure you were okay.

“What’s wrong, are you okay? Did I squeeze too hard?” There was a panic in his tone, but you let your breathing even out before you replied, content with the feeling of him stroking your hair as your head rested against his chest.

“It’s okay, Spencer, it was just getting a little bit too intense for me, is all…” you let out a small yawn then and nuzzled into him in the backseat, your eyes drooping closed.

“Princess, I’m going to get you home now, okay? No more tonight.” He whispered sweetly into your hair, as you fell asleep in his arms once again. The last thing you felt before you fell under was his lips press a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

Saturday

When you woke up again, you knew you were in his arms, and your heart practically sang at the contact. Your eyes opened and there he was, next to you in your bed, face inches from yours, arms wrapped tightly around you and legs tangled in yours.

You stared at him for a few moments, not wanting to wake him and shatter the peace with awkward exits, not wanting to distance yourself from him for even a second. Your eyes drank all of him in. His messy hair, his long, delicate eyelashes, his lips. You found yourself staring at them for more than a few moments.

What would they feel like pressed into yours? You tried to bury the thought, but you just couldn’t. He was asleep, and you’d not talked about kissing when you’d discussed things you wouldn’t do. It was human nature to be curious, but the need to know him, to experience him and everything he had was consuming you from the inside, and you couldn’t help yourself.

Just as you were about to let your impulses control your movements and press a kiss to his lips, you felt him stir next to you, instantly snapping your eyes shut and laying as still as possible as he roused himself from sleep.

You felt him shift, but you could hear nothing over the sound of your heart beating in your ears. Did he know you were awake? Was he going to leave without waking you? Was he going to try to wake you up?

You felt his fingers against your cheek now, tracing a faint line down your face, and then he did something unexpected, and he cupped your face in his hand, and you felt him growing closer and closer until you felt the softest of touches against your lips and realised that he was finally kissing you.

Completely forgetting you were supposed to be asleep, you responded to his kiss, angling your head to better match his and pushing your lips back into his as he made to depart, encouraging him to keep going. He did, with each connection of your lips growing more and more passionate and loving, and like if he was given the chance he’d never stop holding you there in that moment. He only pulled away when he ran out of breath, and you were thankful that he did, as when you opened your eyes, the sight of him robbed you of yours too.

“Good morning, princess.” He whispered, tenderly, letting his forehead come to rest on yours, pressing another chaste kiss to your nose as he did so, and drawing out a giggle from you.

“Good morning, Spencer.” He drops another kiss to your lips then, almost as if now that he’s started he can’t stop.

“Spencer, please, why are you so touchy this morning?” you giggle up at him between kisses.

“I don’t know, you just looked so beautiful, is that a crime?” He smiles at you agan, continuing his kisses down your neck.

“We’ve never kissed before,” you vocalise your fear, and he stopped his movements before you could rush to backtrack.

“We haven’t? Oh god, we haven’t,” his eyes go wide as he looks down at you, his expression mirroring yours. “Shit, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just assumed after everything these past two weeks that we’d kissed at some point.”

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t apologise,” you try to speak, but he keeps going, rushing to get the words out all at once.

“I think I was misremembering kissing you, maybe I thought my dreams were real or something, so if I overstepped a boundary or something about this makes you uncomfortable, say the word and I’ll never do it again.” There was a ringing in your ears as you took in his words.

“You dreamed about kissing me?” you asked in a whisper, almost scared to hear the answer. He struggled to find the right words to say for a moment, but then he nodded.

“I thought you’d have guessed by now from my enthusiasm about all of this,” he replied, still holding you, his hands hot on your waist.

“Wait, Spencer, for how long?”

“Promise you won’t be freaked out?” He groaned, looking like he’d rather bury his face in your pillows than admit what he was about tp.

“I promise, now spill.”

“Since you joined the team. Like since the exact second. I saw you when you walked in and it was like a bomb went off in my head or something, and I had to avoid you for most of that first day so you didn’t notice I was being a creep and just imagining what it would feel like to kiss you.” The grin on your face grew with each of his words, hope sprouting there and taking root.

“God, Spencer, I thought you were uncomfortable around me. I thought you hated me a little because I threw off the group dynamic!” you laughed at your own stupidity now, raking a hand through your hair as his behaviour became more understandable, now.

“No, god no. It does take me a little bit of time to warm up to change, I’ll admit, but by the end of the first week, the change I was imagining what our kids would look like.” You froze with his words, and the roots in your heart grew deeper, twining around themselves and holding you with a fervid strength.

“Kids?” was the only word you managed to gasp out, as Spencer realised what he’d said.

“Fuck… That is, I didn’t mean to… It was just a stupid thought, if you don’t feel the same way, it’s totally fine.”

“Feel what way, Spencer?” you had to hear it from his lips, had to hear the words you so desperately needed.

“Y/N, you have to know by now that I’m obsessed with you. I can’t get enough of you, I’ve been following you around like a lost puppy for the last two weeks. I’m completely devoted to you, Y/N. I love you.” The flower in your chest bloomed, and the tears from your eyes spilled to water it.

“Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” he kissed the tears away from your cheeks, happy to continue showing you his adoration from earlier, but you pulled him away, needing to look him in the eye when you said it.

“Spencer, I love you, too. Maybe I didn’t realise as soon as you did, but somewhere in my subconscious I was so aware of you, I wanted your approval so badly, wanted you to smile and laugh with me the way you were with the rest of the team. I’ve spent this last week with the words stuck in my throat because I thought you couldn’t possibly feel the same, because Spencer you deserve all the love in the world.” Your tears were free flowing now, with your confession, and you could see some moisture forming in his as well.

The two of you didn’t need to say anything more after that, your lips doing all the communicating for you.

These kisses were different, so much deeper, more romantic, more needy. He moved his leg over you and pressed some of his weight down into you, wrapping you in his warmth. He pulled away from your lips to continue further down your neck. Each time he pulled away, he whispered a confession into your skin.

“Spencer, I want to feel you inside of me, please.” You moaned into his touch, and he quickly agreed. Now that you two knew you had each other, you wanted to waste no time. He was hard already, having woken up with the perfect reason to hold you. He carefully lifted your legs up and apart, giving himself all the space he needed to make love to you.

“God, you’re so perfect for me,” he said, pausing to spit down on your pussy, spreading the wetness with his heavy cock. He sat there rubbing himself against you for a few minutes, his lips having reconnected with yours, swallowing every moan you made, along with any he couldn’t control from himself.

The two of you were so lost in each other, in the moment, that it felt like it lasted forever. With one last rub to your sensitive areas, he lined himself up with your hole, and slowly lowered himself in. Encouraging you to hold your knees up into a tighter position, he grabbed your hips and began setting a relentless pace. It wasn’t the slow sensual fuck from your motel room, or even the hard and fast mess of your first time in the file room, but somewhere in the middle. You could feel the passion and the love he held for you in his kisses, and the lust you had cultivated over the weeks in each thrust, and it was driving you absolutely crazy.

“Yes, Spencer just like that, fuck,” you moaned out when he finally moved away from your lips, pressing his mouth into your neck again and biting down. It wasn’t hard enough to break the skin, but just hard enough that the pain heightened your pleasure.

With each thrust, your arms became weaker and weaker, your legs shaking furiously as he gave you all of him.

“Come on baby, just a few more, you can hold out for a few more,” he whispered in your ear, licking and sucking at the place he’d left his bite mark.

“I don’t think I can, I don’t think I can for musch longer, Spencer, please,” you whimpered your arms falling away from your legs. He replaced yours with his, pushing your body further into the bed, doing all the work and letting you just experience it.

“Okay, baby, you did great, you think you can come on my cock now, baby?” He asked and you immediately nodded, feeling the tell-tale bubbling of your orgasm beginning to rush through you. Your whole body stiffened as you screamed, his pace unrelenting as he rode you through the orgasm. He moved one hand down to your clit, rubbing you through it and keeping you sensitive, and even though you’d just had one of the most powerful orgasms of your life, you knew he meant to make you do it again.

“That’s my girl, taking me so well. I love you, sweetie, you’re doing so perfect for me,” you gasped and moaned into his ear, unable to think for the twitching in your cunt, driven slowly insane by the sensitivity.

“I’m almost there, baby, gonna fill your cunt with my seed.” He grunted in your ear, grabbing either side of your neck in his hands, resting his forehead against yours and thrusting harder and harder into you. You felt the second wave start to hit then, more drawn out than the first as he did his best to breed you, to plant himself firmly inside of you. He lasted only a few more thrusts before his hips stilled, bottomed out inside of you, and you felt rope after rope of his cum spurt into you.

“Fuck, princess, I love you.” He pressed another quick kiss y=to your lips, but you were whimpering from the continued contact now, and he quickly pulled out. He stopped to watch his cum drip out of you, knowing that he’d fully claimed you now, that you were his forever, and, resisting the urge to push into you again, left to grab something to clean you up with.

You laid there, gently coaxing your legs back into a comfortable position until he came back. He cleaned you up, bundled you up in some fresh pajamas, and returned you to the bed, wrapping you up in his arms once again, almost as if nothing had happened.

“It’s saturday, so we can just relax for the rest of the day, okay, princess?” You hid your face in his chest and nodded your approval, gently shutting out the rest of the world. It was you and him now, everyday of the week it was you and him.

Sunday

After two weeks of constant attention, you had to set a boundary with your new boyfriend very quickly, and you chose breakfast on the sunday morning to do it.

“Spencer, you know I love you, right?” you opened the conversation, filling up his coffee mug as he set the small table in the corner of your kitchen.

“Yes, you said it 246 times yesterday. I said it 274 times, but whose keeping count, right?” You laughed at him, and pulled him into a hug quickly, pressing a chaste kiss onto his lips.

“I love you, but we need to talk again.” You smiled up at him, trying your best to keep your poker face as you threatened to crack seeing his eyebrows knit together.

“Did I do something wrong?” he quickly asked, but you stroked his hair reassuringly, signaling for him to just listen to you.

“I really like my job, you know. I like working out in the field.” You smiled up at him, watching his confusion deepen.

“But if you keep fucking me like I’m a little whore everyday of the week, it’s only going to be a matter of time until I can’t walk, you know?”

---------------------------------------------------

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @bluecandycake @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @daddy-dotcom @zaapsite @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @kat453 @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @alyssaxstan @ghostheartbeat @beguiling3lavender @Casss2111 @zatannas-wand @rebloggiest-reblogger @kspencer34 @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @cow-parsley @wakaladjarin @itsyagrillkat @ratbastardchild

5K notes · View notes