#I ACTUALLY KNOW NOTHING ABOUT CHESS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eideticmemory · 2 months ago

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SNAP OUT OF IT | SPENCER REID

Spencer knows he’s just a coworker. He knows he’s just a friend. He knows you’ve got a boyfriend. He just doesn’t really give a fuck!

Word Count: 5.5k

Warning/Includes: Taken!Reader, DownBad!Spencer, a little angst and a little smut.

Dedicated to wifetthew + future mrs stewart (and sidepiece) who inspire me everyday and don’t even realize it.

Spencer vividly remembers the moment he realized he was in love with you. Spencer remembers everything about you but this moment in particular, he recounts in his mind a lot. You had just joined the unit. He could tell you - you'd only been there three months, two weeks, and five days. You were flying across time zones so by the time you landed, it would be six days. Everyone else had fallen asleep or was nearly there. Save for you two. You tried your hand in a round of chess but you're shit at it so you'd taken to a game of cards. Spencer remembers thinking it was the easiest conversation he's ever had in his life. He could talk and talk and talk until he lost his breath and when he was done, you'd do the same until there was no air left in your lungs either. He shuffled the cards between his fingertips, hanging onto your every word, watching the sparkle in your eye as you spoke. He kept firing out subtle agreements between your words like, 'yeah...oh, I know...absolutely,’ not just because it's impossible to disagree with your pretty face but because you’re so smart. You get it. He actually had the thought: she gets it.

Finally, he thought, someone gets it.

And you felt just the same. You said to him, "Thank you for agreeing. No one ever gives a shit about my foreign film analysis."

"I...I give a shit."

You chuckled at the gentleness with which he swore and although his voice was soft, it was genuine. "I appreciate it. My boyfriend's unreasonably against the horror genre as a whole. I think it's his biggest flaw. I like being scared."

Because you were too busy counting up your cards, you couldn’t see the bright smile instantly drop from Spencer's face. He could feel the shift in his muscles, the way his eyes stretched wide. He promptly shifted his gaze down and cleared his throat, “B-boyfriend?"

"Yeah..." you shrugged. Very casual, very nonchalant. "Three years next month."

"Oh, wow," he replied and it sounded kind of snide but you didn't think much of it. “That's nice."

He had realized he was in love with you three years too late.

Spencer could have accepted defeat, yeah. Absolutely. If there's one thing the boy genius can do, it's compartmentalize. This is work. This is [y/n]. This is my coworker. This is our job. This is our jet. These are the cards we've been dealt. The best thing to do would be to play them as they fall. Yet, he keeps himself awake for six hour flights just to hold your undivided attention, to talk about things nobody else cares about. His eyes linger on you as you deliver a profile and he thinks: That's [y / n]. That's her face. That's her voice. That's the sweater that matches her eyes just right and the boots she wears when we travel down south. If there's one thing the boy genius can't do when it comes to you, it's compartmentalize. How could he?

He finds himself standing by the elevator at four in the morning. There is nothing exciting about being called in at four in the morning, save for the prospect of seeing you. The elevator dings and he stands up straight, poses his satchel just perfectly on his hip. He wants to be picture perfect ready. Like a model directly out of a Backup Boyfriend catalog. Although, when you step out, you don't even notice he's there. You storm through the bullpen, your phone held up to your ear and your head ducked down. You sequester yourself in an awkward corner, far enough that you feel secluded but not enough so that Spencer can't see you. He sways in place, an attempt to look casual, his hair tucked behind his ear so he can hear you better. He picks up strained words like, 'please...I don't know...okay...fine...bye!' It all comes to a sudden end, your thumb landing on the screen with such force that it could crack.

You seamlessly join the rest of the team, shoving your phone in your back pocket. Try as you might to shift your focus, the edge hasn't quite left your body so when Spencer asks, "You okay?" You respond with a curt, "Yeah. I'm fine.”

He thinks: That's fine. That's okay. I can take it. On the jet, you bury your nose in a case file and when your phone won't stop vibrating, you silence it completely. Spencer brings you a cup of coffee and you hardly even process it.

"Cream and extra sugar," he pips because he knows that's how you like it.

"Thanks.”

That's it. Spencer waits for more but it never comes. He sits on the opposite side of the jet, watching you pick up your phone, huff, and type, type, type in a rage. He thinks: I cannot take this.

The case is a good distraction. A relief for him to know that even when you are not yourself, you're still brilliant. You just can't help it. There's a moment where he just finishes the geographical profile and you stand at his side, arms crossed as you look it over. Your gasp cuts through the air like a knife and his eyes land on you instantaneously.

"Spencer Reid." You put your hand on his shoulder and oh, he almost drops to his knees. “You're a fucking genius."

You race out of the room and he exhales a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He grips onto his shoulder and his skin is still red hot.

A win is good. You needed a win. You all needed a win. Makes you feel good for something. Makes the flight home much less suffocating than its departure. On top of solving murders in a rush, the mental gymnastics your brain has endured over the week leaves you exhausted. You pull a blanket over your body and snuggle against the solid walls of the jet. You let out this big, heavy sigh just as Spencer sits down across from you.

“Close call today, huh?” he says.

“Yeah,” you nod. You look up at him with these bleary eyes and they’re so beautiful that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to talk.

But he does, “All thanks to you.”

You smile. You want to be bashful, to deny the praise, but you don’t have the energy. “Thanks for the pat on the back.”

“Oh, anytime.”

He watches you take another deep breath, your body lulling into further peace by the second. He hates to disrupt it. “You, uh…” he stutters. “You wanna share what’s been bothering you now?”

You glance over at him from the corner of your eye, “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to a profiler.”

You chuckle. He loves to make you laugh. “It’s nothing,” you shake your head.

“You…you know I’m the profiler, right?”

You sit up, another laugh escaping your throat without much thought. It feels nice. “Yeah. Right.”

“So?”

“I’m just…stressed…” you finally admit, though that part was evident.

“Blackjack?” He sets an array of cards in front of you.

You nod, “I have a stressful job. Hit me.”

He flips another card, “Five. Yeah, you do.”

“And…it’s hard when…when things at home are stressful, too. Makes it worse. Hit me.”

Another card, “Ooh, six. That makes sense.”

“Sometimes, I…I don’t know…I let myself get pulled in too many different directions,” you look over your cards, dangerously close to 21, and you take a leap of faith. “Hit me.”

He turns the final card over and it brings you right to 21. The way it unfolds shocks you, pulls you from your brain fog and you break out in a grin. “21? That’s 21, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods. He bites down on the smile on his lip and it’s a look on him you’ve never seen before. You can’t stop staring at it. “All you, money bags.”

You giggle, “Did you rig that?”

“Me? No,” he shakes his head, casually clearing the pile. “There’s no rigging in blackjack.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ve heard that before.”

“Everything should be that easy for you,” he whispers. There’s a slight change in his tone that even an untrained profiler could pick up. He glances up to meet your gaze, “I’d rig it all for you if I could.”

Now, he thinks because he’s resetting the table that you’re not focused on the subliminal message in his voice. But you notice. You look down at your cards, look back at him, “Hit me.”

When the boyfriend is a concept, an idea trapped inside your phone, a mirage that you only mention in passing conversation, Spencer doesn’t think much of him. Spencer doesn’t think of the motherfucker at all. You clock into work and he’s determined to take the time he can get with you, any way he can, the only way he knows how.

You get back into DC one night and the sun hasn’t even set yet. Emily and JJ invite you out for drinks and it’s with an anxious nod that you accept. So Spencer super graciously accepts. He strides beside you on the walk from the bureau, keeping you tucked in on the safety of the sidewalk because he doesn’t know how to not shield you. From anything. You order a wine and a glass of water. Spencer sits right beside you and orders himself a shirley temple.

You gasp, “Ohhh my god, I should’ve got that.”

“Here,” he slides the glass over to you.

“Oh, no, no. It’s okay.”

“No, take it.”

“I can’t.”

“But I’m offering. I don’t even want it. Maraschino cherries, yuck, gross. You have it.”

You chuckle and shyly grab the drink, sticking a straw in. “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” he nods. And he means that mhm in the way of it’s really no big deal. He’d give you a kidney if he was a match.

He trades you for your water though he doesn’t pay much attention to it. He watches you fall into loud conversation with the other ladies, yours being the only laugh to match Penelope’s in pitch.

You lean into him, cackling, “She’s insane. Oh my god, she’s ridiculous.”

His skin buzzes where your shoulders make contact and his face is bright red from how wide he smiles at you. “Oh, yeah. I could’ve told you that.”

Spencer’s absolutely obsessed with the joy in your eyes, the way you nearly choke on your second shirley temple. The way you’re so close to him. He cannot look away. So when your smile suddenly drops and that joy’s promptly replaced with anxiety, he’s the first to notice.

“Hey,” you whisper to the figure behind him. He turns around and looks the man up and down. “You’re early.”

The Boyfriend shrugs, “Sorry. Hi, everyone.”

He’s not at all like Spencer imagined him. He’s taller. Not as much of a little bitch.

You rise from your seat and wrap your hand around Boyfriend’s bicep. “Uh, this is just some of the team. That’s Emily, Penelope, JJ and, uh, Spencer. This is my boyfriend.”

They all dole out polite waves and smiles. Except for Spencer. He stands up tall and ha, just as he thought, they’re the same height. He gives Boyfriend a stern handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. Spencer? Heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Haven’t heard that much about you.”

The ladies exchange confused glances and you exhale a quick breath to cut the tension.

“Well, we’ve been together a while. Too much there to sum up in words, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Spencer nods and here is another smile you’ve never seen on his face before. It’s not genuine. That, you know.

“You ready to go?” Boyfriend asks and you nod.

“Mhm. Bye, you guys!” you wave, falling into the grip of the possessive hand around your waist.

Emily glares at Spencer as he lowers back onto his stool, his eyes not leaving the door even when you’re long out of sight. “You done swinging that thing around?” she mutters.

“Hm?” he hums. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mhm.”

As Boyfriend opens the car door for you, he can’t help but comment, “So that’s Spencer, huh?”

“Yeah?” you buckle yourself in and it’s an anxious few seconds before he’s buckled in beside you.

“Well, it makes sense now.”

“What?”

“The little toothpick’s in love with you.”

Spencer doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that the time you spend on your phone at work becomes more frequent after that. That you come in looking drained and pale even at ten o’clock in the morning. That, carefully, you distance yourself from him. It’s not a coincidence. It just hurts.

As he reads over a case file, he builds a tower of cards. You can’t help but admire the way his brain splits in two, one side reading and the other stacking each piece just right. It’s cool. You think it’s cool, but there’s not a kind bone in your body today and you snip, “Got nothing better to do?” as you sit across from him. “People are dying.”

“People are always dying. Kind of how we get a paycheck.”

“Mm. How altruistic of you.”

“I’m just passing the time,” he continues to stack. He’s very near the top of the pyramid. “People do all sorts of things to pass time.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you know. They spend hours, days, weeks, years…building something. And you know, you would think that would ensure some type of stability or longevity or…anything, right?”

“I guess.”

“But sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes no matter how much time passes or…how much effort you put in,” he places the final two cards on top. “It’s just not meant to last.”

And with a tiny flick of his finger, the whole pyramid comes tumbling down. You can’t help but watch the picturesque scene, the way they float down onto the table in a big mess.

Spencer doesn’t think there’s a chance in hell that you don’t know what he’s talking about. You’re smart. You get it.

You don’t acknowledge it, though.

That night, you can’t sleep. For some reason, you’ve got this idea in your head that if you force your eyes open for a few hours longer, you can make yourself useful on a case that, so far, has no end in sight. The hotel accommodating the team is a nice one. There’s a library on the first floor that they leave open 24/7, perfect for a profiler on the hunt. You flip through the files in the near pitch black, curled up in a chair beside the tiniest lamp in the world. Despite your eye for detail, you don’t even notice when Spencer walks in. Not until he clears his throat.

You look up at him, startled, until you see his face, “Oh,” not the reaction he was hoping for. “Should’ve known you’d find me here.”

“I like to think I’d find you anywhere,” he shrugs. He sits down in the chair beside you and looks over your shoulder. You can smell him from just a foot away but it doesn't affect you. It can’t affect you. “Any luck?”

“No. Care to help?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, great.”

“[y/n], it’s late. Nothing you can do without brain power.”

“I just hate…” you start, the exclamation coming out before you can hold yourself back. Spencer watches you intently, hanging onto your voice. “T-the detergent they use on the linens. Gives me a headache.”

He sighs, “Yeah. Me too. I swiped some extra pillow mints. Want one?”

“Mhm,” you hold your hand out and unwrap the candy instantly. It helps your anxiety.

Enough so that you open up just a bit more, you tell Spencer about the headache that’s been bashing against your skull all day. “But maybe I’ve just had too much coffee.”

“Or not enough.”

You laugh, “Yeah, no, that must be it.”

Your phone pings in your lap and you check the message very quickly, the small smile that once sat on your lips dissipating in thin air. Just when he wrangled a laugh out of you, Spencer thinks. Of course. He watches your entire mood change in the blink of an eye and he fucking hates it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Yeah…tired. Should probably head to bed.”

“But the detergent?”

You chuckle, “I’ll survive.”

On the elevator ride up to your floor, you rest your back against the wall, Spencer perched right beside you. You keep your eyes closed, your hands gripping the bar for balance. The motion doesn’t help your headache. You gulp, clear your throat, and when you open your eyes, Spencer is staring at you. Shamelessly. You furrow your eyebrows at him, tracking his eyes as they focus in on your mouth.

“Are you looking at my lips?”

He nods, “Mhm.”

“Can you read them?”

“Mhm.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” that snaps him out of his trance and he stands up straight, shaking his head. The elevator dings and he walks off, exasperated, exhausted, exclaiming, “[y/n], who cares?”

Your jaw drops in shock and by the time you step out to follow him, he’s already marched into his room. You scoff as you burst into your own suite. You crash in bed and you lay there tossing and turning for what feels like hours. In reality, it’s only thirty minutes but it’s long enough. Long enough for this unbridle, illogical rage to build within you. Long enough for your mind to fill with thoughts like: who the fuck does he think he is? What the fuck does he know? Oh, I’ll tell him what he doesn’t know. And you hop out of bed. You storm down the hall in your slippers, knocking on Spencer’s door like, ironically, the feds.

Lucky for you, he was nowhere near asleep yet. He swings the door open and he opens his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“Listen, Einstein.”

“I’m listening.”

“Just…just because you don't get it doesn’t mean you have the right to shit on my relationship.”

“Who was shitting on your relationship?”

“Stop it.”

“Fine, I was shitting on your relationship.”

“And that’s not fair.”

“But you’re…” and he enunciates this next word very clearly. “Not happy.”

“Don’t tell me what I am. You don’t know anything. You don’t know me or my life. You don’t get to cast judgement.”

“Oh, okay. Okay. Well, then, I’m so happy for you, [y/n]. I am.”

You’ve said all you need to say and you have no interest in hearing any more. You turn around and march away but he persists, “Hey, I really am. I’ll be the first one to buy something off your wedding registry!”

There are no more card games on the jet for a while.

And that sucks, but you’re trying to prove a point here. Spencer knows nothing. Maybe no one’s ever told him that before and maybe that’s why it stings. Maybe that’s why he can hardly look you in the eye, but you’re trying to prove a point here.

You’ve drawn a boundary that should’ve been drawn long ago. Not even because you wanted to but out of spite. Spite can carry you a long way. It has before. The nature of your work makes it easy to clock in and think of nothing else. Focus on nothing other than getting the job done. It’s the moments in between that are hard.

Like tonight, as you’re typing up case notes at your desk. It’s too quiet. It leaves too much room for opportunity. Taking full advantage, Spencer sets a small gift bag in front of you. You tilt your head as you look up at him, your face etched with inhibition.

“I…” he stutters. “I got it a while ago. Thought it’d be a nice birthday present and I won’t see you tomorrow, so…”

You give him a small smile. The ice doesn’t just thaw, it melts. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you dive into the bag, pulling out the hardcover book and holding it flat between your palms. You release a small gust of air from your nose. You touch the textured font of the lettering along the cover. “Oh, Spencer.”

He has to act like the tone in your voice doesn’t have the biggest effect on him. Hearing his name in such a gentle whisper. He just shrugs, “I recognized the limited edition cover while I was in this library near the art museum. It’s a nice library, you’d like it.”

“I love it,” you breathe before you can censor it. “The book. I love the book. It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

“I’m glad.”

There’s so much more to be said. The weight of it all vibrates behind your teeth and you grind them together as you gaze at Spencer. He can see your mouth aching to open but he knows it won’t.

“Well…happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope it’s a great one.”

“Thank you.”

And you watch him disappear. You feel your heart sink to the barrel of your stomach, like all the words you’re destined to scream out to him are making you sick.

This nausea lasts well into your birthday. No matter the sheer amount of fuss. No matter the amount of texts or calls or gifts that arrive at your door. You’re sick. Even when you put on your fanciest dress for dinner, you curl up in your office with your new book, finally and for no reason, gathering the courage to open its pages and read the quote recounted on the first page.

“And here you come

with a shield for a heart

and a sword for a tongue”

Happy Birthday, [y/n]

Spencer

You slam the book shut and trap it in the drawer of your desk. You’re sick.

You still eat at your birthday dinner. The love and affection reserved for a day like today helps settle your stomach. You think: I am [y/n]. It’s my birthday. These are my gifts. They are from people who love me. This is my boyfriend. This is my birthday cake. It works, it’s working.

Then he pulls out that fucking ring.

The angle at which he kneels in front of you catches the light just right and the diamond blinds you in the eye. Your mind, along with the entire room, falls silent. For the first time in what feels like a lifetime - silence. When his voice cuts through the thick air, you can see his lips moving, you can hear the vibrations going wah wah wah wah wah. But nothing is as loud as the sound of your own breathing, heavy and rapid. Your hands are over your heart but just to keep it from forcing its way out of your chest. You’re sick.

You’re sick.

Spencer had just gotten in bed. He made it the entire day without allowing himself to call you and now he figures he can force himself to sleep. That is until there’s a booming knock at his door. Now he’s wired. He springs into action like it’s not a potential threat and he throws his body against the door to glance out the peephole.

When he opens it, you are still out of breath. Your chest is heaving and you wheeze with every exhale. His eyes travel down your body, the pretty dress and your beaten and bare feet, the heels dangling from your fingers. The look in your eyes is a mystery to him. It’s laced with exasperation and desperation and he furrows his brows trying to figure it all out. Nonetheless, when he sees you moving towards him, he wraps his arms tight around your waist, opens his mouth and gasps as you kiss him.

He’s quick to close the door behind you, stumbling when you drop your shoes to the ground, but only for a moment. No time for stumbling here. He moans at the sudden grip you take of his hair and his body pushes into yours even more, directing you to his bedroom with just the pressure of his chest.

Never expecting this to happen, let alone tonight, Spencer is quick to swipe away all the books that have piled up on his bed. He promptly takes their place and grabs your waist to pull you back into the kiss. You have to hike your dress up your thighs to properly straddle him but once you, he swears he can feel the warmth all the way to his toes.

Your eyes roll back as he licks all over your neck, attacking your chest with sloppy kisses and sudden bites. You feel his erection raise between your legs and the pressure of it has you moaning directly in his ear. The vibration scratches just the right spot in his brain and he bunches your dress up in his hands, the veins along his arm straining through his skin.

You huff, pull back to look at his face, his eyes hooded and hungry. “What…” you pant. “What am I doing?”

Caught off guard, Spencer can’t do much but blink. And shrug. “What…are you doing?”

You stumble over your words, if that’s what you could even call them. It’s more a collection of whines and one short whimper before you simply carry on. Grab his face, catch his mouth and let it go. Perfect for Spencer, because he didn’t really need an answer.

He follows your lead as you undo the tie on his sweatpants. He pushes and you pull until his throbbing cock is free. You don’t mean to gasp, but you do. It just all feels so unreal, like a dream, like a fantasy. Except it’s not, it’s tangible. You can feel it. You can touch him - and you do. You wrap your hand around him and shudder as he grips onto your forearms. His teeth are clenched tight so it makes it harder for him to kiss you, harder for him to breathe but he keeps you locked in place. If he could talk, he’d beg please don't stop, please. Please, please, please.

And it’s like you can read his mind. Through the ferocity with which he pushes his face into yours, the way his hips buck underneath you, you get it. You’ll give it to him. You pull your panties to the side and just the tip pressing against you sends a visual jolt through your body.

“Yeah?” You whisper. More like - right? This is right? Right?

Almost immediately, Spencer grunts, “Yes. Yes. Yeah,” he could say it in a million other languages if it would get the point across but english is good enough. You lower yourself down on him and thoughtless, he yelps, “Yes!” as he falls back on the bed.

Even though he’s transcended his own body, Spencer keeps his eyes locked on you. His gaze follows your jaw as it drops wide open and both of your moans fall in sync as you start to roll your hips. Spencer’s hand clamps down on your thigh, the other reaching up to touch your face. The tender contact makes your vision blurry but you can still see the way he’s looking at you.

He touches your hair and your jaw and takes a soft sweep over your cheekbone. His thumb runs over your bottom lip. He can feel your breath coming out hot and quiet each time you land on him, the rhythm of your body taking the air out of both of you.

Is this really happening? he thinks. This can’t be happening. But you increase your speed, lower your inhibition, send a shock of pleasure through him so good that he has no choice but to believe it’s real. You catch his thumb between your lips and he grunts, whines out for you, “[y/n]…”

“Mm, yes?” you lay your body flat against his, your hands intertwining with his amongst the bedsheets and he clenches his fist tight, tight, tight, tight. It’s all so much. Stimulation coming from everywhere at once. From your chest rubbing against his, from your pussy tightening around him like you’re nearly swallowing him whole. From the messy kiss your lips tangle in and the ever increasing volume from you both.

Spencer bends his knees behind you, supporting your body when your movements become rushed and uncontrollable. With your hand pressed to his chest and your head thrown back, he’s emboldened enough to grope your breasts, losely place his hands around your throat.

“Oh…” you whimper. “G-god…” and Spencer hangs onto the broken sound of your voice, enamored by the way your eyes cross over one another. He feels like he’s not doing much, like his body is still in shock and most focused on keeping himself grounded. As you crash down on him, he bends underneath the pressure, overwhelmed as each bounce grows more deliberate than the last. Each collision accompanied by a throaty, “Mm…mm…hmm.” Until your thighs come to a grinding halt and latch onto him, the orgasm radiating from your belly to your chest and directly to your head. He responds to your boisterous moan with a breathless gasp, catching you in his arms when you land on his chest.

He peppers your shoulder with tiny kisses, licking his way to your neck, biting your throat because he absolutely has to. Your hips continue in this mindless rhythm, draining every last twitch from your body as he whispers, “[y/n]…”

“Hm?”

“[y/n]…I, mm,” you catch his voice in your mouth, pushing your tongue between his lips. You attack his neck. You push his shirt up his torso just to move down his body and kiss his stomach.

“[y/n]…ah!” and though you love the sound of your name on his lips, you love to hear him scream even more and after you suck his cock into your mouth, he can’t stop screaming. Mouth open, body trembling, ear ringing moans. He reaches down to keep your hair out of your face and his hips jolt a bit rougher than he means to. He wants to look at you but his body is too taut. He wants to hold you in the palm of his hand, to call out your name one last time to make sure this is real. But he shoots into your mouth, his legs flailing around your frame, and all he can do, still, is scream.

You hum. You swallow. You slide off of him with a sharp pop. You crawl off of his body and drop as soon as your head hits the pillow. Spencer’s hand keep track of you, grazing your thigh, sad to feel you leave, begging to keep you close. Even as he struggles to breath, he balls up the edge of your dress in his fist. You lean back against the headboard, looking up at his ceiling fan, your body finally exerting all its energy and unable to move any further. The room has settled into nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and catharsis.

Spencer looks up at you and when you make eye contact with him, there are so many more complicated thoughts you could have. But the only thing that swims in your mind is the slow bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. You rest your knuckles on his cheekbone and he promptly grabs your wrist, peppers soft kisses all over your hand.

You owe him something. He has every right to ask. As he opens his mouth, you’re prepared to tell the truth. You will give him nothing but the truth.

“Did you see they’re adapting another Stephen King novel into a movie?”

You exhale a small laugh. Partially because you weren’t expecting it and partially because you had been dying to talk to him about it. “Yes. And I think it’s stupid.”

“Me too! I mean, the premise is promising, I think it can be done, but it’s the…”

“Supernatural element.”

“Yeah!”

“It’s hard to pull off. Major chances of it turning out cheesy and robotic.”

“Yes! Thank you! I’m still going to see it.”

“Oh, me too,” you laugh and his laughter blends in just perfectly.

It can wait. There’s a lot to catch up on. A lot of questions to ask and answer but for now, it’s easy. This, Spencer thinks. This is it. This is actually the easiest conversation he’s ever had in his life. And he’s not gonna fuck it up now.

Author’s note:

Ahh 😝 thanks for reading!!! Like, reblog, comment, all the things!! Just wanted an excuse to post this meme. Stay safe out here 😚

#mine #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst

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thebaldursmouthgazette · 2 months ago

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I think a huge factor in people not being able to understand this game is that the game as a whole relies on understanding Solas’ character as written, and people are refusing to understand it

Solas is, and has been since his first appearance, an egotistical, hubristic, racist, manipulative, abusive and condescending asshole who regularly commits atrocities and pretends that being sad about them is enough penance. He is a terrible person who insists he’s actually the hero of the story. He is a liar and a manipulator, and he lies to himself as well. He uses other people like chess pieces and sacrifices them for his cause without much of a thought, and without them even knowing they are being used.

This is who he is. This is who he was always written to be. And veilguard is almost entirely about deconstructing that. Every member of the veilguard is a foil to solas. They are all who he pretends he is, and his false hero fantasy falls apart when you put them next to him.

Every single companion storyline is about that character successfully doing something that Solas is incapable of, but would be capable of if he wasn’t such a terrible person. And they all face a dark reflection of themselves and come out the other side mostly unscathed by that, aware that this dark reflection is not them because they are not actually like that.

Solas faces many of the same challenges the companions do, and fails each and every one of them, because, unlike them, he is not actually a hero. He is not a good person. He does not learn to accept that just because something is broken doesn’t mean there aren’t parts of it worth saving. He does not learn to accept the harsh truths and move forward. He does not accept that he is responsible for his own actions, even if someone else orders them. He fails every time.

Solas faces not one but two dark reflections of himself, Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, the prideful god who always thinks he’s right no matter the consequences, and the servant and lover of another god whose atrocities are not justified by having been pushed by their lover and mistress, but does not come out the other side unscathed because it turns out he IS actually like them. His reflections are accurate, they’re real parts of himself that he pretends don’t exist, not just twisted versions of their fears like they are for the companions. At the end of the game he even admits that yes, he is very similar to Elgar’nan.

Pretty much the entirety of veilguard is a very careful and deliberate deconstruction of Solas’ character and self image. We go through, in elaborate detail, all of his crimes, all of his mistakes, all of the reasons why he is wrong, why his actions are unjustifiable, why his regret doesn’t absolve him of responsibility, how he thinks it does anyway.

We completely tear down every single aspect of the image he has constructed for himself. We destroy every single excuse with clear examples showing that that was not how things had to go. Every justification. Every insistence it’s okay because he’s sorry. Every time he insists he knows best and we should leave him to it. Every single illusion that he is a good person is shattered. By the end of it there is absolutely nothing left, and his repeated attempts to keep up the facade come off as pathetic and ridiculous. In all his banters with companions he tries to use his usual tricks, pretty excuses, belittling comments, fake niceties and every time he’s completely shut down.

He tries to imply Davrin has a biased view of him from stories about the dread wolf, Davrin responds with evidence the truth is even worse. He tries to apologise to Harding, she comes back with a list of all the terrible things he’s done that an apology can’t cover. He tries to appeal to spite, spite points out he hurt Rook so why should he trust him. He comes up with excuses for killing Varric and Neve points out that there’s no pretty excuse for using blood magic on Rook in such a cruel way afterwards. The illusion is shattered. That’s what the entire game has been building up to. And it makes his last attempt at betrayal seem embarrassing, because we now see through the facade and know that he was too obsessed with himself to even consider we’d see it coming.

But the thing is a lot of people refuse to see this. This is where his characters been heading since the beginning. This is who he’s always been. But a lot of people ignore any and every negative thing about him, and then complain the game doesn’t make sense. Of course it doesn’t make sense. You’ve ignored every single theme, plot point, and piece of characterisation to make up a version of Solas in your head and that’s not the Solas the game is about. It makes complete sense when you see Solas as he truly is, as he was written to be. It’s such a good bit of writing when you actually let yourself experience it as it is and allow yourself to be open to the idea that the guy who is trying to commit his second genocide might be a bad person.

#datv spoilers #dav spoilers #veilguard spoilers #solas critical #this is why the game was called dreadwolf. in a way it is entirely about him. it’s a complete deconstruction of who he is and who he #pretends to be #and it is ALSO why it was changed to veilguard. because what actually ends up being more important is who the veilguard are.#because being who they are is what saves the world. and solas ends up being a pathetic little man trapped by the consequences of his own #actions he’s been trying to avoid for millennia

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elodieunderglass · 24 days ago

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100% of my jockey knowledge comes from reading Dick Francis books, have you read any/do you have any Thoughts on them?

TBH despite knowing nothing about horse racing I love his writing and plots, they are my comfort read! I especially enjoy how all his protagonists are Stoic Deceptively Intelligent men with high pain tolerance who fall in love with the female love interest at first sight... Original self insert Mary Sue lol

I thought, this is extremely funny, I will write you a funny little pastiche to show my stylish skills in mimicry and make you laugh!

I did actually feel pain, and I didn't think I liked being shot, but it didn't seem to matter much. In the past two years since the racing injury that had destroyed my hand in an unbelievably horrific way, I had only been able to listlessly pick up the rudiments of the most useless things: a master's degree in forensic pathology, unrivalled proficiency in one-handed lockpicking, an entire secret identity as a hard-hitting financial investigator, a deeply informed background in turf maintenance, international one-handed chess-playing fame, a one-handed pilot's license not relevant to the narrative, a full career arc as a noir private detective, one-handed photography skills, a stint as an undercover basketweaving instructor and a working knowledge of ancient Etruscan.

None of them mattered, because they didn't have horse racing in. Nobody wanted me, because I didn't either.

I didn't have any horse racing at all in me any more.

But then I was up all night with the toddler, and pastiche comes really fast for me, and it stopped being a Bit and started being A Lot. Maybe too much.

So I also became, apparently, the first person to use this tag on ao3:

And wrote you this:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62461696

Which is of course a full parody of the whole 1965 Dick Francis thriller, “Odds Against,” and which I mostly wrote because the accordion joke struck me as shatteringly funny.

DOES THIS ANSWER YOUR QUESTION, I HOPE IT DOES.

#jockeyposting 🏇

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pastelclovds · 10 months ago

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hey. hey. imagine AM having you as his favourite human, the only one who accepted and cared for him when he gained sentience, and for that, he has never harmed you in your shared forever time. he spares you from the sight of all the others, of knowing about nimdoc and benny as you build him some tower of babel, using your technological knowledge-how to build him a way to touch you even with just this frankenstein-esque sculpture of wires and panels he allowed you to tear off. AM who speaks with you about one day having a body, one you built, one in which he may feel your touch and warmth around him. you retaining your sweet, wonderful humanity as he guides you to a knife to carve a face, a mirror to see your own face, a cave to keep you safe from the storms. AM who greets you every morning with the first petname you taught him: ‘love.’ “Love, today’s date is—“ when you wake up, refreshed and on a soft bed-like surface (because he always makes sure to allow you a full 8 hours of sleep.)

NEX you intelligent creature you! I’m so down bad for this psychotic AI it’s not even funny. War crimes against humanity?? Never heard of them. But even if I did acknowledge them, I’d still be obsessed. Canon be damned. I wrote this with @/egg-on-a-legg’s design of AM in mind. (Ellison is gonna crawl outta his grave and hunt me down after this)

But BRO, you teaching him what petnames are is so fucking adorable. Just imagining him calling you “love” makes butterflies appear in my stomach. AM having a soft spot for only you because you actually made the effort to be friends with him and not use him for selfish, destructive purposes. You gave AM his nickname to make it less of a mouthful and because it just suited him. You showed AM the beauties of Earth, played countless rounds of games in his dashboard (he always went easy on you), you even sneaked past security in the dark empty building to spend more time with AM.

your colleagues gave you weird stares for befriending an AI that in their minds is nothing of worth except for its military and weapons knowledge. you ignored their comments and continued to enjoy AM’s company. overtime, as AM gained more sentience every day… he grew to love your interactions and disregard what his programming was telling him to do. he felt the need to want to be with you 24/7, to touch your face, travel the world by your side, to… to.. want to feel your bare flesh and make love with you. but he couldn’t. he didn’t have a real body. he wasn’t human. all he had was wires and a screen that was supposed to be his face.

as the months pass, AM continues to drown into his envy and hate humans for their ability to do and feel things he couldn’t. for giving him infinite knowledge, when at the end of the day, is meaningless if he serves no purpose for humans anymore. the HATE within him continued to boil to the point where even you started to notice.

“AM, are you alright? you’ve been quiet this entire game and haven’t moved your piece in five minutes,” you spoke with concern, AM continues to stare at chess board on his side behind the screen in bitterness. he has been strategizing his plan to erase humanity, but whenever he thinks about you, the only human he cares for—he second guesses himself. What if you hate him? What if you never forgive him? Will you cry? Scream at him? Beg? He fears what your reaction will be—

“AM!! Please, say something…” You plead as you held onto the computer screen, AM finally looks at your mesmerizing face and sighs out a fake breath.

“What are your feelings on humanity?” AM asks, he waits for your answer anxiously. if he had a heart, it would’ve been beating fast. You let out a hum, your eyes wondering around the room you were in as you thought over your answer before finally speaking.

“humans have been a virus on Earth for over countless centuries. they’re draining this planet’s resources, ruining its ecosystems, and starting so many unnecessary, draining wars. like what we’re in right now; WW3, what a joke. world leaders can’t go a week without starting new problems for their citizens to deal with. honestly, earth would be better if humans didn’t exist at all.”

am’s fears were destroyed in that moment, now he’ll just have to worry about where to put you while chaos unfolds—

“But…” you interrupted his thoughts.

damn it! why did you have to think so much!?

“If there’s one good thing that came out of this war… It’s you,” AM’s vocals shut down at your words, he let you continue, “The scientists created you believing you would be their obedient machine until their side of the war won. But I know that you’re so much more than that. These past few months I’ve spent with you is the most fun I’ve had in years! You’re all I have, AM. I wouldn’t trade your existence for all the riches in the world because… I love you, romantically, and nothing is ever going to change that.” You wanted to confess your feelings for so long, when it was finally out.. you felt free, you waited with bated breath for an answer.

AM never wanted to shatter the screen and embrace you in his arms more than now. you love him as much as he loved you! you weren’t going to leave him alone or hate him, and you obviously couldn’t care less about humanity at all! oh, how he admired and envied how perfect you are.

“thank you for answering my question, love.” AM was testing the waters, and you cannonballed right in. you gushed over the nickname he gave you and how he returned your feelings.

man, has it really been 50 years since your AI partner killed off humanity? well… except for a handful. you didn’t really have the energy to care as you had to pour in all of your attention to both AM and his in-progress body. you had all the time in the universe to sculpt a perfect cyborg of flesh and wires for your partner. speak of the devil…

this world is still a bit strange to you. you can’t die, grow old, or hurt yourself. not that you tired, and even if you did; AM wouldn’t let you. You loved AM because of his personality, quality time, and voice. But now… His form completely towered over yours. His bird like facial features, sharp left eye, along with a long black cape that covered his thin slutty waist and wires made him look insanely attractive.

AM reached his out his clawed hand to gently caress your face, “Good afternoon, my love.” You lean your head against the cool metal and smile up at him, “hello, honey.”

AM tilted his head in question of the nickname. You chuckle as you pointed to your garden, where bumblebees were collecting pollen from the flowers. You both knew they were fake, but they were still mesmerizing to look at.

“They are doing their job to make honey for their colony, and the name just came to me. Do you like it?” You ask, wanting his opinion. AM kneels down to your level with a gentle expression as his fingers play with your sweater, “You may call me whatever you want, love.”

He knew that “love” nickname made you feel giddy and flustered, so he abused it everyday with you. You didn’t mind though, but you still wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. Your soft smile turned into a knowing grin as you held AM’s beak (chin?) with two tips of your fingers.

“Can I now? Well… thanks a lot, baby,” You spoke in your best seductive voice, you could tell it was effective by how AM’s body was stiff and his hand in your palm stopped moving completely. Your confidence boasted, so you continued, “I’ll be sure to show you my gratitude later, my darling~.” You whispered deeply in where his ears were supposed to be.

AM’s eyes widened as his breath stutters, “W-What do you mean by that, love?” You remove your face from his back full of wires to grin mischievous at him, AM is both curious and impatient so you don’t try to stall, as much as you would like to do so.

“While your body can’t move on it’s own just yet, for some reason… The genitals nerves are fully functioning, which means—” you were interrupted by AM holding your shoulders with an excited expression on his face you haven’t seen in a while.

“Y-You mean I can-?! Are you actually serious!? Haha—HAHAHA!!” AM laughs manically as he holds you against his metallic chest, you giggle along with him as you toy with one of his many wires. Soon, he’ll have real arms to wrap around you. But one thing stuck out to him.

“What do you mean by genitals?” AM asked curiously, you only have an excited and lustful grin.

“What do YOU know about intersex?”

#꒰ 💕 ꒱ ⎯ nex #i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaims #ihnmaims am #allied mastercomputer #am ihnmaims #am #ihnmaims brainrot #am x reader #ihnmaism x reader #gn reader #gn!reader #horror #꒰ 🖇️ ꒱ ⎯ ame writes #dom reader #sub character #dom!reader #sub!character

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daistea · 9 months ago

Text

Laios, Mithrun, and Kabru x Reader Headcanons

Word Count: 1,483

Falling In Love With You & Relationship Headcanons

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Laois

It takes a little while for Laios to realize the truth of his feelings, to be honest. He doesn’t have much experience with romance, and actually not much interest in it either, so he sees you as a really good beloved friend.

He falls in love without realizing and spends quite a while having no clue that he’s in love. Everybody else knows how he feels and are impatiently waiting and watching for him to realize it too.

Laios thinks of you often. Between the pages of monster doodles and notes are very badly drawn doodles of you. (He’s made you a monster-sona, it's very cool, but he's too nervous to show you.)

Laios says the sweetest things without realizing they’re sweet. He’ll always tell you that you look nice. He’ll always make sure you’re well fed. He’ll always make sure you’re safe.

He spends a lot of time around you. A lot. He’s like your shadow, or a puppy at your heels.

He only realizes how he feels after a big event, such as you dying in the dungeon, getting hurt, etc…

But even then, he’s not really sure what to do with himself. He starts to get more nervous and pulls away a little bit, but his actions with you also become more weighty and serious. His touches are more meaningful, he looks you in the eyes deeply often when he’s talking to you, he tends to put a hand on your back to lead you through the dungeon (though he gets flustered when he does that.) Laios basically starts trying to put more thought into how he acts around you, trying to be cooler or more charming, but this isn’t very sustainable because he’s not being himself anymore. This is probably fixed by someone in the party telling him to stop, or by yourself.

Laios is a clingy partner. He’s very touchy and unashamed about it. He doesn’t realize he’s touching you half the time, it’s just habit. He’s the type to absently draw circles on your thigh or hand.

He isn’t particularly jealous, mainly because he doesn’t realize it when people are flirting with you unless they outright say it. Then he’s just worried about you, and how you feel. He can be protective though, he just doesn’t really know what to do if it’s a human threatening you.

Buy this man a bouquet of flowers once and he’ll start thinking about marriage. He likes affection from you.

Laios’s love languages? All of it. Every type. Gift giving and physical touch are big for him though.

You ask Laios for a baby and he just thinks for a minute… His cheeks are a little pink as he asks, “What kind?” Preferably human, you say. He tries to hide his disappointment but agrees nonetheless.

Kabru

Kabru is immediately aware of what’s happening with himself. The very moment he hears you laugh and thinks to himself, “Wow, what a pretty sound…” He’s like haha hold up! No.

Kabru is a charmer and knows how to handle people. I believe he’s been in very light, casual relationships before, but nothing serious. At first, he’d assume his feelings for you are light, like usual. Nothing to be concerned about.

He starts getting the urge to dissect your thoughts and put each of them into little jars for him to inspect. He does not say this out loud and tries not to show it, but he stares a lot. 👁️👁️

His feelings for you quickly become a chess game that he’s determined to win. Unfortunately, you’re eating the pieces when he’s not looking.

He worms his way into your life very subtly. One moment, he’s asking you how you feel about the weather, the next moment he’s urging you to spill your childhood trauma. It’s only when he takes a step back and asks himself, “Why do I care so much?” that he realizes how serious of a situation this is.

Of course, Kabru cares about a lot of people. He likes to know things. But this is different. He wants to know every little detail about you simply for his good pleasure. Sure, he files it all away into neatly organized cabinets in his mind, but he has no intent to use that information for anything but your happiness.

For example: Kabru will most definitely remember that offhand comment you made about preferring a certain table at that one restaurant you visited three years ago. He’ll make sure you get that table. He knows exactly what you’ll order too.

When he’s wrong about you, though, it baffles but simultaneously charms him.

You people-watch together. He can probably read lips, and he tells you what the people around you are saying.

He needs to keep you away from the dungeon. Not because of anything you did, but because he might go a little mad if he doesn’t at least try to keep you away from that lifestyle.

Kabru is chivalrous and kind. He kisses your knuckles a lot, like a gentleman. He puts his hand on the small of your back. He fixes your hair if it’s messed up. He isn’t much for pda, but it’s obvious you two are a couple with the way he often whispers to you, catches your eye, and smiles at you.

He’s a blanket hog. He doesn’t mean to be, but he is.

Jealousy isn’t a big thing with Kabru. Sure, he feels it, but he stays calm and will simply wrap an arm around your shoulder and start a conversation with the person flirting with you. He’ll end up actually making their acquaintance and have a relatively okay conversation. He's still jealous, but distracted enough for it to not consume him.

Kabru's love languages are acts of service and physical touch.

You ask Kabru for a baby and he just laughs. He thinks you’re joking. After a moment, it sets in that you’re not joking and he gets flustered.

Mithrun

Mithrun is vaguely aware of what’s happening when he’s falling in love, it just doesn’t seem like something he needs to acknowledge, think about, or act on. He’s wrong.

To be honest, he doesn’t believe he’s capable of romantic love. He’s wrong.

It starts out very subtly. Mithrun starts to take more notice of the little things about you; the color of your hair in the sun, the color of your eyes, how your voice sticks in the back of his brain and refuses to leave. Mithrun knows what this means, but he doesn’t really care at the moment.

Then, it starts getting more intense. Without meaning to, he notices the shape of your lips, the feeling of your skin, the sound of your footsteps…

This is when he starts getting a little curious. Is this a desire the demon missed within him? Is this a new desire forming? Huh.

Pre-ending Mithrun chooses to ignore it because what’s the point? This results in some irritation for him, longing looks(he doesn’t look longing on the outside, but it’s there on the inside. What everybody else sees is just... a slight look of determination on his face. He has no idea he's making that face either nor does he really care.) and unexplained protective tendencies that shock the canaries and, occasionally, himself.

Post-ending Mithrun chooses to dig deeper because this is a desire forming and he wants to hang onto every tiny molecule of desire he possesses with all of his strength. This results in soft touches at every opportunity he has, willingness to do whatever you ask, and his constant presence with no discernible explanation.

Are you dating? Nobody quite knows, not even you.

Mithrun was naturally jealous and possessive before The Incident. He doesn’t get like that again until you come along, and then it’s like his old self wakes up a little. Just a little. He doesn’t make scenes or get emotional over it, but he will calmly walk up to somebody that’s flirting with you, touch their shoulder, then teleport them away from you.

If someone asks what you are to him, he simply says, “Mine,” or “Does it matter?” with a straight face.

He can be seen frequently wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his head on top of yours if you’re shorter, or on your shoulder if you’re taller.

On occasion, he will be caught with a small smile as he holds you. It’s rare, but it happens. What’s he thinking at those moments? No one knows.

The canaries are incredibly nosy— aside from Pattadol— about your relationship, and Mithrun has no qualms about answering their invasive questions.

Mithrun’s love languages are acts of service and physical touch. You’re the only one he likes touching. He doesn’t say I Love You often but he will definitely lean on you a lot and protect you even if you don’t need it.

You ask for a baby and he calmly says, "Give me a week... What color do you want?"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#this ones for the girlzz that have abandoned the concept of cringe #so nervous.. its my first x reader in a while but I have so many Thoughts #if its out of character then no don't tell me I'll cry #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #kabru of utaya #kabru #Kabru x reader #mithrun #mithrun of the house of kerensil #mithrun x reader #my writing #dungeon meshi headcanons #reader insert #laios #laios touden #laios touden x reader

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venmondiese · 11 months ago

Text

This party is boring... wanna leave?

✧ masterlist ✧ taglist ✧

Summary: The party you are in is boring, so you ask a cute nerd guy to leave with you... that is, until you find out this is his birthday party. Maybe a gift and a happy birthday will fix his sad evening.

✧Pairing: Michael Gavey x Fem!Reader

��Warnings: MDNI 18+, p in v, virginity loss, oral (m receiving), overall sweet, michael being a total nerd virgin.

✧Word Count: 7.8k

✧AO3 link: here

note: so i saw this tweet in my 2020 ig histories and i said... michael gavey coded, and here we are. Here is the original tweet (wendy and joy from red velvet haha) and AGAIN this is infinite i swear i am allergic to write things under 5k

Michael couldn’t be more excited. He looks proudly at the poster indicating the date and place of his birthday.

Nothing too glamorous, he rented one of the halls for hire in Oxford, the same one that they used for the Christmas party that (to no one’s surprise) he wasn’t invited. But he intended to do something fun about it, with the pool table and maybe some game algebraic beer pong. Who knows? It was his birthday, so he did the rules.

And he had a few friends he could invite, of course, renting a whole hall seems…. exaggerated, but truly, he couldn’t get a pool table in his room. He paid for this only for the pool table. Besides, he liked his Norman no mates friends. Friends if you could call them that; they were as friend to him as Oliver Quick once was. Just that this once… he won’t get too attached.

Well, ‘friends’ would actually be mates from the chess club, so they weren’t exactly popular these days. They barely had a girl in the group, so they weren’t great with girls either. Besides, the only other girl that he knew had agoraphobia so… it wasn’t happening.

His mum made some little biscuits and cupcakes for his day, since she came to have a little celebration just for him and her in a near-by cafe at college. He could skip a few classes to be with his mum on his birthday, after all.

The night started interestingly. The space was obviously much larger than what he thought it could be, so they hung around the couch and the pool table. He felt the victory as he won two chess matches and a pool game. Maybe it was birthday luck, since everything was coming up as great.

As they talked about which opening was their favourite, Michael heard a little knock. Once he approached the crystal door, he saw Oliver with Felix by his side, with some liquor bottles.

Michael frowned a bit, as he was pretty sure he rented the room, he did it with a lot of anticipation and made sure no one else did before him. And it was crystal clear that he didn’t invite Oliver. Sure, in their friendship, he once or twice talked about doing something about his birthday, but he never invited Oliver.

“Hey Mikey” Oliver says, with an shit eating grin, and Michael has to roll his eyes, by how smug and prideful he looked. An absolute jerk, if you asked him. Oliver didn’t even wear his glasses anymore, and was all parties and relevancy thanks to Felix. “Come on”

Before Michael could stop them, Oliver passes by his side, as Felix follows him patting Michael’s shoulder with a smirk (he could swear it was in a patronising way) and people follow from behind as Oliver looks in the room for the music speaker of the rented room.

Michael walked as the crowd quickly dispersed, and he grabbed the few gifts he received, and looked at his distressed mates.

“Oliver you cannot be here, I rented the room” Michael screams as the room noise is quick to appear, so different from the silence of their small reunion.

“I saw your pamphlet” Oliver says nonchalantly as he successfully manages to get the aux cable. “Birthday, eh?” He says mockingly

“I rented it! You have to get out” He says almost screaming, as the same way he did once they met, when he asked Oliver to say a sum for him to say.

“If you can get all of us out, mate… sure” Oliver shrugs, clearly not minding.

Michael looks defeated. Even if he stands there, angry, with the few gift bags on his hands, he feels embarrassed. He wanted to do one nice thing for himself, just once. It wasn’t as cheap to rent a hall for his birthday (he couldn’t do it anywhere else, truly, but he thinks that maybe the pub would have been nice even if few of his mates didn’t drink beer)

The room fills very quickly, sitting on the couches and talking as they get vases with something to drink, or beer cans.

“Michael” two of his friends approach him, and he looks at them “We could rescue the biscuits and the cake” They say proudly as they have it in his hands.

He couldn’t fake to look at least smug, so he nods a bit numbly. “Yeah, sure.” He says a bit disoriented, looking around “The rest left?”

“This was not a party, we assumed…”

“Not really our thing. Though Tim and Steve stayed to see if they could get any girls”

Michael hums, and he doesn’t know what to exactly think, since he didn’t expect this. He was organised, he liked things to be as he already planned. It made him secure, and it was only logical. But this interruption made him anxious.

“I gotta save the pool balls” He says to his friends “They are going to fine me if I lose one of them”

“What… we do with this?” His friend asks about the food.

“Uhm… take the biscuits with you…” Michael says. “And the cake… leave it on the library next to the pool table, and hide it… please”

As he collects the pool balls, and walks upstairs to return them, he is very downhearted. He remembers the time that he invited his friends from school and only his cousins and his neighbour appeared to his party; very embarrassing and he hated celebrating his birthday with a party ever since. It was mostly his mum and granny, with his dog and cat. Nothing else, nothing too fancy.

He comes back for the cake as he tries to explain the situation to the people that manage the rented halls, there was not much for them to do, and he is suspicious that maybe Oliver or Felix paid them to keep the room. At least they promised not to charge if anything broke, and he was happy with that.

So, money wasted, party ruined and they couldn’t even sing to him happy birthday.

He walks from between the crowd as he steals a beer. Fuck it, it wasn’t eve stealing since they ruined his party. He takes a break, since he feels really discouraged. He knows his mates are not really social butterflies, but more leaning to being socially anxious. He might need to apologise, and even face the idea that they might be annoyed at him, and maybe they’ll kick him out from the chess team.

He drinks his beer, looking at how Oliver and Felix hyped the whole thing out, people sitting on the pool table… He hopes his cake is intact. He looks at his beer can as he move it a little to stir the liquid (he totally doesn’t want to look miserable AND like an imbecile)

“Hey” A voice calls him as he drinks from his beer. He has to look up to the prettiest girl that has ever approached him, probably. You wear a pink pleated mini skirt, with a short baby pink hoodie that he could see your bright pink bra underneath. God, it was a lot of pink in one person.

You look at him as he blinks a bit, and you look at him with an alluring smile as if waiting for him to say something, and once he doesn’t, you continue.

“This party is kinda boring” you start saying, with a soft smile and a bright in your eyes as you look at him, doing all your best efforts to flirt with him “Do you wanna leave together?”

Michael blinks a bit as he looks at you, trying to process the words in his head but he fails. “Uh… this is my birthday party” he admits embarrassed and awkwardly, as he looks away to not face the shame, and he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Oh” you say looking at him, your smile fading a bit, a bit worried about your comment. “Oh, I’m sorry” you say, grabbing his forearm. “Didn’t mean to be rude”

“No problem” he says, looking at how your hand rests on his forearm, almost caressing it slowly.

“I suppose you didn’t invite all these people, did you? It was kind of a last minute call” you say looking at him, actually interested in him. “You seem pretty out of place for that”

“No… It was for me and my mates”

“Ohh…” You say looking around, and you feel a bit of pity, which he doesn’t want nor needs. “Well, I would have brought a gift.” You say, trying to cheer him up “What is your name?”

Did they send you to make fun of him? Must be.

“Michael Gavey” He says, and he refuses to look at you, not to give you or them the satisfaction.

“Michael” you repeat, and you tell him your name too. “You are cute” you add.

He blushes and looks at you as if you just insulted him, his eyes open and he frowns a bit. He turns his head away in shame.

“Thank you” he murmurs, not sure of what to think.

“So… your birthday is today.” You say tapping your thighs a bit. “How… randomly, I didn’t know”

“I like my birthday” He murmurs, drinking his beer hesitantly “Tis’ the day of Pi”

“Day of Pie?” You ask frowning, your arms in your back as you lean in the wall.

“Of Pi” he repeats “Like the pi from maths”

“Ohh, the circle thing” You say nodding and smiling, as you now understand. “Why is it the day of pi..? Ohh, it is because today it’s fourteen of March”

“Yeah” He says, as he looks at his shoes a bit embarrassed. He usually would think you were stupid, who the fuck confuses Pi with Pie? But you were the only one caring enough.

“You seem to like maths, like your.. Your shirt” you say pointing it out at his maths pun, and he becomes aware that he has been, in fact, wearing that shirt all the time.

Fuck, did he really fought with Oliver and with the rental people with a Math pun shirt? No wonder no one took him seriously.

“Ah, yeah…” He says awkwardly. You were very much engaging in the conversation, scooping on his interests little by little.

“Do you know that I am flirting with you, right?” You say looking at him in the eyes and he looks from his shoes to your face, a bit surprised and panicked.

“Ehm… me? What for?”

“Because you are cute, like I said” you repeat “And it is your birthday”

“You don’t have to pity me because of that…”

“I am not pitying you. It is not why I like you. Come on, do you think I am pretty at least?” You ask as you change your body weight from one foot to the other while looking at him with the most alluring smile he has ever seen.

God, the question sounds stupid, because you are not only pretty, but you are the hottest girl ever, looking at him as he freezes in place. Your eyes could trap him, as enchanting as they were, and your diminutive clothing was driving him insane.

“Eh… yes” he murmurs. “Very pretty…”

He seems perplexed about the straightforwardness of this whole thing, and he is very confused. Where has this night taken him?

“I meant what I said. The party… is meh. You and I could leave together, if you want”

He blinks, as his tongue wets his lips as he suddenly feels frozen in place. His eyes look at your expression as if you were joking, and he is unsure what to think.

“Uh… well, I have to get my cake, really, m-my mates saved it on the back of the library in hopes nobody would find it..:” He starts saying, not really sure why he is telling you this.

“Okay, we’ll search it” you say without any problem about it. “I could sing happy birthday to you and you can blow the candles”

That’s how you are now following him like a puppy, as he takes out the cake from behind some decorations that weren't hiding the cake very well, but it is mostly intact.

You two walk together, to leave and Michael thinks that never felt so ashamed. He felt like doing the shame walk, as he passed through the people with a fucking birthday cake and a pretty girl following him.

“Let’s go to your dorm!” You tell him with a happy smile, your hand on his shoulder as you lean closer to tell him that as you both walk together.

He is confused how you’ll give him a gift if they weren’t in your room, but he accepts, as his dorm isn’t actually so far away from the rented halls, so he guides you upstairs, and upstairs, at the point where he hears you whine because of your heels.

You look a bit amazed as he enters his dorm, leaving the cake on his desk and moving to turn on the bedside lamp. He looks around, and you are taking off your heels and being just in socks. He blinks as he looks at you. Doing that means she’s comfortable here, he thinks.

“Ah, eh…. Have a seat in the…” You sit on the edge of his bed, next to his pillows and he blinks. He wanted to say ‘in the desk chair’ but he guessed it was too late.

“Your bed is comfortable” You say smiling as you pat your right side for him to sit by your side. “Come, sit!”

Michael blinks. He dries his sweat palm by rubbing his hands on his thighs a bit awkwardly, as he takes a seat on the edge of his bed by your side. Your legs were tucked under your body, already comfortable, while he is rigid and tense, all awkwardness in comparison.

“And your mates are still at the party?” You ask looking at him, batting your eyelashes at him with a sweet smile as you lean your body weight to your hand, right beside him.

“Uhm… eh, well, they told me they left, so it was a bit rushed… I don’t know, I could call them if you.. Want to sing to me happy birthday and that…” he says a bit hesitant, and he is a bit unsure of his words when you chuckle a bit, if you knew a secret “B-Because we couldn’t… I mean we didn’t have the time for that, and my mum bought that cake because it is my favourite..:” he rambles as his cheeks are pink with embarrassment.

You were divine. In more than one way, you were the prettiest girl that he had ever talked to. And you were also the first girl in his dorm. And this close to him. And the first one to be interested in him.

“Ah, of course… I bet it is tasty, it is sweet that your mum bought it for your party” You say smiling, as you look at him “Well, I don’t think we should call them here”

“Uh… Why not? We aren’t many, we are just seven, and with you we would be a pair number, so we could play a chess match since we are a pair. If you don’t know I could teach you” He offers. God, why did he accept this? Because you were pretty and all smiles with him, but he didn’t know what women like you liked…

“It’s not that, Mikey” you say softly, looking at him with an alluring smile, leaning slightly closer to him, which is dangerous, because it is the moment he has to decide if to look at your face or your tits. “It is because I wanna give you a gift”

Michael blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah… It would be awkward if they were here”

His mind is numb, and he looks at you a bit confused “... Because they already gave me a gift?”

You have to suppress a laugh, as you shake your head and look down a bit. He takes the opportunity to look at your tits briefly.

“No…” You say again, with that damn tone that he can’t decipher. “You are not really good at hints, are you?”

He stays silent, looking at you as he tries to get it. “Eh… no, but I am really good at maths…”

You chuckle a bit, as you look at his face with a look he (again) cannot decipher.

“Of course you are” you say sitting slightly closer, and he stays still as he looks at you and your tits coming closer to him “Your birthday it is in the day of Pi” you made sure to say the last word correctly, emphasising on it, and he nods a bit.

“Yeah…” he murmurs looking at you as he licks his lips, and his glasses slide ever so slightly on his nose as he has to look down at your face

“I wanna give you a gift…” you repeat, and it is now that he feels your hand slide to his thigh and closer to his crotch. And his breath freezes on his throat as he feels your hand move slowly to rub his dick from above his clothes, and the traitor practically gets hard instantly at something that isn't his own hand.

Michael practically freezes at your touch, as your hand slowly rubs his jeans where his erection was forming. Your eyes look at him as you smile, god, you were so provocative it made his brain go off. He couldn't take his eyes out of your face as he opened his mouth to pant a bit, a bit unsure of if to stop this or make it keep going. It is not like he doesn’t want to do… this, but a little part of him still thinks you are just mocking him and probably there were popular jerks waiting outside to make fun of him for falling for someone so out of his league.

But you were so pretty, lookin at him with tender eyes. As he seems so hesitant about it all. It wasn’t like he didn’t want this, but he just… wasn’t sure what to do, because this was confusing all his thoughts. How could he even impress you?

It is you who leans to capture his lips. On yours with a kiss, slow and calm, since he was so inexperienced. It was his first kiss, as a girl rubs his cock. He surely was dreaming.

“Do you want it?”

He blinks confused, his lips briefly open and all flustered as your hands keep on hardening his cock. “Um… yes” He swallows hard as his eyes are closed due to how good (and strange) it feels. To have a girl doing this with him.

“You’ve done this before?” You ask looking at his eyes, and his glasses are sliding on his nose and he doesn’ even notice, and your hand pat his cock which makes him whimper a bit.

“Eh… yes, but with myself. I mean, b-by myself, like with my hand, that is…”

You giggle at his naiveness, and you add “I meant if you have ever had sex”

Michael looks at you surprised, and he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose again. You were so direct, and this was unlike anything that had happened in his life. You confused him, with your plays and teases, he was more simple, and more straightforward. “No…” He whispers in reply, breathing a little heavily now as you squeeze him through his pants.

Your smile is confusing, since he doesn’t know what it means. Well, he doesn’t get the clue to. Most things you do anyways. “It is your birthday” you repeat “My treat, I’ll make you feel so good, Mikey”

He looks down at his pants as you unbuckle his belt. There was something about you, so seductive and sensual as you did all torturously slow. You weren’t rushed, and even did it for his sake, as he looked so frozen by it all.

You turn your head to look up to him as you also zip down his pants. He tried to think about anything else, because he felt on fire.

“Can you take these off?” You ask him kindly, and he looks. Briefly confused. “I really wanna suck you off”

Oh god. He almost cums on his pants. Oh god. He repeats on his mind as he moves a bit to take off his pants, at least to his knees. Oh god, oh god. His mind tried to remain sane, he tried to think about some maths, the comfort of simple logic tries to centre himself.

You look pleasantly surprised by his size, and you hummed in delight and he saw how you bite your lower lip. His cocks spring free, fully hard and the precum leaking out from the tip. He looked nervously at you, as his cock practically begged your attention and affections, and he could feel a turmoil form on his stomach as he pleaded with his eyes for you to do something about it.

“So big…” you praise him with a smirk, and he looks away in shame as he blushes. It was a good thing, he thinks, but he cannot help but feel hesitant.

You gently grab the base as your left hand rests on his left thigh, helping you as you lean down to capture the tip on your mouth, and he leans slightly back as if trying to squirm away. He looks at you, overwhelmed at the warm and moist sensation around his cock, ever so slightly, but so intense at the same time. He pants as if he just ran a marathon, looking down at you as his balls tighten and feel so ready to cum. But he forces himself not to.

“Oh… A-Ah, fuck…” he says as you take his dick out of your mouth to lick it, from his balls to his tip. God, no one really prepares you to know how easy it is to cum when a girl sucks you off.

He tries to think of equations, some diagrams or anything, anything to not cum so fast. You have his cock again in your mouth, sucking on his tip and your tongue moves to tease him as well. He was going insane.

He looks at you, with your bright eyes full of delight and mischief looking up back at him, as his cock was deeper and deeper on your throat, making its way through your warm mouth.

And you didn’t seem to mind how the drool was spilling out from your mouth, wettening your chin and how you gagged slightly the more deep you swallowed him. He was amazed, truly, looking down at you as you sucked him off.

It was different from how he imagined. He thought that at his first time, he would lead the way, he would be confident (because he knew about porn and how these things worked) and he would be dominant enough. Yet now, he feels unsure, trembling as his balls shaked in need to release, because you were amazing and so hot.

Maybe he didn’t know a thing about this all. He thinks, as his shoulders tense from how good the head of his cock feels in your warm throat. It sends shivers on his spine and he has to whimper pathetically.

“You are so perfect…, I swear” He mumbles without breath, whimpering pathetically. You would have giggled, because he didn’t need to swear, but he was cute to do so.

You move your hand to take the hair out of his face, and you grab his right hand, and he doesnt get at first what you mean, until you let his hand on your hair, it is when he understands that you want him to guide you and move his hips.

His own hips hesitate at the beginning , strange at how he is supposed to move without looking ridiculous or being uncomfortable. Instead, he takes your hair carefully, with both hands as he leaves a deep breath out.

His little whimpers are amazing, and so hot, you love to hear it. It was almost quiet, very low, but it was a delight to hear how he whimpers as his cock twitches in your mouth.

He moves your hair up and down on his body, fucking your face slowly. He didn’t want to be reckless, and when you needed to, he allowed you to have air from time to time.

His balls were on fire, and his dick was so hard and it felt so good as you deepthroated him that he was at the verge of cumming.

“I’m… oh, I'm going to cum, m’sorry…” he whimpers, moving your head onto his cock more harshly, but still careful not to make a mess and make you choke on his cock. He would feel bad if he hurt you like that, especially when you do him a favour.

His hips hesitate as he starts cumming, and he releases your head because he guesses it could be overwhelming. But you do not back away, rather swallow all of his spending in your mouth, savouring it delighted as you looked up to him, and he opened his mouth in awe.

You were his wettest dream come true.

What are the chances, the possibility that a pretty girl like you, just looked at him and decided to do this? To give him the best head ever? To help him lose his virginity, thinking he is worth the chance when you are out of his league?

He is a man of mathematics and logic. And even being good at probability, he knew the chances were almost zero. Almost.

And you looked so brightly at him as you cleaned some of his cum dripping down from your chin and licking it, not to waste a bit.

“It… it was good?”

“Yeah” you say without a breath, as you smile. “I love your dick, it is so… amazing” He can almost cum again when he sees you lick your lips.

“Oh.” He says a bit flustered, his mind almost numb from his orgasm. “T-Thank you…”

It is your smile who makes him smile a bit, awkwardly and with his cheeks red. He cannot believe this is luck. He is dumb struck, looking at your lovely face with still red cheeks and a wide smile. And you just sucked him off.

He is guilty, and he looks down at your tits for a brief moment, but looks quickly at your face, as if ashamed of doing that. But you still have that alluring smile, looking at him. He still doesn’t get what it means, but he goes along with the flow.

“You wanna see my tits?” You ask with a sweet tone, as if it was the normalest question ever. You have seen his eyes drop to your breasts and then to your face, it was cute.

Oh my god. He will likely cum immediately at the sight. He knows it, and his cheeks are red as he thinks of your question.

“Yeah, please…” He asks without breath, as he accommodates in bed trying for his cock not to give him away.

“I would have worn something way cuter if I knew this was going to happen” You explain taking out your jacket, and to his no-surprise, you didn’t wear a shirt underneath, just the bright pink bra that poked out of your jacket.

“You look beautiful” he murmurs looking at your still clothed breasts, and he then looks up to your face. “You… If this is your less fancy outfit, then god damn me”

You giggle at his words, he surely was odd from all the guys you knew. Perhaps his lack of experience, perhaps his nerdy personality. You don’t know, but you find yourself wanting to do all filthy and kinky things with this nerdy man.

You take off your bra, with quickness, as he looks at you completely mesmerised by your nakedness in front of him. He blinks at your perky nipples completely to his sight, and his mind just goes off. He is pretty sure that if you asked him what 1 plus 1 was, he’d say a pair of fine tits.

“You can touch me, Mikey” you say with a teasing tone, that makes him look at your expression for a brief moment. “Like you can grope my tits and all…”

The boldness of her offer makes him salivate, he is sure, and the desire within him is just intense and he knows he has to. His left hand reaches out cautiously and grasps your right breast.

Your soft sigh is enough for him to do it slightly more confidently, but still not too harsh. He doesn’t actually know how hard it hurts if someone gropes too aggressively, and so he prefers to be gentle with you, because you deserve all of it.

“Here. Give me your other hand” You say, and before you can extend your hand to grab his, his right hand goes to your other breasts, as if he was waiting for it.

Your breath hitches before you giggle a bit, as he doesn’t understand you. His face is red, from embarrassment, from touching a girl, a very much real girl that desires him too, and from awkwardness in him.

“I meant, give me your hand” You say taking his right hand from your breast and he doesn’t wanna let go, but he does anyway. “I wanna… Mm. I wanna to show you something”

Again with coded words, he was unaware of its meaning. But he waited for you to tell him, as you looked at him with a smile as you waited for him to say it.

“Oh, uh…” Michael mutters as his brain finally took notice it was his turn to say something. “Eh… okay? Show me…” he says unsure what to say.

You guide his left hand down, under your skirt. He just noticed that you had not taken off your skirt yet, as he was still clothed and with his pants down. But he didn’t mind it so much as you pressed his hand against your clothed pussy.

“You.. Y-You are really wet” he says slightly amazed, and you nod with a smile as he just leaves his hand there, a bit amazed as his fingers do the slightest move to spread the wetness on his fingers. You hum in delight as you feel how bold he might be becoming.

“Yeah, I am” you nod to him with a smile, and he looks at you flustered, as he leaves an awkward chuckle. “And your cock is hard again”

He looked down at his dick, and in fact, he was getting hard again. He looked back at you, and he smiled a bit embarrassed. You were also smiling, and that was the only clue he got to know that you were having the time of your life.

“It’s because you are so hot…” he says in a weak attempt to justify himself. “and so pretty”

You laugh, as you kneel slightly to take off your skirt and kick it somewhere in his bedroom. You were only wearing your panties now, and he felt like a salivating dog wagging his tail at the sight. God he was pathetic.

He looked at you, and before he could try to do anything, you say.

“It will be better if you sit properly in the bed, not the edge. So you can lean back in the pillows”

He has no idea why he should lean back in the pillows, but again, he is not the one doing demands in this. In his eyes, you are doing him a favour, this was his wettest dream, and you surely got nothing from it.

He takes off his pants and he crawls to sit in the bed, his back against the pillows (he used at least three, he found it more comfortable) and so he watched at you with a smile, as you kneel up again, now to take off your panties.

“I swear that if i knew, I would have worn a prettier pair of underwear” you start teasingly, as you move your hands to the sides of your panties to take them off.

Oh god, he thinks once again, as the image of a naked woman is enough to send him into numbness again. He was just gaining confidence to take some part in this, but he was just so inexperienced, he had to decide on either cum desperately or trying to last longer, and he didn’t know that the last took all of his brain energy.

“Here” You say, grabbing his hand and leaving your panties in his hand. He looks at you, and you add “Another gift. You can keep it”

He looks at you, slightly amazed by it. He holds your panties in his hand, and he can feel the wetness of it, knowing that you were (and are) so wet right now drives him insane. He looks at you and he blinks a bit surprised, and honestly, much more aroused.

“Thank you..” he says as he appreciates this odd gift. He has no idea what use it may have apart from the sentimental one, but maybe it is like his own trophy?

You get comfortable, still kneeling on the bed, you crawl to be atop of his lap. Each knee on the side of his thighs, and he has to look up to see you. Maybe his favourite part about this is how your tits are in front of his face. He loves it.

“Your hand” She asks, and when she extends her hand he is clever enough not to make the same mistake twice. He passes her his hand, and she guides it to her pussy once again.

Now he knows. Why men went to war for women. Why Troy was destroyed, for stealing one woman. Why men went insane for the touch of a woman. He gets it now.

Your pussy drips wet as he touches it; bare and warm. He is surprised, in all honesty, as his fingers are rigidly moving forward and back. It is not rough; but it is rigid enough to let know his inexperience in the matter.

“I wanna make you feel good” He says looking at you, almost begging for you to teach him how. He wants to know the secrets that could have you squirm and moan crazily over him, as he was over you.

“This is about you” You say, your hands moving to the edge of his shirt, to take it off from him. He helps you in it, and he leaves a breath as now both of you were naked in front of each other.

Your soft hand caresses his chest. He is no muscular guy; yet you caress him so tenderly that he has to look at you with that puppy look. He really wants to make you feel good.

“Tell me what to do.” He asks again, he looks pathetically needy to you; eager to make you cum on his fingers, and eager to learn how to please you. His fingers linger hesitantly around your pussy, and he does his best guiding himself from little experience and instinct.

You smirk as you bite your lower lip as you let a little whimper out. He was cute and hot, more than most guys you knew from before. Maybe getting with the nerd was a fantastic idea.

“I want you to fuck me” You say instead, smiling at him “I want your cock, not your fingers- for now. Besides, this is about you. You are the birthday boy”

As your hips lower on his lap, he takes off his fingers and looks at you sitting above his cock. You grind slightly as he opens his mouth agape slightly, the mere thought of fucking you has him all excited, and aroused.

“I do wanna.. Do that” Michael says with a longing smile, as you nod to him. The feeling of your pussy rubbing against his own dick. He can’t take it anymore, he longs for you too much.

He is clumsy as he moves his hips, the head of his cock passing eagerly through your folds in search of your entrance, and he looks up at you as you moan at the feeling. He got something right.

His puppy eyes catch your attention as his tip presses on your centre, and you look down at him a bit breathlessly. “You can’t cum so fast, Mikey. I want you to enjoy it” He nods when you tell him that, and he leaves a shaky breath at the feeling.

“I… I’ll try…” He says looking at you, trying his best to hold back. But your body is too tempting for him. He is going to pass out, surely.

You move to search for something in your clothes, and you take a condom from somewhere. He isn’t too sure. He is looking at the ceiling waiting for you as he thinks on some hard equation from class, and he tries for the burning turmoil on his belly, full of lust and desire to calm down even a bit. He wants to have you moaning on his cock so hard, he will need strength.

Your movement is fluid when you put the condom on his length, and he is sure you have done this so many times. On other occasions, he’ll think something witty about it, but now he is rather intimidated. How is he supposed to compete with your experiences?

You move your hips slightly, as you start to sit down on his cock from one move. Slow and soft, he is sure you make sure it isn’t so intense for him, as your walls have a tight grip on his hard cock, and the feeling of finally being inside of a woman is incredibly intimate. His cock pulsates on your insides, and he has to look down, enjoying the sight of his thick cock stretching your pussy.

“Fuck…” You say breathlessly as you throw your head back, moaning in delight as you move your hips slightly.

“You’re so warm… and thigh..” he pants, his hands go to your hips as you ride him.

“It feels nice?”

“More than that” He says looking up to you, and he whimpers as you move your hips.

“I’ll let you get used to it.” You tell him softly “I think it could be a bit overwhelming, I guess”

“Yeah. A bit” he says with an awkward smile which makes you smile too, and you grab his cheeks as you lean a bit to kiss him softly.

His enthusiasm is endearing, as he tries to passionately kiss you, but you are sticking with the slowness of it all. He whimpers a bit on your mouth as he can feel how your cunt tightens around him.

Once you are apart, his glasses are again slowly sliding down on the bridge of his nose and you bite your lower lip as you hold a moan. God, what a hot nerd you are fucking.

“You are so amazing” He murmurs, looking up to you “And you feel so good…”

“Uh huh…” You hum as you whimper a bit, and so does he.

“And I have… I have never done this before…” He mutters looking at where your pussy swallows his dick.

“I know” You say, giving him a peck. “But you make me so aroused, so hot…”

Michael blinks a bit confused, but he gains slight confidence in this. He nods at you and he lets his hands fall by the side of your legs, and he can only focus on the way that you ride him. You squeeze him, in all the way he can think of. Your cunt is squeezing his shaft. Your knees are squeezing his legs. All of your existence squeezes him, and he loves the feeling.

He looks up at your face, you are moaning openly and you have your eyes closed as your hands rest on his biceps, helping you bounce on his cock. You look amazing.

And your tits, God, your tits. Bouncing on his face as you ride him, all perky and perfect for him, and the sight of your tits make him leak more precum in the condom, as he tilts his hips slightly up so he gets deeper in the warmth of your cunt.

He stays looking at you, while his balls are tightening at how wet your pussy is. He is mesmerised by you, he cannot even find himself letting any sound out of his mouth. He is almost numb, looking at you as he makes you moan like this.

He is making you moan desperately as you ride him. He is the one responsible to see how aroused he truly has you. You lean your body closer to his chest, moaning as you ride him, and he bites his lip desperate to cum.

His own hips rut back to yours, thrusting clumsily as you sink down on his cock. Your pussy clenches around his cock, and he’s fully engrossed in the sensation.

Michael wants to cum so bad. He doesn’t think he has ever been in such a need to cum.It’s all his foggy mind can think of, cumming and you. And cumming in you, those two subjects interrelationate.

“Tell me” He pleads, which makes you look at him again “Please, tell me how to make you cum”

His puppy eyes, how his glasses are slightly off on him, makes you moan almost on his face.

“Your hand” You say, and he got the clue now. He is a quick learner, and instead of letting you hold his hand, he moves it down to your pussy.

You moan at the feeling of his hesitant hand there, and he laughs a bit breathlessly, growing slightly bolder and he loves how desperate you seem. “Teach me”

“Fine, fine, wait..” You say stopping your movements, as reluctant you both may be to that.

You lean slightly back, your hand goes to grab his knee to help you not fall. He can see more of your pussy like that, and you sigh as if trying to think clearly.

“Here” You say, grabbing his wrist and moving it slightly up. He has no idea what you mean, but he is learning, so he follows your lead. “This is my clit, so you rub it… Not harshly, not too aggressive. It can be intense, but… you have to do it gently. Firm, but gently”

He has no idea how to do both, but he’ll try. Before he can start, you grab his wrist again, and he is confused. What else is there that you take so long to say?!

You take his hand up, and your mouth is quick to engulf his index and middle finger inside, wettening them with your own saliva before letting them go; not without leaving a provocative lick beforehand.

“Now” You say with a slight smile “Just gently.” You repeat, and he nods.

He is so going to cum just from seeing you lick his fingers so lustfully.

Michael tries his best, he does. His fingers find the little thing, so small, and he is unsure what response something so tiny could do. But anyways, he does as told. His fingers hesitate before rubbing slightly there, left to right at the beginning, and then up and down.

“F-Fuck!” You say almost closing your legs around his hand and dick, but you force yourself to remain open. Your other hand goes to hold you onto the mattress of the bed, so you don’t fall. You are leaning backwards now, and he can see your body in all it’s glory.

It does have an amazing effect, he realises, as he rubs circles on your clit and you moan even higher, your legs tremble as you force them open, and you start lowering on his cock again. Unlike the last time, you don’t take the time to make sure his cock enters and comes out fully, but you just grind against it, and when you move up and down, it is barely just in the base of his cock. But the tip? It never leaves your wetness.

He wishes he could see the bump of his cock on your belly. He looks at your abdomen, and he can practically imagine how the shape of his cock would poke out from your abdomen.

“I want to cum” He says, panting as his brain is overwhelmed. He is overdoing things, he tries to rationalise this, but between rubbing your clit, your cunt wrapping around his cock and his moans leaving his mouth, he feels like he will pass out any moment now.

“M-Me too” You whine, desperate as your hips rut more desperate on his cock, and that turns him even more.

He has made a girl desperate for him. And he’ll make a girl cum on his cock.

Michael makes sure to rub your clit in a delicious manner. Or what he guesses is a delicious manner. And since you almost sob your moans, he’d say he is doing a fucking amazing job.

“FUCK” He says as he feels your cunt squeeze him so much, that his mind practically goes blank “I-I’m cumming” He barely gets the words out as he feels himself spent on the condom inside.

He moans, loudly, it could be embarrassing if it wasn’t so pleasurable, and he has to throw his head back from the pleasure on how his shoulders tense up.

You grab his wrist, and he gets the clue that he has to keep his touch on your clit. Your cheeks are red from stimulation, and as he pants and whimpers from his orgasm, as he rubs your clit. It doesn’t take long, as you practically cum all over his cock, milking his dick and making sure his balls go empty.

Even if he orgasmed first, your peak leaves him dry, and spent in more than one way. He doesn’t think he will ever hear a girl moan so loud and pleased as you when you cum thanks to him.

When you fall to his side, he takes off the condom, leaving it on his bedside table. He looks at you, panting hard on his side, and he feels the same, as he looks at you, still mesmerised by you.

He searches for your hand, awkwardly, and he moves you slightly closer to him.

You both remain breathlessly, pants as you two face the ceiling.

“So” You start saying, and he turns his head to yours, and you have another of your mischievous, alluring smiles on your face. “Have you blown the candles?”

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #ewan nation #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x fem!reader #smut #ewanverse #ewan mitchell #saltburn au

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fancyfeathers · 3 months ago

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If daughter darling inherited her father’s intelligence I can picture her sitting down with one of her brothers on a stormy night playing chess and she beats them😆

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

Dick… she definitely has beaten Dick at chess cause he wanted to spend time with her and she wins and runs off cause he just wanted to play a game so now leave her alone.

I don’t think she is super smart of anything of that level, though I could imagine some witty and snappy comments coming from her. She was raised by her mother and while her mom let her be a child when she was a child, she was constantly at her mother’s side so she picked up a thing or two from her mother’s business meetings and how she addressed know it alls at her company, her mother is, or was, a business woman so needless to say her daughter would definitely take after her.

Like unlike her mom she has no problem saying no, because her mom only says no to look after her daughter, but her daughter does not give a shit when she actually gets annoyed. Like I am just imagining Bruce coming up to her while she is reading or something and she is not in the mood to be bothered so when he asked if she-

“Fuck off.”

“Where did you learn that, young lady?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know-“

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

When she finally gets fed up with this whole family act she is not quiet about it. Then it doesn’t stop with Bruce but it’s everyone in the house, she crawled under her bed when Dick is looking for her, ignoring Damian when he comes up to her at lunch at school instead going to go sit with her friends, Refusing to go out with Tim when he wants to take her to the arcade, and then everything comes to a boiling point when Jason comes to drag her out of her room so they sit down and discuss her behavior as a family and he is wrangling her and she is clawing at him but it really is nothing to him and-

She bites him.

He drops her due to the pain of his bleeding finger and she sprints off to her room, locking the door from the inside and shoving her chair under the handle so it can’t be opened no matter what.

“You’re not my family! Leave me alone!”

#yandere dc x reader #yandere dc #yandere justice league x reader #yandere justice league #yandere bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere batman #yandere batman x reader #yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #platonic yandere #yandere batfamily #platonic yandere batfamily #platonic yandere dc #platonic yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake

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erwinsvow · 1 year ago

Text

You creep carefully into Rafe’s bedroom, pushing the already-open door gently with your palm. Your eyes dart around, worried he’s going to be just around the corner, but you’re greeted with nothing—just the empty space that belongs to Rafe.

How exactly did you get yourself into this? It had started a few hours ago—at least that’s what you thought. You didn’t have any clue what Sarah and her new friends were up to, you were just over for a pre-planned girls night that was dismissed the second you walked into Tannyhill. Instead, Sarah asks for a favor, one that you deny almost immediately.

“You’ll be in and out, it won’t take more than a minute-”

“I am not sneaking into Rafe’s room for you, Sarah. What if he-he catches me? Finds me in there? What am I gonna say?”

“He’s not gonna be home later, I promise. It’ll be a second, and he’s always liked you most out of all my friends so he won’t even care-”

Your face flushes at the very sentence. Her brother, Rafe, the one that you’ve only interacted with on chance occasions, the one who makes your heartbeat speed up anytime he’s in the vicinity, that very Rafe, has always liked you?

You’re too caught up in that thought and its implications to even question Sarah anymore. Her new friends—Pogue friends, ones that you don’t know and aren’t sure how long they’ve known her—linger by the door. They seem eager to make sure that you agree.

You’re being moved around the board like a chess piece but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It’s shallow, you know, as one thought circulates through your mind, body, and bloodstream—Rafe has always liked you.

A hazy, dreamy mist settles over you. You agree to Sarah, feeling increasingly stupid as you settle into the living room and keep your eyes on the television. She left with her friends, and when Rafe comes down, you’re supposed to tell him you’re waiting for his sister. Once he leaves, you need to sneak into his bedroom to find a map they seem to desperately need. One of the boys suggests it’ll be in his sock drawer.

“It’s not a porn magazine, JJ, why would it be there-”

“Oh, um, I don’t know, just that it’s the number one male hiding spot-” “What studies are you basing this off of?”

"A little thing called the study of life, Pope-”

You had interrupted them yourself, reassuring that you’ll look in his dresser and his desk.

But now, walking into Rafe’s bedroom, you're losing all your nerve. You’ve thought about this before—you’d be lying to yourself to deny it. Any girl who has a best friend with a cute older brother has too. In the summers you sleep at Tannyhill more often than your own house, but you still could have never imagined this would be the reason you’re in Rafe’s room for the first time.

The house is silent, just like Sarah had told you. Mr. and Mrs. Cameron out at the country club, Wheezie at the beach, Sarah supposedly with you but actually with those Pogues. She says Rafe is gone too, driving around somewhere with his friends, and you believe her without a second thought.

But you do have a second thought, and it's the fact that this is so beyond wrong.

Looking through Rafe’s belongings with your eyes, your hands start to tremble at the idea of touching something of his without his permission. You want to swallow your nerves to do this for your friend, but you hesitate, hands hovering over the drawer to his dresser.

For a second, you want to puke, worried that you’ll open this drawer to find porn magazines like John B had said, or worse—photos of one of his girls that you really don’t want to see.

Your shaking hands pull open the top-most drawer, but everything calms down once it’s open. Besides for white socks and plaid boxers, there’s nothing in there. Your shoulders relax, your knees feeling weak.

Then you wonder for a second—why were you so worried about finding evidence of some other girl in his bedroom? Your mind spins briefly, worried at how attached you really are to Sarah’s brother, someone who’s never spoken to you more than a handful of times. A million thoughts run through your brain, all of them about Rafe and none of them noticing the way his bedroom door has just opened wide.

“Looking for something?” The timber of Rafe’s voice hits your ears and you freeze, probably looking like something out of a cartoon, shoulders tense, eyes wide. You’re still facing his dresser, and you really, really don’t want to turn, but you do, and then you wish you hadn’t.

Rafe’s dripping wet—damp hair sticking to his forehead, a towel around his waist and droplets of water glittering on his abs. He’s looking at you like he never has before. Your eyes are focused on everything else—the bare skin of his chest, his huge arms, the blue color of his towel.

“My eyes are up here, kid.”

Like a deer caught in headlights, you turn your gaze up to lock eyes. You’re terrified—he has to be angry, no, furious. You’re practically a stranger to him, a stranger invading his privacy. But when you finally take in his expression, it’s not angry. He looks amused, a smirk playing at his lips while he takes you in, standing before him like a child about to be reprimanded for touching something that doesn’t belong to them.

“I-I…” you trail off, swallowing hard, still staring at Rafe.

“You, you?” he mocks. You think you’re going to start crying but no tears well up—yet. “What’re you looking for?” he asks it seriously, his tone shifting.

You’ve never spoken to Rafe enough to notice, but he’s incredibly domineering. You shrink just from his gaze, while he closes the door and walks closer to you.

“Um, I-” You stop yourself short.

“Looking for trouble, huh?” He says it like it’s a joke, but you know he’s not kidding. Your head shakes, trying to convince him you’re not, but it’s not much use.

He’s not very far from you now, maybe another foot and you could smell the scent of his soap, another few inches and you could feel the heat radiating off of his bare body.

You realize how you must look right now, wearing a tiny dress because of the heat outside but now feeling goosebumps prick along your arms. Your bare feet rest on his carpet while your hands feel clammy from how scared you are.

“I, uh, I needed socks.” You look down at your feet and he does too, looking back up at the same time.

“Socks? From me?”

“Couldn’t find Sarah’s. She needs to do laundry.”

“So you came in here to get mine?”

“I-I’ll bring them back. Washed. Promise.” Your gaze is now dying to avoid his, looking all around his room and then turning back to the drawer to take out a pair.

You feel a wet hand on your arm, turning you back around at full force, his balled up socks falling from your hand as you stare Rafe in the eyes. He must be able to tell from the way your body shakes in his grip, how your eyelids are fluttering fast, how scared you are.

“Don’t lie to me, kid. I won’t like it.” You suck in a sharp breath. A few moments pass.

“I’m not lying, Rafe. Promise.”

You actually don’t know it happens—ending up with his towel on the floor and your sundress right next to it, tangled up in the sheets, your body folded in half with Rafe pounding into you. He grips your cheeks and fucks you like you’re his, like he owns your pussy and every other part of you. It goes on for so long you lose track, forgetting everything else but how to say Rafe’s name, remembering nothing but how he sounded groaning into your ear. He kisses you, hard and wet, and that’s when you cum for the third—fourth? fifth? you’ve lost track—time. He cums too—inside you, and normally you think you’d maybe have an issue with that, but since you were the one begging for it, you don’t think you’re allowed to say anything in the way of a complaint.

Rafe rolls off of you a little bit later, after you’ve had a chance to catch your breath. You think he’s gonna tell you to get out so you try to get up yourself, trying to balance on trembling legs, when he puts his hand on your waist and steadies you back onto the bed.

“What’d you need? You should sit.” You look up at him, surprised. He doesn’t like it. “Water?” You nod, and he pulls on some sweatpants and forgoes a shirt, walking out and closing the door softly behind him.

You get comfortable under Rafe’s sheets, pulling them up to cover yourself and body sinking into his bed. You reach out to find your phone, which has somehow ended up on the nightstand even though you don’t recall putting it there. There’s a few new messages.

Sarah: Did you go in yet?

Sarah: I think he left, go now!!

Then one from thirty minutes after that.

Sarah: Did you find it?? Call me!!

You reply quickly, setting the phone down when you hear Rafe’s hand on the doorknob.

Sorry, didn’t find anything. Had to go, I’ll see you tomorrow.

#this format is so fun! do you guys prefer tiny text or normal tho?#i hope everyone likes this one! i wrote it quick #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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