#dr who angst
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
spaceistheplaceart · 5 months ago
Text
A Human's Touch - HL2VRAI AMV
constantly thinking about the relationship between the game, the NPCs/science team, and Gordon/The Player
ID AND CREDIT BELOW:
BEGIN ID
An animatic set to the song "A Human's Touch" by TWRP. The visuals are timed with lyrics, so I'll type the lyrics in quotes "like this", then explain the visuals, then move onto the next lyrics. I hope this format works well for all, and if it does not- feel free to reach out!
"Am I a toy to you, my love?"
Benrey stares up through Gordon's computer, standing on a black and white grid. He is in a beanie and jumpsuit, like many citizens from Half Life 2. He has a small mustache and a shadow over his eyes. He has a neutral expression. With each word of the lyrics, the camera zooms further out to reveal he is in a computer inside Gordon/The Player's room. The room has a PC tower, a chair, a desk, a microphone, a shelf with a VR headset and games on it, and a few posters. One poster is of "Kane and Lynch 2: Dog Days" and another is of two chimps grooming eachother. With the following musical beats, the room changes slightly to show passage of time. The chair moves around, things appear and disappear on the desk, and the chimp poster is torn down for another poster that says "Gamer's don't die, they respawn." On the final beat, the player is sat at the desk.
"Just a thing to play and then throw away."
A computer screen with four applications shown on it: steam, discord, garry's mod, and Half Life. A mouse cursor floats over Half Life before retreating. The screen is shut off and turns black.
"I never asked for this."
Benrey and Coomer sitting against a black background. Benrey is turned away, hunched a little. The lyrics appear on his side of the screen.
"I always did my best."
Coomer is turned to the side, looking up with his hands grasped together and eyebrows worried. The lyrics appear on his side now.
"Without your love I am..."
The Chuck E Cheese shown at the end of the series, drawn in black and white. The screen glitches.
"A broken mess."
The Chuck E Cheese is now worn down and broken. There's a banner hanging out of it that says HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO before it's ripped off. Minions are laying in one of the corner buildings. On the righthand side you can see partially graffiti that says BUBBY IS BEST. In the background is the citadel from Half Life 2.
"Now I'm never enough."
Tommy and Bubby sit against a black background. Tommy is facing the side, with a worried expression, wearing a suit, his propeller hat, a bowtie, and holding a briefcase on his lap. The lyrics appear on his side.
"And it's almost too much."
Bubby is turned away. His fist is clenched and producing fire. He wears a tattered labcoat. The lyrics appear on his side now.
"For me to work..."
Gordon, against a white background, limp with lines attached to his hands like a puppet. His face is not visible.
"I need..."
A side by side of the player lifting their VR controllers and Gordon's hands lifting limply in game in sync.
"A humans touch."
Gordon's hands drop to his sides again as his head lolls to the side, rolls back, then he opens his eyes- a VR headset flashing over them at "touch".
END ID
I took the screen turning off effect from this video
789 notes · View notes
reidmarieprentiss · 5 months ago
Text
Too Sweet
Summary: Y/N knows Spencer is too good for her.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Category: smut (18+), angst, light fluff
Warnings/Includes: porn with plot, additional warnings under the cut, cosplay, wearing dress, use of Y/N, alcohol consumption
Word count: 11.9k
a/n: idk man i really want him
main masterlist
part two part three
Tumblr media
Additional warnings: breast & nipple play, fingering, oral (m&f), PinV protected, biting
The convention hall buzzed with excitement, filled with an array of fans dressed as their favorite characters from the iconic series, Doctor Who. The air was alive with the chatter of people discussing their favorite episodes, theories about the show's plot twists, and the inevitable debates about which Doctor was the best. Vendors lined the walls, offering everything from collectible sonic screwdrivers to handmade TARDIS keychains.
Spencer Reid and Penelope Garcia were two of these enthusiastic attendees. Spencer was dressed impeccably as his favorite Doctor, the Eleventh, complete with a tweed jacket, bow tie, and fez perched jauntily on his head. Penelope, meanwhile, dazzled as the vibrant Thirteenth Doctor, sporting a rainbow-striped shirt, long coat, and bright yellow suspenders. Her hair was styled to perfection, and she wore a replica of the Thirteenth Doctor’s sonic screwdriver clipped to her belt.
They had spent the day gleefully exploring the convention together, indulging in all the nerdy joys the event had to offer. Panels, merchandise, photo ops with actors—they were having a fantastic time. They even participated in a trivia contest, which Spencer naturally excelled in, earning them a special edition Doctor Who poster. Everything was going splendidly until they ran into Penelope's ex, Kevin Lynch, who had the audacity to show up with his new date, a tall brunette who seemed to be equally as nerdy as Penelope.
Penelope's face fell as she spotted Kevin, her previous enthusiasm dimming slightly. She forced a smile and waved at Kevin, who looked surprised but waved back, a bit awkwardly.
"Penelope!" Kevin said, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably. "It's, uh, great to see you here."
"Yeah, you too, Kevin," Penelope replied, her voice wavering slightly as she glanced at his date. She couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment and an awkward tension that hung in the air.
The encounter was brief, but it left Penelope feeling deflated. After exchanging a few pleasantries, she quickly excused herself and turned to Spencer, whispering that she needed a moment alone. Spencer nodded understandingly, his eyes filled with empathy, and watched as Penelope hurried off, clearly upset.
Now alone amidst the bustling crowd, Spencer found himself wandering around the convention hall, a bit lost without Penelope by his side. Despite being surrounded by thousands of people who shared his interests, he felt an uncomfortable sense of solitude creeping in. He adjusted his bow tie nervously, his eyes scanning the room for a friendly face or familiar sight.
As he wandered, Spencer couldn't help but feel self-conscious, almost like a lost puppy in a sea of strangers. The convention was vast, and though he loved the atmosphere, it was a lot to take in alone. He fiddled with his fez, trying to focus on the displays and booths around him, but the sense of being out of place lingered.
It was then that he noticed you, standing a short distance away, dressed as the most enchanting character from Doctor Who—Madame de Pompadour, The Girl in the Fireplace.
Your costume was a stunning recreation of the elegant 18th-century dress worn by Reinette, complete with intricate lace details, flowing skirts, and an opulent corset that captured the character's timeless beauty. A perfectly styled wig with cascading curls crowned your head, adding an authentic touch to your ensemble. You wore a delicate mask in your hand, which you twirled absentmindedly as you observed the convention floor, your eyes occasionally flicking toward Spencer with an amused curiosity. But what struck Spencer most was your warm smile, a beacon of kindness amidst the chaos.
You had noticed Spencer earlier, observing him with a gentle curiosity as he meandered through the crowd. Something about his endearing awkwardness and the way he carried himself drew your attention, and you found yourself walking over to him, compelled by a mix of admiration and empathy.
With a kind and playful smile, you approached him and said, "Hey, you look lost. Do you need help finding your parents?"
Spencer's eyes widened in surprise at your teasing comment, and he let out a surprised snort, momentarily caught off guard. He quickly recovered from his initial embarrassment and noticed the twinkle of amusement in your eyes.
"Uh, no, no thank you," he replied with a sheepish grin. "I was given permission to look around by myself."
Your laughter was infectious, and Spencer felt the tightness in his chest ease. It was as if your presence alone had a calming effect, grounding him in the moment and reminding him that he wasn't truly alone. Your genuine kindness and humor were like a breath of fresh air.
"I'm glad to hear it," you said, still smiling as you playfully curtsied. "I'm Y/N, by the way. A fellow time traveler, it seems."
Spencer hesitated for a moment before bowing slightly at the waist, feeling a little more confident now. "Spencer Reid," he replied, introducing himself. "And yes, it seems we both have a knack for getting lost in time."
Your shared laugh seemed to lighten the atmosphere, and Spencer couldn't help but feel grateful for your unexpected companionship. It was a simple moment, yet it carried a weight of significance—an unexpected connection made in the most delightful of circumstances.
As the vibrant crowd continued to flow around you, your conversation with Spencer felt like a moment suspended in time, a quiet bubble amidst the lively chaos of the convention. The laughter, chatter, and occasional shout of delight from fellow fans echoed through the hall, but you found yourself entirely focused on the man standing before you.
"So, Spencer," you began, looking around at the lively crowd, "what's been your favorite part of the convention so far?"
“Well, I won the trivia contest!” Spencer replied with enthusiasm, his eyes lighting up with pride. “I love seeing everyone’s costumes too, the creativity and thought they put into them is inspiring. And the food court! Did you see they have—why are you looking at me like that? Am I rambling? Oh, I am, hah, sorry.”
You chuckled softly, finding his rambling endearing. “Don’t stop on my account; I happen to think it’s very cute.”
Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your compliment. “You
 you do?”
“Indeed, Doctor,” you replied with a playful glint in your eye.
“How did you know I’m a doctor?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“Um
” you pointed at his costume, a classic Doctor Who ensemble that perfectly captured the essence of the Eleventh Doctor. 
“Oh! Right, you meant Doctor Who Doctor,” he realized, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.
“Yes, but are you really a doctor?” you inquired, intrigued by the idea of him being both a fictional and real-life doctor.
Spencer nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of humility and pride. “I have three PhDs.”
“Oh wow, that’s hot,” you said, your voice teasing yet sincere, enjoying the way his cheeks turned a faint shade of pink.
“What?” he squeaked, clearly flustered by your unexpected compliment.
“Tell me, Spencer
 do you have plans after the convention?” you asked, leaning in slightly, your interest in him evident.
“Um, no, nope. No, I do not. Totally free,” Spencer stammered, trying to keep his composure but feeling his heart race at the prospect of spending more time with you.
“Good to know,” you replied with a warm smile. “Would you like to get a drink with me?”
“I would love to,” he answered, his voice brimming with exhilaration.
“Wonderful,” you said, pleased with his response.
The two of you exchanged numbers, a small gesture that felt monumental, sealing the promise of further connection beyond the convention's vibrant confines. As you parted ways, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of seeing him again.
As he watched you disappear into the colorful sea of costumes, you turned back to Spencer, your heart still racing with the promise of more time together. “I’ll see you later, Spencer,” you said, offering him one last lingering smile before slipping away into the crowd.
Spencer stood there for a moment, his mind whirling with possibilities and the thrill of new connections. As he adjusted his fez and prepared to rejoin Penelope, he smiled to himself, the Doctor Who theme echoing in the distance as he headed back into the lively fray.
—
Later that night, you and Spencer agreed to meet up at a cozy little bar nestled in a bustling neighborhood near your apartment. The day had been a whirlwind of excitement and adventure at the Doctor Who convention, but now, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the city lights twinkled, a new kind of eagerness filled the air.
You arrived at the bar first, filled with anticipation and nervousness. Gone was the elegant 18th-century gown you wore at the convention; you now wore a low-cut, tight shirt that hugged your curves and showed off a bit more cleavage than before. It was a bold choice, one that made you feel confident and sexy, and you hoped Spencer would appreciate it.
As you waited for Spencer to arrive, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of fever at seeing him again. Something about his awkward charm and genuine kindness had struck a chord with you, and you were eager to see where the evening might lead.
When Spencer walked in, your breath caught at the sight of him. Gone was the Eleventh Doctor costume, replaced by a classic sweater vest ensemble that was quintessentially Spencer Reid. He wore a crisp button-down shirt under the vest, paired with slacks that somehow made him look both dorky and endearingly handsome. You found it incredibly attractive, and a smile tugged at your lips as he approached.
“Hey,” he said, a bit shyly, his eyes darting around the bar before settling on you. When he noticed your outfit, he froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of your low-cut shirt. “Wow, you look... amazing.”
“Thank you,” you replied, feeling a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Doctor.”
Spencer chuckled, running a hand through his hair in a self-conscious gesture. “I, uh, didn’t know what to wear, but I’m glad it works.”
“Oh, it definitely works,” you assured him, your gaze lingering on his sweater vest. “I have a thing for sweater vests.”
He laughed, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Good to know. I have plenty of them.”
You motioned for him to join you at the bar, where you ordered drinks and settled into a comfortable conversation. The atmosphere was relaxed, with soft music playing in the background and the hum of conversations surrounding you.
“So, how did you get into Doctor Who?” Spencer asked, genuinely curious as he took a sip of his drink.
“I’ve always been a fan of science fiction,” you replied, leaning closer to ensure he could hear you over the chatter. “The idea of time travel, the adventures, and the characters just drew me in. Plus, the show has this amazing ability to make you think about life in new ways.”
Spencer nodded, clearly pleased with your answer. “I completely agree. The show is more than just entertainment; it’s a way to explore complex ideas and emotions. I think that’s why it resonates with so many people.”
“Exactly!” you said enthusiastically, enjoying the ease of conversation between you. “And what about you? What drew you to the series?”
Spencer shrugged, his eyes twinkling with the joy of discussing something he loved. “It started as a way to escape, I guess. Growing up, I didn’t have a lot of friends, but Doctor Who was like a companion, in a way. It taught me a lot about empathy and bravery.”
You smiled, touched by his honesty. “That’s really great, Spencer.”
“Thanks,” he said, looking a bit bashful under your gaze. “I’m glad I met someone who appreciates the show as much as I do.”
The conversation flowed effortlessly, a dance of words that brought you closer with each exchange. You found yourself laughing easily, the tension of earlier dissipating as you both shared stories and jokes, losing track of time in the warm ambiance of the bar.
As the night wore on, you noticed Spencer stealing glances at your shirt, his eyes flickering to your cleavage before quickly averting his gaze, trying to be polite. You couldn’t help but find his flustered reactions adorable, and you decided to tease him a little.
“Is there something interesting over here?” you asked, gesturing to your chest with a playful grin.
Spencer’s face turned a deep shade of red, and he stammered, “Uh, no, I mean, yes, but—oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”
You laughed softly, reaching out to touch his hand reassuringly. “Relax, Spencer. I don’t mind. It’s kind of flattering, actually.”
He exhaled, clearly relieved by your response. “Well, in that case, yes, it’s very distracting,” he admitted, a shy smile playing on his lips.
“Good to know I still have it,” you teased, leaning back in your chair with a satisfied expression.
Spencer chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. ïżœïżœYou definitely do.”
A comfortable silence settled between you, filled with the promise of more to come. As the night deepened, the conversation shifted from playful banter to something more intimate, the chemistry between you undeniable.
“So, Spencer,” you said, your voice dropping to a more sultry tone. “What does the rest of your night look like? Are you all booked up?”
“Um, no, not really,” he replied, his heart racing as he caught the glint in your eye. “Why do you ask?”
“Well,” you said, leaning closer, “I was wondering if you’d like to come back to my place. We could continue our conversation somewhere a bit more private.”
Spencer’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, his mind spinning with possibilities. “I would love that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Great,” you replied with a smile, feeling a thrill of anticipation as you both stood up, ready to leave the bar behind for the promise of what awaited you.
The walk back to your apartment was filled with a charged silence, the kind that spoke volumes without needing words. You felt Spencer’s presence beside you, a comforting warmth that made your heart race with excitement.
As you reached your apartment building, you turned to him, your eyes meeting in a shared understanding. “This is me,” you said, gesturing to the entrance.
“Nice place,” Spencer commented, trying to keep his cool despite the nerves bubbling inside him.
You unlocked the door and led him inside, your heart pounding with each step. The atmosphere was electric, one that promised something incredible.
Once inside, you turned to face Spencer, a playful smile on your lips. “Make yourself at home,” you said, gesturing to the cozy living room. “Can I get you anything?”
“Just some water would be great,” he replied, trying to steady his racing heart.
You nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with two glasses of water. As you handed one to Spencer, your fingers brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity through you both.
“Thank you,” Spencer said, his voice warm and sincere.
“You’re welcome,” you replied, sitting down beside him on the couch. The proximity was intoxicating, and you could feel the tension building with each passing second.
“I have to say, I’m really glad we met today.” Spencer said, his voice slightly shaky. 
“Me too,” you agreed, your gaze locked on his.
The room seemed to shrink around you, the world fading away until it was just the two of you, enveloped in a bubble of connection and desire.
As you leaned in closer, your lips mere inches from his, Spencer’s breath hitched in suspense. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the magnetic pull drawing you together.
“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice a soft caress.
“Yes?” he replied, his eyes searching yours, filled with longing.
“Would you like to stay the night?” you asked, your words laced with an invitation that left little room for doubt.
Spencer swallowed, his heart racing as he processed your offer. “I’d love to,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
With that, you closed the distance between you, capturing his lips in a gentle yet passionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with promise and possibility, a moment that transcended the ordinary and ventured into the extraordinary.
Spencer kissed you back with a low whimper as he began to ravish you. His lips were soft and urgent against yours, moving with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the strain in his body as he pressed against you, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The heat between you was palpable, an electric current that seemed to spark and crackle in the air around you.
You responded eagerly, threading your fingers through his hair, feeling the silky strands slip between your fingers as you deepened the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of the lingering sweetness of the drinks you'd shared earlier and something distinctly Spencer that made you crave more.
Spencer's hands moved with a purpose, exploring the curves of your body with a gentle yet insistent touch that left you breathless. His fingertips traced the outline of your spine, sending delightful tingles through your skin as they traveled lower, coming to rest on the small of your back. You arched into his touch, pressing your body more firmly against his, savoring the feel of him against you.
With a quiet moan, Spencer shifted, guiding you backward until you were lying beneath him on the couch. He broke the kiss for a moment, his breath warm and ragged against your lips as he gazed down at you with a smoldering intensity. The look in his eyes sent a thrill through you, a promise of the pleasures to come.
Spencer leaned down, capturing your lips once more as his hands continued their exploration. His touch was both tender and demanding, a perfect balance that left you yearning for more. You felt his fingers trail over your exposed skin, slipping beneath the fabric of your low-cut shirt, and you shivered in anticipation as he began to explore further.
The sensation of his hands against your bare skin was electrifying, each touch sending ripples of pleasure through your body. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, an insistent ache that begged for more as Spencer's touch became more insistent. His hands roamed over your body with a confidence that contradicted the initial shyness you had seen in him earlier.
Your shirt slipped further up your torso, and Spencer's lips left yours to follow the path his hands had traced moments before. His mouth moved with a deliberate slowness, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your jawline, down the column of your neck, and across your collarbone. Each kiss was a promise, a vow of what was to come, and you found yourself lost in the sensations he was creating.
As Spencer's mouth traveled lower, you let out a soft sigh of pleasure, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his sweater vest. The texture of the material beneath your fingertips was a comforting contrast to the fiery sensations his lips and hands were invoking, grounding you even as you felt yourself soaring.
Spencer's lips moved over the swell of your breasts, his touch reverent yet possessive, as if he were memorizing every inch of your skin with his mouth. You felt a thrill at the thought of being the focus of his attention. 
Spencer’s lips ghosted over your skin, each kiss sending waves of heat coursing through your body. As he reached the edge of your shirt, he paused, his fingers gently teasing the hem as he looked up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Are you planning on keeping this on all night?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.
You chuckled softly, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “Well, Doctor, I thought I’d give you something to unwrap. Consider it a mystery.”
Spencer grinned, his fingers deftly pulling your shirt higher until it slipped over your head, leaving you exposed beneath him. His gaze raked over your bare skin, appreciation evident in his eyes. “Mystery solved,” he whispered, his tone filled with a mixture of desire and admiration.
You felt a rush of heat at his words, your skin tingling. “You’re a fast learner,” you replied, your voice sultry as you reached up to pull him back down to you. “But let’s see if you can handle what’s next.”
His eyes darkened with intensity at your challenge, and he captured your lips in another heated kiss, his hands exploring your newly exposed skin with renewed vigor. The sensations were dizzying, each touch and caress a testament to his growing confidence and desire.
Spencer’s hands traveled down your sides, tracing the curves of your waist and hips before slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You let out a quiet moan, arching into his touch as he began to work them down, his fingers deft and sure.
“Getting a bit bold, aren’t we?” you teased, nipping at his lower lip as he freed you from the confines of your clothing.
“Just trying to keep up with you,” he retorted, his voice tinged with amusement as he leaned back to admire his handiwork.
You reached for the hem of his sweater vest, tugging it upwards with a playful smirk. “I think it’s time we even the playing field, don’t you?”
He chuckled, raising his arms to help you remove the vest, followed by his button-down shirt. You couldn’t help but appreciate the lean muscles beneath his clothing, the way his skin seemed to glow in the dim light of the room.
“Not bad, Doctor,” you quipped, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest appreciatively. “Maybe I should have gone to med school.”
Spencer let out a low laugh, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I doubt they teach this in med school.”
“Oh, I’m sure there’s a course or two,” you replied, your fingers trailing lower, teasing the waistband of his pants.
He inhaled sharply, his body responding to your touch in a way that made you both feel like you were on fire. “I think we’re about to graduate to something more advanced,” he murmured, his voice a mix of fieriness and teasing.
You grinned, pulling him back down to you, your lips capturing his in a passionate kiss that promised more than words ever could. The heat between you was intense, a consuming fire that left you both breathless and wanting more.
Spencer’s hands continued their exploration, mapping every inch of your skin with a reverence that made your heart race. You could feel the tension building, a delicious feeling that promised to leave you both satisfied yet craving even more.
As you shifted beneath him, your body pressed against his in a way that made your intentions clear, you whispered, “What do you say we take this somewhere more comfortable?”
He nodded, his eyes filled with a hunger that matched your own. “Lead the way,” he replied, his voice husky with desire.
With that, you guided him toward your bedroom, the promise of what was to come hanging in the air like an electric charge. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the enticing possibilities that lay ahead.
Once inside your bedroom, the atmosphere shifted, the intimacy of the space amplifying the pull between you. The dim lighting cast shadows across the room, creating an intimate bubble that felt like it was just for you and Spencer.
You turned to face him, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you slowly backed toward the bed. “I hope you’re ready for this, Doctor.”
He followed, his movements confident and sure as he approached, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been ready since the moment I saw you,” he replied, his voice low and filled with want.
As you sank onto the bed, Spencer joined you, his body warm and inviting against yours. The tension between you was palpable, a magnetic pull that drew you closer with each passing second.
You reached for him, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw before pulling him in for another searing kiss. His lips were soft and insistent against yours, his touch possessive as he pressed you back against the sheets. The mattress dipped under your combined weight, and you felt the cool, crisp fabric of the sheets beneath your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Spencer’s body.
Spencer’s breath mingled with yours, warm and intoxicating with desire. His hands traveled with a deliberate slowness, exploring the curves and contours of your body as though committing every inch to memory. You felt his fingers skim over the bare skin of your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The sensation was electric, sending delightful tingles coursing through your veins.
As he deepened the kiss, a low groan rumbled in his throat, vibrating through your body and sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. Your hands found their way to his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath his skin as you pulled him closer, craving the warmth and weight of him against you.
His lips moved with a languid, teasing rhythm, exploring the delicate skin of your neck with gentle, open-mouthed kisses that sent your heart racing. You tilted your head back, granting him better access as a soft sigh escaped your lips, filling the room with a quiet sound of pleasure.
Spencer’s kisses trailed lower, his breath hot against your skin as he made his way down your collarbone. The sensation was intoxicating, a delicious mix of tenderness and urgency that left you breathless. You felt his hands slide up your sides, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin beneath your ribcage before coming to rest on your waist.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire.
You couldn’t help but smile, your fingers threading through his hair as you arched into his touch. “Get to the point, Doctor.”
He chuckled softly, the sound low and enticing, as he shifted his weight to hover above you, his eyes dark with longing. The air between you crackled with intensity, a potent mix of suspense and need that seemed to draw you even closer together.
Your breathing grew ragged, each inhale a shuddering gasp as you surrendered to the pleasure building inside you. Spencer’s touch was like a drug, addictive and all-consuming, leaving you dizzy with longing.
He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours, a silent question lingering between you. You nodded, giving him the permission he sought, and he smiled—a small, intimate curve of his lips that made your heart skip a beat.
Spencer hands deftly working to remove the last barriers between you. The sensation of the cool air against your skin was a delicious contrast to the heat radiating from his touch, sending shivers of need cascading through your body.
The room was filled with a symphony of soft sounds: the rustle of fabric as Spencer undressed you, the quiet hum of the city outside, and the rapid, excited beat of your own heart. The smell of your mingled scents—his cologne, a hint of your perfume, and the unmistakable musk of arousal—filled the air, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that heightened every sensation.
As Spencer’s hands continued their journey, his lips followed, pressing soft, heated kisses to every inch of exposed skin. The feel of his mouth against your body was electric, each kiss a spark that ignited a fire deep within you. You could hear the quiet, appreciative noises he made as he explored, a low hum of approval that vibrated through you, making your skin tingle with fever.
His mouth found the sensitive spot at the base of your throat, and he lingered there, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin and his teeth scraping behind. The sensation was exquisite, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair, holding him close as he continued his ministrations.
His mouth continued its journey, trailing kisses down the length of your torso, his breath hot and humid against your skin. Each touch of his lips was a promise, a hint of the pleasures yet to come. You could feel the gentle scrape of his stubble against your skin, a delightful roughness that added to the sensory overload.
Spencer’s hands found their way to your thighs, his fingers curling around the soft flesh as he gently parted them, creating space for himself between your legs. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a sweet ache that thrummed through your veins as you waited for his next move.
He paused for a moment, his breath warm and heavy against your inner thigh as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. The look in his eyes sent a jolt of electricity through your body, a silent communication of his intentions that left you breathless.
When he finally moved, it was with a purpose and a tenderness that took your breath away. His mouth found its mark, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the most intimate part of you. The sensation was overwhelming, a rush of pleasure that left you gasping and trembling beneath him.
Spencer's tongue traced a path of fire, the wet heat of his mouth a stark contrast to the cool air around you. The feeling of his tongue against you was indescribable, a perfect blend of softness and pressure that had you writhing with need. You could hear the wet, rhythmic sounds of his movements, a deliciously sinful symphony that filled the room and drove you wild with desire.
The taste of you seemed to spur him on, his movements growing more insistent, more confident as he explored every inch of you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as he lavished attention on you, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.
You could feel the tension building, a tight coil of desire that wound tighter and tighter with each passing second. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your hands clutching at the sheets as you tried to hold on, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations Spencer was creating.
And then, with a final, masterful stroke of his tongue, the coil snapped, sending you spiraling into a blinding wave of ecstasy. Your body arched off the bed, a cry of pure pleasure escaping your lips as you surrendered to the intense release. Every nerve ending seemed to ignite, the pleasure radiating out from your core in waves that left you trembling and gasping for breath.
Spencer didn't stop, his movements gentling but never ceasing as he guided you through the aftershocks, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were spent and boneless beneath him. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths, the quiet hum of the city outside, and the beating of your heart.
As the world slowly came back into focus, you felt Spencer's weight shift, his body sliding up to join you on the bed. He gathered you into his arms, his touch gentle and soothing as he held you close. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your cheek, the warmth of his skin a comforting presence that grounded you.
You turned your head to meet his gaze, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. "I may have misread you
" you murmured, your voice still breathless from the intensity of the experience.
Spencer looked at you, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he tried to read your expression. "How so?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent another wave of heat through you.
“I thought you were some nerdy dork who wouldn’t know what to do,” you confessed with a teasing grin, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “You proved me so wrong.”
Spencer chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm like honey, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and affection. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. The touch was tender and sweet, a stark contrast to the intense passion you'd just shared.
As the warmth of his kiss lingered on your skin, a flicker of awareness crept into your mind, reminding you of the vulnerability of your current position. Spencer was undeniably pretty, fun, and, as you had just discovered, incredibly talented with his mouth. But letting him get too close, emotionally, was a different matter—a potential disaster waiting to happen.
You felt a pang of uncertainty, a reminder that you'd let yourself get carried away in the heat of everything today. The thought of letting him see more of you, of exposing the parts of yourself you kept hidden, was both thrilling and terrifying.
Gently, you scooted away, creating a small space between you on the bed. Spencer watched you with a slight frown, his brow furrowing in concern as he noticed the shift in your demeanor.
“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to touch your arm. “Are you okay?”
You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just
 taking a breather.”
He nodded, understanding but still curious. The moment hung between you, a delicate balance of intimacy and distance that you both navigated carefully.
Wanting to redirect the focus and return the favor, you shifted onto your knees, your movements deliberate and confident. Spencer’s eyes widened slightly as he watched you, questioning flickering in his gaze.
You leaned forward, letting your hands glide over the planes of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. The sensation was intoxicating, each touch sending a spark of desire through your body as you explored the contours of his torso.
“Now, Doctor,” you said, your voice low and teasing, “I think it’s my turn to show you what I can do.”
Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched you with rapt attention. “I’m not going to stop you,” he replied, a playful edge to his voice as he leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows to give you full access.
You grinned, pleased by his response as you moved lower, your hands trailing down the length of his body. The texture of his skin was smooth and warm under your touch, each muscle firm and defined as you explored every inch with a deliberate slowness that made his breath catch.
The room was filled with the quiet rustle of sheets, the soft sounds of your movements as you shifted to straddle his legs, your body settling comfortably between his thighs. The anticipation in the air was palpable, a charged energy that seemed to crackle with each passing second.
You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his stomach, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your lips. The sensation was exhilarating, a rush of power and intimacy that left you wanting more.
Spencer let out a quiet groan, his head falling back against the pillows as he surrendered to the sensations you were creating. The sound sent a thrill through you, a confirmation of the effect you had on him, and it spurred you on, encouraging you to continue your exploration.
You let your hands wander lower, tracing the line of his waistband before slipping beneath the fabric, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingers. Spencer’s breath hitched again, a soft, needy sound that made your heart race.
“You okay?” you asked, your voice a teasing whisper as you glanced up at him, enjoying the way his eyes were half-lidded with desire, his lips parted in want.
Spencer nodded, his voice a breathless murmur. “Mhm.”
You smiled, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him so open and vulnerable beneath you. It was a heady feeling, one that made you want to give him everything you had, to explore every inch of him and discover all the ways you could make him come undone.
With a gentle touch, you eased his pants lower, revealing more of the skin you so desperately wanted to explore. The cool air kissed his skin, sending a shiver through him as you continued your ministrations, your hands and lips moving with a purposeful intent that left him gasping.
The texture of his skin under your fingers was smooth and warm, a contrast to the slightly rough fabric of his pants as they slid down his legs. You could feel the faint, steady beat of his pulse beneath your fingertips. The cool air seemed to heighten every sensation, sharpening the feeling of your touch against his bare skin.
As you explored lower, you could hear the soft, almost involuntary sounds Spencer made in response to your touch—a quiet gasp, a low moan, the sharp intake of breath when you grazed a particularly sensitive spot. Each sound proving the effect you were having on him, encouraging you to continue your exploration with renewed confidence.
You leaned in, your lips brushing over the expanse of skin just above his waistband, savoring the slightly salty taste of him. The feel of your mouth against his skin drew another low groan from Spencer, a needy sound that reverberated through your body and filled the room.
The slight roughness of his sparse hair beneath your lips was a contrast to the smooth skin of his abdomen, and you reveled in the differences, your fingers dancing over every inch as you memorized the planes and angles of his body. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, drawing you closer, urging you to explore further.
With every touch and kiss, you could feel the tension coiling tighter within him, a palpable energy that seemed to thrumming in the air around you. His muscles tensed under your hands, responding to your every movement with a sensitivity that only served to heighten your own arousal.
His hips shifted slightly, an involuntary movement that brought him closer to you, seeking more of the sensations you were creating. The friction of your touch against him was a delicious torment, each caress, each brush of your lips a promise of the release he so desperately craved.
You continued down, your mouth trailing lower with a deliberate slowness that was as much for your pleasure as it was for his. The taste of his skin lingered on your lips, a reminder of the connection you shared, the chemistry that burned brightly between you.
Spencer’s hands found their way to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he guided you closer to his bulge that you had been neglecting, his touch both gentle and insistent. The slight tug at your scalp sent a shiver through you, a thrill of eagerness that urged you to continue your exploration with even more fervor.
Your lips traveled lower, past where he wanted you, tracing a path along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh with your lips and tongue, where you could feel the taut muscle beneath. The sensation of his skin against your lips, the warmth of his body, the subtle tremor that ran through him as you pressed a lingering kiss to his hip—all of it combined to create a heady mix of sensations that left you breathless.
The soft rustle of the sheets beneath you was the only sound in the room aside from the quiet, rhythmic hum of Spencer’s breathing and the occasional low moan that slipped past his lips. You could feel the way his body responded to your touch with an eagerness that mirrored your own. It was a dance of give and take, a perfect harmony of movements and sensations that left you both on the edge of control.
Spencer’s hands tightened in your hair, a gentle reminder of his presence, his need, and you responded by drawing him deeper into the sensations, your touch sure and steady as you worked to bring him closer to the edge. 
Finally, putting the poor man out of his misery, you hooked your fingers in his waistband and pulled his briefs down. Exposing him to the cool air, causing him to shiver. Then, because you’re not a monster, you licked a slow stripe up the side of his red, hard cock, causing a very loud groan to fall from between Spencer's lips.
The moment stretched out, filled with a tension that was both electric and tangible. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your shared breaths, a quiet rhythm that underscored the intense moment.
Your fingers brushed against his skin, tracing a delicate path along the line of his hip bone. You could feel the subtle tremor that ran through him. The warmth of his skin was intoxicating, drawing you closer, urging you to continue your exploration with a sense of urgency that bordered on desperate.
Spencer’s body was a study in contrasts—the hard lines of muscle beneath the softness of skin, the way he shivered under your touch even as he leaned into it, seeking more of the sensations you were creating. 
The cool air caressed his exposed skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of your touch. You watched as goosebumps erupted along his flesh, a physical manifestation of his heightened arousal. The sight sent a thrill of satisfaction through you, a reminder of the power you held in this moment.
You leaned in, your breath warm against his cock as you placed a soft, lingering kiss along the tip. The taste of him was addictive, a heady mix of salt and musk that left you wanting more. The feeling of his skin beneath your lips was electric, sending shivers of excitement through your body.
Spencer let out a quiet groan, a low, primal sound that reverberated through the room and sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. His hands found their way, deeper somehow, in your hair, his grip firm and steady as he urged you closer, his need evident in the way he moved you.
His cock twitched in response to your touch, the sensation was dizzying, a heady mix of power and vulnerability that left you breathless. You allowed your fingers to explore further, tracing a slow, deliberate path along the length of his shaft. The texture was smooth and warm, a perfect contrast to the cool air that surrounded you. You could feel the faint tremor in his muscles, a testament to his struggle to maintain control in the face of such intense sensation.
“Please, please do something,” Spencer nearly whined, his voice tinged with desperation as he watched you with wide eyes, his body trembling with need.
As you finally leaned in, allowing your mouth to join the dance of sensation and touch, you heard Spencer’s breath hitch in his throat, a quiet sound of desire that filled the room. The taste of him on your tongue was intoxicating, a rich, heady mix of salt and musk that left you craving more.
The moment your lips made contact, Spencer released a shuddering exhale, his body responding to the heat of your mouth with a visceral intensity that took your breath away. His hips shifted involuntarily, each movement sending ripples of sensation through your body as well.
The sound of your mouth against his skin was almost hypnotic, a rhythmic whisper that echoed through the room, mingling with Spencer's soft moans and the quiet rustle of the sheets beneath him. You felt the gentle rise and fall of his abdomen as he tried to steady his breathing, the quiet hitch in his breath every time you shifted, adjusted your grip, or took him deeper.
His taste lingered on your tongue as you bobbed your head along his shaft. The feeling of his smooth, taught skin between your lips only caused the mess between your thighs to grow. You were soaking wet at the sight of the man who so confidently took you apart, writhing at the feeling of your mouth on him. 
Spencer's hands found their way to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he tried to hold onto the last ounce of his control. His touch was gentle but insistent, a silent plea for you to continue, to explore every inch of him until he was lost in the overwhelming pleasure that you were so skillfully creating.
As you continued your ministrations, you couldn't help but revel in the power you held over him, the way you could make his body respond to your every touch, your every movement. It was intoxicating, the thrill of being the one to unravel him, to bring him to the edge and watch as he teetered there, a breathless, trembling mess beneath you.
The quiet, involuntary sounds that slipped past his lips were music to your ears, a symphony of pleasure and need that urged you on, pushing you to explore further, to discover every hidden reaction, every secret spot that made him gasp and moan.
Spencer's breathing grew more ragged, his chest heaving with each breath as you brought him closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within him, a living thing that pulsed and throbbed in your mouth, begging for release.
With each pass of your mouth, each flick of your tongue, you felt him draw nearer to the brink, the pleasure building to a fever pitch that left you both trembling with need. You pulled up to his tip, sucking harshly and greedily taking down the precum you were rewarded. 
“Fuck, fuck, Y/N. You have to pull off, I’m gonna—”
Finally, as you felt him begin to unravel beneath you, his grip on your hair tightening, you knew he was on the verge of release. The realization sent a thrill of satisfaction through you, a sense of accomplishment at having brought him to this point, this state of utter abandon.
But, you pulled off, just as he asked.
His eyes fluttered open, glazed with desire, and a mixture of relief and frustration washed over his features. The air between you was charged with electricity, thick as you gazed up at him, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he tried to catch his breath.
“Thank you,” he breathed, his voice a low, rough whisper filled with gratitude and a hint of desperation. His hands remained in your hair, holding you there as if afraid you might disappear, the heat of his skin still pulsing beneath your touch.
You sat back on your heels, his hands falling, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you surveyed the man before you. Spencer lay sprawled across the bed, a beautiful mess of tousled hair, flushed skin, and a very hard cock leaning on his tummy.
“Didn’t want to spoil the fun too soon?” you teased, your voice sultry and full of promise.
Spencer let out a breathless laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement and unabashed desire. “I didn’t expect you to be so... good at this,” he admitted, his voice still tinged with awe as he watched you with a newfound appreciation.
“Surprised?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you reached out to trail your fingers lazily along his thigh, feeling the residual tremor of his muscles beneath your touch.
“Pleasantly,” he replied, his voice rich with honesty as he met your gaze, a slow smile spreading across his lips.
“Well, the night’s not over yet,” you said, your tone full of suggestion as you shifted your position, moving with a deliberate slowness that kept Spencer’s gaze locked onto you. The dim lighting cast a warm, intimate glow over your skin, highlighting every curve and angle as you made your intentions clear.
Spencer watched you, his eyes darkening as he realized what you were doing. You were presenting yourself to him, offering yourself. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat through his already overwrought senses.
Your movements were slow and deliberate, a sensual dance that had Spencer transfixed, his breath catching in his throat as he watched you. You turned slightly, your back arching gracefully, presenting your body to him in a way that left no doubt about what you wanted. The smoothness of your skin and the glistening of your core caught the light, every curve accentuated by the shadows, and Spencer couldn't help but let his gaze travel over you, taking in every detail, every nuance.
“You like what you see, Doctor?” you teased with a shake of your hips, your voice a sultry purr that sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine. 
His response was a low, almost guttural sound that spoke volumes, a wordless expression of the desire that burned so brightly within him. He shifted slightly, his body tense as his hands reached out as if drawn to you by an invisible force.
“I like it very much,” he murmured, his voice a husky blend of awe and hunger as he drank in the sight of you. The way you held yourself, the confidence in your gaze, the promise of what was to come—it was all intoxicating, drawing him in and leaving him utterly captivated.
Spencer moved closer, the soft rustle of the sheets beneath him a quiet accompaniment to the sounds and sensations of desire that filled the room. Your skin was warm under Spencer’s touch as his hands found their way to your hips, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin, exploring every inch with a deliberate slowness that left you both breathless.
The feeling of his hands on you was electric, a perfect blend of tenderness and urgency that made your heart race and your senses sing. Every touch, every caress, sent shivers of pleasure racing through your body, leaving you aching for more, your skin hypersensitive to every nuance of his touch.
Spencer’s hands traveled with a gentle insistence, mapping the contours of your body with a touch that was both reverent and possessive. You could feel the subtle tremor in his fingers, the heat of his palms as they pressed against your ass.
His breath was warm against your ear, his voice a low murmur as he whispered, “You’re so sexy.” The words sent a thrill through you, a spark that ignited a fire in your belly and left you yearning for more of his touch, more of the sensations that seemed to flood your senses with every passing moment.
You turned your head slightly, your lips finding his in a kiss that was equal parts tenderness and demand. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of warmth and spice that made your heart race and your senses reel.
Spencer pulled away, and you felt the bed shift as he repositioned himself behind you. The room was filled with a quiet hum of anticipation, the air thick with the charged tension between you. You could feel his gaze on you, a tangible heat that seemed to sear into your skin.
“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice a low, rumbling purr that sent a shiver down your spine. There was an earnestness in his question, a genuine desire to ensure that you were comfortable and ready.
“Positive, Doctor,” you replied, the words laced with playful confidence as you glanced over your shoulder to meet his gaze. The term of endearment had become a safeguard to you, not wanting to get too used to saying his name.
Spencer’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm and relief, a small, appreciative smile tugging at his lips. “Do you have a condom?” he asked, his tone laced with a hint of embarrassment as he admitted his unpreparedness.
“You don’t?” you teased, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. It was a playful jab, meant to lighten the mood and add a touch of humor to the charged atmosphere.
“I didn’t expect this to happen
” Spencer admitted, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson as he chuckled awkwardly. 
“That’s really sweet, actually,” you replied, your voice softening as you took in the sight of him. The sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat, a reminder of why you had been drawn to him in the first place. “Yes, I do,” you confirmed, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “Let me up real quick.”
Spencer playfully groaned, a sound filled with exaggerated reluctance as he shifted to give you space. But before you could move, he leaned down, leaving a small, teasing bite on your asscheek—a cheeky gesture that sent a spark of pleasure through you.
“Down, boy!” you teased, your voice a mock admonishment as you slipped out of his grasp, your feet finding the floor with a soft thud. You cast a playful glance back at him, enjoying the sight of him sprawled on the bed, watching you while he pulled on his own cock.
As you turned back to the bed, condom in hand, you found Spencer watching you with an intensity that made your heart race. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—was both thrilling and humbling.
“Got it,” you announced, your voice a playful sing-song as you waved the packet in the air. Spencer’s eyes lit up with amusement, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he watched you return to the bed.
You climbed back onto the mattress, feeling the familiar give of the sheets beneath your knees as you settled in beside him. The warmth of his body was a comforting presence, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room that brushed against your skin.
Spencer reached for you, his touch gentle and insistent as he guided you back into position. His hands were warm against your skin, the chemistry seemed to crackle between you.
Spencer tore open the foil packet, the soft crinkle of the wrapper a prelude to the main event. You could smell the faint scent of latex from the condom, mingling with the lingering aroma of his cologne—a spicy, woodsy scent that was undeniably masculine and entirely Spencer.
Spencer moved with a practiced ease, his fingers deft and sure as he prepared himself, rolling the condom down with a kind of confident precision that spoke of experience. The sight of him handling himself with such ease sent a thrill racing through you, your breath catching at the implication. It was a heady rush of desire that made your heart race and your skin flush with heat.
As he finished, Spencer's eyes locked onto yours, a smoldering intensity burning within them that made your pulse quicken. The weight of his gaze was almost tangible, a touch that was as intimate as any caress. You could feel the desire radiating off of him.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. His tone was full of promise, a dark velvet sound that wrapped around you like a warm embrace, holding you captive in its depths.
“Yes,” you breathed, the word barely a whisper as it slipped from your lips, heavy with need. Your body ached for his touch, every fiber of your being attuned to the promise of pleasure that awaited you.
Spencer leaned forward, his hands finding your hips with a surety that left you breathless. His touch was firm and possessive, a silent promise of the pleasure he intended to deliver. You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, a delicious contrast to the cool air that still lingered around you.
His lips brushed against your ear, a featherlight touch that sent a thrill racing through you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I bet you feel as good as you taste,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. The confession was both intimate and incendiary, stoking the flames of your arousal until you were burning for him.
“Shit,” you whispered back, a high pitched sound that left your lips before you could think better of it. Spencer responded with a quiet, breathy chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands tightened on your hips, the pressure of his fingers was grounding.
He positioned himself at your entrance, the sensation sending a jolt through your body. The tip of him brushed against your core, a featherlight touch that made your breath catch and your heart race. 
Slowly, carefully, he began to push forward, the pressure building with each inch as he entered you. The feeling was exquisite, a slow, delicious burn that stretched you around him, filling you completely. The friction was intoxicating, a perfect balance of pleasure and pressure that had you gasping for breath.
Spencer let out a low, shuddering moan as he sank into you, his fingers digging into your hips with a possessive urgency that left you breathless. The sound was raw and primal, a testament to the pleasure that coursed through him, mirrored in the sensations that raced through your own body.
The room was filled with the sounds of your shared breaths, a quiet combination of gasps and moans that mingled with the rustle of the sheets beneath you. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, a heady mix making you hyper aware of every touch, every sensation.
As he began to move, Spencer set a steady, deliberate pace that left you reeling with sensation. Each thrust was a measured blend of power and precision, a rhythm that built slowly, methodically, until it had you teetering on the edge of control.
“You feel so fucking good,” Spencer breathed, his voice a low, gravelly growl that sent a thrill racing through you. 
“So big,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to find words in the midst of the overwhelming sensations that flooded your senses. The feel of him moving inside you, the way he filled you completely, was a pleasure that bordered on overwhelming, leaving you breathless and aching for more.
Spencer’s hands moved with a purpose, tracing the curves of your body as he drove you higher, his touch both grounding and incendiary. You could feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way his muscles flexed with each movement, feeling the strength and control he wielded.
His lips found your neck, trailing a line of heated kisses along the sensitive skin that sent shivers down your spine. The feel of his mouth against your skin was electric, a tantalizing mix of heat and teeth that left you gasping for breath, your body arching into his touch.
The sensation of his body moving against yours, the delicious friction as he drove deeper, harder, was a pleasure that threatened to unravel you completely. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy radiating through you.
“Spencer,” you gasped, the word slipping past your lips as a breathless plea, a desperate cry for more.
His response was immediate, his pace quickening as he drove into you, each movement a perfect blend of power and precision that left you on the brink of release. His hands tightened on your hips, his grip firm and possessive as he pulled you back to meet each of his thrusts. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious friction that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.
You could feel the strength in his fingers, the way they dug into your flesh with each powerful motion, grounding you even as you felt yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge. The heat of his hands against your skin was a stark contrast to the cool air of the room, adding another layer of sensation to the already heady mix.
The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room, a symphony of wet, rhythmic slaps and breathless gasps that only heightened your arousal. Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure rippling through you, building in intensity with every movement until you were teetering on the edge of control.
Spencer’s breath was hot against your ear, each exhale a ragged sigh that sent shivers down your spine. “How are you still so tight?” he groaned, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that resonated through your entire body. The words were a potent mix of praise and desire, pushing you even closer to the brink.
Your own breath came in short, ragged gasps, each inhale a struggle as you fought to hold on to your control. “Spencer,” you moaned, your body aching for release.
His response was a deep, primal growl that vibrated through his chest and into your back, his hips snapping forward with a renewed intensity that left you breathless. His hands guided your movements, pulling you back to meet each thrust with a force that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.
The pressure within you built to a fever pitch, a tight coil that wound tighter and tighter with each powerful thrust. Your senses were overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the sensations, the feel of him driving into you, the sound of his voice in your ear, the taste of salt on your lips as you bit down, trying to hold on just a little longer.
“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his voice a rough, desperate sound that sent a thrill racing through you. “I’m so close.”
The admission was your undoing. The coil within you snapped, sending a wave of blinding ecstasy crashing over you. Your body tensed, every muscle tightening as you cried out, the sound raw and unrestrained as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure.
Spencer continued to move, driving you through the waves of your release with a steady, relentless rhythm that left you trembling and gasping for breath. The feeling of him moving inside you, filling you completely, was a pleasure that bordered on overwhelming, each thrust sending new ripples of sensation through your already oversensitive body.
As the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, Spencer’s pace grew more erratic, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. You could feel the strain in his muscles, the way his fingers dug into your hips with a new urgency.
“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice a soft, breathless plea as you turned your head to catch his gaze. The look in his eyes was a perfect reflection of the intensity you felt, raw desire and desperate need that sent another wave of heat through you.
With a final, powerful thrust, Spencer buried himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he reached his own release. The sound of his pleasure—a low, guttural groan—sent a shiver of satisfaction through you.
The room was filled with the quiet sounds of your mingled breaths, a soft, rhythmic counterpoint to the fading echoes of your shared passion. Spencer’s grip on your hips softened, his touch becoming a gentle caress as he leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of your neck.
“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice a soft, reverent murmur that sent a final shiver of pleasure through you. 
You turned your head to meet his gaze, a satisfied smile playing on your lips as you caught your breath. “So are you, Doctor.”
Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with affection and lingering desire as he gently helped you shift to a more comfortable position. The warmth of his body against yours was soothing, a perfect counterpoint to the lingering heat of your shared passion. You nestled into his embrace, feeling a sense of peace and contentment settle over you as you allowed yourself to relax in his arms.
The steady rhythm of his breathing, the comforting weight of his presence, lulled you into a state of drowsy contentment. You felt safe and secure in his arms, the events of the night playing through your mind in a haze of satisfaction and warmth.
Slowly, the pull of sleep became too strong to resist, and you allowed yourself to drift off, cocooned in the comforting embrace of the man who had brought you such intense pleasure. The last thing you remembered before slipping into the depths of slumber was the gentle press of Spencer's lips against your forehead, a tender kiss that spoke volumes.
—
Morning came all too soon, the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains and casting a gentle glow over the room. You woke slowly, the memories of the night before still vivid in your mind as you lay in the warmth of Spencer's embrace. For a moment, you allowed yourself to savor the feeling, the sense of belonging that came from being wrapped in his arms.
But reality soon intruded, and you knew that you couldn't stay. With a quiet sigh, you carefully extricated yourself from his embrace, moving with practiced ease to avoid waking him. Spencer's face was peaceful in sleep, a small smile playing on his lips that made your heart ache with affection and regret.
You knew he’d be confused when he woke up in your apartment alone. The realization that you had made a mistake by bringing him here weighed heavily on you. You quickly dressed, the rustle of your clothes sounding loud in the otherwise silent room. Every movement felt like a betrayal, a departure from the intimacy you had shared just hours before.
Grabbing a sticky note pad and a pen from your desk, your mind raced as you tried to think of what to write. The pen felt heavy in your hand, the blank surface of the note a stark reminder of the conversation you couldn't have face to face.
Spencer, you wrote, your handwriting shaky and rushed, Thank you for last night. There’s a key under the mat, please lock the door on your way out. Take care.
You placed the note where he would see it, the yellow square stark against the dark wood of your dresser. You stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of him one last time, memorizing the peaceful curve of his lips, the way his hair fell across his forehead.
With a heavy heart, you turned and quietly left the room. You headed for a friend's house, your thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. You needed to stay busy, to distract yourself until you were sure Spencer had left your apartment. As you knocked on the door, you resolved to cherish the memory of the night you had shared with Spencer, even as you moved forward with your life.
—
It had been a month since Spencer's encounter with you. At first, he was extremely confused and hurt, thinking there was a real spark between the two of you. Upon leaving your apartment that morning, he realized he never got your last name or your phone number. He didn't even know your address properly. Technically, he could figure it out quite easily, but he knew if you wanted him to talk to you again, you would have stayed.
For about two weeks, he thought about you every day and night, replaying the moments you shared and trying to understand what went wrong. Initially, he was sad, then worried something might have happened, and finally, he became livid at the thought that you might have used him. But now, it had been a month, and he had resigned himself to forget you and move on with his life.
Back to regular life, Spencer walked into the bullpen, immediately sensing something unusual. Everyone was not-so-subtly glancing toward Hotch’s office, their expressions twisted with curiosity and surprise.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.
“There’s a woman in Hotch’s office,” Emily replied, her eyes flicking toward the closed door.
“Okay?” Spencer prompted, waiting for more context.
“She knew my name, man,” Derek added, sounding both impressed and slightly confused.
“Uh oh, did you forget one of your many lovers?” Spencer joked, trying to lighten the mood.
“Not cool, kid. I’d remember a pretty face like hers,” Derek said, shaking his head.
“How else would she know you?” Emily asked, her curiosity mirroring Spencer’s.
Just then, the door to Hotch’s office opened, and you stepped out, accompanied by Aaron. “Guys, this is Agent Y/N Y/L,” Hotch said, introducing you to the team. “She will be joining us while JJ is on maternity leave.”
Spencer’s heart stopped as he saw you. He felt all the blood drain from his face, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm him. There you were, the woman who had loved him and then left him without a trace, now standing in front of him in the bullpen.
You seemed calm and composed, completely unaware of the storm raging inside Spencer. You gave a polite smile and nodded at the team, your eyes briefly locking with Spencer’s before moving on, not recognizing him immediately, or not caring.
“Nice to meet you all,” you said, your voice steady and professional. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
The rest of the team greeted you warmly, exchanging pleasantries, while Spencer remained rooted to his spot, his mind racing. Finally, your eyes fell on him and really looked.
“Hi, Doctor,” you said calmly, your voice steady and composed.
“Y/N,” he replied, his tone clipped and strained.
“Hold up, do you two know each other?” Derek asked, his curiosity piqued.
“I remember you!” Penelope cut in, her eyes lighting up with recognition. “You were at the Doctor Who convention! Madame de Pompadour! You looked beautiful.”
“Thank you!” you responded with a warm smile. “I don’t recall meeting you, I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, we didn’t meet, sweetie,” Penelope giggled kindly. “I saw you talking to Reid here.”
“Ah,” you said, a hint of realization dawning in your eyes as you glanced back at Spencer.
The strain between you and Spencer was tangible, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Spencer’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, trying to process the fact that you were now standing in front of him, a part of his professional life.
“So, how do you two know each other?” Emily asked, her eyes darting between the two of you.
“We
 met at the convention,” Spencer said, his voice strained as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.
“Yes, we did,” you confirmed, keeping your tone neutral. “It was a brief encounter.”
Spencer's jaw tightened at your choice of words, the hurt and confusion from a month ago resurfacing with a vengeance. He knew he had to keep it together, at least for now, but the unresolved feelings were making it difficult.
“Small world, huh?” Derek said with a chuckle, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension.
“Indeed,” you replied, your eyes flicking back to Spencer. “I’m looking forward to working with all of you.”
Spencer nodded stiffly, his mind still racing with questions and emotions. He knew he needed to talk to you, to get some answers, but now wasn’t the time. He would have to wait for a more private moment to confront you about what had happened.
For now, he had to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside his personal turmoil to maintain his professionalism. But as he watched you interact with the rest of the team, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna
461 notes · View notes
thepunkmuppet · 1 year ago
Text
hot take but personally I NEED him as a companion.
Tumblr media
he should get to kiss ncuti gatwa on the mouth. as a treat
493 notes · View notes
briarlovesclara · 6 months ago
Text
do you think it'd be kind of... weird for Rose to see 15?
Like, it's her uncle, but it's not quite. He hugs her similarly to 14, but not quite. He's seen the future, her future, lived through her life and come out the other side-- well, come out the same side, really. Presumably, he's seen her parents die, seen her graduate, but he still asks how Donna is. Is he trying to place her along her timeline, or does he just really care? She loves him so ferociously, but does it feel hollow to him to look at her and remember things they haven't done yet? Is it disappointing to not have their in-jokes from 5 years in the future?
And he's changed. 14, her uncle, he's told her about changing, and how it can feel like you're dying. How odd, to wake up one day completely different, and even those closest to you don't know you yet. Donna is The Doctor's sister, but is Rose The Doctor's niece? She's never felt so small as seeing 15 and then going home to her uncle.
She can't bear to ask either of them if they'll love her forever.
113 notes · View notes
thekingofspin · 11 months ago
Text
when your stressed and sad do you ever just think "I'm due a ____ phase again" like I'm due a night at the museum phase again I was so happy back then and I need the stress relief right now
255 notes · View notes
blackbonnet-ruined-my-life · 6 months ago
Text
When the doctor finally found the right dimension, he wasn’t sure what kind of reception he expected. That being said, the gun in his face was a surprise, particularly since Rogue was the one holding it. Is it really him? Or a Chulder in disguise? There’s no way to tell because Rogue’s lost his memory. He remembers nothing about the ball except that there was a man called The Doctor, and that man was the reason he was trapped in a desolate dimension.
Can the doctor win him over and remind him of the love they once shared? Or is he doomed to be hated by a man that blames him for everything he’s been through?
62 notes · View notes
aroacespacerock · 7 months ago
Text
Canon thoschei is too fucked up give me some good human au where they can be happy together 😭😭
64 notes · View notes
tinkerbitch69 · 6 months ago
Text
I know the doctor said he left Ruby because she has a better life where she is now but like

What if he also left her because she was getting to know him too well? What if he couldn’t face her after she watched his ‘now I must become a monster moment’? What if he felt like he let his youthful, fun exuberant mask slip and revealed the jaded, world-weary, vengeful time lord underneath and he was afraid she wouldn’t look at him the same again? What if he remembered the last time he let someone see beneath the mask and how that ended for Clara Oswald?
What then?
53 notes · View notes
saunne · 7 months ago
Text
You Are A Weakness I Cannot Afford To Possess - Aventio/Ratiorine Snippet
[You are welcome to yell at me and demand monetary reparations to pay for your therapy because I'm not sorry]
Every risk was cautiously considered and weighed, every move carefully calculated. Obviously, emotions were something based on a much less stable basis than mathematical calculations but... 
Veritas Ratio was not blind. 
He wasn't a fool either, despite feeling like one at that very moment. 
“...What do you mean no ?” 
The man looked at him, a bittersweet smile on their thin lips, even as one of their poker chips twirled nimbly between their graceful fingers. 
"Before you ask a question, why don't you consider whether the answer has already been determined ?" Aventurine responded softly, their eyes drifting to gaze outside as they wearily parroted Veritas' own words. "It is better for everyone if such questions are not asked... Don't you think, my good Doctor ?" 
These words, Veritas uttered them regularly.  To his colleagues, his students, Enid, his superiors, strangers even. 
To be the recipient was... painful. 
Unexpected. 
"I don't understand," Veritas whispered, his voice hoarse and his throat tight. "You love me."
Every risk was cautiously considered and weighed, every move carefully calculated. Veritas Ratio would never have risked a move if he had not been absolutely certain that his feelings were returned.
And yet
 And yet.
“I do,” Aventurine laughed airily. “Gaiathra help me, I do.”
The chip was strangely warm in Veritas' palm as his hand instinctively gripped around it, the smooth edges digging into his palm. Aventurine's hand was soft against his cheek, barely a caress, ghostly and fleeting presence. 
Their lips were soft and just slightly wet as they kissed him, for barely more than a heartbeat. The faint caress of their sigh as they retreated felt as icy as the incessant blizzards of this planet of eternal winters, to which Veritas had accompanied them only weeks earlier. 
Where he had warmed their frozen fingers between his. 
Where they shared laughter and kisses as light as the snowflakes that ended their fall in their pale eyelashes.
Where a cheerful “Why not, Veritas?” had met his cautious questioning, where only a silence heavy with lost words now met this same question, this "why" trembling with dashed hope.
"Because... All or Nothing only works because there is nothing left, Veritas. Nothing except myself, which is nothing in itself,” the Stoneheart confessed in a breath, in a plea that sounded more like a condemnation. “I can’t
”
They closed their eyes, taking a deep breath.
When they looked at him again, the heat of their gaze was not that of an inviting hearth, but that of a raging fire. 
A heat of desert wasteland bathed by a blind sun, of an age-old drought that a cataclysm would not be enough to repair. A heat made of prayers as numerous as the grains of sand of Sigonia-IV and as sticky as the blood that had stained it.
 “You are a weakness I cannot afford to possess, Veritas Ratio.”
A silence.
"And for what little it's worth, I'm truly sorry."
72 notes · View notes
thetorturedlovergirl · 3 months ago
Text
Yes I go to sleep thinking about sad Yaz, 13 and Spy (sometimes Whittaker! Master comes crawling in) aus and I’m not ashamed to say it I love making my fav characters cry to get a good night rest
23 notes · View notes
spaceistheplaceart · 6 months ago
Text
thinkin about dr. coomer
imagine you're stuck in Black Mesa. Everyone's dying around you, there's awful green goop and aliens everywhere... You want to get out of this place and return to your normal life. So does the group of friends you've made along the way, some you've known for quite some time, and some you've just met. You're fighting to get out.
You're finally outside. You think you can just book it and get out of this nightmare now, start trekking in the desert because anything is better than this. so you jump over the mountains and--
realize that you came into existence just yesterday. There is no way out, there never was. you have to stay inside Black Mesa and fight for... nothing. before, you were fighting to get out. but there is no way out, and never will be.
but you won't give in so easily. There has to be a way out. you'll find one, even if you have to make one.
the thought drives you crazy, until crawling inside Gordon's open wounds sounds like a perfectly reasonable idea. But once that final, desperate, attempt fails... well! it seems there's no hope after all. might as well stick along for the ride. might as well give up.
except Dr. Coomer doesn't give up for long. he's grasping at ways to free himself up until the very end and beyond it. He pleas Gordon to save them at the end of HLVRAI, and as seen in the HL2VRAI trailer- he's still trying to contact Gordon for, what to him, is 20 years.
Dr. Coomer is a man who never, ever, gives up. even when it's hopeless. even when everyone else has left a long ago.
67 notes · View notes
esosage · 4 months ago
Text
God i need more movie robotnik angst! Like my man is prime angst material and theres just not enough for him!
Need him to be sobbing, and crying, and haveing a mental breakdown.
Especially when it involves stone, since it forces him to let his walls down, and bear his soul to the other man wether he likes it or not. Which could really offer some interesting developments in their relationship.
I can see movie eggman being very antsy after he has a mental break down infront of stone, since he's primarily waiting for the other to either take advantage of him or leave him. Since thats probobly what he's experienced in relationships up till now (with the whole trust issues thing.)
Infact, i'd say he gets so antsy that he becomes a self fulfilling profocy. Being so pent up, and not beliveing stone has anything but maliciouse intent twards him now, he lashes out at the other. Saying some real horrible shit in an attempt to push him away before stone can hurt him.
He ends up secretly regretting it after the fact. He tries to convince himself that its better this way, or that he doesn't care, or that he likes hurting the other, in attempt to cover up that guilt, but he knows deep down that its just not true. Even so, that doesnt stop him from returning back to old habbits to cope with being in a very unframiliar situation: aka him being a dick. Maybe not directly to stone this time, but by avoiding him. He isn't really angry at stone, more so angry at himself, but he doesnt have the emotional intelligence to recognize that. So he tries to put up walls. In his mind hes gotten far to attached to stone and needs to cut the other man out before he has a one up over him, or uses robotniks emotions against him. But robotnik just cant do it. He cant force himself to get rid of stone, he cant force himself to just fire the man, because stone is the only person who takes care of robotnik.
Now, robotnik doesnt think that stone genuinlly cares for him, he doesnt think anyone is capable of that, but stone does give him attention. Attention, that he despretly seeks and searches for. Infact, stone has probobly cared for robotnik, more than anyone else before. Which isnt a high bar, since robotnik isn't exactly a likeable person, but its still a very big thing for a robotnnik. Because in his whole life, stone is one of the very few people who has cared about him somewhat, and managed to stick around him for this long without gwtting tired of his bulshit. And as someone who has been longing and desperate for attention their entire life, who craves it, robotnik just cant give stone up. Regardless of if stone huets him or not, because he doesn't think he'll find anyone else who will care for him as much as stone does.
Of course, he never acknowledges this, because to him, saying that he needs the agent on such a deep level is admitting to being weak. Since he's supposed to be untouchable (and perfect.) And he much less has enough emotional intelligence to understand this, so he puts up walls instead, in the hopes that stone will do it for him. That stone, just like everyone else, will get sick of his bullshit and leave. (He doesnt really want this in reality. But because he's in such an unframilar situation, hes resorting back to old habbits and lashing out to feel more incontrol. Because theres nothing robotnik hates more, than not being in control, because in his mind, if hes not incontrol then he's going to get hurt.)
Thankfully for robotnik though, stone is crazy and refuses to leave. He might have before robotnik had the mental breakdown, since he didnt belive the doctor genuinlly cared about him before then, but after the mental breakdown, he knows that the doctor cares about him more than he's letting on. So he refuses to leave, because he knows somethings up with the doctor, and he's not going until its fixed. Careing more about robotniks wellbeing than his own, (regardless of how unhealthy it is.)
This confuses to robotnik till no end, and sets his mind down another spiral. Because normally, your mean to people and they leave, but stone isn't doing that...... why? Thats the part that catches robotnik up the most: the why. In robotniks mind, he's an asshole, he knows he is, he plays into it sometimes, and thusly he thinks nobody can care about him. That because he's a horrible person, and because, in his mind, he'll never be anything but one, its simply impossible for anyone to care, much less love him. So he doesnt think stone is capable of loveing him. Which begs the question of why stone is staying.
If stone doesn't love him, and has every reason to leave him right now outside of the pay, why stay? Does he want revenge? Does he have a card up his sleeve? Is he trying to take robotnik down? Is that why he's been more nosey lately?
All of those are questions floating in robotniks head. His trust issues takeing his anxiety twards the issue and going wild. Which naturally sends robotnik down a paranoid spyral.
All of this, culminates in another argument. Stone demanding to know whats wrong, and robotnik eventually slipping up in the moment, and admiting that he thinks stone hates him, and is trying to sabatouge him.
The agent vehemently goes against this motion, claiming he would never tries that, and that he doesn't hate robotnik. Of course, due to his trust issues, robotnik doesnt buy it. Combating this with the "facts" he has gathered thus far. Asking why stone would stay with him otherwise if it wasn't to gain something.
Another thing the agent opposes, stuttering over his words to avoid saying the obviouse, but just enough to hopefully convince robotnik when he says he cares. Though robotnik keeps pushing back, still not buyinh it.
And exaughsted, stone just screams out rhe truth in the hopes that it will get through the others thick skull. Admiting that he loves robotnik, and thats why he stays, because he cares about him dammit!
This leaves robotnik floored, he doesn't belive it at first, can't fathom the thought of someone actually being in love with someone like him outside of what he can give them (relationships arw transactional in his mind,) but hes putting up a lot less ressistancdñe than before. And while he doesnt want ot admit it, logically speaking, it would explain t a lot of things.
Eventually robotnik does something slightly emotionally intelligent for once in his damn life, and asks for a moment, (he doesnt say its to prosess his emotions, but its deffinetly implied,) and he asks stone to leave.
This obviously leaves the other anxiouse, wondering if he did something wrong in admiting his feelings, but he complies. Thr two on their own to process everything..
They end up haveing a conversation about it later once they've calmed down, (something stone had to initiate,) and it ends up being productive! The two of them planning a path forward for the both of them (with no romance by robotniks request) and they begin to work on things.. very slowly yes, and with a lot of cognitive disonence on robotniks part (he still cant admit that he cares, much less loces stone yet, even if he does,) but its progress and stone is satisfied with it.
Anyhow, sorry i went on a ramble, my thoughts decided to just go this way lol. Regardless, my point still stands, robotnik is a very deep and interesting character, and deserves to ve explored more. And also deserves a hell of a lot more angst.
Thank you for listening to my bullshit.
41 notes · View notes
aq2003 · 1 year ago
Text
ten is like oohhhh i will always have to come to terms with how everyone that i love will leave me behind (bc i'm a near immortal alien) and how they will always find someone else more important than me (bc i'm a near immortal alien) and i have trouble holding onto my connections with them bc the way i love them isn't enough/isn't the right kind of love for them (bc i'm a near immortal alien) and then he dies in 6 years so his storyline is like a metaphor for being aroace instead
109 notes · View notes
tonsillessscum · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
you're the sun, you've never seen the night
but you hear its song from the morning birds
well, i'm not the moon, i'm not even a star
but awake at night i'll be singing to the birds
- Mitski, Your Best American Girl
42 notes · View notes
betterthanbatman1 · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Okay, I don’t know if I’m looking too deep into this but this made me really sad and uncomfortable.
I mean, Jason could say something along the lines of “don’t kill the kid, kill me instead” but he said “I’ll do anything you want, anything”. Him repeating the word ‘anything’ wasn’t a stutter from the fear kicking in (they used ‘-‘ and ‘
’ to portray the stutter/ repetition of words due to strain/exhaustion). But this word was written so clearly as just a repetition to emphasize that he meant anything. What ever it is that he was implying, is very upsetting nonetheless.
Then the way Scarecrow held Jason’s face. That could easily just be a villain trying to make their victim weak, holding them firm, leaning in close-invading their space, and ensuring they feel vulnerable. Yeah okay I get that.
But then Joker walks in and calls Crane a pervert. And sure you can argue that Joker is just throwing names around. But this whole multi interaction caught me off guard and yeah maybe I’m reading too deep into it. Maybe Jason just felt helpless and spewed out words? Idk.
Whatever the situation was, still hurts to read. I don’t know, it just felt so wrong. Even if he wasn’t implying anything, Scarecrow and Joker are still taking advantage of a vulnerable person. Which obviously is awful and disgusting,
124 notes · View notes
lookingforsneha · 6 months ago
Text
Post-Azkaban Wolfstar and 'Where'd all the time go',
Cause you know they get so forgetful, when they look in eachother's eyes.
21 notes · View notes