#love all the library jokes this episode!
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Reasons why Jon Archivist is truly a character of all time:
Had the police called on him several times when he was a young child
Keeps his rib and the ashes of the season one antagonist next to his stationary drawer
Promised he wouldn’t get lost in tunnels and then immediately got lost in aforementioned tunnels
Has no clue what a joke is
Learned how remarkably easy it is to buy an ax in central London
Had to have two separate interventions
Told people his place of employment before traumatising them for life
The first character he ever said ‘I love you’ to is a cat
Allegedly participated in amdram
Watches documentaries and collects some kind of weird shit (my headcanon is Soviet Union postcards) when he’s not being a paranoid mess
Canonically looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks
Knows nothing about library science
Fell head over heels for a man that he hated until he learned he lied on his resumé
Has been referred to as Jesus or Jesus-adjacent at least twice
Asexual icon
Knows what a meme is and said “LOL” in the first episode
Rode on a merry-go-round sometime during his university days because he was in a weird place emotionally
Died for our Jonathan Sins
Is probably a computer now playing minesweeper with his boyfriend and evil 200+ year old boss
#i just love how much of a hot mess this sad little wet cat of a man is#jonathan sims#jon sims#the archivist#the magnus archives#tma#tma spoilers#tmagp#the magnus protocol#the magnus protocol spoilers
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Bob From Stats | Robert "Bob" Floyd
Summary: College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.
Word Count: 4.9k
Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, dry humping, alcohol, drunken party games, mentions of studying because that gives me PTSD, semi-exaggerated Greek life for theatrical reasons
A Note From Mo: Somehow my frat!Bob, drunk Bob is Rhett, and 7 minutes in heaven ideas all rolled into one fic - wild! Massive shoutout to everyone who listened to me talk about Stats Bob (who is now officially my #2 Bob, I love him) and for supporting this here lil blog. May you find a hobby-horse-wielding future WSO to sweep you off your feet too!
“I hate this. I’m going to quit school and become a stripper.”
Anna gives you a wry look. “That joke was only funny the first time you said it.”
“So you admit I’m funny!”
The two of you have been spread out in the library the majority of the evening. Textbooks, snacks, and highlighters littering the glossy dark wood. You’re on hour five of assignments and your brain is pounding against the front of your skull. Your other classes aren’t too bad, a bit time consuming, but Statistics is a foreign language. Thinking in probable numbers? It was one thing when the nice guy who sat behind you helped explain concepts, but Anna does not have quite the same analytical mind.
The sky outside is an inky black and the library is quiet except for your frustrated huffs. It’s Saturday night. The rest of campus is indulging in cheap beers at Barney’s, slinking along Greek Row, or enjoying tonight’s episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s time to get out of here and crawl into your soft bed. Torturing yourself with Stats homework will be just as painful on Sunday.
“If I buy us a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, can we blow this off and hang out back at the dorms?” Anna is nodding before you’ve even finished. Stuffing notebooks into backpacks and capping pens low on ink, you’re strolling down the library stairs not even five minutes later.
As the balmy evening campus air hits your face, you already feel fresher. Campus is quiet, late enough that most people are settled into their Saturday night plans. As the two of you near Greek Row, there’s a comfortable silence as you appreciate the breeze through the trees and the warm glow of campus housing windows.
That is, until a low whoop rings out. An undercurrent of boisterous cheering and what sounds like stomping feet. You exchange eyes with your roommate. What is that?
As if summoned, a group comes galloping through the neatly trimmed cypress trees around the corner. They’re stomping their feet in a rhythm, hands held mid-air to imitate holding reigns. Drunken laughs ring out between cries of “Whoa!” and “Steady there, Lucky!” To round it off, the leader of their horse play (literally) is full-on cosplaying as a cowboy, his jeans tucked into boots and a Stetson perched atop his head.
Wait, is he holding a hobby horse? It’s been decades since you’ve seen those horse heads stuck on a stick. The stuffed felt Appaloosa head is reigned in the cowboy’s hands, where he pretends to spur it back into action.
Just when you think you’ve seen it all.
The group continues its way toward you and you’re equally secondhand embarrassed and amused. As they grow closer you recognize a few guys from the Pi Kapp house and wave. But it’s Anna who makes the most shocking discovery when Mr. Cowboy tilts his brim up.
"Is that Bob from Stats?"
It takes a second to look past the brown felt hat and the hobby horse he's taking for a spin, but that's definitely the same pink-cheeked Bob Floyd who has lent you a pencil all semester.
“Howdy, ladies.” He tips his hat to you, all toothy grin and droopy drunk eyes. "Can I offer you a ride?"
You stare open-mouthed. Shocked. That slow rancher drawl is new. The unbridled confidence is new. Actually, the entire getup is new. For nine weeks you’ve seen him in the same trucker hat and sweatshirt combo while going over homework answers together. What is going on?
He’s clearly in the middle of his house party crawl, bright blue eyes half open behind his metal frames. Just as gorgeous as ever as a tendril of sandy hair curls against his forehead. Normally your reaction to him is tender, a puppy dog crush. But this wild, inebriated version of him? You’re hot under the collar.
“You think there’s room on your horse?” Ever since that first Stats class he’s made your brain feel like it’s on RedBull. The way he noticed you missing a writing utensil and offering you his extra. His kind smile when you get a homework answer completely wrong. Anna hasn’t noticed your crush, but it feels obvious with the way you can barely keep eye contact with him yet are unable to look away. Especially with that stupid cowboy hat on.
He bites his lip, considering your response, and his buddies all razz him as he drawls out, “There will be if we squeeze in.”
The wink makes your mouth dry.
Someone from the back of the group complains of the cold and the group prepares their steeds to head back to Pi Kapp. Anna explains you’re headed back to the dorms, tone deaf to the sexual tension, and Bob nods with his brow furrowed.
“Another time then.” His white tshirt practically glows in the moonlight. “Have a good night, chickadees. Get home safe!”
With another tip of his Stetson to you, Bob Floyd gallops away toward another keg.
You’re sprinting across campus, cursing how late your meeting with your advisor went. There was ten minutes to get across campus and he had spent four of those questioning whether you really needed another semester of French. You make it into the lecture hall with a minute to spare, finding your preferred spot in the lower rows where you can actually see the board. Right in front of Bob.
“What? No cowboy hat for class?” His cheeks flame red, the hope you’ve forgotten about his Saturday antics lost. He looks like himself today, his signature trucker cap keeping the hair off his face. Those friendly ultramarine eyes shyly focusing on his notebook because god forbid he makes eye contact after you’ve seen him gallop across campus on a fake horse.
He rubs the back of his neck over his soft-looking crewneck, an awkward smile playing on his lips. “It’s at the cleaners.”
You give him an amused grin before settling yourself into one of the classically uncomfortable lecture seats. Anna waves to you from where she’s rushing in, historically always late. The professor is shuffling notes at the podium as she collapses into the seat next to you, nodding her head in greeting to you and to Bob. She raises her eyebrows to you, a “remember when Bob was dressed as a cowboy” gesture, and your lips twist happily.
“Alright, class, who’s ready to talk probability?” The collective groans and hollers mark the start of lecture. You flip open your notebook and start digging around for a writing instrument in your bag. Like usual, you seem to be missing a pen or pencil when you need one most.
A tap on your shoulder. You turn and lock eyes with the frat boy-turned-cowboy with the shy smile. He holds out a pencil to you. Taking it sheepishly, you mouth a thank you and turn back to lecture. After nine weeks it shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but every week he’s given you a pencil since you whispered shoot! a little too loud on Week 1.
Risking a quick glance back at him, engrossed in the Empirical Law of Averages while he twirls his pencil, you’re not sure you can survive the rest of the semester.
By the end of the Stats lecture on Thursday, you have one brain cell to your name and seven pages of notes. What a brutal class. Midterms were quickly approaching and not a single professor had any mercy. As you pack up your stuff - including the borrowed pencil that would promptly disappear before next class - you make a study plan with Anna for that evening. She brings the chips, you’ll supply the vodka.
“Are you two not hitting the houses tonight?” He looks uncomfortable having interrupted the two of you.
Bob shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, adjusting the collar of his navy blue sweatshirt. Other than when he’s kindly exchanged homework answers before class - or been drunkenly galloping across campus - the two of you don’t speak much. The odd quip here and there, but overall the two of you exist in pencil-sharing quiet. “Everyone’s having pre-midterm parties before buckling down to study.”
“Oh, that sounds fun!” You look at Anna encouragingly. As needed as a vodka-infused study session was, one night out couldn’t hurt. And it was Thursday. No classes tomorrow meant you had three days to buckle down and attempt to understand anything you’ve learned this semester.
She eyes you warily, but agrees that Greek Row sounds like a better option than highlighting textbooks. Bob flashes you his timid smile beneath the brim of his cap. “It’ll be a fun night. Maybe I’ll see you? If not, have a good weekend!”
As he starts to walk out, a feeling takes over you. “Bob?” You watch him slow down and turn, wide blue eyes watching you from behind those unconventionally cute glasses. “You’ll be at the Pi Kapp house, yeah?” He nods. “Cool. See you around!”
Despite standing next to it the entire conversation, neither of you notice the pencil sitting on the desk, left behind as you head out for your respective weekends.
“What did you say?” You’re practically yelling to be heard over the EDM that Sigma Chi is blaring. They’ve turned their house into a rave with glow sticks, body paint, and music so loud your eardrums must be burst. The beer is warm, your arm has supernaturally purple paint smeared across it, and Anna has been unsuccessfully telling you a story for ten minutes.
Huffing, she grabs your arm and drags you toward the entrance, tossing your cups onto a random hallway table where a heated makeout session is taking place. They move out of the way just enough so the two of you can slip out of the old colonial house and out into the cool night. The ringing in your ears subsides slowly as you lean against the columns of the front porch.
“House number three? Also sucked. Three strikes and you’re out? Can we go home?” Anna grabs your wrist and pouts. She wanted movie night with vodka and a pizza from Pietro’s. You wanted to blow off steam.
But Alpha Sig had mostly been freshman and Phi Delt, while not a terrible party, had the most smarmy men on campus. The bleeding eardrums of Sigma Chi was preferable to pushing off men in polos just to grab another drink. You just wanted a semi-decently flavored alcoholic beverage - maybe three - while chatting with some friends. You weren’t asking for much.
Allowing Anna to drag you in the direction of the dorms, ready to admit defeat, you slow to a stop seeing the bricked entrance to Pi Kappa Phi. Bob’s fraternity. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?
It takes a little convincing, but soon you’re in the warmly lit foyer of the Pi Kapp house. The vibe is more relaxed than Sigma Chi, with a keg in the corner, an array of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and hip-hop softly filling the house. You’re impressed they’ve even gone the extra mile with multi-colored string lights across every surface to brighten up the otherwise dark house.
“Yooooo, how’s it going?” A drunken loaf of snapback and Deep Eddy envelopes you in a hug. It’s Tyler, one of your freshman seminar PK friends. Exchanging pleasantries - the best you can with someone that far gone - he drags you further into the house. Miscellaneous groups of Greek and geed litter the hallways. Anna sees her friends from Delta Gamma and ditches you, promising to get home safe. Tyler continues on his mission to god knows where.
At least he’s considerate enough to stop in the kitchen so you can grab a whiskey lemonade to sip.
Eventually you’re spat into a sitting room of sorts, groups crowding the ring of sofas while drunkenly jeering at the game. You set yourself on the arm of one, trying to make sense of the theatrics. The latest victim laughs out a “Truth!” before everyone giggles wickedly. Are they playing truth or dare?
Your eyes gloss over the group, trying to figure out who else you know. A few PK’s you recognize, a girl who smiles but looks unfamiliar, and…a cowboy hat that is a dead giveaway.
Standing up and walking around the group, you tap him on the shoulder. The biggest blue eyes meet yours, a surprised smile splitting his face.
“You made it!” That deep drawl is back and that tingle reappears on your spine. Bob jumps up from the couch, beer bottle dwarfed in his hand, and comes to stand with you. “You having a good night?”
Ironically, your night is much better now that you’ve found him. He’s back in his cowboy gear, a worn denim shirt tucked into his jeans and those same cowboy boots scuff against the hardwood. You’re tempted to steal the felt hat from his head just so he looks a little bit more like Bob from Stats.
Squeezing your eyes shut, letting the alcohol be an excuse, you succumb to the obvious question. “I need to know - what’s with the…cowboy?” You gesture up and down, drawing a chuckle from him.
He blushes under the felt brim. “You know I have a slight accent, yeah?” You attempt to stifle your laugh as he incidentally talks in a thicker accent. “When I was a pledge they started calling me cowboy. Saw the hat while I was in town one week, ended up leaning into the joke.”
“And the hobby horse?”
He beckons you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Stolen from my little sister over summer break.”
There’s that wink again making your knees weak. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes another sip from his beer. Despite the party raging around you, nothing else seems to exist past him asking about your night and if you want another drink. You’re wrapped in the warmth of his words, itching to snuggle into his broad chest.
The spell is broken when “Cowboy Bob!” rings out from the crowd. The entire room is turned to you two. “Truth or dare, man?”
In the background of your intimate conversation with Bob, the truths and dares have reached full raunchiness. People have been stripped of clothes and dirty secrets. A bead of sweat gathers at Bob’s collar, aware that neither option is safe.
His worried gaze flits to you, as if you hold the correct answer, before tipping his hat back and exhaling, “Dare?”
It’s gutsy, but if there’s one thing you’re learning about the quiet guy from Stats, he’s full of surprises. The crowd bubbles with excitement, anticipating what dare will be dealt out. Next to you, the wannabe cowboy looks more annoyed than anything. He was enjoying talking to you not in a classroom and with a little liquid courage.
An evil smile crosses the dare-dealer’s face. He knows Bob and isn’t blind to what’s going on. He’s gonna help his buddy out on this one.
His arm stretches out and he points (with the red plastic cup in his hand) to the coat closet at the end of the hall. “Hmmmmm, I dare you to, hmm, play Seven Minutes in Heaven with…” It’s no surprise when the cup-turned-pointer lands on you.
Ice water down your back wouldn’t be as panic inducing. It’s hard to tell who swallows harder, you or Cowboy Bob. Every instinct is telling you to run, but that little voice in the back of your head wins out. As Bob starts to tell you it’s okay, they’re joking, you don’t have to, you grab his thick wrist and give him a nervous smile. You don’t even care what the punishment is for not completing a dare, this stupid drunken game has given you an opportunity.
The dealer of the dare follows the two of you down the hallway, leading the whoops and wolf whistles. Bob’s cheeks flame scarlet in the low light. You keep your chin high and eyes forward. He can definitely feel the way you’re trembling around his wrist.
Whether in anxiety or excitement it’s hard to tell.
The inside of the closet is dark, the faint light under the door casting only the faintest of shadows. Your heart is pounding, blood pulsing through your ears. Bob rubs his lips together nervously. It’s all you can do to not run your tongue along them.
“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” The way he prioritizes your comfort makes heat pool between your legs. The brim of his hat is as far back as it can go, his eyes tracing the lines of your face as he gauges your emotions. He’s welcome to figure them out, you’re unsure of them yourself.
His large, warm hand rubs your forearm comfortingly, your skin too cold without his touch. You’re suffocating under his sweat-and-bergamot scent, citrusy and warm.
You bite the bullet. “What if I want to?”
His breath stops. Fingers find yours in the dark, interlocking on either side of your hips. Eyes you know are the deepest blue lock onto your gaze, a million emotions passing behind his irises. Face descending upon the space between you, tentatively showing his intentions. You meet him in the middle, caution out the window.
The kiss is gentle, puzzle pieces slotting together for the first time. He tastes like malt sugar and peppermint. Mouth warm and soft, enveloping you fully in his comfort. It’s even better than what you’ve imagined for the past nine weeks.
Bob begins to pull away, ever the gentleman. Your hand finds his collar, holding him in place. “Not yet, we still have, like, five and a half minutes.”
Despite the low light, his smile lights up the closet.
His lips return to yours in a rush, swallowing your mouth in a passionate heat. The press of his body to yours is delicious. Hands previously at your side meet your hips, lightly squeezing as you moan into his mouth. You reach up and hold the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as your lips toy with the tiniest bit of stubble along his jaw.
“You know,” he starts, holding the moan in the back of his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since September.”
You pull back momentarily, a crinkle upon your brow. “Bob, we didn’t start Stats until January.”
He kisses the confusion from your face, his hands wrapping further around your body. “And you looked very pretty in that green dress at the homecoming barbecue.”
Bless your love of school spirit and free food. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”
“I don’t normally make a habit of kissing girls I don’t know. And clearly it takes an entire fraternity for me to get you alone.” The way his chuckle bounces against your skin has you squirming. Your schoolgirl crush on him wasn’t one-sided, and suddenly you’re hot for teacher.
You capture him in another kiss, tongue searching the seam of his lips for entrance. He obliges immediately, groaning as you explore his taste. Four hands roam skin, finding purchase in anything and everything. Your body has a mind of its own as you press against him, chest heaving with your passion. The right shift of fabric on fabric reveals that he’s equally as affected by the chemistry.
Reluctantly, he pulls away once more, threading his fingers across the back of your neck. Takes a moment to capture his breath as he sees the lust in your eyes. A deep breath. “As much as I like you, I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”
Soft fingers follow the line of his arm to where it wraps around your waist. How is he this impossibly sweet? Thoughtful, respectful, and looking hot as sin with swollen lips. It’s unfair.
“I promise I’m not.” You stroke the back of his hand. “Please kiss me?”
His large hands unwrap from your waist and travel down, shifting behind your legs and pulling you up, resting your back against the wall. You tangle your legs around his waist as best you can in the small space, relishing his firm body pressed deliciously close, warm and solid. Kisses smeared across lips and jaws as noises crescendo. You’re panting as you trail down to his impossibly long neck, desperate to cover it in affection.
You’ve barely explored the expanse of skin when the door flies open, the boisterous party sounds flooding in. Reality strikes like a slap across the face. The truth-or-dare ringleader takes you in - legs wrapped around Bob and hands creeping toward your ass - and whoops in delight. Who knew Cowboy Bob had it in him!
“Time’s up, lovebirds!” He crows and reaches forward to slug Bob lightly on the shoulder.
Not skipping a beat, Bob shoves his friend back and throws up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Milburn.”
The closet door slams shut, blanketing you again in the intimacy of the moment. You’re looking at him with unsure eyes and he’s praying the moment hasn’t been ruined. He’s waited seven calendar months for this opportunity and his fingers are so close to enjoying the plump squeeze of your ass.
“We can go back to the party if you want?” Your voice is so small, nervous outside of those bold seven minutes. Tentative breaths exist between you.
In lieu of an answer, he bows his head to give you a searing yet gentle kiss.
That cramped coat closet suddenly is an inferno, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and groaning at the burning sweetness of your taste. Your hands grip his shoulders as you fight for dominance, fingers tangling in denim. Hips brushing together, still clinging to the idea of this being innocent.
An innocence immediately lost when Bob strikes up the courage and palms your ass. Soft and pliable and perfect to squeeze in his palms. He remembers the exact day you came to class in the tightest jeans known to man (laundry day) and the way he had dug his pencil in his palm to avoid a semi as your curved ass met the lecture seat. Something unavoidable now as you squirm against him, moaning your pleasure against the pulse in his neck.
Nothing has ever felt as good as rubbing against Bob Floyd’s clothed bulge. One glance down and you’re dizzy with arousal. Rutting yourself against him as best you can with your limited mobility, sloppy kisses exchanged as the two of you can barely keep your mouths closed. It feels so good, too good.
Lost in the moment, one hand slips below the hem of your skirt, warm skin on skin. Any noise from outside the closet dims to a hum. Two hearts beating rapidly as desire fully consumes, directing lips to too hot exposed skin. You murmur your need in his ear. You don’t care where you are, you need him.
Bob tucks a finger under your thong, feeling the slick coating your folds. The whine that leaves him is desperate and gruff. He groans against your throat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”
Undeterred, your lip catches between your teeth, core muscles contracting as you grind your hips forward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a ride.”
He’s immediately on board, teasing you briefly before extricating his hand to support you better against the wall. His hands practically swallow your ass, flooding you with lust. You thrust your chest against him, desperate to touch every spot on his handsome body as your hips begin to grind.
His hands are sweltering as they trail down, effortlessly clutching the back of your thighs to give you leverage. Your clit finds friction against his jeans and your mouth hangs open as you buck frantically into him.
“Look at you move, cowgirl,” he breathes out, infatuated. The nickname spurrs you on, whimpering against his lips.
One hand clutching his bicep, holding on for desperate life, while the other snakes its way atop the damned cowboy hat that’s stayed on the entire encounter. Gripping the top of it and holding fast as you ride his clothed bulge with everything you’ve got. Denim and lace against your clit, rubbing deliciously as your brain fuzzes. His hot mouth focused at the hinge of your jaw, sucking soft bruises into the skin; moaning when you brush him just right.
“I’m close,” you whisper against his cheek. Time has stood still, but it’s embarrassing how close he’s gotten you to orgasm with just his clothed cock and strong hands.
He ruts his hips forward, meeting your thrusts in heavenly synchronization. You’re panting as the pressure on your clit catapults you, so close to the ultimate prize. Whispers of you can do it, cowgirl, cum for me, doing so good riding me, just a bit more, cowgirl fizzle your senses.
“O-oh!”
It’s intense, the blinding pleasure coursing through your body. Prolonged by the thick bulge still rutting against you, ready to burst itself. Lips tickling your ear as he praises you. You want to live in this perfect moment of bliss. A moment only perfected when Bob’s fingers grip too hard and his hips stutter up into yours. His all-consuming orgasm only muffled by the skin of your shoulder as he rides it out.
The rhythmic slowing of your breaths is all you can focus on. You breathe in, he breathes out. Small smiles and a blush barely visible in the low light.
Delicately, like he knows you might break, he releases you back to the ground; taking his time to smooth down your skirt and straight out your top. Your own hands reach up to his chest, fixing the fabric that had bunched up in your passion. Adjusting his fogged glasses to look into his beautiful eyes.
It doesn’t matter how much you clean up, one look at you two and anyone would comment you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.
With one final kiss to your lips, you feel something land on your head. The brown cowboy hat with the rip along the edge. Cowboy Bob showing off his cowgirl.
You tentatively open the closet door, eyes adjusting to the normal light. Painfully aware of the wet splotch on the obvious front of his jeans, Bob holds your body against him as a human shield. The party is still going strong - your antics have not interrupted anything - and you slip toward the front door without notice. Well…mostly, as a few wolf whistles reach your ears.
“It’s not that late, you want to go back to mine? I’m just off Thornton. It’s quiet since everyone is here.” His eyes are so hopeful in the dark night. So desperate for you to say yes. For you to be his cowgirl beyond tonight.
You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, careful to avoid the spot where your bodily fluids have drenched his jeans. “I’m in.” Your smile is blinding. “We have about nine weeks of Stats to make up.”
The brick is uncomfortable behind your back, but it’s hard to care when his lips feel so good. Broad shoulders shielding you from the hallway, trucker hat turned around and glasses in his pocket so there’s not an inch between your faces. Agreeing to meet outside before lecture was such a good idea.
Despite spending most of the time between Thursday night and Tuesday afternoon in Bob’s apartment trying every position in the book (with teasing hollers from his Pi Kapp roommates adding to the soundtrack) you can’t help but steal these five minutes. He looks so cute, to not kiss him would be a crime.
Bob squeezes your hips, lips trailing down your jaw. “What’s on your mind, cowgirl?”
“I’m trying very hard to convince myself that we pay a lot of money to attend this school and should go learn about statistics. Even though I really only want to head back to my dorm and see how sturdy that loft bed is.”
From where his nose traces your ear, a guttural whine leaves him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to go to class.”
You pull back to look at him, fingers tickling the close cropped hair at his neck. God, he makes it so hard to want to be responsible.
“Let’s make a deal, okay? We’ll go to class, learn, and tonight you come over and for every study guide question you get right I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Sound good?” He’s practically panting as he smothers your mouth in another kiss. He’s really good at Stats. A steady stream of students files past Bob’s back, a sign that class is about to start.
You press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go or we’ll miss out on seats. Plus I need to dig through my bag for a pencil.”
“Do you think you actually have one today?” He smirks, amused. The eighteen pencils he’s lent you say otherwise.
Your cheeks are hot under where he kisses them. “Uh…if I don’t can I borrow one? If you have one, that is.”
He lets out a soft chuckle and holds you closer, rubbing your noses softly.
“You do realize I’ve been buying pencils all semester just to give to you, right?”
Turning his cap around - insides fully melted - you know you’re in this rodeo for the long run.
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Lessons For A Genius - Lesson Two
Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader
Lesson Two: Magic Metacarpals
(aka the one where Spencer learns how to finger you)
Summary:
After his first 'lesson', Spencer is even more eager to learn from you.
And while both of you are ignoring your growing yearning for something more, you teach him the next logical thing: how to pleasure you in return.
Sub!Spencer Reid x (BAU)Dom!Fem!Reader. (Pining) Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during early Season 2.
Word Count: 26,300
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Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: General themes for a CM episode - murder/killing/mentions of gun violence/mentions of women being murdered and sexually assaulted/mentions of strangling; once again, there is a mention of a case that isn't in the canon (one that I have made up) and this fic is not case-centric; the reader is held in a choke-hold by the killer and uses dark humour to get out of it; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; mentions of the reader wearing a dress/very girly outfit; the reader is heavily implied to be plus-sized; mentions of the reader being older than Spencer, but there is no specific mention of how much the age difference is/number of years (tbh the way I am playing it, it could be months, a year, or years of difference because they make jokes about it) (because this takes place in early S2, Spencer would be 24/25, so if you're younger than that, just imagine? lmao); the team being very nosy about Spencer and the reader's sex life and the reader lying about it in order to spare Spencer because he's shy (not because she's embarrassed of him); heavily implications of Morcia as a background couple; mentions of drinking/drunkenness (does not take place in this fic, it's just mentioned in passing); mentions of Spencer being bullied as a child.
General sexual themes; ongoing dom/sub relationship - Spencer is submissive and the reader is dominant; a safeword is in place but it's not used; Spencer is generally inexperienced and the reader is 'teaching' him things about sex, including slang, kinks, sexual technique, and the emotional consequences of sex, generally helping him explore his sexual side; mentions of using sex toys (a fleshlight, passing mentions of dildos, including a tentacle dildo that is not used); mentions of Spencer masturbating independently from scenes/playtime with the reader (these scenes are not detailed); descriptions of subspace; descriptions of Spencer having a subdrop/bad subspace experience because he masturbates without the reader there (this is a very brief part of the fic and all other moments of subspace are described pleasantly); the word 'MILF' is used to describe the reader - as a joke, and because Spencer doesn't fully understand the context.
The actual smutty meat of the fic (aka girl dinner) consists of: panty kink - Spencer wears a pair of lacy panties under his clothes while in public because it turns the reader on; praise kink - Spencer loves being praised; public/semi-public 'sex' (they don't have full-blown sex, it's just groping through clothing, and they are in a secluded area of a public place when it happens); risk of getting caught; strength kink - the reader exerts her strength over Spencer and he likes it; heated making out; hair pulling (Spencer receiving); groping through clothes (reader and Spencer receiving); Spencer cums in his pants while being groped; clothes sharing - Spencer wears the reader's clothes; the reader calls Spencer honey, sweetie, baby, pretty boy, good boy; Spencer calls the reader Miss; this fic does feature Mommy kink - Spencer starts calling the reader Mommy partway through; mentions of the reader wearing traditionally feminine lingerie; hand kink - the reader likes Spencer's hands; finger sucking (the reader sucks on Spencer's fingers); vaginal fingering/clitoral stimulation - the reader teaches Spencer how to finger her; Spencer edges the reader unintentionally; guided masturbation - Spencer masturbates for the reader; Spencer cums on the reader (by accident?); the reader licks some of Spencer's cum; mentions of pregnancy (Spencer likes the idea of getting the reader pregnant, but she is on birth control so it won't happen in this fic lmao); some mentions of aftercare (not as in depth as the previous fic); and I believe that's it.
A/N: I do intend for each part of this to possibly be read as a oneshot, so you don't have to read Lesson One in order for this to make sense narratively. But if you want more sub!Spencer stuff, then you should go back and read Lesson One just for your enjoyment. This makes reference to things that have happened in the first part, but you won't be utterly confused if you jump into reading this without reading the other one first. Anyway, I do hope you enjoy it, especially those of you that have been waiting for this part to come out!
...
When you woke up the next morning, you had almost forgotten about what had happened.
You were drowsy, your body almost entirely sunken into the soft bed. If not for the ripe scent of coffee drifting through the air and undertone of something uniquely masculine stuck to the pillow - Spencer’s aftershave - then you likely would have thought that you were comfortable in your own apartment and simply turned over to go back to sleep.
But then it all came flooding back to you.
The Chinese take-out date, gifting Spencer the fleshlight - tying him to the chair in order to ‘help’ him use it. His moans, the sweet way he had looked up at you with those big eyes. The way he had called you ‘Miss’ with such utterly beautiful desperation, how perfect he had looked covered in his own cum.
You sighed with delight as you remembered it all, a gentle tingle coming over your body as you thought about it.
It was then that you realized what the pungent smell of coffee meant: Spencer must have been brewing a pot. You had no clue what time it was or when you had to be ready for work - but coffee sounded fucking amazing after the eventful night the two of you had.
You were surprised that Spencer wasn’t still in bed, cuddled up to you.
He had spent the whole night clinging to your back like a koala in the most endearing way. You had no clue how a man so large could make himself seem so small at times, but he definitely accomplished that by hooking his leg around your hip and whining whenever you tried to pull away from him even a slight bit.
(You hated that it was something that would have been intensely annoying from any other partner or one night stand, but when he did it, you found it adorable. You knew that you were letting him get away with too much already, but you couldn’t help yourself.)
What you didn’t realize: yes, Spencer would have loved to be cuddled up with you in bed all morning. But he had woken up before you - and he would deny the amount of time he had taken to stare at you while you were sleeping, ogling your beautiful, peaceful face. After he had gotten out of bed, he had taken the initiative to attempt to prepare breakfast.
He rarely cooked for himself. When he did cook, it was usually simple, plain, unimpressive dishes that were more meant to kill hunger than to actually taste nice. And he was even further screwed by the fact that his fridge wasn’t even well stocked because the team had been so busy on cases that he hadn’t even thought to go grocery shopping in a while.
Of course, he had coffee (and cream, and sugar - because he wasn’t a monster, he made himself a cup every morning). And he had some basics like eggs, so he was trying his best to make something nice for you.
When you walked into the kitchen, still dressed in nothing but your camisole and your panties, the chill of the morning air was biting and Spencer looked invitingly warm.
He was standing at the stove, concentrating on some sizzling pan, and you couldn’t resist the urge to walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. He had gotten dressed since getting out of bed, so he was wearing a bright blue cotton tee shirt (that you didn’t yet see had the Superman logo on the front) and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. It was an entirely adorable sight: Spencer in loungewear. You indulged in pressing your face lightly between his shoulders, loving the feeling of the soft cotton against your cheek.
You noticed that the radio was on in the background - a low hum compared to the pan sizzling on the stove. But from what you could tell, the news was playing. He was such an old man in some ways.
“Please tell me that’s coffee I’m smelling.” You moaned quietly, feeling snuggled by his soft embrace.
“A teaspoon of sugar and just a little bit of cream,” He said, taking his hand off the handle of the frying pan to reach over to the side, grabbing a coffee cup and hoisting it in your direction - which was slightly awkward with you behind him.
You met him halfway, taking the coffee thankfully. Then you moved to lean against the counter to actually drink your coffee. He was rueful that the hug didn’t last longer, but he didn’t say anything about it.
“You remembered,” You grinned at him, referring to the fact that he had made your coffee exactly how you liked it.
When you took the first sip, it tasted amazing, and began to wake up your senses from the drowsy lull that you had been feeling.
“It’s quite literally impossible for me to forget.” He replied, giving you a grin.
“Hmm,” You hummed thoughtfully, clutching the warm coffee cup with both hands. “I’d like to test that theory one of these days.”
If you could make Spencer so incoherent with an orgasm, even just begging for one, you were willing to bet that you could feed him information that he wouldn’t be able to repeat back to you when he was so fucked out. It would be one of the ultimate victories - proving the genius’s perfect eidetic memory wrong.
Spencer saw that look in your eyes - the same one you had given him last night before you had gifted him the fleshlight. (Which was still propped up in the drying rack, a sight that had startled him when he had first gotten into the kitchen that morning). He had a feeling that, based on that look alone, he knew what you meant. He shied away then, looking back down to the pan of eggs as your brain moved on to another subject.
“I still can’t believe that you listen to the radio in the morning,” You commented, nodding toward the device that was propped up on the half-wall that partitioned off the kitchen from the living room. “You’re such an old man.”
“I’m younger than you!” He chuckled.
“No, no.” You easily corrected him, your voice taking on a very typical joking tone. “Being an old man is a way of life. It’s not about your age. It’s why you and Gideon get along so well.”
Spencer snorted with laughter at this. He turned off the stove, deciding the eggs were done, and began to scrape them onto a plate, hoping that it wasn’t too measly or unimpressive.
“Well then… you had sex with an old man last night.” Spencer chuckled, trying to sound confident in this ‘joke’.
You couldn’t help but to laugh at his nervousness.
“You need to work on your comebacks, too.” You told him with a grin. “I should get you one of those ‘yo mama’ joke books that seventh graders pass around.”
“Oh, that explains why I suck at comebacks. I skipped seventh grade.” He shrugged casually.
You laughed even harder at this. For him, it was a simple statement of fact, but to you, it sounded like he was purely bragging, and that turned out to be a better joke than the one he actually intended as humor.
Spencer bit his lip to hold back a grin.
Mornings with you - it was so much better than he had expected. He had expected things to be intensely awkward after what had taken place last night. He had expected that the entire tone of your relationship might change. And that was something he was fearful of. But you were still making jokes, still absolutely not afraid to insult him in that joking way that you did.
Spencer felt a yearning deep inside of him at the realization - like the string of a harp being plucked, setting off vibrations of bitter harmony through his entire being. He wanted his life to be like this every single morning. He wanted to make coffee for you every day - he wanted to be yours.
You picked up a fork and took a small bite of the eggs he had offered up, and Spencer felt his heart drop when your face immediately coiled into disgust.
“What’s wrong?” He asked quietly, fearing he had terribly disappointed you.
“Honey… how much salt did you put in this?” You asked, your words slightly muffled by the food cradled on your tongue.
You walked over to the sink and spit the eggs out, and Spencer rushed to pick up a fork for himself as he answered.
“Not much, I think.” He said, taking his own bite of the food. Then he immediately understood. “Oh my god. That’s so bad.” He said, feeling a gag curling in his throat at just how putridly salty it was.
He leaned over and spat his bite in the sink next to yours, and before the fear of disappointing you could fully set in, you burst out laughing brightly.
“Oh god.” You chuckled. “You don’t usually cook, do you?”
“Not really.” He said, giving you a timid smile. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” You assured him, rubbing a hand gently across his back. “We can just get some breakfast on the way to work.”
He would learn to cook for you too. Most definitely.
The sweetness and peace was disrupted by a sharp digital chirping - a cellphone ringing. You didn’t think to question if it was your phone or Spencer’s before you put your coffee cup on the counter and rushed toward the sound, finding the small silver object buzzing in the middle of the coffee table (still off to the side of the room where you had pushed it the night before). You grabbed it up and flipped it open, and answered without hesitation.
“Hello?” You said politely.
Spencer stood in the doorway of the kitchen then, watching on with curiosity, wondering if the two of you were being called in for a case.
“Y/N?” JJ’s voice came from the other end of the line - but she sounded oddly confused.
“Yeah.” You confirmed. “What’s up?”
“What are you doing answering Spencer’s phone?” She asked, an eager curiosity coming through her voice.
Your work phones were practically identical, so it was a crapshoot.
You scrambled to make up an excuse, even though you knew her mind had likely already strayed to something in the realm of ‘adult sleepover’.
“He and I were hanging out last night and I fell asleep on the couch watching movies.” You said. “You know Reid, he went on that whole rant about how driving tired is like driving drunk, he insisted that I stay over-”
JJ let out a hardy laugh, cutting you off.
“Yeah, keep working on that.” She said. “I’m sure the others will definitely believe it.” You rolled your eyes at this, and JJ continued. “Did the two of you use a condom, or should we be expecting some genius babies coming our way nine months from now?”
You wanted to conjure up a crude (but truthful) joke about how Spencer had cum into a silicone pussy and you didn’t think babies could come from that. But for once, you managed to hold your tongue. You wanted to respect his privacy rather than flaunting your sexual exploits in front of other people and embarrassing him. You did have some sense of tact.
“Do we have a case or are you just calling around cause you’re lonely?” You fired back, trying to get her off this topic.
“Yes, we do.” She said. “And you just saved me a phone call. So you and your little boyfriend get in here as soon as possible, okay?”
You sighed. “Yeah, of course.”
You snapped the phone shut before she could make any more cute comments, and then you walked over and handed it to Spencer.
“There’s a case?” He asked.
“Yeah.” You told him. “Sweetie, would you mind running down to my car and grabbing my go-bag? I need a fresh change of clothes.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. I can do that.”
His overall obedience toward you kicked in again, and he found himself nodded eagerly. He knew that if he were a dog, his tail would have been wagging relentlessly as he shoved on a pair of shoes and a sweater and you tossed him your keys from your purse in order to go and do the task.
You chugged down your coffee and headed toward the bathroom for a quick shower to freshen up. As Reid went down to the parking garage, he had to wonder about the things he had just heard you say on that call.
He knew that you had made up the excuse about you ‘falling asleep on the couch’ to JJ because you didn’t want to simply expose the fact that the two of you had played around the night before. It was a private thing that should be kept between the two of you. Even though you were relatively shameless about toting other private matters in public. You were never ashamed about announcing to the world when you were on your period or if certain foods had upset your stomach - in great detail.
So - if you weren’t so eager to announce being with Reid, did it mean that you were ashamed of him? Did it mean that you didn’t want to tell everyone that you had a sexual partner like him?
He tried not to stew in that thought as he brought your bag back upstairs. When he closed the door to the apartment and you heard him come in, you called him and told him to come toward the bathroom, and he heard the shower shutting off.
It was only then that it occurred to him that you were using his shower - you were naked in the shower. You were naked in his apartment.
He felt warmth in his pelvis at the thought, and he tried dampening it down (tried thinking of horror, sadness, dead bodies) - because he really didn’t have time to masturbate or ‘play’ more with you before work. He didn’t have time to take care of an erection right now. Would this be a recurring problem? Getting erections around you so easily now because you had awakened something in him? Because now he knew that you would actually touch him?
When Spencer came to the bathroom door, it was partially cracked open, and there was warm, hazy air pouring out - clearly steam from how hot you had the shower.
“Did you find the bag?” You asked, clearly having heard Spencer’s footsteps in the hallway.
“Y-yeah.” He answered.
“Okay, well, you can come in and bring it to me.” You chuckled, bright and confident as ever.
Spencer pushed the door open fully.
He felt like he was stepping into an early morning heaven when he stepped into that humid air and saw you standing in the middle of the bathmat, wrapping a towel around your naked, dripping body.
The way you held it kept your breasts and vagina fully covered, shielding all of the ‘important’ parts from Spencer’s view. But when you pulled it back to adjust the tightness of the towel around your chest, you clearly didn’t care about the skin that was revealed. The thickness of your hip and the plushness of the side of your stomach was bared to his eyes; his gaze devoured the large strip of skin all the way up the side of your body, just barely kissing the side of your breast where the towel covered you. It looked so scandalous even though it showed so little of you before you covered yourself back up and tucked the towel into itself, securing the fabric around your body.
“Thank you, Spencer.” You said, reaching out and grabbing the bag from him.
Spencer stood there for a moment longer, watching in utter awe as his eyes traced a droplet of water down your neck and into your cleavage. He wondered what it might be like to lean over and lick it up, wondering what your skin might taste like-
“Spence, shouldn’t you go get ready now?” You posed, looking up from rooting around your bag that you now had propped up on the closed toilet lid.
“Right.” Spencer said. “Right. Yeah.”
Spencer rushed off to his bedroom, doing just that.
He did have to masturbate before he could focus at all on getting dressed. He felt slightly shameful for it, but he picked up your discarded blouse from his bedroom floor, left there by you from the night before, holding it to his nose while he pumped his cock with his hand. And with it, he came faster than he ever had by his own touch. And then he rushed to clean up and get dressed and managed to meet you just as you were emerging from the bathroom, looking as beautiful as ever in another button up blouse and simple black pants.
You gave him a grin and didn’t at all seem to suspect that he had touched himself, and he felt so utterly victorious - like he had a secret, like he had gotten away with something.
…
You had to laugh as you watched Spencer struggle to clean the dried cum off his glasses in the car with a couple of wet wipes. It was something you had forgotten to do the night before, and you found it entirely amusing as he muttered and grunted to himself, trying to get the lenses fully clean while you drove.
By the time you got to the office, Spencer’s glasses were glimmering clean and you recklessly pulled into the first parking spot you saw in the garage, hoping that you weren’t terribly late. (Unfortunately you hadn’t had time for breakfast, and hunger was gnawing at you, but you would take care of that later.)
Spencer began voicing complaints about your parking job and the likelihood of your doors getting dented by someone else getting out of their car, but you simply dragged him forward with a hand on his wrist and told him that it would be your problem as you shoved him into the elevator.
Nobody else was lingering in the bullpen, which worried you, and surely enough - everybody else was already sitting at the roundtable as you and Spencer walked down the hall. Many prying eyes stared at the two of you from the doorway, clearly expectant of the two of you. When you got in, you noticed that the only absent face was Gideon. At least you and Spencer weren’t the only ones holding up the presentation of the case.
“You’re late.” Hotch grumbled as Spencer shut the door behind the two of you. “Again.”
“So sue me.” You shrugged, causing Hotch to roll his eyes, and causing a smirk from Morgan and Elle - who generally loved your snark.
“Don’t blame her, Hotch, she probably had a hard time finding her keys after Boy Genius rocked her world.” Elle said, making an obvious joke about the fact that you and Spencer had come in together.
That, and you wouldn’t put it above JJ not to tell everyone that you had spent the night at Spencer’s place (especially if she delivered that news under suspicion that the two of you had sex).
Reid - who had gone to the counter off to the side to get himself yet another cup of coffee - dropped a packet of sugar on the floor out of nervousness when he heard Elle’s comment. You found it entirely adorable when he scrambled to pick it up, clearly trying his hardest not to seem suspicious.
“So come on, how was it?” Morgan said, looking right at you as he hopped onto the joke. “Did he spread you open like a good library book?”
Hotch sighed, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose, knowing he could do nothing to stop the conversation. He looked to his phone, desperately trying to ignore this as it went on around him.
“Very funny.” You griped sarcastically. “If I look tired, it’s because this loser had me up all night rambling on about Star Wars - fun facts, behind the scenes trivia.” You said, motioning toward Spencer for emphasis when you said ‘this loser’. “I absolutely did not need to know the difference between a protocol droid and an astromech droid, but now I do.”
On any other occasion, you casually throwing around the word ‘loser’ in reference to Spencer would have hurt his feelings.
But during this moment, Spencer found himself suppressing a grin. Everyone in the room had basically invited you to openly mock him for his lack of sexual ability, to spill his secrets as office gossip. But instead, you had chosen to keep those secrets close to your chest, clearly as a way to protect him from future mockery. And on top of that, you had made a clever reference to a previous conversation that the two of you did have about Star Wars. He was proud that you remembered the term ‘astromech droid’ off the top of your head at all.
He felt proud, sharing a filthy secret with you. And he knew that he was definitely not a loser after what had happened last night.
“Star Wars?” JJ questioned, looking at you with an expression that said she definitely knew you were lying, but she obviously didn’t have any proof.
You had told her that you fell asleep on his couch by accident, and now you were telling the others that he had kept you up all night?
“Yeah, that sounds more like it.” Morgan chuckled, receiving a knowing nod from Elle.
Spencer passed by you, placing a coffee cup in front of your chair as you took your jacket off and sat down. He highly resisted the urge to give you a grin - knowing that it would give away your sweet little secret to the rest of the room. He simply walked around the table and took his own seat, and before any further discussion about the possible antics of your private lives could occur, Gideon walked in with a file in hand and JJ began presenting the case.
…
It was a case like any other. (Unfortunately.) Women strangled, sexually assaulted, left in areas of the woods that weren’t too difficult to find.
As you looked at the horrific crime scene photos, you couldn’t help but to think that perhaps part of the reason you loved to dominate subservient men was to take back your personal power. Because deep down, you knew that you were terrified of ending up like that, and you loved the small piece of the world that you could take back when you got your hand around a man’s neck and made him beg for mercy (consensually, of course).
But you couldn’t dwell on that for too long, because you had a job to do.
There was a fresh crime scene when the team arrived, and Hotch sent you and Morgan to investigate it while he and Gideon went to speak to the victim’s family. The others left to set up at the local police station, and you couldn’t help but to notice Spencer’s eyes lingering on you as you parted ways.
There were some drag marks in the dirt and a camera perched on a public bathroom that insisted the victim (and her attacker) could have been seen, so Morgan stepped away to call Garcia to see if she could pull anything from the camera’s feed. You did some more looking around, but couldn’t find anything of note.
When you walked back over to where Morgan was perched beside the SUV, grinning with his phone beside his ear, you couldn’t hold back a comment at his final words before he hung up.
“-oh, of course. Well you are beautiful and brilliant as always, my love. Thank you.”
“You didn’t tell me Reid was on the phone.” You commented snidely, giving a wide smirk as you walked around into Morgan’s view.
You thought you were being clever, making the joke that he would call Reid beautiful, or playfully call him ‘my love’. But of course, he turned this right back around on you.
“No, that was just Garcia. She said the camera’s a dud and she couldn’t get anything off it.” Before you could comment on this fact, he continued.
“But I took a message from Reid earlier. He said he left his panties at your place and he wants them back,” He smirked widely himself as he said this.
Likely the exact opposite of what he had intended, this caused a distinct image in your mind. One of Spencer wearing a pair of pink lacy panties - his long, hard cock straining to fit inside the skimpy material, and leaky wildly inside of it, making everything so wet.
You forced yourself to refocus, and purposefully put on a sour look, pretending that you were annoyed by his crude comment.
“Ha-ha.” You griped sarcastically. “You know Reid and I aren’t a thing. So you can stop with the jokes before you embarrass him.”
Truthfully, you did want the jokes to stop before it hurt Reid. You knew that he likely wanted to keep his sex life private. You didn’t want his shyness to come back tenfold before you could truly open him up and explore his filthy side.
Morgan snorted, clearly in disbelief.
“Oh, so you’re gonna act like that whole bit this morning wasn’t you and boy genius stumblin’ in late because of a late night booty call?” Morgan posed. “A real one. Not him fallin’ asleep on his phone.”
You shifted your attitude then. If he wasn’t going to drop it, then you were going to arm yourself.
“Okay, if you’re so invested in my sex life, you wanna talk about the size XXL purple leopard thong that I found in your back seat three weeks ago?” You posed sharply, a stone cold look on your face even though you were holding back the urge to laugh.
At the time, Morgan had offered to give you a ride home because your car battery had died. And when you tossed your bag into his back seat, you randomly spotted the streak of bright color - very out of place among the few gray sweatshirts he had in the back. And when you picked it up, wondering what it was, you held it in your hands and in a moment, based on the size, knew who it belonged to.
But he had been denying where it had come from (and the lustful tryst behind it) ever since. Clearly he wanted to keep his inter-office sex life private too.
“I-” Morgan began stuttering out an explanation, then swallowed it up. “We should get going.” He said, motioning toward the SUV.
“We should.” You easily agreed.
…
The whole time the team spent working the case, you found it difficult to interact with Spencer.
You really wanted to say that having sex with him wouldn’t change your working relationship, but it wasn’t like you had fucked just anybody. It was Spencer. If you had railed Elle or Derek or anybody else on the team, you probably could have gone to work the next day and pushed it to the back of your mind with grace.
But knowing that Spencer was inexperienced, knowing that you had likely been the first person to ever hear him moan like that, the first to ever see him covered in his own cum - it was definitely something that stuck in your head (to a painfully distracting extent).
Every time you so much as looked at him, saw that thoughtful expression with those glasses perched on his face, you immediately pictured him blissfully fucked out with large spots of his own cum covering the lenses.
So you tried your best to avoid him for the majority of the work. You volunteered to leave the station whenever possible, and left him with his maps, making a geographical profile, doing what he did best. You tried to keep yourself distracted and focused on a case.
This - somehow - had you and Gideon following a lead, following up with someone who had spoken to the first victim a few minutes before she was murdered. While the two of you searched the man’s property looking for him, he managed to sneak up behind you and put you in a chokehold, attempting to strangle you.
Because yeah - he was the killer. Great.
And apparently, once again, your sick sense of humor paid off. Because when your hand reached for your gun upon instinct and you realized that in your Spencer Reid sex-haze distractions, you had somehow forgotten it in the car, you cursed yourself, and then you began to physically struggle. And then you realized that this man was too strong, and there was no good way for you to escape the hold with physical methods.
With your vision becoming hazy, your instinct was to start moaning in a very exaggerated, pornographic way and tell him how much you liked the feeling of being strangled - which led him to loosen his grip out of shock. And that gave you more than enough room to elbow him in the face, knocking him loopy so you could call to Gideon for help.
The two of you had him in cuffs in minutes and when everyone else got there and asked you how you managed to escape, you told them that you were simply too fierce of a fighter for the man to hold you down. They didn’t need to know what actually happened or where your mind went when faced with danger.
Spencer looked at you with incredibly sad eyes when he saw the irritated strangle marks around your neck, but you pointed to the marks and told him you were fine with a chuckle. That it looked worse than it was. You were surprised and kind of hurt when he didn’t say anything to you in return.
Spencer didn’t sit next to you during the plane ride home (which you took slight offense to). But he did come up to you in the parking garage when you were getting ready to leave. You had been inspecting a large bump in one of your doors (cursing the fact that Spencer always had to be right), and you became distracted when you heard his footsteps echoing through the large space behind you.
You thought that maybe he needed a ride since you had been the one to drive him there after your heated night together. But he stood a few feet away with his hands in his pockets, so you took your hand off the key that was poised in your car door and made it clear that you were prepared to pay attention to him - clearly he had something to say.
“Are you mad at me?” He asked timidly.
“What? No.” You let out breathily, almost laughing. “Why would you think-?” You began to ask, and then cut yourself off, realizing the answer to your own question halfway through speaking it. “Because I’ve been avoiding you.” You spoke aloud.
Spencer nodded, seeming very solemn and downtrodden by this fact.
“You wouldn’t even look at me over the past few days.” He said. “I mean, I understand if I did something wrong.” He declared, his voice taking on the same broken wetness that his eyes had, as though he was on the verge of crying. “But I - I thought that what happened the other night, what we did, I thought it was special. I-”
“Spencer. Come here.” You summoned him closer, not wanting to talk loudly across the parking garage at him. You didn’t want your voices to echo when speaking about your sex life - just in case anybody did happen to come by.
You found it achingly adorable that he called what had happened ‘special’. Like he was a young woman talking about ‘making love’. It was tooth-rotting sweet. Especially considering that he wasn’t referring to some night where the two of you had laid in bed together with candles and Barry Mantilow playing. But rather, a time where you had tied him to a kitchen chair and fucked him senseless with a fake pussy.
Spencer easily followed your order, finding nothing but natural order in listening to you. He came to stand just a few inches from your body where you were leaning up against the door of your car, and then you began to speak quietly.
“What we did was special.” You assured him with a smile. The sadness on his features broke up slightly at this. “In fact, it was so special that I couldn’t get it out of my head. Every time I looked at you, I just imagined you moaning for me, covered in your own cum. I kept hearing your pretty voice in my ears saying ‘please’ in that gorgeous way you do.”
Of course, you did angle your words more into dirty talk, and you leaned into him slightly when you said these things, whispering in a low, seductive voice. You loved how his Adam’s apple bobbed heavily as he swallowed thickly, and a slight flush moved across his cheeks at your words.
When he didn’t say anything, clearly stunned into silence by your words, you continued.
“I didn’t want to be turned on, or distracted when we have an important job to do.” You had to leave out the fact that you had been so distracted that you had almost made a fatal mistake. But nobody needed to know about that. “So… I just tried to focus on something other than you for a while. I do apologize if it seems like I was avoiding you out of anger, but that is definitely not the case.” You told him, easily capping off your explanation.
“I understand.” Spencer nodded. “That’s… kind of how I feel every day. But I guess I’m just used to it by now. So I’m better at not being distracted.”
You felt intensely flattered, and slightly turned on as he unintentionally fluffed your ego.
“Because you’re a good boy.” You told him, knowing that praise was one of his weak spots.
You swore you saw his knees shake when the words hit him, and he cleared his throat loudly before he spoke again.
“Is - is it always going to be like this?” He asked.
He would have mourned your friendship if that were the case. He didn’t want to trade off your jokes and your everyday interactions for the sex, as amazing as the sex was. Selfishly, he wanted both.
“No.” You easily assured him. “I just need a bit of time to get my head on straight. I need some time to get used to it. Like you said, I need to get better at not being distracted.”
Spencer nodded at this.
He was very tempted to ask if you wanted to come over to his place that night. If you wanted to ‘sleep-over’ again. Not only had he enjoyed the spectacular orgasm, learning from you, but he had genuinely enjoyed the kind of domesticity that came from waking up with you there. He loved having someone in his kitchen in the morning. He knew he would miss that sorely if he woke up tomorrow morning and you weren’t there. (Perhaps you had spoiled him too much already.)
However, before he could work up the courage to ask, you leaned up on your toes and kissed him on the cheek, muttering ‘goodnight, Spence’. And in return, he muttered something about paperwork before he walked back toward the elevator.
…
That night, Spencer went home and grabbed the fleshlight off the dishrack as soon as he spotted it. He knew that you had bought it for him with the intention of him using it independently, but as he grabbed the bottle of lube off the living room coffee table, he just felt… lonely without you there.
But he supposed that he had to learn how to do it on his own, because you wouldn’t be there all the time to help him. It was only a fantasy - the two of you getting a place together, so he could serve you in every possible way, doing so gleefully, and in return, you would play with him whenever he wanted.
He stripped naked and slicked up his cock and the toy just like you had shown him. He couldn’t help but to miss the feeling of your hand on his cock as he did it. When he got the tight softness of the fake pussy around him, he screwed his eyes closed tight - and all he could think about was you.
He missed you like a tree missing sunlight, and he felt his head spinning - felt like he had no greater sense of control without your voice telling him what to do. It made him anxious and on edge the whole time he had that fake pussy wrapped around his cock, rather than the beautifully, buttery warmth he had felt before.
By the time he came, he was practically sobbing. A deep ache for you in his chest as he missed your touch over him - missed the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, missed your voice calling him ‘good boy’ as that tingling ran through his gut.
After he rinsed out the toy with hot water and put it back in the dish rack to dry (wondering if he was cleaning it right) and jumped in the shower, he wondered if he would ever be content to masturbate alone again. He wondered if you had ruined him, if he would ever truly feel satiated without your touch.
…
The next few days passed without much of note happening.
You and Spencer stayed away from each other in the office and everyone began to whisper, theorizing that you were in some kind of fight. But of course, they didn’t notice the glances the two of you exchanged over the partition of your close desks - a deeply knowing stare that only the other person could decipher.
Also, unknowingly, Derek had given you a fantastic idea.
One day during your lunch break, you visited a lingerie store that you loved, and picked up a pair of lacy pink panties that would definitely be too small for you - but that you hoped would fit a certain genius’ slim hips just right.
…
At the end of the week, you were intensely thankful to have a day off.
You were tempted to turn your phone off completely, not wanting to be cursed with being called in on your day off. You could say that you lived with the hope that nobody out there was needing the BAU’s help, but truly, you were just annoyed and wanted some time to relax.
You woke up naturally around mid morning, and you were feeling hungry so you hesitantly rolled out of bed. You washed your face and did a light, lazy morning routine. On your way to the kitchen in your modest, cozy, but very well decorated apartment, you heard a knock on the door.
You felt all of your muscles tense up unconsciously. You really hoped that it wasn’t someone from the team, needing something. (You also hoped that it wasn’t one of your exes, showing up unannounced to beg for you back because the sex had been too good and had ruined them for anyone else - which had happened before. Multiple times unfortunately.)
You hesitantly walked over to the door (so tempted to pretend that you weren’t home and simply be left unbothered). When you looked through the peephole, you were delightfully surprised to see that it was Spencer. He was standing there, dressed like he usually did for work, holding a tray with two takeout coffee cups in one hand and a large brown paper bag in the other.
He had brought breakfast.
A sweetheart with a big dick and a pretty face who begged so pretty and brought food? Fuck, you might just have to marry him.
You eagerly opened the door and grinned widely at him.
“Spence!” You greeted him with excitement. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Um, hi.” He gave you a smile himself, and nodded at you rather than waving because his hands were full. “Can I come in? I brought breakfast.” He motioned toward the items in his hands, and you nodded, moving aside to let him in. “I wanted to make up for those… abysmal eggs that I made you the other morning.”
“They weren’t abysmal.” You told him with a chuckle as you shut the door. “And I do admire you for trying.”
Spencer naturally navigated his way to your small kitchen, to the small round table that you had in there to set the items down. This was only his third time in your apartment.
Two of the other times he had been there, it had been to hang out and play board games with you, JJ, Elle, and Penelope. Something that had started out as a joke - Derek telling him that he might have fun ‘tagging along on girls’ night’. So he had. And he did have fun.
And one of the times it had been because he had gotten quite drunk and you had brought him here to take care of him. Because he had been so drunk that he couldn’t tell you where his house keys were. Waking up on your couch that morning to the smell of pancakes had been delightfully confusing.
Either way, he found your apartment wonderfully homey. Decorated in jewel tones with girly touches. And there was always a nice smell lingering in the air from some kind of scented candle or nice perfume you were wearing.
“Yeah, well, food is definitely not one of my areas of expertise.” Spencer admitted, carrying on the conversation as he took your coffee out of the tray and handed it to you.
You noticed the distinct motion of his eyes going up and down your body, lingering around your thighs and your breasts, distracting him from picking up his own coffee for a few moments.
It was only then that you became hyper-aware of the fact that you were still wearing your pajamas.
It was a matching set made of a thin cotton fabric with a floral pattern on it - the top was a tank top with thin little spaghetti straps (and of course, you had just gotten out of bed, so you weren’t wearing a bra). The shorts were intensely short, revealing most of your wide thighs. It didn’t leave much to the imagination, so you realized why it caused Spencer’s eyes to wander. You loved his keen gaze, though. And you pretended not to notice as the conversation continued.
“The genius finally admits that there’s something he doesn’t know!” You chuckled.
“There are still plenty of things I don’t know.” Spencer said quietly - the glint in his eye told you that he was definitely referring to the pivotal conversation that the two of you had the other night. The conversation where he had lovingly begged you to teach him about sex. “Plenty of things I still need to learn.”
There was a pause where the air was filled with intense sexual tension, but Spencer broke it by grabbing the paper bag with the food in it and opening it up.
“I got you a breakfast sandwich.” He said. “Bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel.”
“Sounds perfect.” You nodded. “Plates are in the cupboard above the sink. I’m gonna go down to my mailbox and see if my newspaper has been delivered.” You told him, walking over to the door to shove on your slippers.
“Getting your news from the paper? What an old lady you are,” Spencer said, clearly recycling your own words from the other morning back at you.
“That just means you like old ladies.” You chuckled, recycling his comment from the other day. “You must be into MILFs,”
“‘MILFs?’” Spencer questioned, that adorably confused look coming across his features again.
You became filled to the brim with glee at the realization that you would get to explain this to him.
“It means ‘Mother I’d Like To Fuck’ or ‘Mommy I’d Like To Fuck’.” You told him. “Usually it’s used to describe a sex fantasy where someone wants to fuck - well, a mother. Someone who’s had children, because they’re attracted to the concept of motherhood. Or it can be describing a porn category, usually anything with a curvy older woman and a younger man… some people say that a MILF doesn’t necessarily have to be a woman who’s had kids, just a woman who’s older than you and hot.”
Spencer’s lips gaped with lustful shock, and a flush came over him. He wanted to confirm that you were definitely a MILF - because you were a woman who was technically older than him, curvy, and very hot. And he definitely wanted to fuck you. All the time. But that would mean using the word ‘Mommy’ to describe you, and as much as that brought a tingle through him - that was not a can of worms that he was ready to open. Yet.
You left him standing there, gaping with shock and you couldn’t help but to laugh at this as you walked out the door to go to the mailbox.
When you came back, you and Spencer sat on the couch and ate with the TV playing quietly in the background. A random network was playing Pretty Woman and you left it on because Spencer remarked that he had never seen it before, and you found it adorable how closely he paid attention to the film as it progressed.
When you finished your food, you opened your newspaper and began reading. At some point, you had stretched out, and your feet had wandered into Spencer’s lap. Before you could wonder if he found it annoying, he began to lightly massage them.
It was a delicate kind of peace, and you couldn’t help but to enjoy the silent, easy company as he watched the film and you read an article about a new baby penguin being given to two male penguin parents at the local zoo.
You didn’t know that Spencer’s skin was crawling, eagerness building up inside of him as he sat in silence. Seeing you just sitting there, your face gently concentrated as you read. You putting your feet so carelessly in his lap, using him like he was just a lovely piece of furniture, just a footrest for you. All if it seemed to be checkmarks on some unknown list of things that only made him more lustful.
And for the past ten minutes, he had been slowly losing focus on the plot of the film and found himself staring more and more at your thighs or sneaking glances at you over top of the newspaper.
He had the urge to simply nudge your legs apart and crawl between them. To start touching you until he found out what was pleasurable for you. Until you called him ‘good boy’ in that way that made him melt again. But he wasn’t nearly confident enough to just do that. So he was just sitting there quietly. Slowly going insane as he thought about all the things that he wanted you to be doing to him now that the two of you were alone with free time.
Of course, you noticed him becoming more antsy. You felt him moving more in his seat, you felt him becoming tense under your feet. So you decided to ask and see what he would say. You wondered if he would come right out and admit that he was feeling lustful, or if you would have to pull it out of him.
“What’s up, Spence?” You asked, glancing over the newspaper at him.
Then, Spencer said something incredibly stupid.
“They’re hosting some of Van Gogh’s original sketches at the Smithsonian Art Museum this month.” Spencer said, motioning toward the back page of the newspaper that you had extended in one hand. It was all advertisements, but one of them did say something about a Van Gogh exhibit including some of his original art.
He had been feeling dangerously nervous and wanted to deflect from himself.
“Hmm.” You said after you read it. “Maybe we should go check it out.”
Spencer’s face fell to disappointment at this suggestion, and you held back laughter.
“What? Did you have some other grand plans for the day?” You posed, knowing this would get the right reaction out of him.
“I…” Spencer let out a breath, clearly hesitating. “I was kind of hoping we could… play.”
You couldn’t hold back your grin. You loved that he was using the language you had taught him, feeling confident in putting the vocabulary to good use.
“How about this?” You posed, knowing that you were fully in charge, and it was up to you to make the plan. “We go and check out the art exhibit, and if you behave yourself on this little outing, then you can have whatever you want as a reward when we come back home.”
Spencer’s eyes lit up at this. He seemed highly motivated at the idea of having a ‘reward’.
“What would ‘behaving myself’ entail?” He asked, ever eager to have a set of rules to follow.
“Don’t touch me without permission.” You told him. “Keep your hands to yourself. Don’t nag me or keep asking when we’ll come home and play. And… well, there is one more thing. Something special that you could do for me.”
Spencer’s face knit with confusion at this.
“What’s that?” He asked.
“Hold on.” You told him.
Then you got up off the couch and abandoned your newspaper on the coffee table, leaving Spencer nervously fidgeting as he waited for your return. He was surprised when you came back with a bright pink shopping bag - something fairly small and girly. The shop logo on the side wasn't one that he recognized, so he had no idea what could be inside the bag.
He waited patiently as you stood on the opposite side of the table and put the bag in the middle of it, and peeled back the pink tissue paper to take out the object inside the bag. He was slightly confused when you pulled out a small, delicate pair of lacy pink panties.
When you unfolded them and held them up to display them to him, he easily saw that they would be too small for you, and the confusion racked him even harder. If you hadn’t bought the underwear for yourself then-?
“I wanted you to wear these for me.” You told him, your voice steady. “Under your clothes all day. So just you and I know.”
Instantly, a wave of anxiety swept over Spencer.
You hated the look that came across his face and you tossed the underwear down as he spoke.
“Would - why?” He stuttered out. “Do you think it’s funny or something?”
Spencer hated it, but he was immediately brought back to a time in his childhood. A time when, as a child prodigy in a public high school, he had been forced to take a gym class with a bunch of older teenagers, and forced to change in the same locker room as everyone else, because the coach refused to ‘treat him special’ just because he was ‘a smartass’.
And at the time, he had thought nothing of his Ninja Turtles underpants until the other boys started pointing and laughing at them. They had thought his underwear was so funny, in fact, that they took his clothes, forcing him to walk out into the hallway in nothing but his underwear, fighting to get his clothes back.
Back then, he didn’t understand why someone’s underwear would be funny. But it had changed him and left him guarded and feeling small - even now.
“No, no, no, baby. Of course not.” You rushed to assure him otherwise, sitting down on the coffee table in front of him and putting a tender hand on his knee.
“I would never want to laugh at you. Or humiliate you.” You told him very sincerely.
You distinctly held back the urge to say ‘unless you want me to’. You didn’t think he was ready to know that some people role played humiliation on purpose. That would be for another day.
“Baby, I only wanted to do this because it’s a turn-on for me.” You continued. “But you don’t have to do it if you’re uncomfortable. I don’t want to make you upset or uncomfortable.”
“It - it turns you on?” Spencer’s face knit with intense confusion, contemplating your words carefully.
This was a brand new aspect that - now that it was presented to him, definitely had him processing the concept with fresh eyes.
He knew that films or comedic shows presented the idea of men wearing women’s clothing as a form of public humiliation. Even though during Shakespearan times it was artistic, a beautiful form of theater. In modern times, men were publicly mocked and shamed for parading around in clothing that wasn’t ‘meant’ for them.
Of course, growing up in Las Vegas, he was well aware of the existence of Drag Queens - people who fell somewhere between that Shakespearan theater and the Saturday Night Live style of comedy that was usually straight men wearing dresses. But drag performers dressed up in women’s clothing for money. They did it as a type of paid performance.
No part of Spencer’s mental catalog had any idea that people dressed in clothing that didn’t align with their gender as, well… a fetish.
Spencer imagined himself wearing the underwear - especially knowing that you would be looking at him with a lustful gaze while he wore it, and he felt a distinct tingle in his gut. He felt his mood shifting from anxiety to something warmer, but he was still on edge.
“Tell me what’s on your mind, baby.” You pleaded gently, rubbing your hand on Spencer’s knee. “I know that look. So come on, tell me what’s going on inside that big brain of yours.”
Spencer hadn’t realized that he had been sitting there for a prolonged moment, perhaps more than a few, a look of deep thought cast over his features as he considered all of this.
“I… I don’t hate the idea.” Spencer said tentatively.
He was still timid about his own desires, and he was unsure what it meant that he himself was becoming turned on by the idea of wearing women’s underwear. It was supposed to be a show for you, right? Was he supposed to enjoy it?
“You’re not just saying that because you’re trying to please me?” You replied.
You wanted to be sure that he was comfortable. You wanted to ensure that he knew he could say ‘no’ if he needed to.
Spencer shook his head.
“I - I think I could like it.” He said quietly, clearly shy about his own words. “I think I do. Just… can you tell me more about… why you like it?”
You gave a small grin, always happy to explain these kinds of things to him.
“Well, I think you would look good in them.” You said, being entirely honest. “To me, there’s something profoundly beautiful about the sight of a cock trapped in pretty lace. It’s unconventional and just so… pretty.” You explained, choosing your words carefully.
Spencer felt a unique twist in his gut when you used that word - ‘pretty’.
People had used that word to describe him before, but it always felt like it was teasing, or ironic. But when you said it, it sounded so genuine. It made Spencer want more. It made him want to hear it more because he wanted to feel pretty, especially in your eyes. It was something he had never wanted in his life before. It exponentially boosted his desire to wear those panties for you - if that would make him pretty to you, then he would certainly do it.
But he held back on voicing that for now, and simply let you continue.
“Plus, I do enjoy the idea of the two of us having a secret.” You told him. “The fact that you would be wearing those pretty panties under your clothes and we would be the only two people who know.”
Spencer definitely understood that. He liked sharing secrets with you.
It was how he felt all week - entirely filthy and victorious as he wielded his secret from everyone else. Having the knowledge that he had sex with you and the two of you were going about your days without anybody else knowing it. Sure, part of him wanted to brag to Morgan about it for some kind of social standing. But the bigger part of him much preferred the satisfaction of that secret. Having that secret side of you all to himself.
“But like I said, you don’t have to do anything that you’re uncomfortable with. You don’t have to do it just to please me.” You reiterated the point, entirely open with him.
“You really think I’m pretty?” Spencer asked quietly.
You found it adorable that he had become fixated on this word, clearly slightly distracted from the overall point.
“Yes.” You assured him. “You’re very pretty. You’re one of the most attractive people I’ve ever met, Spence.” You reached up and brushed your knuckles gently across his cheek, and he shivered lightly at the touch in combination with the brutally honest praise.
“Thank you.” He said, giving you a small smile. Then, he had a thought. “Can - can I try them on, and then… see how I feel? Before wearing them for the rest of the day?” He asked, nodding toward where you had set down the pink lacy panties.
It was such a brilliant idea - you weren’t sure how you hadn’t thought of it yourself first.
“Of course, baby. That’s a really good idea.” You nodded. “Do you want to go in the other room and put them on, or do you want me to help you?”
He found a warmth curling in his stomach at the idea of you helping him get dressed, and he absolutely couldn’t deny that offer.
“Can you help me?” He asked, looking at you with the sweetest doe eyes. You resisted the urge to simply climb on top of him, kiss the life out of him and make him cum again.
No. Today was going to be about making him wait. Making him needy - making him truly want.
���Okay, baby, stand up for me.”
Of course, he thrived on you giving him orders, so he did just as you told him without any hesitation.
He stood up in front of you and you guided him around the coffee table to have more room. He was wearing such a perfectly Spencer outfit - a navy blue knitted sweater vest with a button up shirt underneath, a pair of gray slacks with a brown belt, and his usual mismatched socks (one red with navy stripes and the other dark gray). He also had a gray blazer that he had ditched on the back of one of your kitchen chairs shortly after coming in.
It was interesting to know that even on his days off, Spencer still wore such ‘business’ clothing. But you supposed that it was all his wardrobe was made up of, because he likely didn’t consider it appropriate to leave the house in his loungewear.
In a lot of ways, much like everything else that he did - it was intensely adorable.
You put your hands on his belt and undid it, and unzipped his pants - when you slid them down over his thighs, you weren’t surprised to see that he was wearing the most Spencer kind of underwear: a pair of plain white briefs. He was half-hard, making a prominent shape in the cotton that caused you to hold back a wicked grin.
“I’m sorry, my underwear isn’t… sexy.” He said, his arms hovering awkwardly around his front as he clearly considered covering himself but hesitated in doing so.
“Don’t apologize, baby.” You said, getting down on your knees to take his pants the rest of the way down and untangle them from his ankles. Naturally, he put a hand on your shoulder and stepped out of them, a flush coming over him at how intimate the entire thing felt.
“That’s why I got these special just for you,” You told him, reaching over and grabbing the panties, holding them up for emphasis.
“You did?” He questioned.
You had taken the tags off shortly before presenting the underwear to him, and even though you had brought them out in a shopping bag, it wasn’t something he had considered. You had bought something like this with him in mind. This was the second time you had gone shopping and gotten him a special present and he couldn’t help but to feel so lovingly spoiled by you.
“I did.” You confirmed with a smile, looking up at him in a way that made him melt.
“Thank you, Miss.” He couldn’t help the title from spilling from his lips, and it immediately made your pussy throb with need.
Once again, you forced yourself to focus.
“I’m gonna take these off now, okay?” You said, reaching up and thumbing along the waistband of his underwear.
Spencer nodded.
“Use your words, please.” You reminded him sharply.
“Yes, Miss.” He said, nodding more frantically.
You took down his briefs and his cock swayed in the air - clearly on the way to being fully hard, smooth and beautiful. You found it adorable that his pubes were still entirely untamed. You loved that even after you had started showing sexual interest in him, he hadn’t felt the need to rush to groom himself. You preferred him like this, especially because the imagery of that bush entirely slick with his own cum would always be stuck in your mind, and you definitely wanted to recreate it again.
You were tempted to get a hand on his cock, to tease him. To get him to full hardness, making him leaking and whining and then force him to go out for a full day of activities. But he was still new to this and you weren’t that mean.
That, and you had a feeling that because it was Spencer, if he started begging you to cum, if he said ‘please’ in that pretty voice again, then you would most likely just give in to him and your whole plan would be ruined. Rather than going to the museum, you would simply spend the day with him tied to the bed and incoherent.
But you wanted to see how far you could truly push him if he was needy. If he was absolutely desperate. And a few hours of your attention directed away from him when he wanted it most (focusing on paintings rather than on pleasing him) along with rough lace scrubbing up against his cock should do very nicely.
You pulled the underwear down fully and just the same as you had with his pants, unhooked them from his ankles, leaving him fully dressed from the waist up, still wearing his socks. Then you picked up the panties again - you had chosen something that was aesthetically pleasing, and hopefully not too uncomfortable for him. It wasn’t anywhere near a thong in the back, but you knew that it would be snug on his cock - just what you were hoping for.
The moment that Spencer felt the lace brush against his skin, he was greeted by a brand new experience. He always chose his clothing based on the comfort of the fabrics - and he had certainly never worn anything with this kind of underlying roughness to it.
When you pulled it fully up over his hips and gently tucked his cock inside the waistband, he did find it thrilling. The fabric created a slightly irritated pain across his highly sensitive cock, and a tightness around his balls, but he found that in a way, he liked it. It was truly all brand new, and though he knew that the feeling was going to become an annoyance after a while, he was curious about the sexual aspects of it. He found that he wanted more.
Especially when he saw the look on your face.
Spencer looked utterly stunning like this. Infinitely better than you could have imagined. Seeing his half-hard cock trapped behind the pink lace as it was stretched over his slim hips almost had you drooling. You knew that the lust was clearly written across your face, and you couldn’t help but to reach up and gently stroke his cock through the fabric, getting a low moan from him.
“How does it feel, baby?” You asked, looking up at him from where you were still positioned on your knees.
With your warm hand on him through the fabric, with you looking at him like he was the most perfect thing in the world, there was only one possible answer.
“Good.” He easily replied. “Really good.”
You smiled at him. “Do you wanna keep them on for the day?”
“Yes, Miss.” He nodded eagerly. Truthfully, he was excited to see where the day would take the two of you.
You helped him put the rest of his clothes back on, then you sat him on the couch to wait for you so that you could go get dressed for the day. You found it entirely adorable when he wiggled around on the spot, clearly adjusting to the new feeling of wearing such tight, lacy panties.
Spencer felt even more intense lustful warmth wash over him when you returned in a flowy red dress with small white polka dots on it. It was a dress with a deep V neck and a tie around the waist, one that looked like it wrapped around your whole body. It accentuated your curves so well, making you look like a gorgeous Hollywood starlet.
You had on a pair of red heels and had a red purse with a long strap on your shoulder. You were truly a vision of beauty. He felt like he shouldn’t be allowed to go out in public with you, especially because people would see the two of you and assume that you were on a date.
(Was it a date? How the hell was he allowed to date someone as perfect as you?)
“And remember, baby. If you’re a good boy all day, then you can have a reward.” You told him, putting your foot up on the coffee table to adjust the strap of your shoe, not-so-subtly flashing him your underwear with how open and flowy the skirt of your dress was.
Spencer was brain dead by the sight for a moment, but then thought to ask:
“What kind of reward?”
“Well… whatever you want. You can pick.” You told him. “As long as you follow the rules.”
Oh, it was going to be a good day.
…
It seemed that your plan worked far better than you originally expected.
When the two of you first got into the museum, Spencer’s hands kept hovering around his waist, clearly resisting the urge to grab at his pants, to try and adjust the panties through his clothing. You combated this by grabbing one of his hands, and kept him busy by prompting him with questions about the paintings as you toured the non-Van Gogh sections of the museum for a while.
At times, Spencer became a bit too fixated on whatever he was saying, and you felt an eagerness to distract him from the art. As much as you enjoyed listening to him ramble on and always learned something from the sound of his sweet, soothing voice, you did have another goal in mind.
When he became a bit too immersed in his thoughts and recollection about whatever art history books he had read, you would provide him with some kind of physical touch that sent his mind absolutely rocketing off the rails, and sent his mouth sputtering as he tried to remember what he had been saying.
You would reach over and wrap your arms around his waist, possibly brushing your hand over his cock on the way. You might wrap an arm around his lower back and lean into his body, purposefully pressing your weight up against his side, letting him feel every single curve that you had to offer. You began to feel more bold as you wanted to get more of a reaction out of him, and you even reached up and planted stray kisses on the side of his neck, behind his ear.
As time progressed, his insights about the paintings became much more shallow, and he began to fidget more. You knew that he was growing intensely needy, and you loved it.
By the time the two of you got to the exhibit with Van Gogh’s original sketches that had drawn you to the museum in the first place, Spencer was oddly pensive and quiet. You let the silence linger as you carefully planned your next move.
Spencer interrupted the peaceful silence with his gentle, prodding voice.
“Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all.”
“What does that mean?” You asked, turning to look at him.
“It was something Vincent Van Gogh said.” He noted, turning to look at you, mirroring your body language. “It means - well, I think it means that… that life can be full of trauma and darkness, but if you take the time to observe the beauties of your life, and realize how there are simplistic wonders all around us, then… the darkness doesn’t seem so big. The everyday parts of life can seem enchanting.”
You reached up and gently brushed Spencer’s hair back from his forehead, eagerly listening to his sweet voice as he spoke.
You knew - consciously or unconsciously - he was also speaking about the way that you made each other’s lives enchanting. Your job was full of darkness and horror, and it would be easy to fall to it. But you lifted each other up, and became that everyday enchantment that the other person needed.
Spencer’s eyes pointedly flickered down to your lips and then back up to your eyes before he continued.
“Van Gogh was famous for painting pictures of everyday sights. Flower vases, scenes from his village. The Starry Night was painted because he imagined that the stars above his village were a sure sign that God himself came down every single night to kiss the sky there. He didn’t see the mundane as simply… mundane. He saw it as beautiful and worth celebrating.” Spencer explained.
“You’re beautiful.” You easily fired back, and Spencer crumbled under the direct compliment.
In a moment, his cheeks dusted with pink and his posture shrunk. Where he was confident and tall when speaking about art history, he became small as he was trapped under your gaze, absolutely unsure how to take the compliment - especially as it was directed toward his looks. Especially as it made him feel oddly pretty.
When his eyes jumped back up from looking at the floor, his gaze was locked on your mouth once again. He tugged on the bottom of his blazer, and you could tell that he was becoming fidgety and anxious.
His anticipation was easily growing into need.
And so was yours.
Without telling him what was on your mind, you scanned the room. You thought you had seen something of note when you first walked into this section of the museum - and surely enough, in one of the corners, there was a thick black curtain covering a doorway. A curtain that had an ‘Employees Only’ sign pinned to it. Perhaps it led to some kind of storage closet, perhaps it led to another winding hallway.
Whatever was behind there, you were about to find out.
“Come here.” You told him, giving a gentle tug on his elbow that you were holding.
Naturally, entranced by your every movement and having nothing but the ability to follow you - Spencer walked on easy feet, guided by you as you marched across the room with purpose. He thought perhaps you had seen a painting that particularly caught your interest across the room, or that you were finally ready to leave and it was time to go home and get his reward.
But what happened next, he certainly did not expect.
You pulled him toward a dark curtain that was labeled with a sign - Employees Only.
Last time he checked, you hadn’t gotten a job at a museum.
He found himself slightly filled with anxiety at this fact, but you seemed entirely unfazed.
You simply pulled back the curtain and used Spencer’s anxious confusion to your advantage. You shoved him in first before he could question you, and then you climbed in yourself and carefully adjusted the fabric so it would seem completely undisturbed.
The area behind the curtain seemed to be nothing more than a long hallway with a few doors. It was clearly a lesser traveled area of the museum - a few of the lightbulbs overhead blown out and not replaced, the floor dingy and dusty. Perhaps those doors led to storage rooms or the place’s security facilities - but either way, the two of you weren’t supposed to be here.
His insides filled with panic at the idea of getting caught.
“Y/N-!” He called out your name harshly, but you cut him off by putting a hand in the middle of his chest and shoving him back against the wall.
Hitting the wall easily knocked the wind out of him. It was a surprising amount of force - you were much stronger than you looked. Of course, he had seen you take down suspects before. He had witnessed you tackle grown men to the grown with ease and marveled in awe at your strength, but you had never used that kind of force on him. He had never imagined what it would be like.
He found that it turned him on more than he could have imagined. The presence of your hand fisting the front of his sweater vest spread a dizzying heat through his body. He stared at you with parted lips and a slacked jaw as the lust and shock overtook him.
“Are you gonna be good for me?” You asked.
You stood away from him for a moment, removing your hands from him completely and leaving a few inches of space between your two bodies in the dim, dingy space.
You were giving him a clear opportunity to use his safeword if he truly wasn’t comfortable with fooling around in such a public space.
“We - we’re gonna get caught!” He whispered urgently to you, his voice hushed but still strained at the very thought of it.
You found it entirely adorable - how scandalized he was by this. You had done far worse and you hoped that you could get him to sink to your level over time.
“You let me worry about that, pretty boy.” You told him firmly. “Now - are you gonna be good for me?”
You asked one more time, your voice demanding and hopefully fully relaying the meaning of your words.
Spencer had a choice.
And with you standing there, staring him down with heat in your eyes, looking like such a vision of lustful beauty, when he had been waiting so long for your touch, for your attention… it wasn’t much of a choice at all.
He only wanted you.
“Yes.” He squeaked out quietly, swallowing thickly around his own doubt. “Yes, I’ll be a good boy.”
You grinned a wide Cheshire grin at his words, and in a moment, you were on him.
You possessively gripped at both sides of his blazer, easily bending him to your will. You surged forward and met him as you forced his body to bend downward, capturing his mouth in a demanding, heated kiss.
It was a tiny murmur in the back of your mind, reminding you that this was actually your first kiss with Spencer. You had already seen him naked and made him cum, and you were just now getting to taste his sweet lips. It was a funny thought.
In that moment, any worry about potentially getting caught easily flew from Spencer’s mind - any logic quickly dripped out of his ears.
He moaned beautifully into your mouth, and as you echoed a sound back, you had to wonder why you hadn’t kissed him sooner. He seemed to be a natural at it - or, this was the one thing that he had some real practice at. Which you were entirely thankful for. His lips were smooth against your own, heated and desperate, surging forward with intense gyrating motions - almost as if he was trying to consume you with his intense hunger.
Though in a moment, he easily fell under your control.
You reached a hand up to the back of his hair and took a tight grip there, holding him like he was a beautiful object that you owned, just a toy for you to play with. He let out a sharp whine from the back of his throat, and his jaw fell slack for a moment, allowing you to bite down on his bottom lip - hard, assuring him who was in charge.
The shock of pain from the bite had his hips bucking forward, and surely enough, you felt him fully hard, brushing against your hip through both of your clothing. He whined even sharper as he felt the roughness of the lace pressing against his cock, brushing against him with more force as he humped himself against you. It stung roughly and sent beautiful shocks of pleasure pulsing through him.
“What do you want, pretty boy?” You breathed against his lips.
Still desperate, needy for contact, he left a sloppy kiss on your chin before he spoke to answer the question.
“C-Can I touch you?” He whimpered out quietly. “Please.”
Your lips formed a wicked grin against him at this.
“Anything over my clothes.” You told him. When his hands still hung limply at his sides, you threw in some encouragement. “Come on, baby, touch me.”
You did have to wonder if he would have been bold enough to reach under the hemline of your dress - even if you hadn’t given him explicit permission. You wondered what he would have done if his fingers had gotten as far as your underwear. But with your instructions, he had full access to your ass and breasts and you were curious to see what he would do within the rules.
You dove in for another kiss, boldly possessing his mouth with a commanding strength once again. He whimpered against your lips and - feeling as needy as he was, he eagerly followed your instructions and began feeling you up over your clothing. His hands started out humbly on your hips as your experienced, certain lips battled against his needy, rapid ones. But soon enough, he became anxious and impatient with simply grabbing on your love handles through the cotton of your dress, and he needed more.
You yanked on his hair again and took advantage of his gasp-parted lips to shove your tongue into his mouth, your body pressed firmly against his with him leaning against the wall for support. His hands began to eagerly wander, consuming your flesh for the first time and truly getting a taste of what it was like to not just be commanded by you, but what it was like to be with you.
He began grabbing the roundness of your ass in needy handfuls, his touch truly exploratory - he didn’t touch you with any skill, didn’t touch you like he was trying to get you heated and turned on. He touched you because he wanted to touch your body, badly. He was simply displaying his own hungry need for you without even considering shame in doing so.
And that was something that caused you to moan into his mouth as you raked your tongue along his teeth. He even reached a hand up and shoved it between your two bodies, groping at your breast with absolutely no grace. He was digging his fingers into the flesh like he was trying to rip it off your body and possess it entirely. It was something so filled with need that it made you so damn hot, made your cunt ache between your thighs.
You knew that you wouldn’t be able to end the day without cumming - whether it be with his help or simply having him watch and beg to touch you.
You had so many plans for him. And you couldn’t wait to see them all play out before your eyes.
You felt his erection against your leg, throbbing with just as much need, and you felt that devilish urge rise up inside of you again.
You pulled away from his lips with a wet smack, the realization hitting you once again that - yes, technically, you were in a public setting. The thought sent a thrill through you, but you had to be at least somewhat careful, lest you get caught.
“You like touching me, baby?” You cooed against his cheek.
“Yes, Miss.” He breathed out.
When you opened your eyes partially, you had to contain a gasp.
His glasses were fogged up.
Just like something out of your fantasies, his glasses were clouded with steam from the heated exchange. But he didn’t seem to notice or care. From what you could see through the layer of dew, his eyes were screwed shut and he was far too focused on his lust. He was concentrating more on groping your breast with one hand and your ass with the other, giving small, aborted humps against your hip, clearly trying not to cum in his pants.
Oh god. You wanted to see him cum in his pants. Badly.
And it was rare that you didn’t get what you wanted.
“You want me to touch you?” You asked, nosing along his long, beautiful neck.
“Should - should we go home first?” He asked quietly.
Clearly, he was still afraid of getting caught.
“Hey, shh.” You breathed against his skin, causing him to shudder. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. You let me do all the thinking, baby. Just answer the question,”
“Yes.” He moaned quietly. “I want-”
You didn’t let him finish, and cut him off with another heated kiss.
You distracted him with this, and he whimpered sharply against your lips the moment your hand was on him.
You groped his cock harshly through his pants, your hand skilled in a direct contrast to the way his touch was clumsy and only fueled by need. You knew exactly what you were doing, knew exactly how to drive him where he needed to go.
Your demanding touch closed the pink lace of the panties roughly around the sensitive skin of his cock. The feeling of it - being reminded of his little filthy secret, the thing that the two of you shared. That, on top of the fact that he had already been so close from the thrill of getting to touch you and grope you freely for the first time - that set him off so damn easily.
He didn’t have a moment to warn you that he was cumming or ask for permission. The only warning you got was a pathetic choked off moan that came from the back of his throat before his hips jolted into your hand, and the stuttering movement of his legs was a sure sign to you that he had cum inside his pants.
You pulled away from his lips to admire your work.
His face was nicely flushed, continuing to add to the fog clouding up the lenses of his glasses. His hair was entirely messy and tousled, giving an absolutely sex crazed look to him even though he still had all his clothes on - clothes that were wrinkled and messy, adding even more to the look. His pants with a slight damp spot forming on the crotch as his load soaked through the thin fabric of the panties and began to soak into his pants as well. You couldn’t help but to give his sensitive cock an extra little squeeze through his pants, causing him to whimper harshly and shake at the touch.
You loved seeing him so fucked out and pathetic.
“I - I’m sorry!” He immediately began to apologize, reaching to pull down his vest in an effort to cover his crotch, as though wanting to hide the evidence of his orgasm that was rapidly soaking into his clothes. “I’m sorry, Miss!”
Of course, he thought he had made some grievous misstep but breaking the rule - by not asking permission before he had cum. When it was something you had been gunning for, wanting him to cum for you.
“Hey, shh, shh, it’s okay baby.” You murmured against his skin. “It’s okay.”
Before he could think too hard about it or get too swept up in his emotions (and frankly, before the two of you could get caught in such a state) - you grabbed one of his hands and then dragged him out of the museum completely. You barely slowed from a brisk walk until the two of you got back to the car. Even with Spencer holding his vest down over his crotch out of embarrassment, if anyone took a second look at his wrecked hair, dewey glasses and kiss-swollen lips, they absolutely would have known what had happened to him, and you loved the thought of it.
…
You spent the entire ride home assuring him that he had done nothing wrong.
It took a lot of soothing from your voice and a few well placed gropes to his crotch over the car’s console with your other hand on the wheel. This got him hard again, made him distracted from beating himself up for not being able to follow the rules explicitly. Instead, now he was focused on the way his throbbing cock felt swimming around in his own cum-soaked underwear.
He didn’t need to feel guilty for not following the rules. You didn’t intend to punish him for breaking that rule, because he had just been too pretty while breaking it. Besides - you couldn’t imagine spanking someone so soft and new.
You couldn’t imagine saying no to him.
In all honesty, you kind of hated yourself for going soft. This would be the first time since you had become a dom that you hadn’t punished a sub for breaking a rule. But this wasn’t just any sub, this was Spencer. You couldn’t explain why, but he was just allowed to get away with things. He deserved to be spoiled.
By the time you did get home, Spencer was breathless and filled to the brim with need once again. If his tears had been from self punishment and guilt at first, they were now from sheer need. He was desperately wringing his hands in his lap to keep from pawing at you because he felt that he had not been given permission to do so during the car ride.
When you pulled into your parking spot, he looked over at you through his now clearer glasses lenses with big, wanting eyes.
“You’re sure that you’re not mad, Miss?” He asked quietly, giving an adorably dramatic sniffle.
“I am absolutely not mad, baby.” You told him. “It’s difficult to ever be mad at you when you’re so damn pretty.” You ‘booped’ his nose at this, and the smile he gave was so genuine that it made your insides glow with pride. “Now, what do you say we get you out of those soiled clothes and into something more comfortable?”
“I - I didn’t bring a bag.” He said, looking over to his car across the lot longingly.
“You didn’t bring a bag to the sleepover?” You cooed. “How silly, baby.” Spencer looked entirely downtrodden, as though all of his plans for the day were ruined. “I’m sure that I can find something for you to wear.”
This conjured up a delightful image in your mind of him wearing more lingerie. But no, you needed to find him something comfortable instead. He had been good, and he deserved to be rewarded for it. You were sure that despite the size difference, he would be able to fit into some of your pajama pants with the waist tie knotted up a few times. Hopefully the waistband wouldn’t absolutely fall off him.
He seemed more upbeat at this, and the two of you got out of the car and went up to your apartment, Spencer easily following your lead, as always. He carried your purse loyally, something you found to be a covert turn-on. You liked seeing the subtle ways he could serve you.
When you got up to your apartment, you tossed your keys into the bowl where you normally kept them, and Spencer made a point of hanging the long strap of your bag on the coat rack - something you found so entirely cute.
You then took Spencer to the kitchen to get him a glass of water to help him calm down. The entire time he drank it, you gently stroked his hair and told him what a good boy he was. This seemed to relax him entirely, which satisfied you on a deep level.
Then, you grabbed his hand and steered him in the direction of the bathroom to help him clean up. With his shoes already ditched near the front door, you peeled off his blazer and threw it over the back of the couch along the way, not giving him a moment to speak about hanging it up ‘properly’ or whatever else was gonna come out of his mouth before you bustled him along to the next room.
In your quaint apartment, the bathroom was at the end of the hallway, and he caught a small glimpse into your bedroom before you continued shoving him down the hall. He saw twinkling lights and pink silken sheets and felt his stomach tingle - it was nothing like he had imagined it, but he kind of loved that.
Your bathroom was just as entracing.
The tiles were pearlescent blue - obviously vintage, along with a clawfoot tub to match, and you had decorated everything with quite a beautiful sense of style to match. A floral blue shower curtain, a fuzzy blue bath mat, and a small golden cart in the corner holding all of your different products. Spencer had the urge to pick up the bottles and start smelling them, wondering if he could get more of your amazing scent right from the source, or if it was the unique, distinct combination of those products along with your natural skin oils that made you so intoxicating.
You shut the door gently behind the two of you when you got him into the small room. He found himself pressed right up against the counter of the small bathroom vanity, his back to the ornate mirror and your back to the door. This left only a few inches of space between your two bodies as you looked up at him with a gentle, sweet expression.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” You told him.
Spencer smiled at you.
“And then, after you’re all nice and clean, I think you can have your reward.” You told him, your voice low and dripping with decadent promise. “You were a very good boy today.”
“I was?” He said eagerly.
Then, after a moment, he realized that he shouldn’t be questioning it. Because it was against the rules to question your judgment, and because you had just told him that he was deserving of a reward.
“I mean - yeah, I was.” He quickly corrected himself, trying to sound confident in this statement.
You let out a soft chuckle at this. Then, you gently grabbed his chin and pulled him into a soft, sweet kiss.
“You were, baby.” You told him confidently. “You were a very good boy today.”
You absolutely adored the look on his face as you said this. His features became so soft and hazy, almost as if he was drunk. Clearly he was so high on the praise, loving knowing that he had behaved well for you, that you were giving him your stamp of approval and that he was about to be well rewarded for it.
“Do you know what you want as your reward?” You asked, curiosity bubbling up inside of you.
Spencer’s eyes filled with equal parts glee and contemplation. This was such a mighty question.
As the question hung in the air, you reached up and gently took off his glasses, placing them on the counter beside the sink. As good as he looked in them, you didn’t want to accidentally knock them off his face and break them while you were stripping him out of his clothes. You then reached for the bottom of his sweater vest, still reeking with curiosity as to how he would answer the question.
He imagined all kinds of things - one of the obvious ones was of course, sex. Full blown intercourse. But something deep inside of him told him that he wasn’t sure if he was quite ready for that. Part of him feared ‘messing up’ and still felt self conscious - like he should perform well and impress you, even though you quite clearly took the lead and hadn’t been unimpressed with anything from him so far.
Deep down, he did know that his first time would be comfortable, safe, and beautiful if it was with you. And truthfully, he didn’t want it to be with anyone else. He couldn’t picture his first time having intercourse if it wasn’t with you in his ear, cooing about what a good boy he was.
But still, he wasn’t quite ready for that yet.
You got the vest off over his head, humming a calming tune quietly under your breath - a sign showing him that you were okay with the quiet, giving him time to contemplate his answer. As much time as he needed. You got to work on the buttons of his shirt, slowly and delicately undressing him as though he were a precious doll. It was something that caused goosebumps to form across his skin.
He thought more about it.
So - he didn’t want to ask for intercourse.
He definitely wanted to touch you more. He liked touching you - he loved touching you. He definitely wanted permission to touch you under your clothes, to explore your naked body. He thought it might be silly to simply ask for his reward to be ‘touch naked breasts please’. You might find that silly.
No, he could do better than that.
When you began to peel the sleeves of the shirt off his shoulders and it caused a quiet shiver through him, that’s when it struck him.
“I know.” He said quietly. “I know now.”
“You know what you want your reward to be, baby?” You prodded gently, gathering the fabric of the shirt in your hands and tossing it into the laundry basket behind you.
Perhaps you would get up early the next morning and do a load of laundry to wash his clothes so he could have something to wear home. You were struck with the vision of him wearing a pair of your sweatpants and one of your big comfortable tee-shirts walking back to his apartment from your car. You wondered - if the two of you were going to continue having these ‘sleepovers’ if you should clear a drawer for him to keep some clothes at your place and vice versa. That seemed far too domestic in your mind, but it just made good sense, didn’t it?
You were snapped out those thoughts when Spencer finally gave you his answer.
“I want to give you pleasure.” He breathed out quietly. “You’ve given me pleasure. I want to pleasure you.”
His choice of words was somehow utterly adorable and spine-tingling at the same time. He sounded like a dreamy paperback smut novel come to life. But as you reached for the buckle of his belt to continue undressing him, you had to ask for clarification, just to be sure.
“What do you mean by that, Spence?” You asked, punctuating the sentence with the click of the belt buckle.
“I -”
He let out a hot breath as you pulled his belt completely from the loops and let it fall to the bathroom floor with a quiet ‘clunk’. His next words were paired with the sound of the zipper teeth on his trousers coming down.
“I want to give you an orgasm.” He let out a quiet whimper when your hand grazed his dick as you worked the fly of the pants apart. “I want you to teach me.” He said quietly, his voice a lot weaker as he became dizzy with pleasure once again.
“You want me to teach you, huh?” You purred.
You became temporarily distracted from this thought when you peeled his pants down further and the most delicious sight was revealed to you. His cock, half hard and still trapped inside the pink lace - which was now stuck to his shaft completely with his own cum. Just as you had imagined in your fantasies, it was absolutely wet. Slick like a pretty pink floral second skin as it sat below his waistline, making his sticky pubes and his sensitive cock look even more sinful while he sat marinating in his own load.
You couldn’t help yourself - you reached forward and greedily groped his cock through the lace. You went so far as to trap the sensitive pink cockhead between your fingers and wring the roughness of the fabric around it, knowing that it would get a reaction out of him. Spencer sobbed with overwhelming pleasure and bucked his hips forward, such a beautifully broken sound. When you continued the motion, he surged a hand up to grab your wrist as he twisted his body slightly away from you - clearly overstimulated.
You stopped the roughness in exchange for a gentle petting of your fingertips, and you leaned in to nose across the skin of his neck once again.
You surprised yourself when your next words flew out of your mouth, almost without restraint.
“Hey, shh. It’s okay, Mommy’s just looking.” You told him in a hushed tone.
The moment that the word escaped your lips - Mommy - your gut dropped with crippling fear. You thought that he would hate it or become disgusted by it. But he let out another whimper, and when you looked into his eyes, you were met with nothing but a sharp burning and a reckoning that he had absolutely no clue he would have liked to call you that up until then.
You left the air blank for a moment, giving him time to adjust - time to back down from it if he wanted to. Or time to rise to it if he wanted it just as badly as you did.
“M-?” He squeaked out, and you gave him patience. “Mommy?” He said quietly, testing the waters.
He found that a warmth washed over him, and he liked it far more than he thought he would have.
Your breath caught in your throat and you held back a moan. Your muscles shook slightly as you resisted the urge to jump him - to make him say it again, with more desperation, with more lust. There would be plenty of time for that, you told yourself.
“Yes, baby?” You answered quietly.
“Can I take them off now?” He asked, referring to the panties feeling damp and cold and uncomfortable on his skin at this point. “You said you had some pajamas for me?”
You smiled at him. “I’ll take these off and clean you up a bit and then I’ll get you some pjs. Okay, baby?”
He nodded.
“Yes, M-Mommy.” He stuttered slightly, still wearing in the nickname - but he loved it.
He loved how it was warm and comfortable and familiar, and much less formal than calling you ‘Miss’.
‘Miss’ was a nice teacher, someone good at making rules, but ‘Mommy’ was someone he could make a home out of. At least he hoped that’s what the two of you were doing. ‘Mommy’ didn’t seem too strict about the rules, and honestly, Spencer liked that.
You helped him peel out of his slightly wet pants and completely ruined, soaked underwear. (You would definitely be washing those for a future use.) You tossed both items into the hamper, and then peeled off his cute (once again mismatched) socks and tossed those aside too before you grabbed a washcloth and soaked it with warm water to clean him off with.
The entire time you wiped down his cock, he let out sweet whimpers and gently bumped into your touch. By the end, it was almost difficult to keep him clean, because his cock was fully hard and leaking precum slightly as you smoothed the warm cloth over his lower tummy and made sure to gently clean off his balls. It was oddly adorable, him making a mess faster than you could clean it up.
When you were satisfied with this, you tossed the cloth into the sink and gave him a kiss on the cheek, telling him that you would be back shortly with a change of clothes for him.
It was only when he was standing alone in the bathroom that he felt exposed - only then realizing how truly well… naked he actually was. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to be embarrassed by it as he awaited your return.
After what felt like far too many minutes for his taste, you returned with something pink and soft looking in your hands.
The panties had been surprising, and while itchy, had made him feel… oddly pretty. He would be hesitant to admit it aloud, but you were already making him grow to like the color pink and how it made him feel.
You unfolded the piece of clothing and held it up for him to look at. It was a pair of long pajama pants that obviously belonged to you. (Spencer worried that the waistband would be too large for him, even with the tie that was available). They were made of a silken, soft material that seemed like it would be very light and comfortable to wear. They were a rosy pink color, very girly and feminine. Very pretty. He also noticed that you hadn’t brought a shirt for him, but he supposed that he didn’t have to worry too much about that. You had already seen him naked. Twice now.
“Good?” You posed.
Spencer nodded. “Thank you.” He said, giving you a small smile.
He felt that warmth coming over him once again when you helped him step into the pants and even pulled the fabric up over his body, going so far as to secure the tie around his waist, making sure the loose fabric wouldn’t fall off his hips. The thin, very unforgiving fabric easily showed every single detail of his cock through it - his hardness now perfectly outlined in pink, which only made the heat growing under your skin swell to a dangerous level.
Lastly, you grabbed his glasses off the counter and put them back on his face, making sure that he would be able to see fully and pay attention during his next ‘lesson’.
“There.” You said, giving him another sweet kiss on the lips. “Mommy’s good boy is all clean.” Spencer preened at these words. “And pretty as a picture.”
You delighted in the obvious blush that this last comment drew from him. You couldn’t help it - you loved praising him so sweetly, especially if it drew those kinds of reactions from him.
“Now, baby, I want you to go sit on the couch and wait for me.” You told him gently. “I have to go and put on something a little more comfortable for myself.”
You held back a devilish smirk. Of course, he had to think that this would mean you were going to put on some casual cotton pajamas - something genuinely comfortable and not at all a fulfillment to the male fantasy. And sure, you felt comfortable in lingerie. It made you feel beautiful.
That was part of the reason you were going to do it.
That, and you felt the need to make everything special for Spencer. This was going to be the first time he saw you in such a state of undress. Of course, you could argue that him seeing you in your panties and camisole a few nights ago had been pretty much the same, and he had looked upon you like you were a goddess then. But it had been practically dark then and you wanted this to be well lit and truly a fantasy come to life for him.
“Yes, Mommy.” He said, giving a small nod.
He left and walked out to the living room, going to sit on the couch as you had instructed, and you felt a delightful mischievous streak as you went into your bedroom and picked out what you would wear.
As you got dressed, you thought more about what he had said.
He wanted to give you an orgasm.
It would be very nice to have him inside of you. He had one of the nicest cocks you had ever seen - he was so long and beautiful, and seeing him inside of the fleshlight had caused you to imagine what he would feel like inside of you.
But you knew that if you let him fuck you, he would be clumsy. He didn’t have the technique or experience. Or the stamina. That was definitely something you wanted to work on first. And with how he had reacted from cumming in his pants earlier that day - something you had wanted, he likely would have a crash and be terribly anxious if he came while fucking you and you didn’t get to cum first.
Making you cum seemed to be his primary goal.
That brought you to the thought of putting him on his back - riding him, essentially using him like a human dildo. It would be intensely hot - having him below you, completely at your mercy. Getting to listen to his moans and whines and getting to see him completely fucked out underneath you while his perfect cock throbbed deep inside of your pussy. It would be perfect.
But - he wouldn’t learn anything that way. If he wanted to learn how to make you cum, it certainly wouldn’t happen like that. He would be fucked stupid and you would cum, and you would certainly enjoy yourself. But he would be brain dead and cum drunk. He certainly wouldn’t learn or retain anything from the experience.
No - if he wanted to learn how to make you cum, and if he wanted to put his genius to good use, then there was one certain way to do it.
You were fully satisfied with your plan. You took one last look in the mirror, and you were fully satisfied with your look, too.
You had put on a push-up bra with a black and red lace pattern, something that displayed your breasts well. With the padding and the ‘push-up’ effect, it definitely gave the cartoonish, fantasy effect that you were going for. You had on the matching garter belt, which had a few lacy roses adoring it. You didn’t have it attached to anything, though you had considered wearing stockings, you didn’t think Spencer would like the texture of them. You thought he would much prefer to feel your naked skin against him. You simply liked the look of the garter belt hanging around your waist, accenting the plushness of your stomach.
You also put on a pair of the matching lacy black and red floral panties - they were fairly cheeky, letting half of your ass hang out, and fairly sheer so that your trimmed pubic hair could be seen through the fabric in the front. And lastly, you had thrown on a sheer, long black robe over the whole thing, giving a very ‘Moulin Rouge’ look to the whole thing. Along with a pair of six black heels - the kind that hurt your feet and you would only use to, well - go to bed and keep your legs above your head while wearing.
You looked like a sex dream, if you did say so yourself.
Rather than walking into the other room to get Spencer, you went over to your bed and propped yourself up on some pillows in the middle of it, making sure the fabric of your robe was billowing and appealing around you before you called out to him.
“Spencer, honey, I’m ready!” You called out. “You can come in now!”
You heard him coming down the hallway and you swelled with eagerness, almost too excited to see what his reaction would be.
When he pushed the door open, he immediately froze when his eyes were met with the sight of you.
Standing in the doorway put him right at the foot of your bed, and he thought for sure - at some point between here and the museum, he must have died and gone to heaven. Framed by the twinkling lights that were wrapped around the head of your bed, propped up on a variety of fluffy pillows - you were an image of perfection.
Your breasts were pushed up to your chin, especially with the angle you were laying at, so perfectly framed by the floral lace of your bra. There was so much for his eye to greedily consume, and he didn’t think he should be allowed to consume it all so shamelessly. The curved planes of your body, the beautiful, soft zig-zags of your stretch marks, like guides laid out for his tongue. The fabric showing just enough skin, showing off every curve of your womanly body, so thick and ready to dominate him at a moment’s notice.
There was a gentle power in the way you were lounging back, framed by the black, soft fabric of your billowing robe - your whole body relaxed as you waited for him. It made him want to press his forehead to the floor in a bow to you, made him want to beg just for the precious permission to touch you.
“Is - that-? Your-? Paja-mas-?” He squeaked out, every single word becoming a pitch higher, making his shock all the more apparent.
“Kind of.” You told him with a giggle. “This is what I wanted to wear for my good boy.”
“You - you wore this for me?” He swallowed thickly around these words, clearly in disbelief.
If you weren’t mistaken, you saw his cock twitch inside those silken pink pants. You loved how even though the fabric covered him, the outline of his cock was so entirely visible. The band of the pants being loose had caused them to slip so low on his hips, even causing the top bit of his pubic hair to be visible as he stood there, entirely uncaring (and likely unaware) of it.
“Yes, baby.” You told him. “Now, come sit on the bed.”
Spencer rushed to follow your instruction, almost tripping over your bedroom rug in the process. That caused you to bite your lip, holding back a grin - you wouldn’t want him to think you were laughing at him, after all.
Spencer gently sat on the edge of the bed with his feet still on the floor, his bum just barely grazing against your thigh. You found it adorable that he was still being so timid about making contact.
You spread your legs wide, and gestured between them.
“Come sit here.” You told him.
“Oh.” He said quietly.
He stood up then and looked at the space between your legs. His expression was very comparable to a man afraid of heights looking like he was about to take a dive off a cliff into deep water.
“It’s okay, Spencer.” You assured him. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, remember?”
“I know.” He said quietly. “It’s just - it’s all so new.” He whispered. “I - I want to be good.”
You wondered if the last part was about his ability to behave and follow the rules, or… if it was about something else.
“Spencer, baby, are you worried about impressing me?” You wondered aloud.
The expression on his face at this was very telling - a flicker of embarrassment, his hands twitching as he ached to play with his fingers, wanting to distract himself from the conversation.
“Look, I know you’re new to all this. I’m not expecting you to be some sex expert, or a porn star or something.” You assured him. “That’s why I’m here to teach you, baby.”
“What if I do it wrong?” He asked, his voice still so timid, so small.
“Then I’ll show you how to do it right.” You told him. “That’s why I’m here. I’m not gonna laugh at you, or yell at you. I’m just gonna show you what I like and how to do it right.”
It should have been obvious. Someone of his talent, his caliber, someone who had everything come so naturally to him his entire life, someone who had accomplished so much at such a young age - he was terrified of tackling something unknown, something he was afraid to mess up. He was afraid of being a bad student.
He had just enough time in the living room to sit and stew in those insecurities, and now you had to lovingly battle them.
“Come sit with me, baby.” You urged, leaning forward to pat the space on the bed between your thighs.
You scrunched up the fabric of your robe so he wouldn’t sit on it, and finally, he moved to crawl between your legs - kneeling on the bed with his feet tucked underneath his bum and his hands fidgeting in his lap. His knees were slightly brushing against your inner thighs, but he wasn’t sitting terribly close to you. That was something you left alone for now.
You sat up slightly, leveling your body with his, and ran your hand along his arm, trying to soothe him.
“So, you said you wanted to learn how to give me an orgasm, right?” You posed.
Spencer nodded.
“Come on, use your words.” You told him.
“Yes, Mommy.” He said quietly, clearly still feeling insecure and hesitant. “I want that.”
He could only imagine how beautiful it would be so see you writhing in pleasure - to hear you calling out his name as you orgasmed, breathless. To see your body arching up off the bed as he brought you to climax. He could only imagine the headrush it would cause him to know that he had caused it for you.
“Well, I think the best way for you to do that is by using your hands.” You explained. “Stimulating me with your fingers.”
“My hands?” He questioned, looking from you down to his hands in his lap.
Honestly, it was never something he had thought about. Yes - he used his hands to make himself orgasm, but that was only because he was alone. The act of masturbation was more like a mind-clearing chore for him than anything. (Before you came into his life and turned all of his ideas about sex upside-down.)
He did have to consider that you used your hands to stimulate yourself, to masturbate - but he had no clue how.
But he guessed that would be part of the learning process.
“Yes, baby.” You smiled eagerly. “And I know you’re gonna be good with your hands. You’re very skilled because you do all that sleight of hand and close up magic.”
Spencer felt a rush of confidence at the praise, and couldn’t stop the grin that formed over his face at your words.
“Well, you see, sleight of hand doesn’t actually require that much dexterity or skill, like playing a sport does, because it’s more so about practicing the same movement over and over again until it becomes ingrained muscle memory.” He explained, easily sounding in his element.
You couldn’t believe how easily he had set you up for your next words. It was almost like he had walked into a trap.
“Well, what I’m going to teach you is also about repetitive movements.” You explained. “And it will definitely become muscle memory for you over time.”
Spencer smiled fondly hearing this. He was now more confident that he would be good at what you were going to teach him.
“So… where do we start?” He asked, becoming that eager student once again.
“Here, let me look at your hands.” You told him.
He was slightly confused by this, but didn’t have time to question it because you snaked your hands under his palms where they were sitting in his lap. His dick had wilted slightly from the anxiety, so he was only half hard in his pants. But he let out a small whimper when you accidentally crazed against it as you took his hands in yours and lifted them up to get a good look at them.
“It’s important that your nails are trimmed.” You told him, lifting his hands up close to your face to get a good look. “You don’t want your nails to be too long, or you might accidentally hurt me. And that’s just a general rule whenever you’re putting your fingers inside someone.”
He became slightly intimidated at the idea of putting his fingers inside you, but he tried not to let it show.
“I trimmed my nails last night.” He said, proud that he had done something good. “It’s a good grooming habit.”
He didn’t want to bring up the fact that - per his germophobia, he always kept his nails trimmed because he was afraid of too much build up getting under his nails and making him sick (even though he washed his hands multiple times a day). But he was just glad he could do something to please you.
You couldn’t stop staring at his hands. It was something you had noticed before in passing - but they were gorgeous. He had such strong, prominent muscles here. Long, thick fingers - he was going to do very well at this. Once he was well trained up, you knew you weren’t going to be able to go for very long without having those fingers inside of you.
“Very good, baby.” You said, finally snapping out of your lustful revere.
You raised one of his hands up and kissed the back of it. And then, continued on, kissing a path along his hand to his knuckles until you reached the tip of his middle finger. As natural as ever, you gently sucked his middle and ring finger into your mouth. Of course, you were just playing around, admiring. His hands were so nice that you couldn’t help but to have one in your mouth.
“Oh,” Spencer moaned quietly.
When you looked over at him, he was staring you down with lustful eyes. His lips slightly parted as his gaze locked onto the place where your lips drew his fingers in, taking him down to the second knuckle. You gently swirled your tongue around the digits as you enjoyed the thickness in your mouth. You could lightly taste floral soap on his skin and knew that he had washed his hands in the kitchen sink when you had sent him out to wait for you.
After a moment of this, you pulled back, your lips separating from his skin with a wet ‘smack’. (Though you wanted it to be longer - you loved those fingers, you could have easily held them in your mouth for a long time).
“Yeah, these are good fingers.” You assured him, giving him a deliberate wink. “You’re gonna be good at this, Spence.”
Spencer shuddered with pleasure at this.
You leaned back onto your pillows, making yourself comfortable while he watched in awe.
“I’m gonna take off my underwear now. Is that okay?” You asked gently.
“Yes.” He said, nodding eagerly. “Yes, Mommy.”
You lifted your hips to wiggle out of them. When the fabric was at your knees, he naturally met you halfway, taking the panties down your calves and very delicately untangling them from around your high heels. He concentrated on the task in a way that told you he wasn’t even trying to take a premature glimpse at your naked cunt. It was entirely endearing.
Once he had the fabric completely untangled from your shoes, you naturally moved your legs to bracket them around his body once again. This completely exposed your wet pussy to the cool air, and he stared at the underwear in his hands, clearly perplexed about what to do with it now.
“Just toss it on the floor, baby.” You told him.
He did so, and then, with nowhere else to look, his eyes locked onto your naked pussy for the first time.
Paintings and pictures had shown him the scientific side or even the objective beauty of the female anatomy. But seeing you laid bare before him, adorned in lacy accoutrements - this was truly sexy.
His blood ran hot, and his cock throbbed to full hardness in a dizzying record time as he laid eyes on the glistening lips of your pussy. Seeing how real you were - the way your skin tone faded from the shade that matched the rest of your body to the more raw, wet skin of your inner folds, clearly swollen with need. Your pubic hair, slightly trimmed and glossy with your wetness - everything about you was so real and it made Spencer’s cock ache.
“Scoot a bit closer, baby.” You told him, hitch your knees apart further, spreading yourself open for him. “Can you see okay?”
Your pussy made a wet sound as it spread open for him, and he let out a quiet gasp in awe as more of you was bared to his eyes. You were so beautiful, so raw, so perfect, so hot - he almost couldn’t handle it.
You knew he was likely becoming too entranced to answer the question. With the way his eyes were so tightly locked onto your cunt, you guessed that - yes, he could see just fine. Just seeing the utterly entranced expression on his face caused a throbbing heat through you, you were sure that if he paid enough attention, he would be able to see the wetness actively dripping out of you.
“Spencer, look at me.” You ordered sharply. “Look at Mommy.”
Spencer forced his eyes up to your face, and you smiled at him when he managed to follow the order.
“How much do you know about the female anatomy?” You asked him.
“I - I’ve read books.” He answered quietly.
“Good.” You told him, trying to be encouraging. “Do you know where the clitoris is?”
“I - um-” Spencer looked down at your pussy and found himself suddenly nervous again, not knowing if he should touch you, or if he should point, or-
“You can put your hands on me.” You told him. “I’m here to teach you, baby. Let me be your… in-person diagram.”
Spencer nodded.
Then, as naturally as he possibly could, he reached down and put a gentle hand on the top of your mound. He was so feather-light that you had to forcefully hold back a laugh, feeling ticklish at the touch. With his palm mostly spread out mostly over your pelvis, he used a thumb to pull your pussy lips back.
Then, he saw that very obvious swollen button staring at him. With the pointer finger on his other hand, he sought it out like a guided missile, entirely confident in his answer. Before he could truly think about it - he poked your clit with that singular finger, pointing to it as his answer.
“There.” He mumbled quietly.
“Oh-!” You breathed out sharply, your hips surging toward his touch.
His touch had been so abrupt (especially after so much anticipation on your part) that it sent an unexpected shockwave through your body.
Spencer immediately recoiled, believing that he had hurt you.
“I’m sorry.” He quickly apologized. “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”
He drew back both his hands instantly, curling them up to his chest as if he had done something terribly wrong.
“No, no you didn’t hurt me!” You quickly assured him, putting your hands up in a surrendering motion to drive the point home. “Everything is fine, baby.”
“Then what-?” He asked, his voice very meek and small. “What was that?”
“I’m sensitive, baby. My body is sensitive. And I wasn’t expecting you to do that.” You chuckled.
Spencer gave a small frown, clearly believing he had done something wrong.
“The clitoris has a lot of nerve endings.” You explained, giving a chuckle to try and lighten the mood. “That’s kind of the point. That makes things more pleasurable.”
“Oh.” He said.
After a moment, his body began to relax as he chugged with thought, his eyebrows knitting tight like they always did when he was pondering something.
“Oh… so that was… that was a good stimulation?” He posed.
“Yes.” You told him. “I want you to touch my clitoris because it feels good. It’s one of the easiest ways to make a woman feel good.”
He nodded, and then he moved his hands to touch you again. But you had a thought first. You caught his hands halfway, and held them in your own as you spoke.
“Listen first.” You told him.
He looked at your face obediently as you explained it to him.
“Typically, for women, there are two types of orgasms,” You put on your ‘teacher’ voice once again, and he relaxed and put his hands back in his lap, clearly eager and ready to listen, wanting to absorb the information to the fullest. “A clitoral orgasm or a vaginal orgasm. Can you guess what that means?”
Spencer thought about it for a moment.
“An orgasm achieved by clitoral stimulation versus an orgasm achieved by vaginal stimulation?” He posed.
You grinned. “Very good. Good boy.”
He grinned back, easily soaking up the praise.
“So, it depends on the person you’re with, but generally, most women achieve orgasm through a combination of both clitorial and vaginal stimulation. And a good rule of thumb is to always ask someone what they enjoy,” You told him. He nodded at this. “And also, looking at someone’s facial expressions and body language can tell you if you’re doing well at stimulating them. It’s like profiling.”
“Well… what kind of facial expressions and body language should I be looking for?” He asked.
You found this oddly amusing. To you, it was obvious that a back arching and lots of moaning and an ‘O’ face meant good sex, but Spencer was truly just that fresh. He simply didn’t know.
“Well…” You took a moment to gather a mental list for him. “Typically, someone makes a lot of involuntary body movements if the stimulation is good. Good sex stimulates your nerve endings, so it makes your muscles twitch, and it can even make your limbs flail around or make your back arch off the bed.”
Spencer nodded, his face still very intense and thoughtful as he took this in.
“And when people are enjoying sex, they usually make a lot of sounds. Gasps, moans. They might swear or call out your name. And most people do just tell you that they’re enjoying it,” You giggled.
Spencer nodded again. Then he posed a thoughtful question.
“What about facial expressions?” He asked.
“I know it might sound strange… but, you’ll know an expression of someone lost in pleasure when you see it.” You told him.
These words made his whole body tingle. And naturally, made him wonder what your face would look like when you were lost in pleasure.
“What do you prefer?” He asked. “Do you prefer clitoral stimulation or vaginal stimulation?”
“I prefer a combination of both.” You told him. “That’s usually what makes me cum the hardest.”
“You mean ‘cum’ as in orgasming?” Spencer said, repeating back this vocabulary to you with pride.
“Yes, baby.” You told him with a nod.
He beamed at getting the answer correct.
“I thought we could start with clitoral stimulation and then move on to vaginal stimulation.” You explained. “Usually it’s easy to… warm up with clitorial stimulation. It makes the vaginal muscles more relaxed before penetration.”
You found it odd to be using such clinical terms - the words were so stiff in your mouth, but you supposed that it was the healthiest way to explain everything to him.
Spencer nodded eagerly at this.
“You should wet your fingers first. Maybe spit on them?” You posed - this was a selfish request, wanting the delight of seeing him suck on his own fingertips.
“That doesn’t sound the most sanitary…” He said quietly, cringing.
Hearing him say this presented a new goal in your mind - getting him so fucked out and pliant that mister ‘it’s actually more sanitary to kiss’ would let you spit directly into his mouth.
You chuckled at his words, though.
“Okay, well… there’s lube in the drawer instead.” You said, motioning toward your nightstand. “Like I said last time, there’s no such thing as ‘too wet’.”
Spencer nodded eagerly and sat higher up on his knees to reach for the drawer. When he pulled it open, his eyes immediately grew wide at the array of… objects you had in there. Thick, veiny things, some round things he couldn’t even begin to propose the purpose of, something with small dots on it that looked like a cartoon tentacle-?
Knowing that he would become too distracted by these things and want to start asking questions, you reached over and grabbed the bottle of lube and snapped the drawer shut while his mind was still racing.
“Focus, baby.” You told him, putting a hand on his cheek and forcefully prodding his attention back in your direction.
He definitely had a lot of questions about those things. But he would ask you those questions later. (Because he certainly wasn’t going to forget about anything he had just seen.)
You handed the bottle of lube to Spencer. It was almost exactly the same as the one you had given to him and used with the fleshlight, except it was strawberry scented and the liquid was lighted tinted tinted pink as an association with the scent. It was your favorite to use with toys because the scent was absolutely delicious as a perfume in their air (and at this point, it was something you knew that you unconsciously associated with an orgasm).
You were naturally wet. You were throbbing and needy for him. But you knew that it would be nice to be extra slicked up to help him along.
After a moment of struggling (in which you pondered if you should interfere) he popped the cap, and then he looked from the opened bottle of lube to his hands.
“Right, so-” He mumbled quietly.
He poured a dollop on his extended fingertips that easily got carried away and dripped into his lap, and he gasped and began looking around for something to wipe it off his borrowed pants with.
“You can clean it up later, baby.” You told him. “Things are gonna get a little messy right now.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Right. Yeah-”
Then, he looked back to the bottle in his hand, and before putting it aside, he poured a dribble of the pink liquid (likely more than he had intended) onto the top of your mound, causing you to gasp quietly as the coolness dripped down over your hot, needy pussy.
“Is that good, Mommy?” He asked quietly, moving to put the bottle aside.
“That’s very good, baby.” You encouraged him gently.
“Okay - I - I’m going to - touch you now.” Spencer told you, announcing his movements in an entirely adorable way.
You nodded. “I’m ready for you, sweet boy.”
Spencer put his non-lubed hand gently on your inner thigh, and then angled two of his fingers back toward your clit again. This time when he made contact, he was much gentler, and you let out a sharp breath through your nose, warm tingles spreading through your pelvis at the feeling of him touching your swollen clit with such intention.
With his middle and pointer finger, he began a strange sort of spearing motion, rocking his hand into your pelvis. He touched your clit as though it were a literal button he was trying to push over and over again in order to make you cum. The movement didn’t do much for you - except draw a slight stinging from the area.
“Baby,” You caught his attention, drawing his eyes up from where he was intensely focused, staring hard at the place where he was touching your pussy.
“Spence, it’s - it’s more like this,”
You motioned with two of your fingers in the air, drawing small circles, demonstrating to him what he should be doing.
“Sorry.” He mumbled quietly.
“It’s okay, baby.” You assured him, reaching out and petting a hand through his hair. “It’s okay. You’re learning, right?”
He nodded. “I’m learning. I’m gonna do better.”
“I know you will, baby. You’re Mommy’s good boy.”
This bit of encouragement and praise seemed to fuel him, and he took this new instruction with vigor.
He went back to work using the motion you had just demonstrated and immediately, the difference affected you. His thick, cautious fingertips circling tentatively around your needy clit sent tingles up your spine, causing a warming glow to spread through your body that was slowly, but surely building up your orgasm. The beautiful artificial smell of the lube wafted through the air, and with the sight of Spencer in front of you, his forearm flexing slightly as he worked, it was all too perfect.
You let out a gentle moan, and Spencer smiled.
“That’s good?” He asked, looking from the spot where his fingers worked on your pussy up to your face.
“That’s good, baby.” You told him, the stimulation causing you to become slightly breathless already. “You’re doing so good for me.”
Spencer continued like this, running his other hand along your thigh, clearly feeling needy to touch and enjoy the softness of your skin now that it was freely available under his hands. His touch spread a warmth throughout your body that had you squirming under him, letting out more gentle moans under your breath.
Spencer watched you in awe, so entirely pleased with the results.
“You - you can go a bit faster, baby.” You told him, finding your throat slightly dry as your breathing sped up, more blood pooling in your needy cunt as his touch demanded it. “Speed up your fingers.”
“Yes, Mommy.” He easily obeyed.
Hearing those words in his sweet voice in addition to his touch, his fingers now moving in fast, delicate circles on your throbbing clit - it brought sparks through your body and caused slight tremors through your thighs.
It wasn’t going to be the most earth shattering orgasm you had ever experienced, but it was going to be a good one, mostly because it was Spencer. Because you had him in your bed, calling you Mommy, wearing a pair of your silky pink pajama pants that his hard cock was now leaking a stain into. All while he concentrated on learning how to please you like it was the most important book he had ever read in his life.
“Oh, Spencer!” You called out, arching your hips toward him. “Doing so good for me, baby! So good-”
Spencer stopped his movements suddenly, and your voice caught in your throat as you looked at him with tense confusion knit over your brows.
“What - what about the vaginal stimulation?” He asked. “You said you wanted me to do both, right?”
You couldn’t hold back the breathy chuckle in your throat.
If it had been anybody else, you would have immediately thought that they were edging you intentionally. But no - that wasn’t even a thought in Spencer’s head. He was simply eager to learn more, wanting to do the most to give you the best orgasm possible. He wasn’t content with mediocre. When he learned something, he wanted to be the best at it. And that thought caused any disappointment about your fading orgasm to be replaced by pride - you had somehow captured the best, sweetest boy, and you were going to use that to your full advantage.
“Right, baby.” You said, still catching your breath. You swallowed to gather some spit in your mouth to talk properly before you continued. “Okay, you’re going to continue what you were doing with this hand, but first,” You said this pointedly, motioning to the hand that was unmoving near your clit, not wanting him to continue and impair your ability to properly explain. “You’re going to work your fingers inside me.”
“What if I hurt you?” He asked, clearly timid at the idea that he might hurt you in any way.
“You won’t.” You told him. “You start with one finger, because that’s smaller, so you won’t hurt me. And then once my body has adjusted to that, you can add another. So it won’t hurt.” You assured him.
“So, I just need to use two fingers?” He asked. “Also, how do I know when to put the next finger?”
“You can add three fingers.” You told him. “And I’ll tell you when to add the next one. And you’ll know because you’ll feel the muscles relax around you.”
Spencer nodded.
“So… what’s the best… kind of… movement?” He asked, awkwardly gesturing with his free hand in a way that made you giggle.
He blushed with embarrassment at this, and you rushed to speak in the hopes that he wouldn’t feel awkward.
“You’re going to move your fingers in and out. Like simulating intercourse. The repeated penetration feels good.” You told him. “Be gentle at first, and I’ll tell you if you should go harder or faster.”
Spencer nodded.
He began slow, gentle circles on your clit again, and you let out a small moan at this. And then he moved his other hand down, skimming the fingertip of his pointer finger along your folds until he felt it - that pulsing entrance waiting for him, needy. He thought he imagined it, but it almost felt like your body was trying to suck him in.
“It’s okay, baby.” You told him, your voice gentle and encouraging, slightly hazy with pleasure. “You’re doing so good for Mommy.”
These words caused his cock to throb inside of the borrowed pants, and feeling a pulse of confidence because of it, he pushed the thickness of his finger forward and breached your entrance with his touch for the first time.
It was such a brand new feeling - having your wetness surrounding his digit, feeling your muscles clamping down on him. Feeling how hot your body was, especially compared to the lifeless coolness of a silicone fleshlight. It made him moan louder than the sound you easily trapped in your chest. You found yourself dizzied with a wave of pleasure at seeing his face so fucked out and hearing him moan like that because he was touching you.
“You like it, baby?” You asked breathlessly, angling your hips into his clumsy, unmoving hands.
Clearly he was so pleasure drunk and hazy that he had forgotten that he was supposed to be fingerfucking you. He was simply exploring, enjoying the feeling. You didn’t fault him for it, and you didn’t want to rush him, even with a filthy, needy ache growing deep inside of you.
“You’re so warm.” He replied, his quiet voice edging between awe and another moan of his own.
His eyes flickered between the place where he was touching your pussy and your breasts, heaving slightly with your labored breathing, and your face. Your lips dropped open slightly with pleasure, your eyes becoming glassy. He loved it so much. He loved you. He couldn’t get enough of this.
“Your body is so hot.”
You grinned widely at this.
Maybe a huge part of the endearment came from the fact that you knew he meant temperature, and not the typical slang meaning your appearance. It was something that clearly surprised him, feeling how hot your pussy was while being in direct contact with it.
“Thank you.” You told him. “Can you fuck me now, Doctor Reid?”
“I - Right.”
Spencer resisted the urge to apologize again, knowing you probably wouldn’t like it. And he tried to ignore how much it turned him on to hear you call him ‘Doctor Reid’ in this context. Instead - he set his attention on pleasing you.
He concentrated on picking up a good rhythm - moving his fingers on your clit in circles while he gently drew back the other hand and began moving it slowly in and out, trying to penetrate you in a pleasing way. He instantly became entranced by the natural wetness dripping out of your pussy, covering his finger, his knuckles, spreading to his palm the more he moved his finger. He was fascinated by the way your muscles did seem to give way to him, your body opening up as if you wanted more.
“Add another one, baby.” You moaned quietly. “Another finger.”
So his instincts served him right. At least somewhat. He hoped that he could remember this for next time, and please you better with less of your instructions, working more off of knowledge and instinct like this.
When he drew back his hand to do as you instructed, you added on some further advice.
“It also works better if your palm is facing up.” You told him. “The curve of your fingers is working with my body, not fighting against it.”
Spencer had been prodding into your entrance, poking his finger into you in a more exploratory way - but he definitely understood this.
“Yes, Mommy.” He said.
He flipped his hand so that his palm was facing the ceiling, immediately fascinated by how sticky his wet finger was. Then he gently prodded forward again, his middle finger joining the first. He continued to draw circles on your clit - a rhythm that became clumsy and unfocused at times, because he was easily distracted by the feeling of your tight pussy clamping down on his fingers, trying to figure out how hard he should go.
He was being incredibly tame, almost sloth-like in his movements, clearly afraid to hurt you. And he left you burning up, aching for release. The thickness of his fingers felt so amazing inside of you, better than you could have imagined - but he was so timid, and you hoped that you could draw more out of him.
“Spencer,” You moaned lightly. “Go faster. Come on, be a good boy for Mommy.”
You reached out and got a hand in his hair once again, gently cupping the back of his head and scratching your nails along his scalp.
“Yes,” He hissed out, leaning his head into your touch. “Yes, Mommy. I’ll be a good boy. I’ll be so good for you.”
He kept his eyes locked on you then, and, entirely fueled by the intense feeling pumping through his body, the pure need to serve you - he began pumping his fingers faster. Though it was clumsy at first, after a few moments, both of his hands fell into a natural rhythm with each other. His fingers circling your swollen clit became well timed with the thickness of his fingers pumping in and out of you, and in a few minutes - it became perfect.
You went from letting out a few solitary sounds to every other one of your breaths becoming a moan, your lips perfectly parted, showing him how well he was doing.
When he saw your heated eyes and your lips wrapped around those moans so perfectly, that was when he knew it - that was a face of desire. The one he would spend the rest of his days trying to recreate in you.
“So good, baby.” You moaned out, your words becoming less durable as he stole them away with pleasure. “Go harder.”
“Harder?” He warbled back.
His wrist was beginning to shake, not used to this kind of repeated effort. (Truthfully, he wasn’t used to any more effort than hefting around a thick book for a while.) But he would keep it up for as long as it took to make you cum. He would do it until his arm fell off if he got to see you fall apart beneath him.
“Yes, harder!” You confirmed, giving a firm tug on his hair to encourage him.
Spencer let out a sharp whimper at this, and angled his elbow further between your thighs, trying to put less strain on the muscles of his wrist so he could do as you instructed.
He began rubbing your clit with more urgency, and fucked his fingers into you even harder. He let out a moan as the sound then got to his ears - the wet slapping of his knuckles smacking up against the edges of your cunt, so rough and careless. He really was fucking you, he was taking over your body at your command, his touch was being used for your pleasure, and you were definitely being pleasured by him.
“Spencer!” You howled, a sound that would stick in his mind forevermore.
It was something that caught his entire body on fire in seconds and made his dick ache with red hot pin-pricks. He was surprised that he didn’t cum in his pants from that alone. But he was far too concentrated on keeping up the pace, fascinated by the way your pussy spasmed around his fingers, the way your thighs jolted and shook in a similar fashion that his legs had a few nights ago.
“Oh, Spence! Good boy! Good boy, oh-!”
You let out a sharp gasp and your head tilted back, and you seemed to gulp for air for a few moments while he continued to brutally fuck his fingers into you and rock his fingertips against your clit, angling your hips into the touches as though you were trying to get more from him.
Though it seemed impossible, his knuckles were flooded with an even further wetness. And though he almost couldn’t bear to look away from your face, he did chance a glance down to your beautifully raw, fluttering pussy and saw that there was a distinct puddle of wetness on the sheets below you. You were the most gorgeous fountain he had ever seen.
If he didn’t think it was out of place, he would have leaned down to lick you, curious about what your natural wetness tasted like.
“Oh, Spence!” You squealed, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it almost seemed like you were trying to squirm away from his touch. “Oh - oh, baby! You can s-slow down now! You did - did s-so good!”
Spencer slowed down, as instructed. And then - when he put it together in his mind, he gently eased off touching you entirely, feeling your pussy spasming and throbbing harshly under his touch. It was fascinating really, the way your body responded to him. He badly wanted to explore it more - explore it for hours uninterrupted. But for now, he had a simple question.
“Was that the orgasm?” He wondered aloud.
The unadulterated curiosity bleeding through his voice when he said this had you clenching hard around his unmoving fingers, so entirely turned on by the fact that he was just as awed by you as he was fine art or any thousand page encyclopedia.
You couldn’t hold back the bright, breathless chuckle that escaped your lungs in response.
“Yes, baby, that was the orgasm.” You told him. “What did you think?”
“That was… spectacular.” Spencer told you, sounding almost as breathless himself.
“You can pull your fingers out of me now.” You instructed, feeling slightly sensitive, unconsciously clenching around the digits and accidentally overstimulating your raw pussy in the process.
“Oh. Right.” Spencer mumbled.
He moaned quietly as he did so - loving the purely wet sound it made, like pulling away from a good kiss. He found himself in awe of the string of wetness that followed his fingers from your opening, like a thick string of salvia. He began rubbing his fingers together, studying it with utter fascination as you watched him with that concentrated look on his face again. You wondered how you had stumbled upon such a treasure of a man.
Your eyes fell from his face to the prominent bulge of his cock still pressing into the front of those thin pink pants, the wet spot his precum made now even wider, and you immediately came up with a new idea.
“Why don’t you touch yourself for me, baby?” You posed. “Your hand is already so nice and wet.”
“Oh - I - I - should-?” Spencer stuttered out, looking from his glistening hands to the tent in his borrowed pants, a million thoughts flying through his very vast mind.
“Hey, shh, it’s okay.” You soothed him gently. “Just tell me if that’s something you want. Yes or no.”
“Yes.” He said, a desperate whisper on his lips. “Can - can you untie my pants for me?”
You hummed in agreement and reached over, untying the well secured knot on the pants and then pulling the loose waistband down over his thick, excited cock, letting it spring out to hit his pelvis. He moaned quietly at this.
“Make yourself cum for me, baby.” You encouraged him. “You were so good for me, you made me cum so good. Such a good boy. You deserve this.”
You began running your fingers through his hair again, something he seemed to heavily enjoy. Spencer - now wildly chasing his instincts, working on need alone and trying to push back all those doubts, reached out with those glistening fingers and gently dipped into your pussy again. The contact on your beating folds caused you to gasp, and Spencer shuddered slightly at this, mumbling out at an excuse.
“I wanted-” He muttered quietly. “I just… wanted it to be wetter.”
“Good boy.” You moaned out. You definitely didn’t want to discourage him from doing things like this.
You wanted to mention the fact that there was a bottle of lube sitting less than a foot away. But clearly he had developed a fascination for your wetness, and you didn’t want to stifle that fascination in him or embarrass him.
Spencer then took those slicked up fingers and stroked them across his cock. Just the knowledge that it was your wetness, the essence of your pussy touching his cock - that had dizzying waves fluttering through him that almost had him crumbling to fall on top of you.
It took all of his remaining composure to stay upright. He was so furiously turned on that his cock was leaking precum like a sputtering faucet. He easily took advantage of that, cupping his hand into a well-known grip around his shaft and spreading that natural lubrication down from the sensitive, leaking cockhead to the rest of his dick. This caused his neglected, needy cock to easily light up and unconsciously buck into his own hand.
“‘s too fast,” He whined out.
His face took on a desperate frown as he continued to pump his hand over his cock almost mildly, almost as if he were afraid to go harder.
He looked so beautifully wrecked - with his brows creased downward and his lip caught between his teeth, with that messy hand pumping his own leaking cock.
“Too fast?” You asked, unsure what he meant.
“It’s - it’s not-” He stuttered out, his brain becoming scattered and wordless to describe the feeling rushing through him.
“Hey, shh,” You scratched your nails against his scalp again, grounding him. “Use your words, baby. Come on, be a good boy.”
“Mommy!” He whined, his hips bucking forward desperately into his own hand, wetly smearing precum to the point where it became noisy. Your pussy throbbed at this and you resisted the urge to reach down and touch yourself, not wanting to distract him.
“Baby, come on. Tell Mommy.” You ordered firmly.
He sniffled loudly before he attempted more words.
“Gonna end too fast.” He whined sharply.
He sounded entirely petulant - as though he were truly upset that he was going to cum too soon and the night’s activities would be over. As though the two of you didn’t have plenty more nights to play.
“It’s okay, baby.” You told him, reaching a hand over to thumb across his cheek, wiping away some of the frustrated tears that had escaped. “You did so good for me. You’re so good.”
“I want more.” He whined out, clearly frustrated.
“Mommy will always give you more.” You assured him. “But right now, you’re gonna cum for me.”
He let out a wounded noise, some kind of protest, but his hips jolted as he continued to fuck his own hand. You had him right there.
“Cum for me.” You demanded, your voice dark and demanding.
It was a command he absolutely couldn’t ignore if he tried.
“Mommy! Oh! Oh!”
He let out a sharp cry as he came, and pumped himself through it.
Neither of you had considered where he was going to cum. On his knees in front of you like that, he ended up in the perfect position to spill his load right onto your exposed cunt. Just like the last time you had played, he exploded with a massive power. Though he didn’t seem to have any care for where he was angling his cock or what he was cumming on, simply continuing to chant ‘oh, oh, oh’ under his breath with his eyes beautifully screwed shut and his mouth wide open, delicately pumping his hand on his cock to ride his orgasm all the way through.
Thick, white waves of his cum landed on your pussy - startlingly warm, almost blazen hot compared to the cool air of the room. Something that easily made you moan, especially when paired with the beautiful sight of his orgasmic face in front of you and the way he so carelessly fucked himself, clearly only wanting to achieve his own pleasure and not caring if it was a good show or not - which was what made him so damn beautiful.
When Spencer had milked himself dry, his cock starting to go soft in his own hand and the pleasant tingles becoming more like harsh pin-pricks of overstimulation, he put a hand on the wideness of your thigh for support, his muscles shaking. And then he finally opened his eyes.
He felt even dizzier when he saw the sight before him - your gorgeously lingerie clad body and naked pussy now covered in the thick white of his spend. A small voice in the back of his head wondered if you could get pregnant from this, and another told him that - yes, it would be good if you did. You would look so good pregnant with his child. A child the two of you made together would be smart, beautiful, charismatic, brilliant and perfect in every aspect.
He hadn’t even fully acknowledged that he was in love with you yet, but that was the moment he knew for certain that he wanted you to be the mother of his children. There was no other woman in the world who would be comparable to you - no other woman as perfect for the task.
(He didn’t know that you were on oral birth control, so it didn’t matter if he had cum inside you - you weren’t going to get pregnant. Not without intending to.)
“Oh, did I-?” He motioned toward the mess, seeming worried.
Before he could apologize for it, you reached your fingers down and began lightly padding through it, and Spencer let out a wrecked moan at the sight.
“You did such a good job, baby.” You told him, still entirely certain.
Before he could comprehend it, you brought a finger up to your mouth - one covered in the combined essence of yourself and Spencer, and curled your tongue around it, moaning at the taste. Spencer could do nothing more than make unintelligible noises, and you giggled as you released the finger.
“Good boy.”
Spencer was dizzy and hazy from all the pleasure, and there was only one thing on his mind.
“Can I have a hug now?” He asked, his voice still sweet and soft.
“Yes, baby. Come here.” You spread your arms wide and Spencer practically launched himself at you.
He laid completely on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him, stroking up and down his back lazily as you enjoyed the peaceful calm of his breathing.
After only a few moments, you felt him start to fall asleep like that. His muscles turned to jelly, and his breathing came out in long, soft puffs. He looked so adorable nuzzled into your breasts that you didn’t want to wake him up, even if the drying mess between your thighs was becoming uncomfortable, and you knew that he definitely wouldn’t want to sleep in it for too long.
You continued petting your fingers through his hair gently. You would wake him up in a little while and get cleaned up, you assured yourself.
You definitely weren’t falling for him, feeling things that extended far outside of sexual attraction.
Nope. Definitely not.
...
If this series is going to get a third part, I would love to see more than 30 comments and more than 60 reblogs, and I would love to know what you guys would like to see from a third part in the series.
I will be honest, I am kind of starting to lose steam on this series already - the reason I have titled is as a Capsule Series on my masterlist is because I want each individual part to be able to be read as a oneshot with no particular big arcs in the story, and no need for a big dramatic ending. Also, if I do come back to this series in a few months or years and want to write more for it, I can.
If you have any ideas for this series - kinks/concepts/moments you want to see happen with these characters, please let me know. Even if those moments don't make it into a full-length third part, I might write your idea into a short spin-off like I did with Loverboy. I always leave the anon option turned on so people can send me messages if they feel shy or they don't want to reblog a fic onto their blog.
#sundrop writes#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid#sub!spencer#sub!spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x y/n
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⠀ ⠀ ── ᰥ ๋ 🚀 ̯࣪ ⭒ playing videogames together !
nct dream sfw headcanon. fluff, crack. so late for the hype only up had a couple of months ago but anywayyy. cleaning my drafts. mdni. library.
⠀ ୭ 🧷 ♡: only up — haechan.
jokes on you just for thinking you were going to remotely get near his pc, because this is a gameplay. he gets cocky pretty quick when he's playing. “don't worry, sweetheart. you get to play when i lose,” he'd say with an arrogant tone; he never loses. he also whines your name because you get in the way.
he'd probably brag about finishing the game in record time just to impress you.
he's a pain in the ass, honestly; his game nights sum up to him playing and you watching him play which you don't mind that much since you get to snuggle with him on his gaming chair. the truth is that he likes to annoy you, but he does it with love; after all, his computer is full of games he has downloaded just because he knows they are your favorites.
⠀ ୭ 🧷 ♡: bread and fred — mark.
“yo, i almost got it!” he'd take his head in his hands, sullen. “mark! oh, my god!” constant yelling at each other but on the inside you love each other. you think you're having a good time but the truth is mark's about to burst into flames; he's the worst gaming pal ever, but it's okay because you love him. “babe, c'mon, focus.” he gets so sulky sometimes.
a lot of nervous laughter when he messes up. would suggest playing spiderman because he's sure he'd be good in that one although there is some chance that he might be terrible at that too. pouts a lot and blames himself, causing you to stop the game and comfort him; just as he planned.
his exclamations would make the moment enjoyable and fun even if you have more defeats than victories.
⠀ ୭ 🧷 ♡: detroit become human — jisung.
so chill and cozy when playing games. jisung is so the opposite of haechan; video game afternoons with him are calm and peaceful. “you forgot a clue earlier, babe.” the best playmate in the world. mainly because he only wants to cuddle with his pretty girl, and since you're always moving around with episodes of hyperactivity, he found playing was the only way you'd stay still.
his hands innocently rubbing your tummy would make you lose your concentration. you won't be so happy with it, “ji, we're in a serious business right now, hello?” and it would end up with him nervously laughing on your neck “i swear i'm not doing it on purpose.” (he's in fact, doing it on purpose). actively participates in what is happening so he can be forgiven for being a puckish goofball.
he comments a lot during your gameplay and gives you advice on what to do when you need help.
⠀ ୭ 🧷 ♡: call of duty — chenle.
it's all laugh until it doesn't. i mean, take this seriously or receive a silent treatment. he's pretty chill until the team starts to lose, so you better man up. “no more funsies, bon bon,” he'd say before teaching you some 101, prayers for you to learn fast. this is a job, a lifestyle, like a life or death situation; he can't let ningning know she's better than you under any circumstances, he'll teach you to be a pro if that means rewarding you with kisses when you do well.
he's the scariest of all. full concentration. even the way he speaks becomes severe. if you happen to be nervous about disappointing him and he notices it, he'd pause the game to make sure you're okay, and probably joke about how bad you are at it.
“that's my girl!” kisses between victories “don't get used to it, tho” he doesn't want to spoil you. but... if it keeps you motivated, sure he will.
⠀ ୭ 🧷 ♡: ds games — jaemin.
more a watcher than a player. he likes to listen to you rant about a game you played when you were younger. it's so relaxing hearing your voice he falls asleep while you're talking. “oh, did i fall asleep? i was just resting my eyes.” “jae, you were snoring...” try to fix it with guilt tripping you because your voice's calm, yada, yada, “can you blame me, angel?” afternoons with him are peaceful, laying on his bed while you play cooking games and naming pokemons like they're your pets.
it becomes fun because he's very bad even at games that don't have difficulty levels. you're surprised at how bad he is, but you actually find it cute that he at least tries it for you.
⠀ ୭ 🧷 ♡: dayz — jeno.
he knows you're not good at it so he takes it pretty chill. the most understanding boyfriend, although it annoys you a little that he doesn't have competitiveness; he just wants to find a hobby that both of you like. friendly matches even when you guys lose on the battle royale cause you both suck. “gosh, not even two minutes in and we're out...” he teaches you how to play but it's only an excuse for you to sit on his lap while you're at it. he, in fact, chose it because he thought you would get scared of the zombies and would cuddle with him.
he's the one who suggests kisses between victories... and then suggests it every time you run into a zombie. he's the type to get obsessed with a game you recommend him so he can impress you when you play it together.
⠀ ୭ 🧷 ♡: mario party — renjun.
you're his known enemy. no friendly matches here, like for real. this is a win or a-win situation. the type who would do the silent treatment if you allowed yourself to lose to haechan. pushing the buttons furiously as if it actually did something, and putting all his energy into making body motions into the games as if it adds points if he's extra. “you're laughing?” “no, honey.” you are. he looks bite-sized and makes all this fuss.
you actually envy his passion. he's the best option when playing in pairs because he's the mastermind. making all the strategy moves. any ounce of shame when he takes your game controller and plays for you. it's not even funny anymore, but in renjun we trust.
#nct dream headcanons#nct dream fluff#nct dream soft hours#nct dream reaction#haechan scenarios#mark scenarios#renjun scenarios#park jisung scenarios#chenle scenarios#jeno scenarios#jaemin scenarios#nct dream fluff headcanons#♡dream
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One thing this episode really lingered on is just how much The Owl House is a story about stories -- fandom, and stories told within stories, and breaking the mold to write your own, new one, and history as a narrative and parallels to the past, but also not being beholden to repeat them.
It's Luz stumbling into a magical world and deciding to stay because of the stories she loves. It's Eda telling her there are no chosen ones there, but stories turning out to having real power even when chosen ones don't. It's Luz and Amity having their first real bonding moment in a library, battling a book that came to life. It's Azura bringing them together. It's Luz learning about Philip Wittebane first through the false, polished, carefully curated story he wrote about himself in his diary. It's Eda telling Luz and King the story of how she met Raine before they're ever able to meet them. It's the repeating cycle of grimwalkers, constructed to play roles in a story they were never privy to. It's Caleb only ever being shown through glimpses and snatches of the narrative that swallowed him up, but being present all the same. It's Gus and Hunter stumbling upon Camila's old favorite series and connecting to it the same way she did (and then some). It's the constant meta jokes about various books the characters love mirroring the show. It's the kids on a haunted hayride being told about the Wittebane brothers like they're a ghost story, except they know they were real -- and who the real monster was.
It's meeting your girlfriend because of fandom. It's the book series your dad gifted to you just before he died that brought you much-needed comfort at the time, and so much more in the future. It's looking deep inside and saying "Stories help me be the person I want to be" and "You want me to repeat the way this happened in the past, but I refuse" and "Stories help us remember those who are gone."
It's Luz finally stepping back into the Demon Realm dressed as Azura, the character that lead her there in the first place, at the end of the beginning of the end of the show's own story.
It's about how stories can save your life.
#a theme that consistently fucks me up in the best way#the owl house#toh spoilers#f: us weirdos have to stick together
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hoax ~ p.p
chapter two: delicate
series masterlist
The videos of you being saved by Spiderman went viral overnight so when you walked onto campus the next day, everyone already knew. You smiled at the people who pointed and whispered at you as you searched for your friends. Finally, you spotted them at a library table and ran up to them. Peter broke into a smile when he saw you coming but you didn’t even think to look at him.
“Girl.” Gwen said before you could speak and gave you a knowing look. She held up her phone with a picture of you in Spider-Man’s arms on it.
“Before you say anything.” You threw your hands up in defense. “It was actually an accident. I swear.”
“Proceed.” Gwen nodded and patted the seat beside her.
“Okay so yes, he heroically saved me from getting smushed by a car a la Twilight. But that wasn’t even the best part.” You told the group as you excitedly slammed your hands on the table.
“Well damn. I sure hope nearly getting creamed by a car wasn’t the best part.” MJ scoffed.
“After he saved me from the car, he walked me home and told me he wants to make a habit of it.” You said and then let out an excited scream.
“Are you sure this wasn’t just some vivid dream you had last night?” Kate laughed.
“Nope. My dreams starring Spiderman are never that PG.” You said with a wink. “This was real and it was amazing. I seriously couldn’t stop smiling all night.”
“Or now.” Kate pointed out.
“I hope he walks me home again today.” You sighed happily. “I just wish my dorm wasn’t so close. We don’t get that much time to talk.”
“So why don’t you ask him to walk a little longer with you?” Gwen suggested.
“I can’t ask him that. If he asked me, I’d say yes. But I don’t want to freak him out by asking him to stay longer. He’ll think I’m just some kid with a schoolgirl crush. I want him to see me as a real potential romantic interest.”
Peter started choking on his water when he heard this. He was still recovering from the comment about your dreams and hearing that you actually wanted a relationship sent him over the edge. He turned bright red when everyone looked at him and wiped his mouth.
“Sorry.” He mumbled.
“You’re not seriously thinking you’re gonna date Spiderman, are you?” Gwen asked you.
“Why can’t I? He’s our age and we really connected yesterday. You should’ve seen the way he was looking at me.”
“Looking at you? Through the giant cartoon eyes on his mask?” MJ teased.
“Shut up. Let me have this. I think I really like him.” You sighed and rested your chin on your hand. Peter realized he had been staring at you in the exact same position and quickly snapped out of it.
“I’d really like a guy who saved me from getting flattened like a pancake on a filthy New York street too.” Gwen shrugged.
“Hey, we all know I liked him way before that.” You reminded them. “This isn’t gonna be like that episode of ICarly when Carly thinks she likes Freddie but really she just liked that he saved her. I really do like this guy. Meeting him last night just confirmed to me that this crush was well placed. He’s perfect. And I’m gonna lock it down.”
“I love you and I wanna be supportive but there’s no way you and Spiderman are gonna be a thing. That’s just not gonna happen. It’s too crazy.” MJ told you while your other friends nodded in agreement. You seemed genuinely crushed by their response so Peter jumped in.
“I think they will be a thing. It’s crazy enough that it just might happen.” He said, making you smile in surprise.
“Why is Peter my only supporter? I’m gonna drop all of you and just be friends with him.” You joked. Peter blushed nonetheless and looked at you with a shy smile.
“Like you guys have ever had a conversation just the two of you.” MJ snorted. You and Peter both dropped your smiles immediately when you I realized she was right.
“Got me there.” You admitted. “Just like I’m gonna get you. By locking down a superhero. Just you watch.”
With that, you got up and went to your next class. The time could not have gone slower as you waited for the bell to ring. You had one more class after that and then you could see if Spiderman really did want to walk you home. Part of you worried that he might’ve just said that to be polite and bragging to your friends about it was a premature celebration. But when you left your last class and saw him perched on a building nearby, you knew you were right about him. He spotted you and dropped down as you clasped your hands under your chin in delight.
“You came back.” You gushed.
“Course I did. I said I’d walk you home, didn’t I?” Peter said causally and put a hand on your back to lead you away from campus. Without saying a word, he took your backpack from your shoulder and carried it for you. Peter remembered hearing you say once that you were a fan of old fashioned gestures, so carrying your books for you seemed like a foolproof way to win you over. It worked in his favor and you smiled dreamily at him before letting out a happy sigh.
“I was kinda worried you’d forget about me.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been thinking about you all day. And all last night. Might’ve even caught a whiff of your perfume in my sleep.” Peter said, making your eyes go wide before you broke into a fond smile.
“Really? Because I’ve been thinking about you too.” You told him and touched his arm with both your hands.
“Have you?” Peter gulped, even though he already knew that.
“I may have mislead you about just how much of a fan I was. You’re kinda my celebrity crush.”
“I’m no celebrity.” He chuckled. “But I’m definitely flattered.”
“You are to me. You’re so young but risk your life every night to keep strangers safe. Strangers who don’t even appreciate you. But I do. I appreciate you.” You told him and never let go of his arm. Peters heart was pounding so loudly in his ears from the physical contact that he could hardly hear you.
“Thank you. That means a lot. And for the record, you’re my civilian crush. If that means anything to you.” He told you.
“Wow. I’ve never been so excited to be called a civilian. And thanks. That means everything, trust me. I don’t think I’ve been anybody’s crush in a while.” You smiled coyly and squeezed his arm. Peter stopped walking to look at you and when you noticed, you stopped too.
“You know you’re beautiful, right?” He said sincerely. It was the first time a Peter felt he could genuinely compliment you instead of just commenting on your clothing or hair. Being behind the mask made him feel fearless.
“No, I’m not.” You laughed uncomfortably at the unexpected compliment.
“You are.” He insisted. “There’s just something about you. I’ve never been good with words and “beautiful” doesn’t even begin to cover it but what I guess what I’m trying to say is…I like you.”
“I like you too.” You stopped again and smiled softly at him. You realized you had reached your dorm at that point and felt your smile fade. But unbeknownst to you, Peter knew all about what you wanted Spiderman to ask you.
“Do you mind if we keep walking?” He asked. “I like talking to you but the walk isn’t that long.”
“Sure.” Your smile returned and you walked together past your dorm. You continued down the sidewalk and you told him about your day. Peter couldn’t tell you about his since it included you, so he just listened. It was interesting to hear about what you didn’t when you weren’t with your friends since you never really talked to Peter about those things. It was insanely easy to talk to you now that he was hidden under his mask. You never had a moment of silence between you and said whatever came to your minds and no matter how irrelevant or random it was, it never felt awkward. You walked around the block and by the time you got back to your dorm, you felt okay parting.
“Thanks for walking me home again. And for talking to me.” You said once you were standing outside your building.
“You don’t have to thank me. You’re easy to talk to. I really like our conversations.”
“So do I.” You smiled shyly
“Maybe I could give you my number so we could talk more.” Peter offered, making you break into a smile.
“I’d love that.” You nodded and handed him your phone. He put his number in and hoped there never came a day you needed it exchange numbers with Peter in school. He put his contact as the spider emoji and handed your phone back to you. You stared at the contact and smiled once you saw what he had put.
“Is it weird and totally lame if I hug you right now?” You asked him. Peter smiled under the mask and pulled you into a hug. You hugged him back and felt the strange material of his suit under your fingertips. When you pulled away, you wished more than anything that you could kiss him. But he had a mask on and besides that, it was way too soon. Even so, you both wanted it to happen.
“Well, thanks again spidey.” You smiled softly and squeezed his arm.
“Anytime.” He said, and he meant it.
The next day at school, Ned was back. Peter had purposefully not informed him about what he had been going on with you because it didn’t feel like the kind of thing you explained over text. He had plans to tell Ned about it during his lunch period, but you and your friends sat down at the table before he got a chance.
“Guess who walked me home again and said he has a crush on me and said I’m beautiful and asked to keel walking to keep the conversation going and gave me his number?” You whispered in a hushed yet excited voice as you set your lunch down.
“Thor?” MJ asked sarcastically.
“Spiderman. He’s the one, guys.” You sighed happily and looked back down at your phone to reread the last messages you and Peter had sent each other. You texted all night and during the day, but Peter kept his phone facedown now that you were near.
“Wait, what?” Ned asked and looked at Peter for answers. Peter gulped and signaled to Ned to drop it for now.
“Oh, right. You weren’t here all week. You missed Y/n getting a superhero boyfriend.” Gwen filled Ned in. Ned slowly turned to Peter with a look of “seriously dude?” while Peter avoided eye contact.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” You rolled your eyes. “Not yet, anyways. But we were texting all night.”
“Were you? Texting the Spiderman, you say?” Ned asked you but never took his eyes off Peter. Peter made brief eye contact with Ned and then hid his face behind his hand.
“He’s so funny, you guys.” You told them. “And surprisingly so smooth. I hope I’m the only girl he’s talking too. I’d be devastated if I found out he uses his superhero status to get girls to date him. I hope I’m not just one of many on his roster.”
“You’re the only girl.” Peter said a little too quickly. Everyone looked at him, especially Ned, and he quickly tried to recover.
“I’m guessing.” Peter shrugged “Because if you weren’t, there would probably be a lot of news articles about girls who he dated and dumped, right? But there have never been any. So he’s probably only talking to you.”
“Oh my God.” Your eyes widened as you stared at Peter. Peter felt the fear of God inside him as he thought you may have just recognized his voice and figured it all out.
“That’s so true!” You said instead. “I’ve never seen a story about Spiderman swooping down and walking girls home like he did for me. That makes it even more exciting. I wonder why he chose me, though. I’m not special.”
“Yes you are.” Peter insisted, striking a familiar note inside you. The way he said it reminded you of Spiderman telling you that you were beautiful, but you quickly shook it off.
“What I mean is, maybe he saw the pin on your backpack and knew you were a fan.” Peter followed up to cover his tracks. Ned gave him a knowing look that Peter ignored.
“Isn’t that a power imbalance though? It would be weird if he only went for you because he knew you were a fan. Because if he did, that means he knew you’d never say no to him if he asked you out. It’s like a celebrity asking out a fan at a meet and greet.” MJ said with a grimace.
“It’s not like that.” You shook your head. “He assured me he’s not a celebrity. And when I talk to him, he’s just like any guy our age. Only better in every way. He had me kicking my feet and screaming into my pillow all night.”
“Did he now?” Kate smirked.
“He hasn’t answered me in a few hours but it’s fine. He’s probably busy saving the world.” You shrugged and sent him another text. Peter held his breath as his phone buzzed twice but no one seemed to notice.
“Or doing homework.” Ned said as he stared directly at the open notebook next to Peters lunch. Peter quickly shut the notebook and stopped doing his homework.
“Spider-Man probably doesn’t even do homework. He’s a superhero. I can’t imagine he goes to school. He’s too cool for that.” You told your friends.
“He’s not that cool.” Ned assured you as he stared daggers at Peter.
“Well, I think he is. And I can’t wait for class to end so I can see my man.”
“Oh God. It’s been two days. Don’t get too attached. He could still end up being a total asshole.” MJ warned you.
“I know. But still. I think this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You beamed. Ned turned to look at Peter again, and this time, Peter looked guiltily into Neds eyes.
Once everyone dispersed and went off to class, Ned caught up with Peter and pulled him into an empty classroom to talk about what he had just heard.
“Best thing that’s ever happened to her, huh? Dude, what are you doing to Y/n?” Ned whispered.
“I’m making her the happy. Didn’t you hear her?She finally likes me, Ned.”
“No, she likes Spiderman.” Ned corrected. “Don’t you feel bad listening to her talk about him knowing that it’s really you she’s talking about? She has no idea that she’s saying those things in front of the guy she likes.”
“I’ll tell her soon, okay? I just don’t want to lose the mystery yet. It’s like all the sudden, I have unlimited rizz and she can’t get enough of me. She never looked twice at me as Peter but she’s crazy about Spider-Man. I’ve been in her friend group September and never got her number but she gave it to Spiderman in one day.”
“This isn’t gonna end well, Peter.” Ned sighed. “You need to tell her the truth.”
“But what if she doesn’t want the truth? What if she’s disappointed when she finds out who’s under the mask? What if….what if I’m disappointing?”
“If your connection is as real as you’re both saying it is, then she’ll be happy no matter who’s under the mask. But if you don’t think she’ll like you anymore when she finds out it’s you she’e been talking to, maybe that’s a sign that this is a bad idea.”
“She’s been dreaming of this happening to her for years. It’ll crush her if it turns out her big mystery guy was just some loser she’s sort of friends with.”
“So you think it’s better to lie to her?”
“I’m not lying to her. It’s not like I ever went up to her and said “hey, I’m not Spiderman, by the way”. Or ever told her as Spiderman that I didn’t already know her and go to her school. That would be lying. What I’m doing is just not telling her what she doesn’t need to know yet.”
“You’re lying by omission. That’s still lying.”
“I disagree.” Peter shrugged. “She likes Spiderman and Spiderman likes her back. That’s all this is. I just haven’t told her who Spiderman is yet. And I swear, we have a real connection and it’s not just because I’m Spiderman. She likes me for me and finally feels the way about me that I’ve always felt about her.”
“But she doesn’t know the whole truth. How do you think she’s gonna react when she find out you used things she said to Peter to get closer to her as Spiderman?”
“Maybe she’ll think it’s romantic that I tried that hard.” Peter said weakly.
“Or maybe she’ll think you’re insane and invaded her privacy.” Ned said. “You need to tell her.“
“I will, okay? I promise.” Peter told him as you caught his eye down the hallway. You were smiling at your phone and typing away just as Peter felt his phone buzz. He and looked down at it and saw a selfie you had sent him of you doing a kissy face.
“miss you spidey” You had written. Peter felt a blush cross his face and looked at you again.
“Just not today.” He said quietly.
🖤🕸️🖤
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𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐
Warning: Angst, spoiler for episode 10 (I promise there will be more Aemond after this chapter) (Part 1 - Part 3) Masterlist
Summary : You are content in Dragonstone, until the news of the King's death reaches the Fortress. You have no allies, and so you go to the only place where you don't expect to find him.
You were happy at Dragonstone. You were absolutely delighted by Rhaenyra's children, both old and young. The babes were incredibly sweet with everyone, and you felt the loving family radiating inside the castle walls, love that you did not feel in the Red Keep.
Jacaerys and Lucerys were both quite busy but they still found time for you, inviting you to some of their activities, tending to their dragons… You were intimidated by both Rhaenyra and Daemon, but it passed quickly as you remembered how considerate Rhaenyra was, and how much the Rogue Prince liked a good joke. The only thing unplanned was the length of your stay. You've been in Dragonstone for far longer than you and your father had intended, not for the displeasure of Ser Lorent Marbrand who was your only close family inside the great walls of the fortress. You had asked several months ago to extend your journey, and everybody had agreed. You missed your family a bit, Helaena and your friends, but you were dreading your return. The return to him.
You shivered from your thoughts as you entered the great hall. You had just come back from the library down one of the towers, having finished studying healing properties of seaweeds when you heard that the Princess Rhaenys had just landed in Dragonstone by one of the guards. You stumbled upon some lords and Daemon all standing around the table as you advanced further into the hall. Feeling like you were not in your place, you tried to sneak away as graciously as possible, maybe go to the beach where you knew the princes were sparring, but a horrifying scream froze you into place.
You rushed toward the screams, crossing the room and not bothering about what the Rogue Prince and the lords there might think. You found Rhaenyra in agonising pain, clutching her belly, maids feet away from her, as lost for what to do.
You ran to her, trying to steady her, "Princess, what happened? Why is this happening?" You knew it was too early for the labour to begin.
"King Viserys, my father, is dead," she announced through gritted teeth when she was able to look at you properly. You froze as she grabbed your arm for support. She cried of pain once more before keeping on. "Prince Aegon has been crowned today. In the Dragonpit."
You said nothing as images went through your head. The grief of the Queen, Aegon with a crown on his head before the people, swinging his sword above his head... His grandfather, protector and wife at his side, as well as Aemond.
Aemond who always found Aegon not fitted for the throne, but supported him nonetheless. Aemond who was fierce, wiser and more willing to be crowned, but always took his duty as the second son to heart, no matter his opinion on the matter. Aemond, who rose higher and higher as the years passed, surpassing his brother in everything aside from debauchery. Aemond, who was certainly standing at his side as his brother was crowned king, standing tall with his usual stance, arms behind his back, eye scanning the room.
You were not feeling well. All of the implications of such an event dawning on you. You were separated from your family, and you had no idea what would happen to them, as they have always been loyal to King Viserys, and always found Otto Hightower manipulative enough to achieve his dark schemes. And there you were, with the true heir to the throne giving birth month too early, and no means of action.
The new Black Queen gave birth to a stillborn, and was crowned during its funeral. All went fast. Lords were demanding war as Rhaenyra tried to slow them down, preferring diplomacy. When her sons volunteered to be messengers for the lords who had pledged loyalty to her, including Lord Borros Baratheon, you couldn't help but intervene. The Baratheons were some of your kin, your aunt married one of their lords and have lived in Storm's End ever since. So you required of the Queen to be sent there with Lucerys to be mainly an asset in the negotiation, but also because you wanted to be with your family in order to better step out of this fight. You wouldn't do anything until you had news of your father. Ser Lorent, ever protective of you, did not succeed in changing your mind.
You learned that you were to fly on dragon back, and you weren't enchanted per say. You enjoyed flying, but the only dragon you have ever ridden was Vhagar, and there was much more room than Arrax offered. However, you arrived in Storm's End several hours later.
"It is best if I enter alone," Lucerys said at first. You wanted to argue but a roar echoed through the courtyard. You turned and saw Vhagar lifting her head above the walls. You swallowed.
He was here.
Part of you wanted to run into the hall, hoping he'd be right there, but the other part of you feared the moment you would see him. You could not allow yourself to give up all the hard work you had done while you were away from him. Not at a moment of such crisis. Your head told you to stay put, but your heart was longing for just a sight of him, a glance, a word.
You stayed outside as the rain started to pour and Lucerys entered the hall. Vhagar seems to recognise you from afar, as Arrax became more and more agitated. You tried to soothe him but you weren't his rider and failed to even approach him. You took shelter under the porch when the rain started to blur your vision. After a while, the doors opened again, the guards revealing a Lucerys as agitated as his dragon. You struggled to hear him above the loud thunderstorm.
"Y/N, you must stay! Find your aunt, I must warn my mother as soon as possible, it's-," he quickly looked at the doors behind him, tension emanated in waves from him, and you were starting to be scared. You wanted to know if he had seen Aemond, though you felt like you already knew the answer.
"It's too dangerous on dragon-back!" he continued over the rain, "I'll come back for you, meanwhile, if you have affection for my family, please try to convince Lord Borros to take our side!"
You wanted to argue once more. Too dangerous on dragon-back? You just arrived this way, why not depart the same way? He feared something, and you felt it. But how long will he be gone? What had happened?
However, your wishes were becoming true: you were exactly where you wanted, you had the opportunity to stay away from the halls of Dragonstone where battle strategies were surely planned, as well as away from the halls of the Red Keep. Your desire to step away from the boiling conflict achieved. Although it seems here, in Storm's End, you were running toward another diplomatic disaster.
Lucerys hugged you briefly, at your own surprise. You reciprocated his affection before watching him speaking to Arrax and mounting him, flying away with haste. You looked over the wall. Vhagar was invisible to you now. Was Aemond gone too, or was it just too blurry for you to see?
You announced yourself, and the guard let you in. Lord Borros was surprised by your presence. You thought it best to exclude the fact that you came with Lucerys at first, because if you were right, the meeting between the Prince and Lord Baratheon did not go well. If you were to appear as a guest and not demand alliances away, it would be smarter. So you settled to only ask to see your kin.
At first, you dodged the questions of your arrival with ability, but when your aunt arrived you were finally able to relax. You learned that Lord Borros has refused Lucerys' demand to honour the oath his father made to the Black Queen, and that shortly after, Prince Aemond, who had arrived the day before, had demanded his eye in return for the harm he caused him all those years ago. You were expecting to see him appear in the hall at any moment, but you were told he left. To chase the younger Prince.
Panic took you at that announcement. You barely managed to admit that it was Lucerys that brought you here with the calm demanded of your position, and finally you were able to take your leave. Your aunt was glad to see you, but looked very worried. But it didn't matter. You wanted to rush outside and scream into the storm for Aemond to return, not to harm his nephew.
You were useless, dragon-less.
Hours passed. You were settling in your aunt's apartments, tormented, the storm still raging outside. You thought you heard a roar several times over the raging sea, but you saw nothing from the window of your tower.
Then you heard it, a thud over the storm. Vhagar had landed. You rushed out of the room, and started to descend the many stairs that led to the great hall. You barged in. Aemond was standing there, soaking wet, head down, facing Lord Borros still seated on his throne.
"What happened out there, boy? What did you do?" he demanded.
Aemond was still staring at the floor, his expression was unreadable, but not for you. He didn't have his usual smirk, his eye weren't focused on his surroundings. You haven't seen him like this, ever. You dreaded what he would say next. You didn't want to hear it.
When the Prince looked up at the Lord on his throne, he let the silence linger a while longer before talking, "Lucerys Velaryon is dead. Slain by Vhagar."
The room went silent, and the world twirled before your eyes. Seconds later you were on your knees, clutching your chest for air, as cries of despair escaped you as well as a flow of tears.
"No!" You didn't hear yourself scream, but at that he finally saw you. You were there, on the floor, still wet from the weather, now surrounded by ladies of the court who tried to steady you. What in the seven hells were you doing there? You couldn't be, not now, not after what he had done.
His legs instantly moved toward you, he wanted to reach you, to touch you, "You murdered your own kin?" Lord Baratheon roared.
He stopped in his steps at the question, still too far from you for his taste. His heart was heavy. He didn't look away from you as he answered, "I searched for his remains, in vain," He was not sure if you were able to follow anything that was happening around you now, but his words were meant for you. "I never intended for it to happen. It was an accident."
The rooms filled with whispers, and after a deep breath, Lord Borros announced; "You are still our guest, my Prince. I expect you to honour the promise you made to me and my daughter, and my loyalty shall not falter."
You struggled to open your eyes, you had no idea of how much time had passed since you collapsed. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? When you came to yourself, you were still in the hall, people of the court looking at you and Aemond much closer than he was before. You didn't hear anything that was said, and the ladies around you finally managed to make you stand, your aunt among them, worry written all over her face.
The room was dismissed, your aunt immediately advised you to rest in her apartments, and Aemond who finally had the opportunity to come toward you, was afraid that you would once more escape away from him.
And indeed you were faster. Ignoring your aunt, you freed yourself from the hands keeping you steady and rushed for the door, to the rain. You needed air, and your heavy breathing didn't help calm yourself. He wanted to protect you, that is why he didn't take you on Arrax. And now he was dead. Because of Aemond, because of the man you always wanted.
You felt dirty, empty, and the pouring rain was hurting your skin. You felt something on your arm, almost like a caress, a hand grabbed your elbow for you to turn around. Silver hair entered your vision and you saw an eye watch you with worry. You escaped from his hold at once, and the next thing you knew, you had slapped him.
He didn't say anything at first, slowly looked back down at you with a lazy eye. His silence was louder than the storm above your head and it annoyed you. It annoyed you and you were angry. So you began hitting his chest with your fists, repeatedly, weakly, almost screaming in rage. He didn't flinch, he let you harm him for a moment, eye boring into you before clasping your hands into his, putting a stop to your doings. You struggled, begging him to let you go, but he didn't. He pulled you close, waiting for you to calm down, to be still.
"You killed him... Your own nephew," you cried. "How could you...?"
He just stared at you, sadness filling his eye; "I never meant for it to happen," he stated.
You watched him, taken aback. He looked sincere. Or were you still this weak?
"Nevertheless, he is gone. Onlt the Gods know where he lies. And you didn't want this? I've been told you demanded his eye, I see you settled for far more," you said bitterly.
"What is done is done!" he said, angry now. "My mistake can never be redeemed as his own never was. My only solace is in the fact that I did not want this, Y/N," he shook your arms as he continued; "I don't care what is said about me now, but I never wanted for you to be in pain."
You barely held a sneer from escaping your lips; "This is all that matters to you? My pain? Then you should have thought of this years ago, before you-"
"You abandoned me!"
A loud thunder came at the same time. You were silenced by his words, your ears ringing from the pain. You were exhausted.
He took a deep breath and his voice became firm.
"You abandoned me. How long were you planning to stay away in that damn fortress? Months? Years? All of your life? The very castle I could not set foot into, and you never returned. Ravens forgotten, friends as well," he talked louder now, "Do you know how many times I thought about flying there to steal you away? You had no right, no right to go away like this. The thought of you, happy, away across the black water bay made me-," he stopped himself, and the next moment he softened your grasp on you, as his shoulders relaxed.
"Now it's different. You are to return to the Red Keep, with me. Your father misses you, it is long due you take your rightful place," he continued coldly, like he hasn't snapped moments before.
You watched him with narrowed eyes, tears still coming down on your cheeks. You saw his eye look at your lips briefly, then back at your eyes. Even if you were momentarily taken aback by the movement, you let nothing appear as you slowly manage to free yourself from him. You gave him one last look, lifted your dress up and walked away. You needed to be alone, where he wouldn't be.
-0- Part 3
@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget
#aemond#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#fanfiction#oc#aemond x original character#aemond one eye#house of the dragon#imagine#aemond targaryen x reader#romance#house targaryen#aemond kinslayer#ywawm#mygif#aemond 1x10#usermyfandomprompts#hotdedit
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Spoilers for final episode of BBC Ghosts
So, Ghosts is over. I’ve seen a lot of people talking about being disappointed with the last episode. I’m not at all. I would have liked it to have been longer than the normal 30mins, just so we could get in to some of it a bit more.
Anyhow, I have some thoughts on what the ghosts might like about the hotel, and how Alison might leave the house but doesn’t really leave them. It’s a long one, and I made it mostly for myself as I wanted to get the thoughts out of my head!
So these are my head canons…
Alison returns there regularly to walk in the grounds with them whilst Mike plays golf, they have all their family celebrations there (A second child’s/grandchild’s christening party, wedding anniversary celebrations, graduation parties, milestone birthdays, Mia gets married there etc…), and the ghost come, join in & dance (because they love a party!) and they obviously return for Christmas every year.
I also don’t think the ghosts hate the hotel after a while either. There is an endless stream of guests and staff to keep them entertained. I like to imagine there is still the ballroom for weddings & functions, conference rooms, the library and a games room. I like to think the library contains the history of the house and holds a version of Button House archives for guests who want to know more about the history of the building.
Julian likes to mess about behind the desk with the booking system or follows the golfers around the course throwing shade about their skills. He sits in the members bar of an evening and listens in on the local Tory gossip from Barclay.
Lady Button spies on the guests/staff with faux disgust & gossips about them. The hotel hosts a murder mystery evening and she loves it.
Robin hangs out with the maintenance team & likes to mess with the lights to keep them on their toes. There are several chess boards in the games room, Alison sneaks a “reserved, don’t touch” sign on one of them so he can still play chess with Julian.
The Captain does morning inspections of the grounds, and visits the gym- there’s a PT employed there with very impressive arms (ahem, carry on). When the hotel hosts wedding receptions he is in his element.
Thomas has a dramatic “across the class divide” (his words) infatuation with a chambermaid who is working at the hotel whilst studying for her MA in English Literature. She sees his portrait in the Thorne suite & tells her friends that she finds him attractive and makes him the object of her regency romance style fantasies. This makes him extremely happy (and even more insufferable).
Pat loves the regular quiz nights hosted in the members bar. He still runs all the clubs in whichever function rooms are empty. Very much enjoys hanging out at the breakfast buffet.
Kitty likes to wonder down to the spa and watch people get manicures. She listens in on all the beauticians chatting about their love lives & celebrity gossip. She reads magazines over people’s shoulders whilst they wait for their treatments.
Humphrey also enjoys the members bar with Julian as he likes to hear people joking and having fun. There are a few French members of staff & Robin continues to help him learn the language by listening in on those conversations.
So, for me the Ghosts are able to continue a very happy afterlife, and are still very involved with Alison and her actual life.
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Goofing Off
Pairing: Jared Padalecki x Puerto Rican!Fem!Reader
Word Count: ~900
Warnings: fluff
Request by anon: Hola so i was watching the episode where Arthur is talking with the Winchester about the chupacabras so can i request a one shot where the reader is a actress a Jensen or Jared girlfriend who is Puerto Rican and is the one who is teaching David (Arthur actor) who to said Chupacabras? With a lot of funny
Summary: You love pulling pranks and making people laugh. Whenever someone new comes onto the show, you make your mission to pull as many pranks as you can on them.
Square Filled: woke up married (2020) for @spnfluffbingo
Author’s Note: i didn't really go into the details of a reader that is puerto rican because i didn't want to get anything wrong, so i tried to keep it really vague here.
x
Out of all of the seasons you’ve worked on, your favorite has to be the current one: season twelve. One of the newest cast members, David Haydn-Jones, has been such an incredible addition to the show even if his character isn’t well-liked. Recently, David loves to have fun and joke around, and you just so happen to be one of the best pranksters on set.
Even before you met Jared, you were always looking to make your family smile and laugh with small pranks that didn’t do any harm to anyone. Jared happened to like that about you when you started dating, and it only got worse the more time went on.
The very first prank you ever pulled on Jared was putting a bunch of Ken Dolls on your car and calling him to tell him that there were men on your car and you were scared. He came out with a towel on his head like how a woman would wrap her hair after a shower and your bathrobe on. It was so funny you almost peed your pants.
The longer you two dated, the more he got into your pranks. Now, he almost expects them whenever he comes home from a long day of filming or doing a convention. Then, you two got married, and the first thing you did when you woke up as a married woman was pull a prank on him.
His life would never be boring from that on, and would always be filled with laughter and joy.
He got you a part on Supernatural for a few years now which you have loved doing. Being around Jensen, Jared, and Misha have been nothing short of amazing. Your pranks actually doubled in size when you teamed up with Jensen to take on Jared or Misha.
The newest person to suffer your wrath is David who plays Arthur Ketch on the show. He is more of a serious actor than the ones you usually work with but after a while, he got used to your pranks and lightened up a lot more.
Jensen and Jared are finishing up a scene while you and David are off to the side going over your plan. The plan is that you told David you two were going to get Jensen and Jared when in reality, you were turning the tables so that Jensen and Jared are going to get David.
“I got it, I got it,” he nods.
“Okay,” you smile.
David walks on set when he is needed, and the scene with Ketch, Sam, and Dean is ready to be put into motion.
Sam and Dean are seated in the Bunker’s library and Sam calls Mick over the phone to which Ketch answers.
“Hello, Winchester,” David says in his posh Ketch accent.
“Ketch? Where’s Mick?” Dean asks.
“He didn’t tell you? He flew back to London last night after all the unpleasantness with Dagon. Well, Mick has a lot to answer for. For the time being, you will report to me.”
“Seriously?” Dean rolls his eyes.
“I don’t like it any more than you do. I’d much rather be with your mother… hunting… for Chupacabras in Texas.”
It’s the way he said Chupacabras that has everyone confused. You know how to say it very well since you have the accent for it, but you told David how to say it the American way which Jensen and Jared picked up on easily.
“A what, Ketch?” Jared asks, still in character.
“Chupacabra.”
“What was that?”
“Chupacabra,” Jensen says in a deep voice while rolling his R’s.
Jared snickers but tries to stay in character. He takes out his phone and makes Google pronounce the word, and the entire crew starts laughing.
“Chupacabra,” Jensen says again.
“Chupacabra,” Jensen tries again, rolling his R’s.
“Chupacabra,” David says in the same accent as before.
Jensen looks at the phone weirdly as if David is right there in front of him.
“He doesn’t know how to say Chupacabra,” Jared says.
Jared plays the Google pronunciation of the word again loudly.
“Chupacabra,” David says.
“It’s like a brrra,” Jensen rolls his R’s. “Then Chupa. So it’s like Chupa, chupa, chupa--”
“Chupacabra,” David says over the phone in the same tone he’s been in since the scene started.
He’s trying so hard not to break character even though Jensen and Jared have already done so. You’re going to pee your pants from laughing so hard.
“Chupacabra,” Jensen rolls his R’s with a bit of an accent.
At this point, Jensen and Jared start talking gibberish and rolling their R’s and just having a good time while David is trying to stay in character. You can see him scrunch his nose up as if it itches, but that’s a ploy to hide the smile trying to break through.
“Chupacabra,” Davis says, causing Jared and Jensen to break out in giggles. “I don’t like it any more than you do but for now, I’m what you’ve got. So, Wisconsin…”
David can hear everyone laughing through the phone as he tries so hard to stay in character.
“Ketch? What was that?” Jared giggles. “He doesn’t know how to say Chupacabra.”
David hangs up the phone just as the director calls, “CUT!” David breaks out into laughter and looks right at you who can’t hold it in anymore.
“I’m not trusting you ever again!”
God, you love working on this show.
x
Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)
#jared padalecki#jared padalecki x reader#jared padalecki fic#jared padalecki fanfiction#jared padalecki fanfic#jared padalecki fluff#jared padaleckijared padalecki fiction#jared padalecki fan fiction#jared padalecki fan fic#supernatural#supernatural fic#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fanfic#supernatural fluff#spn#spn fic#spn fanfiction#spn fanfic#spn fluff
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The Desert
Alternate title: Gimme Appa back.
"But I believe, Aang can save the world." no pressure kid.
I had completely forgotten about these two chuckleheads. For once the 'Previously On' segment is useful rather than spoilery.
Ok Aang is going to get the world's biggest pass this episode, because he's in the suckiest of all situations. But even so, how exactly was Toph supposed to come and get them, when she was both actually blind for once and the only reason the library hadn't drowned them yet?
Aang has something of a history of running away. Does going after Appa count as running away from his friends?
Zuko's theatre kid tendencies are genetic.
The way Iroh said "What Now?" you know he was actually saying "fuck's sake."
Zuko's hair seems to grow very quickly. I thought that I could use his hair growth to measure time passing but this is not tracking. He barely had a buzz cut in The Chase and now he's fluffy.
Two things: a) this guy has eyes greyer than Aang this episode. b) He's cocking his hands like that ridiculous Henry Cavill scene from Mission Impossible where he cocks his biceps.
This guy's spear has piercings. And is coming out of a Dragon's mouth.
I don't know that I'd call these guys legendary. They're zero for two against an Avatar in Drag and two starving refugees with three functioning arms.
Doesn't Katara ever change out her water? Or even use it up and have to refill it?
I said it last episode, and I'll say it again: why did five people, a lemur, and a ten tonne sky bison travel into a desert famous for its desertiness with only a single water pouch between them? Admittedly, if they'd brought extra water and left it on Appa, they'd be having the same problem, but still...
Is a kids' show actually going to go there?
They actually went there!
Honestly if you're dying of dehydration in the desert, eating strange plants is absolutely the way to go. I'd rather trip my way into the afterlife than just shrivel up and die.
I love the way Aang's glider shadow moves over the dunes. Another one of those tiny details that the animators could have left out, but they didn't!
Sand benders must get crazy high speeds if Aang can't spot even a trace of Appa from up high. He wasn't Appa-napped very long ago.
Everyone go watch the scene where Aang blows up the mushroom cloud. Go right now I'll wait. And pay attention to Sokka's mouth. It does the wave.
His mouth does the wave and his arms do the worm. Someone really had fun this episode.
Zuko breaking the world record for highest number of Fire Nation wanted posters. Despite being the only person on that board who's unquestionably loyal to the Fire Nation. What a nice reward he got for his loyalty.
How is that one wrestler dude's hair so shiny?
Why, other than plot convenience, would Zuko and Iroh be at the Ice Spring?
I see now that the left hand shadow is Sokka with a Momo on his head. But for just a second I thought it was Ramona from Scott Pilgrim.
There are some really beautiful colour gradients in this desert.
"We won't survive without Appa." Well yes, but you have to try.
If this is a normal desert they're going to freeze their butts off overnight.
No comment. Just vibes.
Hey this is a Katara episode! Toph is blind, Sokka's zoinked, Aang's given up, so it's Katara time baby!
This episode has no business being this pretty.
"Sokka. I was there." I'd be very surprised if Katara's voice actress doesn't have an idiot older brother. That line was delivered a little too perfectly.
I'm not going to comment on every Sokka is high joke, but rest assured I'm finding them all hilarious.
Those drinks cost a gold piece each. Where did they get five gold pieces from?
Colour me shocked. The chuckleheads actually had a good idea for once.
Colour me shocked again! I vaguely predicted this!
Zuko. Honey. How are you this dim? He's so very good at missing exactly what's in front of him.
"Gold?"
Big muscles. No brains.
Very pretty. The sand texture is good too.
Well that was mean.
Passive aggressive glider deployment. Also how low is that cloud if Aang can reach it to bend it?
Aang is not shining this episode (understandably) but Katara is going from strength to strength. I NEVER would have thought that she was someone who could keep her cool under pressure like this. Happy to be wrong!
I have no idea if Sokka is going to remember or be aware of this epic trip he's on, but this is probably the best time he's had in months. Certainly since Yue died. He deserves this. Bad timing, but he needed a break.
"You must forgive my nephew. He is not an initiate, and is dumb as shit and incapable of reading the room."
Why is there a flower shop in the middle of the desert? What clients do they have? Obviously it's a front for this pai sho secret society thing, but why did they pick such a nonsensical front?
Toph has so much personality that it's easy to forget how tiny she is. Like a little gargoyle.
Sokka talking like a Greaser was the thing I didn't know I needed.
Poor Katara. Now you know how your brother feels every time he has to save your bacon from your weekly prison break.
I am losing my mind over these colours. Especially after The Library.
"I have a natural curiosity." I'm going to start using that.
Oops they found the circle bird nest.
Hey showrunners, you're going to take Momo from me too? You sure you want to do that? After last episode? Don't give me a pretty sunset with a latte swirl. Give me back Appa, put down Momo, or I'll sic Toph on you.
I do like Toph as a piece of artillery.
Turns out a combined Appa and Momo -napping is what it takes to get Aang to break his no killing rule. I now know how to defeat the Fire Lord.
The Audacity. Going to Ba-Sing- however the hell that's spelled. The sheer audacity. But then what? What's the plan after they get there? Just live the rest of their lives?
Rejected Mortal Combat guy.
You ever have one of those days where you do only your top lip?
Whoever made that door, and that lock - good job!
Nothing to see here, just making a delivery of two giant planters in the middle of the desert. The Owl decided to spruce up his entryway.
Y'all are fucked. Y'all deserve it. Aang has completely lost control. He's spent the whole episode losing it more and more and now he's gone completely off the rails. Has he ever zipped into the Avatar state that fast before?
Never underestimate the power of a woman who's fed up with everyone's nonsense. Just so fed up.
Well that was sad.
Badass name of the day: Malachi Throne, voice of a character whose name I don't recognise.
Final Thoughts
This was Katara's episode. I'm not going to forgive not getting Appa back, but Katara actually keeping a level head for once was an unexpected delight.
This episode was pretty unrelentingly heavy in the A-plot, which is why I don't understand why Sokka and Momo tripping worked so well. It did work, and I very much enjoyed it, but it should have stuck out like a sore thumb and it didn't. The beat up Sokka quota fulfillled from within by chemicals was a nice creative touch.
I am very happy to see Iroh take the wheel, although I'm not convinced there's a long term plan here beyond get food and shelter. Which, fair enough, goals tend to be short term and immediate when you're in dire straits.
This episode really stomped all over Aang. And then stomped some more. I was surprised how negative and shouty he was at the beginning, but by the end I was surprised how long it took him to lose it. Apart from his staff and his clothes, Appa really is all he has left from before he got frozen. That sandbender punk was rotten to the core.
So I guess we're going to the earth kingdom capital regardless of the eclipse information. Is the rest of the season going to be getting there? I also can't help but notice that it's where Iroh and Zuko are headed as well. Zuko could actively run in the direction opposite to the Avatar and he'd still end up tripping over him. The earth Kingdom is ginormous. And yet, like every two episodes Zuko runs into the Avatar. Is it fate? Is it plot convenience?
I should dislike this episode. It's 24 minutes of our faves getting beat down and not finding Appa, with a b-plot of Zuko being more oblivious than usual. I should dislike it, but I don't. This is definitely going on the rewatch list. It was a very pretty episode, which helped. Beyond that I can't put into words why I liked it, but I did!
#atla#avatar: the last airbender#avatar the last airbender#The Desert#Dessert?#Desert is one of the words where the longer you stare at it the less it's a word#Like Sausage#Sew-sahhj
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Some Cassandra Cain headcanon
Here some headcanon of Cass, it's around her life in Gotham and the bat siblings . Please respect
She can learn every kind of dance, she and Dick are the Just Dance champions in the house, Damian follows them on the score. And whenever Dick takes them to the arcade the score always ends up like this Dick/Cass and Damian right after them
Cass enjoy musicals, to the point of learning the dance steps to her favorite songs
She's the silent type, but really enjoys company, so a lot of the time she just sits nearby while someone is working, she loves hearing the sound of the keyboard while Babs, Bruce and Tim are working, the smell of Alfred's cooking, the music circus song that Dick always whistles while he is concentrating, the sound of the pages of the book that Jason is reading, the sound that the brush makes when Damian combs the batcow and Goliath, the sound of the pen writing on the paper while Duke studies. She loves all of this
Since Jason returned from the league his taste buds have become accustomed to the food there, so it's not an unusual occurrence for Cass to find him at a Chinese restaurant. And sometimes they go together
Cass really enjoys Damian's pet adoption addiction, it means the house will always have comfortable companions for when she feels overwhelmed (she has stolen Alfred the Cat and Titus more than once)
Cass, as the rest of the house, doesn't have a clue about what Goliath really is and why Bruce allows Damian to have him, but she really wants to lead him into the skies of Gotham one of these days. She almost asked Damian if she could twice, but the boy is always zooming around or missing, so she never ask for it
She plans to ask him for this on her birthday, as a gift
Even though she enjoys company, she can still feel overwhelmed in large crowds and very noisy places if she stays there for too long. What makes her look for the safest and calmest place near her immediately
Once Commissioner Gordon found her standing in his kitchen, he was startled when he turned on the lights. Cassandra apologized for this and nowadays Jim has a mug in his house especially for Cass to use when she comes over
Steph understands that sometimes Cass needs the silence around her, so the blonde just sits nearby and they sits quietly together keeping each other company. Cass truly cherishes these moments with all her heart
Cass likes to sit in the library while Duke and Steph are studying, she really likes it when Dick,Babs or Jason come to help the study group as it is always nice to hear their voices (and sometimes she sses Damian sit near them too)
Cass also likes to hear Alfred's stories but not him tastes in tea (but she will never brings it up, she would never broke Alfred heart like that)
During the summer Cass likes to sit on the grass in the mansion's garden and feel the breeze, Duke and Damian also enjoy this so the three of them sit in silence enjoying the wind, Steph usually joins them, but she always ends up sleeping due to the silence comfortable that lies between them
On these days Alfred always makes sure this fantastic four has sunscreen, juice and fresh fruit on hand
Dick calls these moments "they're doing photosynthesis" but he also joins them sometimes
She, Jason and Damian taught Duke to speak Chinese. It's always fun when they go out to eat and Duke orders something in perfect Chinese from the servers
She likes the sound of rain, so it's easy to find her at the window when it rains
She dreams of performing in the Russian ballet one day, she wonders if she will have time due to her job as a vigilant
Whenever Cass finds a movie that she finds interesting, she waits for Steph to watch it together. The same goes for series. They can both really fight each other if one watches an episode without the other
Sometimes Cass doesn't think a joke in the movie/series/cartoon is funny, but just the fact that her friends are laughing alongside her at the joke is enough to make her smile
Her mother, Lady Shiva, collects several newspapers and reposts about Black Bat/Orphan, no matter the size of the photo or news. Lady Shiva subscribes to the Gotham newspaper just for this purpose
Some batkid headcanon: Damian || Duke || Cassandra || Stephanie || Tim || Jason || Dick
#cassandra cain#dc comics#batfamily#dick grayson#damian wayne#jason todd#tim drake#bruce wayne#stephanie brown#batfam headcanons#batfamily headcanons
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Week 2 of our Season 3 Crowdfund!
Hello Everyone!
Here at True Tales of the Illuminati, we are humbled and excited to announce that with three weeks left in the campaign, we are almost halfway to our crowdfunding goal. That means that we’ve been able to release the second of our four crowdfunding minisodes, and we’re rounding the corner towards the third! You can listen to them, and to our first two seasons, on our podcast feed now.
That’s right, our marketing strategy for asking you help us make a third season is to make a mini-season and hold it hostage! Find another podcast that does that! (Okay Wooden Overcoats, sure. Fine, we ripped them off, so sue us, they’re our heroes. No you shut up)
If you haven't heard of us yet, we're an audio comedy about conspiracies gone disastrously wrong, fruitlessly spinning the wheels of history like a car in park when you floor the gas. Inspired by (and aspiring to be) BBC audio comedy like Cabin Pressure and Hitchhiker's Guide, with rapid-fire jokes in the vein of Archer, Community and 30 Rock, we're proud to have been Audioverse award finalists for our first two seasons.
Here are a few of the things we’re excited about in our third season:
New characters ripped from the real Enlightenment-era Illuminati! Watch Beck get drawn to this group of navel gazing nerds like a pannier-wearing moth to a flame! See Jackie fall under the influence of a mysterious new mentor figure! Listen to Ishmael swill coffee and make bon mots!
New Dal! Dared to find a hobby "besides murder," watch her harass and bully shop proprietors into giving her a personality a second dimension!
Five whole episodes with an explosive two-part finale that calls upon all of Ishmael's bravery, courage and brain cells!
Here’s where the funding is going to go:
Recording studio time rental! In the past we’ve recorded with our full cast all together at The Bridge Sound and Stage recording studio in Somerville, MA. Not only does that make our audio sound great, having our cast all together, able to bounce off of each other live as we record means we get our amazing cast chemistry bubbling away to make each joke land even harder.
Paying those amazing actors! Every one of our cast members is paid for their time and talent, and as we have a big cast and tend to pack character after character into a scene, that’s quite a large line item! Why do we keep writing scenes with 5 characters in them!
Sound design! We’re once again working with the phenomenal Beth Crane and Hedley Knight, who you may know from their show We Fix Space Junk. Beth and Hedley have an incredible ear for sound, and some of the finest comedy brains out there, and they use those gifts to make sure that when a character jumps through a pane of glass, that that is the funniest pane of glass that there is to jump through.
Administrative fees! Podcast and website hosting aren't free! Look, some of these are just going to be true, not fun.
Places where the funding does not go:
Our pockets - We make this show because we love making it, and because we want to make the funniest thing we can. Every penny we raise goes right into making this show better and making more of it. The only ROI we see is getting to put something we think is really good out into the world. Does this make us fools? Economically, yes! But spiritually? You decide! (Please say no we need a win so bad)
Local political contributions in New South Wales - (we’re only 80% on where it is)
Actual occult organizations - (We don't know how to join the illuminati, no matter how desperate or strange the marketing emails we get are)(we WOULD say this though, so keep trying!) PLEASE STOP ASKING US ABOUT THEM
Non-Fiction History Books About The Weirdest Shit We Can Find - We use the library, bitches. We didn't spend a cent on The Witch of Lime Street!
Intrigued? Generous? Cool? Please help us bring our next season to life over at truetalesteam.com/crowdfund
#true tales of the illuminati#ollominoto#ttoti#ttoti season 3 crowdfund#crowdfund#audio drama#comedy#podcast sitcom#please help us make our weird comedy project!
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Background Noise in Hidden Agenda
Trailer + Episode 1
Joke sitting under a sign that reads "Your true nature is luminous"
Zo reading a book titled Legend of Love
Zo and Pok under the wall text that reads "If you work towards goals everything is achievable"
Zo and Joke standing in front of the wall text that reads "Winners are losers who failed and gave it one more try"
The books on the Zo's library shelf include Violence Against Lesbians and Gay Men, We Are Anonymous, Love and Dread, Conspiracy: Plots, Lies, and Cover-Ups, and books about Victimology
While the section Kot is in deals with peacekeeping and negotiations.
And Pat's section is public administration and affairs (the service of organizing and coordinating the advancement for the common good . . . Pat you're so sus!)
Zo's bag reads "All life is an experiment"
And his other bags states "Have a good time"
Zo broke Nita's bag that read "Good Vibes"
Black Power and PUNK posters in the background of the show's official poster
Just a random sign pointing to Zo when Joke asks who wants to know about him and Nita.
#hidden agenda#hidden agenda the series#background noise#the writing's on the wall#always judge a book by its cover#pat is so sus
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doctor who liveblog pt 51
s10 ep5 oxygen
- uh oh astronaut zombies
- uh oh dead guy
- uhhhh empty spacesuit
- late stage oxygen capitalism
- he needs to figure out some kind of tardis summoning system, it would solve most of his problems
- oh no, he just got that sonic screwdriver
- that’s what i just said
- UH OH BILL
- omg his eyes
- maybe the real villain was capitalism all along
- he didn’t tell her a joke
- ohh she’s calling for her mum, ohhh bill 😭😭
- suicide mission?
- this has got to be one of the most left wing episode since daleks in manhattan
- oh yay bill’s not dead!!
- bye bye space capitalism
- he’s still blind?!
s10 ep6 extremis
- MISSY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- i knew it was her in the vault!!
- i know he’s not gonna kill her cmon now
- he looks a bit young to be a pope
- oh he’s not the pope, i probably should have known i went to catholic school
- oh there he is
- HELPPPPPP NOT THE POPE 😭😭
- id love to go to the heresy library
- love u missy but there’s no chance of you turning good
- vatican audio book
- oh fuck he fr killed her
- oh magical teleports
- there has gonna be better ways of getting around his blindness
- uh oh dead cardinal
- i’m proper confused
- uh oh group suicide
- he literally has the veritas on a laptop, he just needs to download a screen reader. there are ways around this!!
- uh oh nardole
- rip the president
- oh he figured out the screen reader that’s nice
- yay missy
- i’m gonna be so real i don’t think i understood that one at all
s10 ep7 the pyramid at the end of the world
- at least bill got a nice date out if all this
- oh great now the army’s here, she can’t get a break
- oh did aliens actually build this pyramid
- uh oh pyramid laser
- uh oh scientist man is dead
- oh god he’s sludge
- yay blowing up the lab
- oh fuck all the army leaders
- bill do not consent !!
- oh yay the doomsday clock
- oh no he can’t see the numbers
- oh no bill
- NO BILLL
- this wouldn’t have been a problem if there was braille on the lock, disability accommodations save lives
- well that isn’t ideal
#nortism liveblogs doctor who#doctor who liveblog#doctor who#dw#new who#doctor who s10#doctor who series 10#twelfth doctor#12th doctor#bill potts#nardole#missy#the master#oxygen#extremis#the pyramid at the end of the world
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On Hidden Agenda And if the Agenda is Really Hidden
Otherwise known as @respectthepetty and I watched episode 11, looked at each other, scratched our heads and pulled the clown car over to the side of the road. Episode 11 was not the traditional "BL Episode of Doom" it usually is in most BLs. Some BLs do purposefully subvert this trope or move the episode of doom to episode 10 instead.
It didn't feel like that was what happened here. So we hopped out of the clown car, whipped out our phones to check our maps and directions, because we were very, very confused. We were so sure we had the show figured out! And...no?
So we decided to backtrack; turn the clown car around and start the trip again from the start. To take this week and re-watch Hidden Agenda from the beginning and figure out what the hell we missed.
We also took a detour into source material territory (aka looked up a summary about the book) which was no help to the current situation, because @respectthepetty discovered that JengPok, Nita's stalker, Puen, and Wave x Trin weren't even in it! The only thing we were able to confirm with it is that it's from Joke's POV, he's unhinged in it, and Zo spends most of it dating Nita.
With all this in mind, I sat down with episode 1 of Hidden Agenda in hopes that I would discover anything that we might have missed. I also have slowly cultivated two theories that as of episode 6 still hold up though I don't know how much weight I want to give the second one (but I also can't let it go).
Before I delve into the theories, I do want to point out a couple things that I have noticed.
Zo is super intense about debate club, NOVA, and the Finland scholarship from episode 1. His coaching of Joke in episode 2 rivals his mother's coaching of him in episode 10. If someone who makes gifs could make a gif set that parallels those two scenes, I would be eternally grateful; it will blow your mind. Zo's issues with disappointing his mom are also there from episode one, but they are super subtle. He doesn't want Kot to tag him in his IG story because his mom might see him at the bar drinking. He mentions in I think either episode 2 or 3 that his mom hasn't visited in a while because she's been busy and the way he says it is so... ugh, he needs a hug.
Zo's trauma from Puen's horrible treatment of him is also evident from episode 1 as well; he is constantly saying that he doesn't want to make anyone uncomfortable, that he's worried he's upsetting people, etc. It's constant. Seriously, someone hug Zo.
Theory 1: Joke did something bad/something bad happened to someone he cared about (probably in high school and appears to have gotten therapy about it based on how he speaks)
Episode 1:
In the flashback to the Freshy Contest, while Joke is scolding(?) Zo, he says, "What you said on that stage won't change a broken system."
Episode 2:
Joke tells Zo, "My tongue gets me in trouble."
When Joke and Zo are debating about hidden agendas in relationships, Joke asks why he should tell someone things when he starts dating them because he should be able to tell things in his own time.
Episode 3:
Joke says "Before you get to know someone, you need to know yourself."
Joke also asks/tells Zo to trust him for the first time.
Joke talks about the Triangular Theory of Love: Passion, Intimacy and Commitment
Joke is pretty worried when Zo crashes his bike and makes Zo ride with him instead.
Joke mentions that he used to go to the restaurant Zo picked out with his dad, back when they used to go out to eat; this suggests a distance between him and his dad.
During dinner, Joke says that "What you see of someone may not be the whole story," and "Stay true to yourself."
In the library, Joke tells Zo "I would never let someone I love face danger alone."
The next day, Zo is sitting outside when Joke finds him and says that Zo wasn't answering his calls. and it's implied he was searching for Zo because he was worried.
Joke invites himself on Zo's trip as if he's afraid if Zo leaves without him, something bad will happen.
Episode 4:
Joke tells Zo he couldn't leave Zo "alone and sad" and "I'll never abandon you"
Joke also says "I only care for those who care for me."
Joke is afraid of the glass bridge but he's also to worried to let Zo go out on the bridge by himself.
After dinner, Joke says "Sometimes people don't show all their cards."
Episode 6:
Joke gifts Zo a sunflower pillow and tells him to look up the meaning, Zo searches up "liveliness sprung from despair."
Joke insists on picking up Zo so Zo doesn't go out in the rain/worried about his health.
Kot doesn't seem to like Joke and extremely overreacts to the way Joke trying to get Zo to eat the food he bought. Now, Joke was maybe a little pushy, but Kot goes off the handle.
When cuddling in bed, Joke says "hugging for 30s releases Oxytocin" and if they hug longer, "it means we feel the same."
Theory 2: Joke is a stalker
Yeah, you read that right. There is ample evidence throughout the first 6 episodes that on first watch, didn't quite ring alarm bells, but on re-watch, are setting off sirens. I kinda had this as a crack theory in the back of my head after episode 8 first aired, but now it's staring me in the face and feels a lot less crack-y
Episode 1:
Joke eavesdrops on Zo recording his podcast
Joke is super intense when speaking to Zo at the studio and manhandles him a little so that Joke can sort of pin him against the wall.
Joke eavesdrops on Zo and friends on the bus and then approaches him after to give advice on Nita
Joke asks Zo if the iced coffee is for Zo and says it's not because "Zo doesn't like coffee."
Joke always seems to be around when Zo is trying to approach Nita.
Joke confesses that he has a crush before singing a song.
When Zo tries to leave the bathroom after getting sick, Joke actively won't let him, grabbing him roughly and holding him in place.
In the flashback to the Freshy Contest, Zo asks Joke why he won't quit if he hates it and Joke says he has his reasons.
At the studio, Joke says "I love you and you love me" in Chinese and proceeds to do what has been touted as an "erotic wedding based tradition" with drinking the Roselle juice.
Episode 2:
Joke starts pushing boundaries with food
Joke and Zo make a deal to help Zo with Nita.
Joke has a fantasy of Zo winning and them kissing.
Joke pushes boundaries with food again
Joke admits to Zo he has a crush on someone.
When Joke and Zo are debating about hidden agendas in relationships, Joke asks why he should tell someone things when he starts dating them because he should be able to tell things in his own time.
Joke ties Zo's shoe
Joke says he's already started helping Zo with Nita, but has he?
Episode 3:
Joke basically milks all the situations with Zo in his favor under the guise of helping Zo with Nita
Joke admits he listens to Zo's podcast because it helps him sleep.
During dinner, Joke says that "What you see of someone may not be the whole story," and "Stay true to yourself."
In the library, Joke tells Zo "I would never let someone I love face danger alone."
The next day, Zo is sitting outside when Joke finds him and says that Zo wasn't answering his calls. and it's implied he was searching for Zo because he was worried.
Joke insists on driving Zo home despite Zo's protests.
Joke invites himself on Zo's trip really insistently and hugs Zo excitedly when Zo agrees.
Episode 4:
Joke tells Zo he couldn't leave Zo "alone and sad" and "I'll never abandon you"
Joke also says "I only care for those who care for me."
After dinner, Joke says "Sometimes people don't show all their cards."
Episode 4:
Joke knows how long it's been since Zo changed his profile pic.
After dinner, Joke says "Sometimes people don't show all their cards."
Episode 5:
Joke confronts Zo for trying to avoid him and wanting to forget their kiss. Joke is incredibly aggressive and spills his drink on Zo as a result.
Joke continues to message Zo that Zo is avoiding him and that he's going to come over. Zo says not to. Joke does anyway.
Joke gets himself invited to dinner with Zo and his mom.
Joke makes a move while doing dishes and tells Zo he wants to know how Zo feels.
Joke says "why would you hurt me and tell me to forget?" and "you never care about my feelings."
Joke also says "don't run away from me," and "don't avoid me."
Joke confesses through tongue twister.
Joke remembers that Zo hates stink beans.
Joke tells Zo "I would do anything for you," and "I like you Zo, I want to show you that you like me, too."
Asks Zo to let Joke pursue him.
Episode 6:
Joke gifts Zo a sunflower pillow and tells him to look up the meaning, Zo searches up "liveliness sprung from despair."
Joke insists on picking up Zo so Zo doesn't go out in the rain/worried about his health.
Joke pushes boundaries with food again and then fights with Kot.
Zo tells Joke he needs to respect boundaries.
Joke oversteps boundaries again in at debate club.
Joke pushes Zo again for an answer on his feelings; Joke says he "will always wait" for Zo.
Joke also insists that Zo was into him all along and not Nita.
Joke watches Zo at the debate open house and gets jealous.
Joke wants Zo to stay over; he pushes Zo again for an answer to his feelings. When Zo wants to go shower, Joke grabs his arm and stop him, saying that he won't let Zo run away.
Joke gives Zo the arcade t-shirt and when Zo says he doesn't know the significance, Joke tells Zo to take it off. Joke then takes his own shirt off and refuses to put it back on.
Joke asks to hold Zo and Zo doesn't answer, just rolls over onto his side away from Joke. Joke says "silence means yes" (and in this case it did but OH MY GOD) and proceeds to cuddle Zo.
As I go through my re-watch, I'll add more to both theories but as of episode 6, they both hold up. I can't decide of Joke himself actually did (insert bad thing here) to someone, or just knew someone that (insert bad thing here) happened to. Joke being a stalker wasn't that evident at first, but it is now! At a minimum, Joke is obsessive, posessive and overly clingy.
Also, these theories can both be true! They don't contradict each other in any way. Stay tuned for Part 2, probably... Friday or Saturday.
#hidden agenda the series#hidden agenda meta#thai bl#Yes I've lost my mind#Writing this took me hours its ridiculous
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What you mean to me- Steven Grant x Reader
word count:2269
warnings: fluff! because we need Steven fluff after episode 5 ruined us all. Steven is not aware of Marc yet in this fic. If there is anything else I need to add please let me know.
Summary: The reader lets Steven know how much he means to her, and it's the first time he's ever gotten to feel so much love.
(gif not mine!)
Steven was facing the stairs that faced away from the library, patiently waiting for you. You smiled as you saw him and made your way over to him. “Hello, my love,” you said as you reached his side. He jumped a bit, and you giggled. “Sorry to startle you,” you said and placed your hand on his arm. He looked over at you with a shy smile, “It’s alright, I was just a bit lost in thought,” he explained. You knew something wasn’t right by the tone in his voice and the look in his eyes. “And what’s on your mind?” you asked and carefully laced your fingers together. He looked down at your hands and you saw his smile grow a bit. You smiled at his smile, “It’s nothing important,” he said and you shook your head. “Everything you think of is important to me, just want you to be ok,” you said and squeezed his hand. “I’m just fine love I promise,” he said and leaned over to kiss your cheek. You knew something wasn’t right but you didn’t want to push it, especially in such an open place. “Well, then I suggest we head home before it starts to rain,” you said and tugged his hand as you walked down the first step. He gratefully smiled at you and walked with you to the bus.
“How was your day?” he asked you. “My day was quiet,” you said with a grin as you looked over at him to see if he would laugh. He understood and gave a light chuckle. “Very creative, 'cause you’re in a library,” he explained the joke and you chuckled. “Exactly,” you said. “It was actually not as busy as it usually is so I got quite a bit of sorting done. Placed returned books back to where they were. Listing new books donated and putting them away. It was quite dull,” you described. “I’m sorry it was dull, it seems a bit lonely sometimes,” he said. “It’s alright, and it’s not that bad being surrounded by stories and knowledge it’s almost a comforting feeling. Wow, that sounds really lame, I’m sorry,” you said and shook your head. “No, that doesn’t sound lame at all, I understand the feeling,” he spoke in understanding. You smiled over at him, “Yeah?” you asked. He nodded his head. “Yeah,” he assured you. He gently raised your hand to place a kiss on it. The rest of the walk was only a few minutes of comfortable silence before you reached the bus. Your eyes widened a bit when you sat down. He looked at you in concern. “What's wrong?” he asked quickly. “I never asked how your day was. I’m so sorry,” you apologized wholeheartedly upset at yourself. “Hey, no it’s ok. There isn’t much to say about it anyway,” he reassured you. “I love hearing about your day,” you said and moved a bit so you could look at him a bit better. His brows rose, “You do?” he asked. “Of course, I do, I love hearing you talk about anything,” you said and squeezed his hand.
His cheeks were slowly pigmented with a soft red. “Oh well, alright-alright then,” he stuttered a bit and you smiled. “It was pretty busy, there was a school that stopped in. So I had to deal with kids almost all day and not the cute kind. They were all little buggers it was horrible,” he explained and you chuckled a bit at how annoyed he seemed. “Kids on school trips tend to be a bit nasty don’t they,” you agreed with him. He nodded his head. “You have no idea,” he sighed and let his head droop a bit. You gently used your hand to raise his head and move the hair away from his face. He smiled softly at you, He loved that you paid attention to him, that you actually wanted to hear about his day and things he had to say.
But he didn’t want to tell you the worst parts of his day, like getting talked down to and having his name be forgotten. Having to hold himself together on barely any sleep. He knew that you would always find out but he never liked to tell you because he knew it upset you.
The conversation went on softly as the bus finally rolled to a stop for you to get off. You and Steven walked toward his apartment quickly trying to get out of the rain that had begun to come down. He got the door open and held it for you before walking in and letting it close behind him. You chuckled at how much the rain had gotten to you, you knew you would probably be borrowing a shirt of his that night. It wasn’t anything major but you definitely needed a warm change of clothes. You walked to the elevator and pressed the button for his floor. It began to move and you shivered a bit, he looked over at you and gently reached his arm out to pull you close to him. You smiled at the affection he showed and gladly accepted the warmth he gave despite also being wet from the rain. You relaxed against his side and reached one hand up to hold the one that was draped around your shoulder.
He couldn’t help the small grin that placed itself on his lips as you tangled your fingers with his.
When the elevator stopped you both stepped off and quickly made your way to his apartment.
He let you in and turned the soft lights on. You smiled at the comforting familiarity of the place. It felt like home, and for you in a sense it already was.
“It’s good to be home,” you said and sighed as you set your things down and took your shoes off by the door. Steven’s heart melted when he heard you call his small apartment home. When you were young home was a very important place. It was always where you longed to be after a bad day, or when you just needed comfort and peace. Your family was there, and you loved them very much. It wasn’t always the best of times with them, but you loved them despite some flaws.
Being able to call Steven’s apartment home was something very special to you and he knew that.
“It is,” he agreed. He once again noticed you shiver, “Would you like to take a warm shower?” he asked and gently took your coat from you. “Would you?” you asked softly, just putting the idea out there. His cheeks turned red, and he didn’t know what to do or say. You began to regret asking, “I’m sorry Steven, I shouldn’t have asked that. I’m sorry-” you were about to go on before he nodded his head. “No, I mean yes. Yeah I-I think that would be-would be nice,” He said and your eyes widened a bit, not expecting that answer. A small smile graced your lips and he smiled sheepishly.
“Alright, then let’s go then,” you said and softly motioned for him to follow you. He followed after you completely lost in the idea of you. His hands timidly fumbled with the buttons of his own shirt. You giggled softly and gently grabbed his hands so he would stop. He looked down at you and saw your nimble fingers make their way down the buttons of his shirt undoing them one by one. She helped him slide the shirt from his shoulders, just as he gripped the hem of your shirt helping you pull it off. Both of you finished undressing before getting into the shower to wash away the cold. Steven kindly let your shivering form stand under the warm stream of water, warming you up before himself. You wrapped your arms around his waist and switched spots so he was under the stream. His hands gripped your hips softly as you looked up at him with a lazy grin. You reached up and ran your fingers through his dark drenched curls you adored so much. He sighed at the feeling of your fingers slowly massaging the shampoo into his hair. Once you were satisfied with his hair you gently pulled him down so you could press a kiss on his lips. Steven gripped your hips a bit tighter as the kiss carried on keeping its sweetness and maintaining its bit of innocence between you both.
You both finished the routine and got out, he grabbed the fluffiest towel he had and wrapped it around you. You smiled as he did the same to himself. “You know, these are some of my favorite moments with you,” you said and he looked over at you with a timid smile. “They’re mine too,” he agreed with you with a nod. “Let’s get comfy for the night yeah?” you asked and reached up to place a kiss on his cheek. He watched as you slipped his shirt over your body, and felt his heart pound even faster. When he saw you like that it reminded him that you were his and you were actually happy to be his. You wanted him, you wanted to be close to him in any way you could be. He stood there by his desk just carefully watching your movements wanting to store them away for when you weren't around. So he could remember what it’s like when you’re with him.
You could feel him staring but you never said anything, not wanting to embarrass him or make him feel bad. You thought it was adorable as he watched you do the smallest things because you did the same thing with him. You loved to watch him read, it was just something so sweet about him so concentrated and excited about what he was reading about. You turned toward him and smiled before walking over to where he was standing in pajama pants and a t-shirt.
“Hey, Steven, would you lie with me?” you asked softly. He smiled down at you and nodded his head. “Yeah, sure of course,” he said and you pushed up on your toes and happily placed a kiss on his cheek. He chuckled at your excitement. “C’mon,” you said and grasped his hand. He looked down when he felt the material over your hand, the sleeves of his shirt were covering your hands and it made him smile at how adorable you were. You noticed Steven staring at your hands and you chuckled. “It keeps my hands warm when you aren’t holding them,” you said explaining why you didn’t roll up the sleeves. He looked at you and smiled shyly, “Well that’s good innit?” he asked and you giggled. “Yeah it is,” you letgo and let yourself fall back against the bed with a laugh when you sprang back up a bit. Steven chuckled at your actions and climbed onto the bed with you. You crawled up so you could rest your head against the pillows and be next to Steven. You turned to face him seeing that he was already facing you. “Hey,” you said softly, “Hello love,” he said and you smiled brightly at him. Before you could do anything he pulled you into his arms and your eyes widened in surprise seeing as you hold him usually. You say nothing, but let yourself curl up to him, resting your head on his chest and wrapping your arm around his waist. You softly nuzzled against his shirt, and tossed your leg over his. You couldn’t see it but his smile brightened when he felt you hold onto him, he liked holding you for a change, it made his heart flutter when traced patterns against his side, and placed a kiss on his chest. He felt almost protective of you, he wanted to make you feel safe and he did. You felt safe with him holding you the way he did.
“I wish we were home more,” you spoke carefully. You felt his hold tighten and it made you relax even more, “I’m lucky you can call this place home,” he said and ran a hand through your hair. You looked up at him and smiled softly. “Well, this place is home to me. Home is where the heart is, and so really wherever you go is home. You’re home, this right here right now in this place is exactly where I want home to be,” you explained to him and placed your hand over his heart. He felt tears come to his eyes, and you saw them shimmer from the soft lights around you. You sat up just a bit and placed your hand on his cheek with worried eyes. “Steven, what's wrong?” you asked in concern. “I’ve never felt so much love in my entire life,” his voice was strained as he tried not to cry. Your gaze softened and you gently swiped your thumb across his cheekbone, “Well, I’ve got a lot to give,” you said and leaned down to kiss his nose. You had barely pulled away when he pulled you in to place a kiss on your lips. It only lasted for a few seconds but it was the sweetest one you’d ever shared. “I do too, I love you so much,” he said and you kissed him one more time. Breaking away from him you lied back down and held him even tighter than before. “Steven, you know, I always saw my family as my world, and I still do… but you, you’re my universe,”
#steven grant/marc spector#steven grant#steven grant mcu#steven grant moon knight#steven grant oscar isaac#mcu moon knight#marc spector moon knight#moon knight series#moon knight#marvel imagine#steven grant imagine#moon knight x you#steven grant fluff#steven grant fanfiction#steven grant fic#moon knight x y/n#moon knight x reader#steven grant x you#steven grant x reader#marvel x reader#marvel fluff#marvel imagines#marvel one shot#steven grant one shot#marvel series#marvel studios#mcu fanfiction#oscar isaac mcu#oscar isaac imagines#marc spector oscar isaac
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