#if he's “bullying” her that means she's completely innocent like..

[sugar-konpeito]

Kind of a rant

In Japan, being a public disturbance is reallyyyy frowned upon and if someone is, it's pretty common that a stranger will scold them. Usagi and Mamoru's dynamic in the first season gets misunderstood, because that sort of thing doesn't really exist in the US. Usagi's primary setting is "public disturbance" and Mamoru coincidentally keeps being the person who scolds her. Americans just see it as bullying because the idea of a stranger scolding you (for something *you* did wrong) is foreign to them. The US is individualist but Japan is collectivist, so there's more accountability for bad public etiquette.

people are just constantly like "why is he bullying her😢😢" during scenes where usagi is breaking like 5 massive social rules at once. for context, some japanese social rules that will get you scolded if broken would be: yelling, talking loudly, sitting on the ground, crawling, throwing things (duh), running, bumping into people, and eating while walking (you could run into someone).

when mamoru makes fun of her for "stuffing her face" or something, he's not criticizing her for eating, he's criticizing her for eating while walking.

basically, the concept is "what if the person who is rude in public and the person who scolds them ended up being in love haha". it's really not that deep, like it's just silly. usagi ignores basic social rules, and then acts dense when she's being scolded, so the five year olds at home can be like "haha that's so silly. also i shouldn't eat my candy while walking so i don't run into people like she does".

these interactions are a comedic way to teach young children everyday etiquette, basically. and mamoru's scolding being completely ineffective and making the issue worse adds to the comedy

(i do think gently explaining to her that she's bothering others is what would get through to her, but that's not very funny and would be really anticlimactic so.. also her character arc is literally about being less self centered and taking others into account more, like these fights are thematically important too.)

[fairy-angel222]

Being older bf! Toji’s sweet dolly gf.

Everybody wonders just how it even happened. He was so big and broody, face always serious as he peered down at people with hard glares. But you.. you were so sweet. Everyone loved you, thought you were the most darling girl in town.

You were always so kind to people, smiling brightly as you engaged in conversation with almost anyone, easily lighting up their day with your gentle tone.

You’re a joy to be around, your presence was soft, warm.. welcoming. His was mean, scary even. It was a strange mixture. Not to mention how much bigger he is compared to you. His tall height and broad body engulfing yours completely when his arm wraps around your waist.

Your hand tight in his as you two walked down the street. Intertwined fingers swinging as you attempted to tug him into the direction when something caught your eye. Batting your lashes up at him with an innocent tilt of your head. “Daddy.. can you buy me this? Pretty please?”

He thinks he spoils you too much, only chuckling deeply before letting you drag him into the store with a squeal. The singular item turning into bags full by the time you were ready to leave. You could hear the whispers circulating around you about you and your big boyfriend, huffing with the roll of your eyes when a girl questioned your ability to please him. To take all of him, insisting to her friend that she’d do a better job.

Of course you could take him, you did every single night. When your legs are bent onto his arms. The man’s large muscles flexing as he slid your little body up and down his cock. Using you like his own personal flesh light to stroke himself with your snug walls.

You mewl loudly, head falling back onto his shoulder as your pussy gushed messily. Toji’s large hand pressing both your legs to your chest with a smirk. Watching as your eyes filled with tears at how much deeper he could reach when he began slamming up into you roughly. Throbbing tip kissing your g spot meanly before bullying its way deep inside you- being able to feel his massive girth poking desperately at your cervix for entrance.

You let out a string of high pitched moans, body shaking as Toji fucked your tight pussy on and off his cock. Your snug grip ready to milk him dry as he groaned. “You’re so fucking perfect like this baby. Shit, pretty pussy doesn’t even wanna let me go.”

“Mmfg— d-daddy. So g-good, ‘m so close.”

“Yeah? Close f’ me already? You’re taking me so well baby. Taking daddy’s cock so far up that sopping pussy like a good girl.”

You smile with a choked cry, toes curling through your socks as you neared your orgasm. You wished that girl could see you prove her wrong, show her how well you took your boyfriend’s fat cock. Something she could never ever have.

[maybanksprincess]

babes ilysm, and im jj deprived of fics (specifically, dom mean jj x sweet girl innocent reader) how do you think jj would be with sweet girl if he was rough fucking her in missionary holding her hand but like his other hand has his fingers in her mouth while shes overstimulated

ugh ilysm more and this idea, im so turned on. i need this so bad 😩

jj would be fucking into you deep, your freshly painted toes thrown over his broad shoulders, as he buries his dick deep inside of you.

he would be burying himself to the hilt with every thrust, then almost pulling out completely, before slamming back in.

one of his ringed hands would be intertwined with yours, the other occupied with two of his fingers down your throat, listening to you gag and gurgle around them as he slams into you over and over again.

you had already came twice, but he wanted to see just how far he could push you. he fucked you into a third orgasm, your pussy already sensitive from his huge cock bullying your hole.

tears spill from your eyes as he keeps fucking you over and over, pathetic whimpers falling from around jjs fingers. he can tell your getting close by the way your walls clench around him, and he speeds up his pace, rolling his hips deeper into you.

he would be like "cmon mama, you can take it. jus' one more, hm? last one, i promise." he squeezes your hand as he continues to rut into you relentlessly.

your pussy convulses around him, and he feels a gush of liquid coat his balls, following your loud moan around his fingers.

he finishes inside the condom, and then he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, patting your cheek twice with his wet hand. "good girl." he says with his signature smirk, before rolling the condom off.

[sundrop-writes]

Lessons For A Genius - Lesson One

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader

Lesson One: Slick Silicone

(aka the one with the pocket pussy)

Summary:

What could a certified genius possibly have to learn from someone like you? Turns out - a hell of a lot. 

And the real ‘teaching’ started when your graphic explanations of slang toward Spencer for the sheer shock value of it turned into something a lot more… hands on. 

Sub!Spencer Reid x (BAU)Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during early Season 2.

Word Count: 17,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: A lot of general stuff pertaining to an average Criminal Minds episode - mentions of death, mentions of murder/killing, mentions of possible trauma from being in the BAU, somewhat graphic descriptions of a dismembered corpse; this is not a casefic but there is a small section where Reid, Morgan, and the reader are at a crime scene and details of a case are mentioned (not a case in the canon, one that I made up); the reader sticks her hand inside of a corpse to get something out of it for the purpose of discovering evidence; making inappropriate jokes about dead bodies - the reader character uses dark humour to cope with the trauma of the BAU job; Spencer doesn’t understand sexual slang and the reader has to explain it to him (warning for slightly awkward moments because of this?); the reader calls Spencer ‘honey’ (could be considered condescending); use of Y/N and L/N (meaning Your Last Name); Reid struggling with his sexuality/Reid has some internal biphobia; mentions of anal sex/anal stimulation but it does not take place during the fic; passing mentions of Reid being bullied in school; mentions of past Spencer x Lila Archer (in this fic, she blew him while he was working that case but they didn’t keep contact when he left LA); mentions of the reader going to a sex shop; mentions of the reader dressing feminine/wearing lingerie; mention of Spencer being taller than the reader - but I think he would be taller than most people.

This is primarily a smut fic; there is sub/dom dynamics - Reid is submissive and much more inexperienced (he is 'learning’ about sex from the reader character, but he is not completely a virgin, he has had one singular sexual experience before); the reader is dominant and much more experienced sexually; the reader has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; mentions of Reid being 'innocent’ (it’s more so that sex is an under-researched area of his life and he is too shy to explore it by himself); undertones of corruption kink; use of a sex toy - the reader gifts Spencer a fleshlight/pocket pussy and they use it together; hand kink - the reader admires Spencer’s hands; undertones of corruption kink - the reader is enjoying 'corrupting’ Spencer and showing him these things for the first time; BDSM/kink negotiations, possibly under-negotiated kink; the reader teaches Spencer BDSM terms.

Everything in this fic is fully consensual and safe for the characters; Spencer calls the reader 'Miss’; mentions of Spencer cumming inside the reader (does not actually happen during the fic); passing mentions of Spencer being insecure (about his sexual skills and his looks); Spencer is very obedient; the reader calls Spencer: 'good boy’, 'baby’, 'pretty boy’, 'dumb baby’; most of this fic is Spencer being fucked with a fleshlight while it’s controlled by the reader; heavy praise kink (from the reader toward Spencer); light bondage - Spencer’s hands are bound behind his back; edging - orgasm delay/orgasm denial (from the reader toward Spencer); the reader makes Spencer ask permission to cum; some size kink - big dick Spencer is too big to fully fit inside of a fleshlight; Spencer does a lot of begging in this; slight crying kink - the reader thinks Spencer looks pretty when he cries from being overwhelmed/edged a lot; degradation kink, dumbification kink, reader is condescending towards Spencer; some overstimulation toward the end; slight cum kink - Spencer cums all over himself and the reader enjoys it. I believe that’s it. There is descriptions of aftercare!

A/N: fair warning - a lot of this fic is build up/sexual tension (my speciality). and there is a long section before the smut where the reader is teaching Spencer BDSM terms and teaching him how to pick a safeword, but I think it’s interesting and I enjoyed writing it. and it’s worth the pay-off imo.

...

Being an FBI Profiler meant there were some rather… strange parts to your day. 

Things that were once in a lifetime tragedies for other people that had become intensely casual routines for you. Things like - looking at gruesome crime scene photos, seeing a dead body in person, facing down a killer. 

You liked to thank your nihilism and dark sense of humor for keeping you sane, working a job that would have driven others insane in such a short amount of time. You also liked to distance yourself from the darkness of it, and preferred to think of the people you helped, rather than the people you couldn’t. 

Especially during moments like this, when you were exiting the car at yet another crime scene. It was a dump sight for the body of another young woman, adding to the trail of victims this newest killer was challenging the BAU with. 

“Just like all the others… the limbs and jaw are missing. Eyes gouged out. This guy has one hell of a compulsion.” Morgan commented, looking down at the body… or rather, the torso, with intense disdain. 

“I would say it’s less of a compulsion, and more of a fractured sense of reality.” Reid commented. “It’s likely that the UnSub sees these corpses as pieces of art. It’s why he was frustrated when the first four weren’t found soon enough, that they weren’t discovered when they were… ‘fresh’, so to speak. That’s why he started leaving the clues for law enforcement. He wants his ‘art’ to be seen in a timely manner.” 

“Couldn’t the guy just take up painting or something?” You replied, looking at the body, still slightly shocked by how brutal the whole thing was. 

“Looks like we got another one.” Morgan pointed out, crouching down beside the body, motioning toward a large gash between the victim’s ribs. “Another clue, that is.” 

For the last three victims, the UnSub had cut a hole into their torso and left some kind of object inside. Something small that hinted at where the next victim would be found. 

Morgan looked over his shoulder at you, as though waiting for you to make a move. When you turned to Reid, he was looking over the rim of his coffee cup at you with very expectant eyes, the thick lenses of his glasses making his stare all the more imposing. 

You quickly realized that both of the men wanted you to stick your hand inside the corpse and pull out whatever was inside. 

“What?” You chuckled. “You want me to do it? Is it just cause you think I’m the gross one?” 

Your reputation for having a strong stomach preceded you. 

You were shy or squeamish about anything, socially or functionally, and the team often took advantage of this. They would throw you into an interrogation with a suspect who made crude comments and you would end up grossing the man out with even more graphic words. They would have you sifting through a suspect’s trash looking for receipts or pieces of evidence and sometimes you would laugh at the things you found, rather than gagging at the smell. 

It was rare that anyone on the team saw you flinch. 

“The body’s been sittin’ out here in the sun for three hours.” Morgan said, glancing from the corpse up to the bright sky overhead. “I’m not doin’ it.”

You chanced another look at Reid. The small smirk he wore told you that he wouldn’t have to give some lame excuse about how he was squeamish and had just eaten in order for you to truly give in. 

“Ugh, fine.” You said. 

You naturally met Reid’s hand when he came out of his pocket with a blue latex glove for you to wear. You put it on, switching places with Morgan so you could kneel down beside the body. You put your ungloved hand on the ground to support yourself, and then inserted your fingers into the cavity - the hole between the ribs that the UnSub had made. 

Luckily, you didn’t have to reach too far inside before you felt something. Though, because of the slight decomposition of the body and the bloat from the sun beating down, you did have some trouble getting a good grip on the item to pull it out. 

Naturally, your discomfort with the situation caused your dark sense of humor to act up. You needed the comfort and you barely thought about the odd joke before it left your lips. 

“God, it’s like a fucking fleshlight in here,” You groaned, disgusted laced through your voice as you finally hooked your fingers around the object and managed to pull it out of the wound. 

Morgan chuckled at the joke and held out an evidence bag for you (which he had gotten from one of the uniformed officers on the scene). Before any of you could truly analyze the item that you had just pulled out of the body cavity, a voice trampled over your thoughts as you dropped the item into the plastic bag. 

“Don’t you mean flashlight?” Reid piped up, so eager to correct you, as always. “Also, how is that comparable?” 

You looked up at Reid with awe. 

For a moment, you wondered if he was fucking with you. 

But the look of genuine confusion plastered across his features - something so rare for the certified genius. That look made you realize that he genuinely didn’t know what a fleshlight was. He had no idea what you were talking about. 

Your insides tingled with glee at this realization. 

Morgan sighed when he saw the look that you and Reid exchanged. You, wearing filthy, smug dawning and Reid painted entirely with cluelessness. He hated where the exchange was going, knowing how shameless you always were in conversation. He quickly tried to distract from the interaction. 

“So, this looks like a horseshoe-” Morgan said, motionting to the object in the evidence bag. 

“No, I meant fleshlight.” You said, quickly trampling over Morgan’s words. “F-L-E-S-H-L-I-G-H-T. Fleshlight. Do you not know what that means?” 

This caused Morgan to sigh sharply and shake his head. 

You took off the glove with a snap and tossed it away, happy to be rid of the smell. 

You stood back to your full height, entirely intrigued by Reid’s continued confusion. 

“It could represent luck. Maybe a casino?” Morgan tried in vain to distract the two of you from the conversation once again. 

Maybe he was trying to preserve Reid’s naive innocence, something you were determined to dismantle piece by piece because it gave you intense joy to see the shock cross his features whenever you explained outrageous concepts to him. The time you had explained to him what a ‘blumpkin’ was, you hadn’t stopped laughing for hours when he could hardly believe you. 

“The nearest casino is 45.6 miles away, it’s far outside the UnSub’s geographical comfort zone.” Reid said, quickly dismissing Morgan’s thread of conversation before he turned back to you. “And no, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is it a coroner’s term?” 

You let out a harsh snort at this. You had gotten a degree in mortuary science before you became a Profiler (likely something to thank for your strong stomach). But it was your other area of ‘study’ that made you an expert in this. 

“No, honey, it’s not.” You quickly answered. 

There was a slight flash through his features when you called him ‘honey’. You weren’t sure if it was shock or displeasure, but either way he quickly straightened his face and went back to intrigue. He stared at you with his full attention, ready for you to explain it to him. He was ready to learn and catalog the information in that big brain of his.

It was something you found entirely endearing. 

“L/N, please, don’t-” Morgan begged you not to explain it any further, once again wanting to keep Reid in the dark. 

Mostly, he wanted to save himself from the embarrassment of witnessing the interaction between the two of you. 

“What?” You chuckled sharply, turning to Morgan. “There are some things the genius still needs to learn, apparently.” 

Reid rolled his eyes at this. He didn’t want to admit that it was true. 

“The other night I had to explain to him what the distinct difference between a Butt Dial and a Booty Call is,” You continued, giving an example to prove your point. “Because he walked into the bullpen and loudly announced to JJ and Elle that he was sorry that he booty called me at 3am and woke me up.” 

Morgan choked on his laughter when you explained this. 

“Dude, seriously?” He posed, raising a brow at Reid. 

“I fell asleep with my phone in my back pocket when I was reading Voltaire.” Reid explained, a heavy blush falling over his cheeks. “I thought - I thought -” 

“Okay, playboy, I’m gonna go call Hotch about this,” Morgan announced, motioning toward the evidence bag. “And I’m gonna pretend not to hear anything that’s happening over here.” 

Morgan walked off to the car, and Reid turned to you with a defeated look cast over his features. 

“I do appreciate when you explain these kinds of things to me.” He told you softly. “It… it saves me from future embarrassment.” 

As much as you enjoyed the shock factor of watching Spencer’s innocence melt away when you explained such crude things so abruptly - that was also part of your motivation. You knew that as much as he was a genius - had stunning intellect on paper, could recite statistics by heart - he didn’t have the kind of social skills or social knowledge that you did. 

“Do you really wanna know what I was talking about before?” You posed, giving him one last chance to preserve that innocence. 

He nodded, ever thirsty to chase an unanswered question. 

You held back a giggle. 

“A fleshlight is also called a pocket pussy.” You told him, launching into a quick, efficient explanation for his confusion so that he could have his question answered. 

“What?” He gaped, having the most beautifully dumb look on his face as the words left his lips. 

“It’s a sex toy.” You told him. 

His face scrunched even further into bewilderment, and you knew that now he was simply jumping through mental hoops, wondering what kind of sex toy a ‘pocket pussy’ could be. So you decided to make your explanation a bit more detailed. 

“It’s a…” You thought for a moment about how to explain it to someone who had never seen one before. “A kind of tube? Usually in the shape of a large flashlight, and on the inside there’s a silicone vagina, or sometimes a silicone anus, and it’s meant to simulate intercourse the same way that a dildo can simulate intercourse by going into a vagina. Or an anus, of course. You do know what a dildo is, right?” 

Reid quickly nodded his head - that bright flush even fresher on his cheeks as a deep thoughtfulness came over his features. 

“Yeah. Y-yeah. I got it.” He quickly stuttered out, assuring you that he now fully understood. 

“Cool.” You said, walking by him and thumping him on the shoulder for reassurance that the conversation was over. 

“Wait, is that the hand that you - inside? You haven’t washed your hands yet!” 

“I wore a glove, Reid!” 

… 

Turns out the horseshoe had a unique stamping on it from a closed down metalworks business. Four thousand square feet of abandoned building, perfect for the UnSub to make his ‘art’ inside. He had intended for the clue to lead the team to a barn where he had staged the next corpse, but you broke into the building and caught him in the act of drugging another woman before she was killed. 

The state of the building was horrifying - the limbs of the other victims strewn about, a lot of them put on display like trophies. 

Overall, you would call it a good day. There was a life saved. 

On the way back home, Spencer could barely make eye contact with you while on the jet. His eyes constantly flickered away from you with purpose whenever you looked near him. The two of you played Gin Rummy and you had to remind Reid to take his turn several times. There was even one point where he won a hand and you had to tell him so - he claimed that he had ‘forgotten the rules’. As if. 

You couldn’t figure out why he was acting so strangely. You wanted to chalk it up to the harshness of the case, the graphic nature of things - but you both had seen much worse. The ‘fleshlight’ conversation was so minimal on your radar, such a shameless moment for you. It was something you considered so entirely regular as an interaction on the rollercoaster of all things bizarre that was Spencer Reid. You were barely even thinking about it. 

You had no clue that it was racing through his mind at top speed as he remembered your words from earlier that day. 

… 

Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

He wasn’t sure why it had never occurred to him before. Sure, there were plenty of things he didn’t know, like you said. Plenty of things he was curious about, but far too shy to look up. Plenty of things he didn’t want to get caught looking up out of fear of embarrassment. 

He knew some things about sex toys. He knew far more about the history of sex toys than he did about modern sex toys. He could tell you that Cleopatra had owned one of the first rudimentary vibrators, made from the shell of a hollowed out gourd filled with bees. But if he walked into a sex shop today, he probably wouldn’t know what half the stuff was or what it was used for. 

When he thought about what you had told him, it only made sense. 

Of course there would be some kind of solution, some kind of ‘opposite’ to a silicone penis used to simulate sex inside a vagina. 

(“Or an anus, of course.”) 

Those words flying out of your mouth so casually had sent Reid’s imagination flying into an array of interesting directions. Of course he knew that plenty of men liked to partake in anal stimulation for pleasure. There were no particular statistics about this that came to mind, because it was never something he had directly read a study about. 

It was something Reid had always been curious about, because he did know that prostate stimulation was often considered to be the height of pleasure for men. 

(Spencer’s attraction to men was a can of worms that he would leave untouched and attend to another day. The innate warmth that he felt when he looked at Morgan was something he always felt the need to suppress. Even though it was quite literally impossible for him, he was still trying to forget the involuntary reaction he had when he looked at a gay porn magazine that his classmates had left in his locker as a joke when he was thirteen.) 

For the most part, his mind was hyper-fixating on your explanation of that object he had never even heard of before. The antithesis of a dildo, the supposed inversion of the male genitalia in a more portable form. 

A pocket pussy. 

You talked about it so casually, explained it so perfectly. You spoke about it in such a way that it left Reid’s mind whirring, wondering what such an object could specifically look like. Of course, he knew what a vagina looked like. In theory. 

Yes, he was a virgin. 

He actually wondered if he fit that definition exactly. He knew that most people considered virginity to be a milestone passed once they had participated in full blown intercourse for the first time. But he wondered if what he had done would ‘count’ as losing his virginity. It was something he would have asked you, would have wanted your social colloquial opinion on - if he wasn’t so embarrassed about being a virgin in the first place. (Or maybe being a virgin, he still wasn’t too sure.) 

He had been touched by a woman before, but only once. 

After he and Lila Archer had climbed out of the pool, before the team had arrived, she had kissed him on the mouth again and continued to thank him for his ‘bravery’ and ongoing protection in a very interesting way. And before he could truly process it or stop her (due to the intense unprofessionalism) - his pants were down and her mouth was on him. Because of his inexperience, it had lasted a whopping three minutes. (According to Spencer’s impeccable memory and the fact that he had been glancing between the top of her head and a clock on the wall, worried they would get caught, he knew for a fact that it had been three minutes and fourteen seconds to be exact.) 

Which, at the time, was lucky. Because as she licked off her lips and looked up at him through her lashes, Morgan called out his name through the house, finally looking for them. He had rushed to straighten his clothes and look normal - but because Morgan caught them both looking incredibly guilty, he had hounded Reid for days about the ‘details’. Reid gave him none. 

But that had been his only experience with a woman sexually. His only experience with anybody, for that matter. So any of his knowledge about vaginas was based entirely on pictures; scientific diagrams, and renaissance art. He was never gutsy enough to buy porn for himself. 

He tried to imagine what a silicone vagina would look like - how one would fit molded into a plastic tube. He tried to imagine how it would feel to stick his penis into one. 

Of course, he had plenty of experience with masturbation. 

His instincts had taken over at the right age for that. Even though his brain was always advanced well beyond his years, puberty kicked in just the same. He had been a hormonal teenager just like everyone else. (Of course, he was the only one going to CalTech getting a PhD in chemistry, but he was right on track in terms of his physical development.) 

And naturally, his imagination often ran away with him whenever he had the time alone to masturbate now that he was an adult. 

One of the things he thought about most often when he masturbated was you. 

The fact that you were so self-assured, so confident, the fact that nothing could shake you. It always made Spencer imagine you pinning him down, taking control of him, kissing him hard. He had orgasmed in his hand a great many nights, imagining you on top of him - imagining what you might feel like around him, on top of him, riding him. 

He found it intensely difficult to pay attention to Gin Rummy when all of these thoughts were running through his mind. 

… 

You barely remembered the fleshlight conversation at all. Barely remembered it, that is, until you were on your way to work the next morning. 

There was a small fender bender between two cars on your normal route and the traffic build-up around it caused you to deviate. Because of that, you just happened to drive by your favorite sex shop. The sign caught your eye, and you figured: you were already late. There was a great coffee place across the street. You could grab yourself a latte if you parked. 

You were surprised that a sex shop would be open so early in the morning, but you were glad that you made the stop. Usually, you would have taken your time to browse. You liked to see what was new, especially in terms of costumes and lingerie. 

You didn’t have a long term partner to impress, but sometimes you did like to strut around the house in lingerie (in your fleeting free time away from the BAU) just to make yourself feel good. That, and it was always fun to see the look on a date’s face when you gave the sensual promise of ‘slipping into something more comfortable’ and then came back in a latex nurse’s outfit and six inch red heels. 

Unfortunately, today you were low on time and very set on what you wanted. 

You went straight to the wall of toys and zoned in on the selection of fleshlights. You picked out the most ‘basic’ one you could find. You didn’t want to assume Spencer’s preferences, but you picked one that resembled a pussy rather than an ass. 

It was on the expensive side, but you knew the look on Spencer’s face when you gave it to him would more than pay it off in your mind. That and imagining him using it, knowing that it would be far too tempting of a gift. He would never be brave enough to buy something like this for himself and once it was in his hands when he was alone, he would be far too curious not to use it - yeah, it was definitely worth it. 

You walked past a rack of lube on your way to the cash register and realized that it would be rude to give this kind of gift without a bottle of lube in accompaniment. So you bought a bottle of your favorite water based lubricant. An unscented one, knowing that Spencer was a no-frills kind of guy, even though you usually bought a strawberry scented one for yourself. 

You got the items put in a discreet, labelless black bag and then got yourself a latte. And you couldn’t help but to grab an almond croissant for Spencer because when you spotted it in the pantry case, you did think of him. 

Of course, when you walked into the office (the black bag safely in the backseat of your car) Hotch just happened to be walking by with a handful of files on the way to his office. 

“You’re late.” He commented, not looking up from the paper he was reading. 

“Traffic was hell.” You fired back. 

“Yeah, and I’m sure that latte just magically transported into your hand.” He said, his tone blank and unreadable as usual. “I want all your reports about the case on my desk by tonight.” 

Usually, there was a grace period of two or three days to get the reports about a case done. But clearly, Hotch didn’t like your tardiness. You considered it worth it. 

“Yes sir.” You mumbled under your breath. 

He didn’t say anything else after that, simply retreated off to his office. 

You figured he couldn’t be that mad. He knew the job could be an emotional strain, and it was okay to deviate from such a hard routine every now and then. Especially because now you were going to be spending the next five hours writing out all the gory details of how you had pulled a horseshoe out of a woman’s dead torso in order to catch a killer. 

You walked over to your desk, which was right in front of Reid’s, and placed down the paper bag with the croissant on top of one of his files. This easily distracted him from whatever he had been writing - most likely one of his reports about the case. 

“Almond croissant,” You said, placing down your coffee cup and placing your purse underneath your desk. “Your favorite, right?” 

“It is.” He grinned at you. “Thank you.” 

It was that sweet little smile, those big kind eyes staring up at you through the lenses of his glasses like you hung the stars in the sky - it was that bit of sweetness that got you through writing your reports. So yeah, it probably wasn’t just dark humor and nihilism that helped you keep your sanity. It had a lot to do with the pretty boy you got to sit across from every single day. 

You worked on your reports. And yeah, you took too many coffee breaks, including a long lunch break with Elle, Penelope, and JJ where they insisted on discussing your ‘crush’ on Spencer. 

You denied it. 

Elle profiled your lie (which you insisted was not a lie) and JJ laughed about it. Penelope started humming wedding music under her breath and you threatened to spit in her salad. 

By the time you actually got the reports done, it was late. Everyone else had gone home - except for Spencer, who was still sitting at his desk across from you with his lamp on and an air of quiet concentration. When you got finished with the last report, you slammed the file closed and let out a sigh, leaning back in your chair and running your hands harshly over your face. 

“Finally done?” Spencer’s delicate voice inquired, peeking up over the median between the desks to look at you. 

“Yes, finally.” You grinned back at him. “You done too?” 

You couldn’t help but to ask. Spencer was always incredibly quick with his reports, simply by the nature of the speed at which he could read and compose writing. You wondered what exactly he had been doing at his desk for the past few hours. Perhaps he had been looking through old case files, possibly unsolved ones, thinking up new leads while there was no pressure looming over his brilliant mind. 

“I finished up at three o’clock.” He said. 

You glanced at your watch - it was getting close to nine. That made you entirely curious about what he had been doing, sitting at his desk for that many hours. What had he felt the need to stay so late for? 

“So what has been keeping you busy this late into the night, Doctor?” You asked. 

“I was reading.” He told you honestly, motioning toward a thick novel that he had in his hands. 

“How many books do you have over there?” You chuckled. 

Again, you knew that because of the intense speed he was capable of reading at, it would take a lot of books to keep him busy. 

“Just one.” He answered, easily catching your eye and maintaining eye contact. 

Both of you knew what this meant. 

For a while, he had been rereading through old case files. But, not wanting to haunt himself with those gory details, he had chosen instead to simply sit at his desk and reread the same book over and over again because he had wanted to keep you company. 

What you didn’t know was that his mind had still been heavily plagued by thoughts of your sex toy discussion from the other day, so he wasn’t exactly reading at lightning speed as per usual. Instead - letting his imagination wander, thinking about where he would get a silicone vagina if he wanted to buy one and if a toy would feel as good as yours. What yours would feel like around his penis if he ever got the minuscule chance to actually experience it. 

“The Hollow Men by T. S. Eliot - but um, I was waiting for you, actually.” Spencer announced, making his intentions entirely clear, just in case you hadn’t already figured it out. “I was hoping maybe we could get dinner together? We haven’t - we haven’t hung out in a while.” 

He seemed nervous asking you this, even though you were always enthusiastic in welcoming his invitations to spend time together outside of work. 

Last month, he had brought you to a conservatory housing and actively breeding endangered species of butterflies in order to save the populations from extinction. It was a building full of plant life, an indoor jungle filled with the beautiful insects that took your breath away. Listening to him ramble on about the different species and their latin names, the patterns on their wings and their purpose of camouflage - it had been one of the most pleasant, most romantic non-dates of your life. 

You didn’t understand why others on the team acted like his presence, especially his ramblings, could be a bother. 

“Sounds good.” You told him with a smile. 

He smiled back at you fondly. 

“I have to drop these on Hotch’s desk and then we can go.” You explained as you stood up and began gathering your files. “But uh, I don’t really feel like going out? I’m way more in the mood for take-out and a comfy couch.” 

“There’s a good Chinese place a few minutes away from my apartment.” He told you. “If you consider my couch comfortable?” 

You resisted the urge to tell him that you loved his apartment because the smell of books penetrated every inch of it; the scent of yellowing, worn paper living there like the comfort of a library. But you held that back - choosing instead to say something else. 

“The comfiest,” You grinned at him as you walked by with the armful of files. 

… 

You weren’t entirely sure when you were going to give the ‘gifts’ to Spencer. 

A large part of you thought that it would be best to have an out, in case he got embarrassed, or hated it. Most likely, you would wait until after dinner and hand him the bag on your way out without telling him what it was. Which was why you shoved the black plastic bag holding the lube and the sex toy into your oversized purse while Spencer was distracted with carrying the takeout bag toward his apartment. 

One thing that had not surprised you about Spencer when you found it out: he didn’t have basic cable. Part of you was surprised that someone who was so pro-book and anti-technology even had a TV at all. But apparently he had some favorites that he couldn’t stand to miss out on, like Doctor Who and Star Wars. So he had a DVD player hooked up to a very small TV that was banished off to a corner of his living room. A device that was dwarfed by bookcases, which did make a lot of sense. 

He said that he spent so much time reading and away at work, traveling for cases that it just didn’t make sense to pay for cable. He said that he could get his mental enrichment from reading, and his nerdy pleasure from rewatching his old favorites, and apparently he got the news from listening to the radio. The radio. Sometimes you wondered if he was Benjamin Button - an old man who had somehow gotten into the body of a twenty five year old. It truly mystified you. 

Either way, it meant that you spent dinner with season three of Friends on as background noise. Friends being a box set of DVDs that you had gifted him because you considered it to be classic television that he needed to see. The first time he had asked Morgan to his face if a girl had ‘friendzoned’ him with full confidence in what the term meant, you knew that Spencer had been watching it in his free time. 

You easily fell into the comfort of your surroundings, enjoying the comforting canned laughter of the show, paired with the delightfully greasy food and Spencer’s ongoing commentary - both about the show, and about other, completely unrelated things. You were so relaxed that you had almost completely forgotten about the gift you had waiting in your bag for him. 

It was such a strange coincidence that he had been the one to bring it up. 

He offered to take your plate into the kitchen, leaving behind a waft of soy sauce as he went. You were wonderfully full and reached to the small side table where you were nursing a half empty (now warm) diet coke. You took a few sips from it, and heard Spencer’s footsteps shuffling back into the room. He hovered behind you as you watched Monica rush out of her bedroom with her phone pressed to her chest, concerned about calling Richard. 

You were so focused on the show that you almost didn’t hear Spencer’s shy, tentative voice when he spoke. 

“I’m sorry about the other day.” He said quietly. 

“Hmm?” You looked over your shoulder at him, wondering what he meant. 

He was rather nervously fidgeting with his hands, standing in the white glow of the TV in the dimly lit room - the only other source of light being a small lamp on the side table and dimness of the light above the stove shining in from the kitchen at his back. 

You grabbed up the remote and paused the show, silencing the characters and their temporary problems in order to address the stress that Spencer was very clearly feeling - his whole body tight, hunched over, his face quite tight with worry. 

“I’m sorry about the other day.” He repeated himself, slightly louder this time - perhaps not more confident, but simply not drowned out by any further noise. 

You didn’t want to butt in, and gave him the room to explain himself slowly. 

“I - I didn’t mean to put you in such an… uncomfortable position. If I don’t understand the things you say, I should just pull you aside and ask you privately what you meant.” He sighed. “I - I know that I need to learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes. It’s something I’m working on.” 

You became flooded with peril at this. Had he really thought that he had inconvenienced you? Put you in an ‘uncomfortable’ position? 

“Come sit down.” You told him, beginning to feel annoyed with craning your neck back to get a proper look at him. 

Like a dog being beckoned, he couldn’t help but to follow your order. 

He sunk down against the other arm of the three seater couch, leaving quite a bit of space between the two of you. He had his arms folded - closed off, clearly nervous. His eyes were focused on the leg of his pants, distinctly refusing to look at you. Perhaps he was afraid he would find disgust or disappointment among your features. You turned off the TV completely then and angled your body to face him before you continued speaking. 

“First of all, you don’t need to learn to keep your mouth shut.” You told him easily. “I’m not sure who, or what gave you that impression, but it’s not true. Whenever you open your mouth, something brilliant comes out, and we’re all better for it.” 

Reid’s lips flexed into a smile at the intense direct praise, and this made you happy. 

“Second, you didn’t make me uncomfortable the other day.” You told him honestly. “I meant what I said - despite you being a genius, there are still some things you need to learn. And I’m more than happy to teach you.” 

These words sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine. 

There were so many things that he would beg for you to teach him if given the chance. But he didn’t want to embarrass himself. And most importantly, he didn’t want to come off as creepy or desperate toward someone as perfect as you. 

When he dared to glance up at you, you were boldly staring him down. You wore a small smirk across your face. Heat began to stir in Spencer’s gut, and he couldn’t help but to wonder if you were thinking the exact same things that he was. 

You couldn’t be. You couldn’t possibly want someone like him. You couldn’t possibly want a nervous, inexperienced ‘virgin’ like him. 

Oh, but you did. 

You were thinking all of the same things that he was. You were imagining giving him the most intricate ‘hands on’ lessons for everything he had ever been curious about. Giving him the most close-up, detailed tour of the female anatomy he ever could have asked for. 

“Spencer,” You called out his name gently. 

This forced his attention up from fiddling with a loose thread on the edge of the couch cushion - clearly something out of nervousness - and got him to look at your face. You wondered how someone who was six feet tall could look so delicately small, purposefully slumped over in his seat like that. You wondered what his pretty features would look like warped by an orgasm. 

“What are you thinking about right now?” You asked him. You had to know if he was truly on the same filthy wavelength as you. 

He knew he had to make up a lie. Because he wouldn’t be brave enough to speak the words out loud. He was too shy to actually tell you that he was wondering what it would be like to bury his face between your breasts, that he wanted to drown there. 

“You… you did get me curious.” Spencer admitted quietly. “About the… the - uh-” 

He trailed off, clearly too nervous to say the word for himself now that he knew the filthy implications behind it. 

“About the fleshlight?” You finished the sentence for him, wanting to encourage him. 

You wanted to make him feel brave about the topic. You were too curious about where this interaction was heading - you couldn’t bear to have him get shy on you now. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, nervously clearing his throat. 

He went back to fidgeting with the edge of the couch cushion, once again purposefully looking anywhere but at your face. You stared him down with purpose, all too intrigued by whatever might come out of his mouth next. Especially with the tense, thoughtful expression dipped along his eyebrows - the same one he got when he was reading or staring at maps. 

“I was thinking - I was curious - curious about - about where someone might get one of those.” He finally announced. 

He put intense stress on the word ‘where’ - his voice low, almost a lulling whisper in the already quiet apartment. He was speaking as though he was asking you about something incredibly illicit. Like a college kid asking where he could buy weed or a lonely man in his thirties inquiring about a prostitute. Though sex toys were perfectly legal, you guessed that for someone like Spencer, this was just as trepidacious. 

You felt a sense of eager giddiness stir within you. You resisted the urge to bounce on the spot like an excitable, hyper kid on their birthday waiting to open their present. Even though he wasn’t looking at your face, you forced yourself to hold back a grin. 

You didn’t want to ruin the surprise, after all. It was just too perfect. 

“Well… lucky for you, Doctor Reid,” You told him, easily capturing his attention with the use of his proper title and the fact that you shifted slightly in your seat, reaching down by your feet to grab your bag. “I happen to have a spare one right here.” 

Spencer watched you cautiously, his neck still sloped with anxious shyness. He almost had to believe that this was a prank, and you would pull a tape recorder out of your bag and laugh because you had captured his perversion for everyone to know about. 

But of course - you weren’t that cruel. You were honest, and you were definitely not half as shy as he was. In fact, he would go so far as to say that you didn’t have a bashful bone in your body. 

So of course, it made sense that it was not a big deal for you to walk into one of those stores and simply purchase that kind of toy. 

Spencer watched eagerly as you pulled out a cardboard box. He heard the rustle of plastic inside your bag and guessed that it was a shopping bag. But he couldn’t be too focused on that once your arm extended out to him, showing him what the rectangular box was. 

Spencer had never seen a sex toy in person before, but he quickly realized that they were packaged similarly to any other product. A clean, white background with a picture of the product on it, several claims and promises (‘new and improved design!’) (‘easy to clean!’) (‘soft and durable!’) - and a picture of someone smiling on the front, unconsciously promising a good user experience. In this case, it was a stereotypically beautiful woman in lingerie holding the… item, as though it were comparable… to her… to her parts. 

“Open it.” You encouraged him, wagging the box in his direction. “Unless you don’t want it. I could return it.” 

It was then that Spencer realized he had been sitting with his hands numbly in his lap for several silent moments, staring at the box in your extended hand. 

“Oh!” He said quietly. “No! I mean - yes. I - um.” Rather than trying to articulate it, he reached out and grabbed the item, finding it surprisingly heavy. It easily compared to the weight of a good book in his hands. “Thank you.” 

You would be lying if you said that watching him inspect the sex toy as though it were an object from an alien planet wasn’t the hottest thing you had seen in your entire life. Doctor Reid approached this the same way that he approached everything else in life: with intense scrutiny. Clearly his analytical mind was working hard as he carefully peeled back the cardboard flap of the box and slid out his prize. 

You had to wonder if that mind of his ever shut off. 

You wondered if you could make him dumb and cum drunk, make his head completely empty. You wondered what he would look like mindlessly chasing an orgasm, begging for release with absolutely no statistics or scientific papers running around inside that big brain of his. You wanted to see him completely worn down, just his base instincts at play. You wanted to see him with just the need to fuck and cum and have his release pounding between his ears as he whined desperately for more. 

There was a sharp pain between your legs, intense arousal at the thought of it. 

That arousal only increased when Spencer dropped the box in his lap and then - like man walking on the moon for the first time - he held the toy delicately in one hand and popped the cap off with the other. Clearly, it was a big discovery for him. Watching his eyes widen with shock did bring you an intense joy. It also immediately made you wonder if seeing the silicone pussy was his first time seeing a pussy so up close and personal at all. That thought only made your own cunt throb with need. 

What he did next nearly sent you into orbit. 

He gently placed the cap down on his lap, and without looking at you, his thoughtful eyes still entirely focused on the fake pussy - he reached toward it and oh-so-gently stroked his fingers across it. From your perspective, with the angle he was holding it at, you had a perfect view of his gorgeous hand delicately exploring the toy. Your cunt fluttered, clenching around nothing, and you knew that at this point you were definitely sitting in soaked underwear. If you didn’t know Spencer any better, you would have guessed that he was doing this on purpose, to tease you. 

But that’s what made it so perfect - he was just naive, just exploring these things for the first time. 

When he dipped two of his fingertips into the opening of the toy, you had to consciously hold back a moan. It was almost too hot watching his strong, thick fingers get swallowed up by the soft entrance of the toy. Of course, imagining how those fingers would feel dipping into your pussy with such tender grace. 

“Wow.” Spencer said quietly, almost a gasp under his breath as he pulled his fingers back, in pure awe at this new discovery. “I didn’t expect it to be so soft.”

“It’ll feel even better when it’s wet.” 

The words came so naturally from your lips, you couldn’t have stopped them if you tried. 

Spencer looked up at you with a distinct pinkness spreading over his cheeks, clearly imagining that tight, soft wetness wrapped around his cock. 

You dared to take a glance downward and surely enough - beside where the empty box was sitting in his lap, a bulge was forming in his slacks, pressing harshly against the zipper. You deeply resisted the urge to reach over and grope that bulge, not wanting to scare him by coming on too strong. Instead, you put that grabby hand back into your purse to get the other thing you had to give to him. 

“Another lesson for the genius,” You announced, extending out the bottle of lube for him to see it. This time he was quicker to grab it, bringing it up to his face to inspect it with thoughtful eyes. “Water based lubricant is best. It’s water soluble, so it’s easy to clean up. And unlike other kinds, it won’t wear down the silicone of the toy over time or wear through the latex of condoms.” 

You bringing up condoms caused a jolt in Spencer’s chest. Were you just giving him some friendly advice about safe sex or - or did you actually intend to have intercourse with him? Would there be a need for condoms between the two of you in the future? 

The words gave him a temporary bold streak (that and the sexual adrenaline pumping through his system) and he decided to voice his thoughts before he became too shy. 

“Can I ask you something?” He asked quietly, his voice taking on that sweet, mousy quality that it usually did whenever he got nervous. 

“Of course.” You nodded. 

You thought that he might have more questions about the lube or the toy. But what he said next - combined with the fact that he looked at you shyly through his lashes like a doll, like he knew exactly what he was doing - absolutely knocked the wind out of you. 

“You… You said that you like teaching me things. So - do you think-?” 

He paused for a moment, clearing his throat. 

“Could - could you give me a demonstration?” He asked, his voice still shy and sweet. 

Your lips gaped in shock - at first you thought you had misheard him. And when the words fully penetrated your ears, you thought that you had somehow misunderstood him. He couldn’t possibly mean-? He wanted you to use the toy on him? 

You were shocked that Spencer Reid was openly asking for something like that. 

Seeing the shock and slight confusion across your features, Spencer’s mouth raced past his better judgment. His lips plowed over that thing in the back of his brain nagging at him to shut up - and he kept on going. 

“It only seems logical that, when tackling something new, especially something this… skill-based, I would need to be shown what to do.” He explained, his mouth running off in that way it always did when he sounded far too much like he knew what he was talking about. “It seems advisable to be shown by someone with more experience. Experience that I don’t have. I need you to show me. Please.” 

The last word came out as a breathy plea from him. You could have easily gotten stuck on the fact that he had basically just admitted to you that he was a virgin. But instead, him simply saying that word: ‘please’, begging to you like your attention was the most precious thing in the world; it kickstarted something in your brain and switched on the dominant persona that you had always wanted to use with him. 

The air shifted in the room then, and you both knew it. It was like a fire crackling around you. Spencer didn’t know what to do with it, but luckily, you did. He waited with anxious breath for your guidance, your instruction. 

“You need me to show you?” You repeated his words, using the buttery sweet voice that you usually did when you had someone so willing and pliant for you. 

Instinctively, you reached over to him and gently cupped his cheek. He easily leaned into the touch, shuddering with delight and letting out a small sigh as you made contact with his skin for the first time. It was the first time you had really touched him, aside from casual hugs of comfort after stressful situations that the job naturally gave the two of you. But this was entirely different. 

He hummed in affirmation to answer your question, his eyes growing large with lust, pupils blown out as he melted into you. 

“What do you want me to show you, pretty boy?” You asked, running your thumb along his bottom lip, admiring how absolutely pink his mouth was. 

You hoped that you could prompt a genuine answer out of him - get him to say the words. You had never heard Spencer talk about anything crude before, and you wondered if he was even capable of talking dirty. You hoped that if he wouldn’t say the words on his own, you could coach him into doing it. You could only imagine the satisfaction of getting that smart mouth to utter such filthy things. 

“I want…” Spencer swallowed harshly, clearly having a difficult time with his mouth drying out now that you had a hand on him, even though the touch was fairly ‘innocent’. “I want you to show me… everything.”

The intense emphasis that he put on the word sent sparks flying inside of you. 

It sounded like he wanted a lot more than just a ‘demonstration’ of the toy. It sounded like he wanted a lot more than just a one night stand to get off. 

Intense want flared up of you. 

The temptation to own him, to make him yours… the temptation to take all of his first and have him tied to you like a lost puppy because of it - it was an intense one. But you wouldn’t hurt him, no. You would do it right. You would own him in that way because he wanted it just as badly as you did. 

“Spencer,” 

You said his name suddenly, harconing for his attention with it. You stroked your thumb along his cheek before you pulled the touch away completely. His head bobbed forward slightly to chase your hand, but he let you go without protest. 

“If we’re going to do this, there has to be rules.” You told him firmly. “If I’m going to be your teacher, you have to listen to me. Teachers need rules, right?” 

Spencer nodded vigorously at this. 

“Of course. Yeah - yeah. You’re right.” He eagerly agreed. Then of course, he asked the obvious question. “What are the rules?” 

You beamed a smile at him, loving his enthusiasm. 

You knew that he would be a good boy. He was so eager to follow rules, to learn. Your body began tingling with delight at the thought of him looking up at you with hazy eyes, asking for his next command. 

You had to forcibly clear your head. Right now you had to be level headed in order to teach him the rules. 

“Okay the first rule - the most important one,” You prefaced, causing Spencer to straighten up slightly, showing his attentiveness, an eager student ready to learn. “Is that you need to pick a safeword. A word you can say during the scene so that I can know if you’re uncomfortable or if you need to stop.” 

“‘The scene’?” Spencer asked, repeating back the phrase to you. “Also - why can’t the safeword just be ‘stop’, or ‘no’? Wouldn’t you just stop things if I said ‘no’?” 

You decided to tackle his questions one at a time. 

“Calling it a ‘scene’ - it’s lingo.” You said. “You know that everything comes with its own set of linguistics.” You told him, playing into his pre-existing knowledge. He nodded at this. 

You then continued your explanation. 

“A ‘scene’ means… any type of sexual play. Some people call it ‘playtime’. It’s lingo that exists because for a lot of people, sex is much more than just intercourse. It can start with speech and behavior and any interactions that they have with their partner when they’re alone. Like foreplay. So a safeword needs to be included in those moments too, in case someone needs to call timeout.” 

Spencer nodded at this. It made him wish that he had developed a safeword with Lila Archer. Not because he hadn’t enjoyed the oral sex - but because to this day, he still shuddered at the possibility of being embarrassed by someone walking in on them, or the consequences if someone found out about the improprieties of it all. 

“As far as the safeword being ‘no’, or ‘stop’…” You took the time to find the right words to explain it. 

Spencer waited patiently, feeling curious about this. 

“I will always look out for your safety, and if you seem uncomfortable, I’ll ask you if you’re okay.” You assured him, giving him a gentle pat on the knee. Spencer smiled at this, and you enjoyed that you had comforted him with these words. 

“But sometimes ‘no’ doesn’t work.” You went on to explain. “Like… if I asked you something like ‘do you want me to stop?’ and you say ‘no’, that is a positive affirmation to continue what I’m doing, but it uses a negative word. Same thing with the word ‘stop’. If you told me ‘don’t stop’ - but your voice was too quiet on the first word or I didn’t properly hear you, then I may stop when you wouldn’t want me to.” 

For the first time, Spencer felt as though he was the one being schooled. 

You telling him ‘I may stop when you don’t want me to’ had him drawing an image up in his head of you vigorously riding him, taunting him while you were so well composed and he was reduced to a stuttering mess because of your wetness clenching around him. With you mistaking his words for a signal of distress, and taking away your beautiful body before he got to orgasm. It would be tragic. 

He easily understood what you meant. 

“The point of a safeword,” You continued on. “Is that it stands out. It’s a word you would never otherwise say during playtime. A word that would never come up during sex - except for you signaling your discomfort. So when I hear that word, I know that we need to shift gears into aftercare.” 

“What’s aftercare?” Spencer asked, eager to learn another new term as it was introduced to him. 

Again, you were puzzled about how to explain it, how to put it into words for someone who had no clue what the word meant. 

These were things you had known about for years, words that were a natural part of your vocabulary now. Things you had been doing before you even knew the terms for it. It was strange having to explain it to someone so fresh. 

“It - um…” You thought for a moment. “Aftercare is what happens after a scene. It’s the period of time when you mentally and physically wind down, in order to take care of your body and mind. Because of the physical exertion and the endorphins, sex can be exhausting and mentally tedious, as much as it is fun. So - aftercare helps transition the body and mind back into non-sexual activities. Different people need different kinds of aftercare, but usually it’s things like: drinking water, eating a snack, cuddling, words of affirmation.” 

“That sounds nice.” Spencer said quietly. “Would you do that for me even - even though I’m not your boyfriend?” 

You held back what you instinctively wanted to say - that you wanted him to be your boyfriend. That you wanted to own him like a cute little pet and didn’t want any other woman (or man) to touch him. 

Instead, you went with the diplomatic answer. 

“Of course I would.” You told him. “Aftercare is part of being a good - a good teacher.” 

You quickly cut yourself off from using the word ‘dominant’ and replaced it with ‘teacher’ instead. You didn’t want to scare him with the idea that you would be intimidating, mean, cold - traditional ideas behind the term ‘dominant’. 

“I want to be good to you, Spence.” You quickly added on. 

His cock throbbed inside of his pants at this. 

“So, you have to pick your safeword.” You told him. “Something that stands out, something that will easily come to your mind.” 

Spencer took a moment, and you saw him take a sideways glance at the coffee table. The chess set that was there caught his eye, and that didn’t surprise you. 

“Bishop?” Spencer posed, looking at you with eyes that said he was absolutely searching for your approval. “Is that good?” 

“Yes, baby, that’s perfect.” You told him. 

If you did your job well enough as a dominant, then he wouldn’t need to use the word. 

You would be able to tell just by his body language and him voicing his enjoyment how far you should take things. And when he was comfortable enough, you would discuss other sexual acts, and what else you should try. Though, for tonight, you had a feeling you should take control without telling him too much of what you wanted to do. You didn’t need him getting shy on you just because of some dirty talk. 

“You said that was only the first rule,” Spencer mentioned, remembering what you had said. “What are the other rules?” 

“Well, the second rule is: you listen to me. You listen to everything I say. You do everything I say. You don’t question me.” You told him firmly. “Because I’m the teacher, I’m in charge.” 

Spencer wanted to question you then. He wanted to point out that this sounded like multiple rules, but the way you said ‘I’m in charge’ caused something inside of him to quake, and he easily fell under your authority. 

He nodded. 

“The next rule is: you speak when spoken to, Spencer.” You told him, your tongue sharp on the words. 

You were heavily enjoying ordering him around now. 

These were two roles that the two of you fell so naturally into: he was soft and submissive under your dominant energy, and he only wanted more as your ego thrived off his eager submission. It was the start of a beautiful relationship forming. 

“Yes.” He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” The title came flying out of his mouth before he could stop it, and then he instantly wanted to backpedal. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, I like that.” You told him with a grin. “Though, if you want to give me a title, call me Miss.” 

You held back from telling him the true title you desired. Again, not wanting to scare him away. Perhaps it was something you could ween him towards on another day. 

“Yes, Miss.” He corrected, nodding. “Uh - Miss? Is - is there anything else?” 

“Only two more things.” You told him. Of course, you didn’t want to overload him, but you wanted him to know your most important rules up front. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to explain. “You can’t touch me without asking first. And of course, you can’t touch me unless I give you permission.” 

This news cast the saddest puppy look across his features. Clearly, he was deeply disappointed by the thought that he wouldn’t be able to grope and grab at your body freely. He was upset by the thought that you would deny him access to touching you. You could definitely use that if he ever misbehaved. 

“And the last thing is: you can’t cum without my permission.” You told him, almost as if it were an afterthought. With any of your other partners, it would have been. Because it would have been a basic ground rule. 

“Come where?” Spencer asked, his brows knit together in the most adorably confused manner you had seen yet. 

Of course, he was confused. He had never before heard someone use the term ‘cum’ to refer to an orgasm. He was used to hearing that word - ‘come’ - paired with something else like ‘come here’. So he wondered what the hell you possibly meant by it. 

You found yourself grinning like the cat who ate the canary as you realized that you would also have to explain this piece of slang to him. 

“No, Spence, not C-O-M-E, like the verb. It’s C-U-M. It’s slang used interchangeably with the word ‘orgasm’.” You explained to him. “Sometimes it can be a verb. Like the act of cumming, it means orgasming. Or sometimes it’s a noun. Sometimes people use the word ‘cum’ instead of saying semen. ‘Cum’ is the fluid. As in: ‘I want your cum inside of me’.” 

You intentionally teased him with this example, saying it as casually as a straight forward grammar lesson, looking him in the eyes the entire time. His eyes lit up at your words - obviously, he had no clue that such a simple sentence could turn him on so much. But the words immediately painted a picture in his mind of that white, sticky fluid dripping down your inner thighs, put there by him. It was so perfect that it almost made him dizzy. 

When Spencer didn’t say anything, you continued with your ‘lesson’. 

“When I said that you can’t cum without my permission, I meant that you can’t have an orgasm unless I say so.” You told him with finality.  

He looked struck with worry at this. Partially at the idea that he wouldn’t get to have an orgasm if you didn’t give him permission, and partially at the thought that if he accidentally orgasmed without your permission, you would be angry with him and cut off all further sexual contact. 

“What’s wrong, Spence?” You had to ask. 

“How - how does that work?” He asked, all too curious at how he could stop himself from orgasming or how he could get your permission first. 

“Well, you know what it feels like when you’re about to have an orgasm, right?” You asked, really hoping that he at least masturbated regularly. You didn’t think you could have the burden of giving him his first ever orgasm. He nodded and this and you felt a small breath of relief leave you. “So, when you feel like that, you simply ask me if you’re allowed to cum. Ask me if you can cum.” 

“Will you let me?” Spencer asked nervously, sheepishly. You distinctly noticed how he avoided the word. He didn’t say the sentence as you had. You yearned to hear him say ‘will you let me cum?’ - but you knew you had to give him time to shake off his shyness. 

“If you’ve been a good boy, then yes.” You told him. “Good boys follow the rules. But I don’t think you’ll have any problems, Spence.” 

You saw him relax at this - any tension leaving his muscles. 

You conveniently left out the part where you might edge him, might not let him cum just for your own amusement. 

“I think that’s all for now.” You told him. “Now that we have the rules set - do you wanna play with your new toy?” 

Spencer’s face absolutely lit up at this. 

“Yes, please.” He said, his voice somehow still shy and quiet. “Yes, please, Miss.” 

Your stomach jolted with intense pleasure at his declaration. 

Spencer thought that you would simply grab the toy from him and unzip his pants. He was surprised when you stood up, and began looking around the room as though you were looking for something. But in alignment with the rules, he didn’t question you. He didn’t ask what you were looking for or why. Instead, he just sat there quietly and waited for your instructions. 

When you seemed satisfied with your idea, you then began moving around. You leaned down and pushed away the coffee table, pushing it as far back as it would go. This made a fair amount of space in front of the couch. And before Spencer could become truly curious about it, you turned to the side of the room - toward a space where he had a small table. 

It was meant to be a sort of ‘dining’ table, suitable for one or two people in an apartment like his. It had two chairs, but one of the chairs was piled up with books and the surface of the table had some files on it that he had taken home from work. He did sit on the other chair to eat occasionally - during the rare times he actually sat down and had a meal at home. 

You grabbed the empty chair - which was a wooden chair with a round back and decorative wooden bars coming off the seat, holding the back of it up. (Something Spencer had picked up at a yard sale.) And then you put the chair in the middle of the room, right in the space you had cleared from moving the coffee table. The chair was facing the couch - and it became apparent to Spencer then that this was a stage. 

You were either going to sit in that chair and watch him, or he was going to be the thing on display in the middle of the room. The idea of that happening - the idea of you watching him like a show, like he was something to admire - that put a twist in his stomach. It was something almost too daunting for him to conquer. He found himself swelling with shyness again, wanting to back down from this. 

He feared that he wouldn’t be able to impress you. He feared that he was gangly, thin, undesirable. He feared that his experience would steer him wrong somewhere and he would mess up terribly and turn you off. 

He thought that he wouldn’t be able to impress you. 

But he wanted to impress you so badly. He wanted you. He wanted your touch. He wanted to be a good boy for you, like you had said. 

“Give me your belt.” You said, turning to him expectantly and holding out your hand. 

“My - my belt?” He asked. 

Then, he immediately scolded himself inside as he realized that was questioning you, and against the rules. 

You let that one slide. He was still getting used to this, and it must have been an odd, confusing instruction to hear right off the bat. 

“Yes, your belt. I need it.” You said, still holding out your hand. “Come on.” 

Spencer stood up then, his hands and legs shaking slightly from nerves and the overwhelming lust. Although he was taller than you, he felt so entirely small as you stared at him, waiting patiently while his shaking hands struggled to undo the buckle and then slip the leather out of the belt loops.

When he finally handed it over to you, you took the belt in hand and inspected it for a moment before you quietly said ‘perfect’ under your breath. You then looked between Spencer and the chair - he was still wearing his work attire. A cardigan, a button up shirt and tie, his usual slacks, and his adorable dorky glasses. He had taken off his shoes at the door, revealing his oddly sweet mismatched socks. 

“Spencer,” 

You called his name, capturing his attention from where he was swaying on the spot, nervously fidgeting with the buttons on his cardigan to avoid looking at you. As soon as he looked up at you with those big, wet eyes, you felt confident in giving him your next instruction. 

“I want you to take off all your clothes. Except for your glasses and your socks.” You told him, giving him his first proper orders. 

He held his voice in his throat when he felt the need to question you about it, to ask you why. 

You wanted him to keep the glasses on because they brought an entirely dorky charm to him - you wanted to see if they would fog up when he became heated with lust. The socks? You thought they were cute, but it was mostly a test to see how closely he would follow the instructions. To test how well he would listen. 

He did as he was told. He stripped off his sweater, and then his tie, and then his watch, leaving his wrists nice and bare for you. His fingers began to shake slightly as he descended on the buttons of his shirt - clearly, he was feeling nervous once again, so you decided to give him some encouragement. 

“You’re being such a good boy, Spence.” You told him. “So good for me.” 

He let out a quiet breath at the praise - a precursor to a moan. It was something that compelled him to strip faster, and gave him a small boost of courage when reaching for the zipper of his pants. After he unzipped them - his erection clearly fighting to be freed of the fabric - your mouth began watering at the sight as he reached for the waistband of his pants and his underwear all at once and slid them down. 

A snake of surprising length popped out of his pants. His dick began bobbing around carelessly, smearing shiny precum all over his skin as he unhooked himself from the legs of his pants and put them aside. 

You had to marvel at it. 

You had never really thought about what Spencer might look like naked before. You had never allowed your mind to venture there. But now that you were seeing his cock: nine inches long, skinny and lean like he was, pale with a bright pink tip, sprouting from a thick thatch of dark pubic hair - it just made sense. He was tall and gangly, and so was his cock. It would be an impressive sword to impale yourself upon - but that would be for another day. 

Spencer caught you staring, of course. 

He had the urge to cover himself with his hands, and found himself clenching his fists by his sides because he figured that you wouldn’t like him trying to hide from you. 

He wondered if it looked weird. He wondered if you didn’t like it. He wondered-

“You’re beautiful, Spencer.” You said, your voice so drenched in utter sincerity that you almost broke into a gasp trying to get the words out. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Again, he wanted to question you - but didn’t. He wanted to be a good boy. He would follow the rules. 

“Th-thank you, Miss.” He muttered out quietly, almost unable to accept the compliment. 

“Come here, sit down.” You told him, motioning toward the chair. 

He nodded, his legs feeling rather numb as he moved to follow your instructions. When his ass made contact with the wooden surface of the chair, he let out a gasp at how cool it was compared to his heated skin. You quietly giggled at this, and then grabbed the belt from where you had put it down. He grew tense and curious once again when you walked behind him. 

You grabbed one of his wrists and began to guide it behind him, but he was so tense that you knew it would be uncomfortable for him. You eased your touch with a flat palm up his forearm and bicep, across his shoulder until you could press the weight of your thumb into the base of his neck. He moaned lightly at this, melting into the touch. 

“Relax, baby.” You urged. Spencer relaxed even further at the nickname, absolutely blooming with affection inside because of it. “I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you. I just want to make you feel good.” 

To drive home this point, you leaned in and planted a simple kiss on the back of his head, and then one on the side of his neck. Spencer let out a fluttering moan at this. He wanted more of those kisses, but he couldn’t work up the nerve to ask for it. 

He could find no faults with what you had said, so he did his best to do as you instructed. He relaxed, leaning back fully against the chair - which was slightly uncomfortable while he was completely naked and throbbing hard, waiting for you to touch him more. But he trusted you. 

You grabbed one of his wrists, and then the other, and guided them behind his back. 

It was much easier now that his muscles were softer, more pliant to you. 

You knelt down and used the belt to tie them simply. You looped the belt through the wooden slats so his hands would be held to the chair, and then placed both of his wrists into the loop. You didn’t want it to be so tight that the material would cut into his wrists painfully or cut off circulation, you just wanted to restrict his movement. 

Which would absolutely be the case when his arms were bound behind him, awkwardly tied to the back of the chair. You hooked the buckle into the smallest notch, giving him a bit of room to move, a bit of a gap to put your finger between the belt and his skin. However, it put his shoulders at an awkward angle so he would need your help getting out of it. 

“Is that okay?” You asked. “Not too tight? Be honest.” 

Spencer thought that he should feel slightly afraid or too vulnerable - being completely naked and tied to a chair like this. But with you, he felt safe. 

“It’s good.” He told you honestly. “Not too tight.” He assured you, moving to show off that wiggle room, demonstrating that the material wasn’t cutting into his wrists. 

“Good,” You sighed quietly, standing up once again. 

You walked around him like a predator circling their prey, making graceful, careful moments as you took in the sight of him. 

He was absolutely, beautifully sinful in this state. 

Stripped entirely naked, except for those glasses and those adorable, mismatched socks, sitting in the chair with his hands bound behind his back. All while he stared at you with his wide, expectant eyes, waiting for whatever your next move would be. While his heavy, hard cock leaked freely against his stomach, smearing a trail of sticky precum across his skin. 

You reached forward and grabbed his chin, tilting his head up slightly to look at you. Having someone as tall as Spencer look up at you for a change was entirely powerful. You held him there while you asked him a very important question. 

“You gonna be good for me?” You asked him. 

Instinctively for him, there was only one answer. 

“Yes.” He whimpered out. “Yes, Miss. I want to be good for you.” 

The pure sincerity of his declaration caused another wave of wetness from your aching pussy. For now, you would ignore your own needs. You would take care of him, make sure that this was a pleasurable experience for him. 

“Good boy,” You praised him, giving him a light kiss on the forehead - to which he sighed quietly in delight. 

Then, you let go of his face completely and turned to grab the item that had started this whole thing. 

You were excited to finally use it on Spencer. 

Spencer watched with awe and intrigue as you grabbed the toy and then the lube - you peeled off the plastic shrink wrap on the lube bottle with your teeth, and then popped the cap. And you turned so Spencer could see as you poured a generous amount of lube into the opening of the toy. 

“Don’t be afraid to use too much lube,” You told him, being a proper teacher. “In my opinion, there’s no such thing as ‘too wet’. But ‘too dry’ can cause skin irritation from friction. Or tearing if you’re trying to insert something like fingers or a penetrative toy. Like a dildo. Adequate lubrication always reduces the risk of both those things,” 

Spencer wanted to ask if there were other kinds of penetrative toys aside from dildos, but he figured that would be a question for another time. 

“Yes, Miss.” He nodded in understanding, absorbing what you had told him. 

You looked between the toy and his cock, and realized you might as well slick him up beforehand. 

You took a step closer to him and put the thickness of the fleshlight between his thighs, propping it there while you quietly mumbled ‘hold this’ - which caused him to tense his thighs in order to keep it from falling. He became enraptured by the sight of the silicone pussy, lubed and wet as a real one would be. He was so distracted by the sight that he almost didn’t take in you pouring lube into your hand before you capped the bottle and put it aside. 

“This is probably gonna be cold,” You warned him quietly before you used your lubed hand to take a hold of his cock. 

It was. And he let out a harsh gasp - from the shock of the cold wetness, a sound that quickly turned into a strangled moan as you formed a loose grip around his cock and began spreading the wetness over him with purpose. The lube soon warmed between your palm and the throbbing skin of his cock, and he unconsciously bucked into your touch, almost knocking the fleshlight out from resting between his thighs. 

“Stay still.” You ordered sharply, shoving his hips back down with your free hand. 

The harshness behind your voice, and your thumb pressing into his hip bone sent him reeling. He was so pliant under your touch. Between your commanding authority and the slickness of your lubed hand moving in a slow rhythm in lazy pumps up and down his cock - he was already way too fucking close. 

You knew it. You could see the way his stomach muscles quaked, the tensing of his thighs. Those little lilting gasps like music to your ears. 

You wondered if he would spurt cum all over your hand before he warned you. (If he did, you would likely pump him through it just to see if he would get hard again.) 

“Miss-!” He hollered, choking on the word. 

You abruptly stopped then. You stiffened your grip around the base of his cock - which was now nicely lubed up, and throbbing even harder as you effectively used your fingers around his pelvis like a cockring, causing his orgasm to fade dully back into his muscles. He let out a wounded sound, a confused moan from deep in his chest, his stomach shaking even harder as if he was trying to force the orgasm out past your gatekeeping touch. It was almost cute. 

“Yes, Spencer?” You asked, looking at him dumbly as though you had no clue what he had been trying to say. 

“I - I was getting close.” He completed the thought breathlessly. “C-close to orgasm.” 

Damn. If he was this fucked out now, you couldn’t wait to see what he would be like when you were done with him. 

“Well, good boys only cum with permission, right?” You said, grinning at him fiendishly. 

“Yes, Miss.” He said quickly, his voice dull with disappointment, but agreeable. 

“Good boy.” You praised once again. You felt his cock twitch in your hand at the words. “Besides, you haven’t even gotten a chance to try out your new toy yet.” 

You then grabbed up the toy and turned it over, using your hand on the base of his cock to feed his length into the fake pussy. More cool lube came rushing down to meet him, and his lungs shook once again and his heated skin was shocked by the feeling. It was strange, but pleasurable as his cock was enveloped by the soft, wet walls of the toy. It was so, so very tight around his cock - and oddly cool, far wetter than he had expected thanks to the amount of lube you had used. 

Spencer reasoned that it might be like sticking his cock in a watermelon, if that watermelon were also made of rubber bands. 

You knelt down in front of Spencer, looking in awe between the spot where his cock disappeared into the fake leaking pussy to his face. Seeing his reaction to this was utterly beautiful - the way his jaw naturally fell open, his eyes half closed as the pleasure overtook him. 

“Oh!” Spencer let out a sudden, high startled sound as you shoved the toy down onto his cock fully. 

Your eyes once again flickered between his dick and his face, and you came to an utterly stunning realization. 

He didn’t fully fit inside of the toy. 

There was about an inch of his cock that was still sticking out of it at the base, and with the resistance your hand had brought up into, you knew that he was fully seated inside of it. Well - as fully seated as he could get, apparently. 

It was one of the hottest things you had ever seen, and it sent a dizzying wave of endorphins through you. The sight of his cock not fully fitting into the silicone pussy was a stunning visual that made you realize just how deep he would go inside of you. It made your throat dry for a moment, forced you to swallow hard before you could speak. 

“You’re right here, baby?” You asked, tapping a finger on the top of the toy, knowing that he would feel it as a vibration through the plastic. 

He let out a gasp and bucked his hips up slightly, something that made you smile. He was too hazy to answer you already, something that you forgave for now. He was just too beautiful to scold in these moments. 

“Fuck, you don’t even fit into this thing all the way, do you?” You gasped quietly, still absolutely marveling at the sight. 

“I don’t?” Spencer gaped, finally looking down to where the toy was swallowing his cock, seeing as your words had captured his attention. “Is - is that bad?” 

He was struck with worry. He thought that perhaps his cock wasn’t right - that he shouldn’t be doing this, that you wouldn’t like him. 

It was in that moment that you realized what a treasure you had come across. A beautiful, intelligent man with a huge cock who had no idea how to use it. Someone who needed to be taught from scratch. Someone who could be molded into anything you wanted him to be. (At least in the sexual sense.) That, and he seemed to be naturally submissive and derive pleasure from following your orders. 

You most definitely weren’t going to let him go anytime soon. 

“No, baby, that’s a good thing.” You assured him. “That’s a great thing.” 

Spencer smiled at this - an expression that slacked off into a moan when you made your next move. 

You gave the toy a slow half-pump before you seated it on his cock again, seemingly knocking the wind out of them. Then, you let go of the toy completely, letting him sit there with the fleshlight on his cock, bobbing in mid-air. It began to rise up slightly as the tightness of it hugged his cock, and unconsciously, he bucked up his hips, seeking more friction. But of course - the object was simply hanging there, seated on his cock, unmoving. It was an entirely fruitless venture. 

With his hands tied behind his back, he needed you. It was an adorable struggle to watch for a moment, especially when his face knit with frustration and his thighs began to quiver from the effort. 

“Please,” He begged. He was so pretty when he begged. “Help me.” 

“You want me to help you fuck your toy?” You teased, reaching for it again. 

“Please, Miss.” 

When he whined like that, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. 

You took a good grip on the plastic then, and began a quick, smooth rhythm. You were eager to see his reaction to being fucked well, being fucked without hesitation. 

Spencer immediately shuddered and began letting out harsh whimpers. He bit his lip, but it didn’t keep the sounds from wailing out of his throat as you pumped the toy up and down on his cock. 

His chin was tilted down onto his chest, keeping his eyes locked on the place where the toy was devouring his hard cock. This caused his glasses to slip down his nose bridge slightly, something so entirely adorable to you in the moment. With his thighs tense and his stomach quaking, with that pool of artificial wetness leaking onto his pubes and slowly creeping down over his balls - he was so beautifully fucked out, the most perfect picture you had ever seen in your life. 

“Oh - oh, oh, oh god!” His mouth fell open once again and an array of sounds fell out, a beautiful little choir that you could have only dreamed of coming from him. “Oh, please!” 

You had to wonder if he was the type of person to swear when he came. Spencer was never the type of person to swear during other extreme situations. You had never seen him let out a single curse, not even with a gun to his head. 

You had to wonder if you could be the one to make him swear. 

“Please, Miss!” He squeaked out, sounding entirely wrecked and desperate. “Please, I’m close-!” 

You couldn’t resist the temptation of stilling the toy completely, abruptly cutting off his orgasm once again. Spencer let out a broken sound as his muscles jolted and the feeling ebbed through him - so close, but not quite there. It was like a terrible ache in his muscles. Like a deep, terrible thirst with nothing to drink. 

“Please,” He begged, his eyes shooting to lock onto you. “Please! Please, Miss.” 

“Please, what, baby?” You teased him, reaching up and gently carding your fingers through his hair, brushing some of it off his forehead. He had a light sheen of sweat going, his body clearly strained. It was delightful to witness. 

“Please,” He rasped out brokenly, so entirely desperate.  “I - I need it.” 

You bit your lip, holding back laughter at how perfect this was.

“Need what, baby?” You continued to tease him. “Come on, use your words.” 

He swallowed hard, and stared at you with glassy desperation in his eyes. Either he was shy, or had no clue what exactly it was you wanted him to say - so you decided to guide him along. 

“Say: I need to cum.” You told him, hoping that he was desperate enough now that he would simply repeat the filthy words. 

“I - I need to cum.” He repeated, only mild hesitation on his lips. 

“Say: I need you to make me cum.” You told him, pushing it a bit father. 

“I need you,” He said, pausing slightly to catch his breath. “Need you to make me cum.” 

“Good boy.” You praised him, running his hand through your hair once again. 

You stood up this time, and put one hand on the back of the chair behind his shoulder for leverage, leaning over him as you took the toy in hand and started moving it once again. This gave him a perfect view down your top, and his lustful gaze locked onto your swaying cleavage as you worked on jacking the fake pussy on his cock. It was a maddening suction that had him grunting lowly with every thrust, letting out whines, flexing his hips to fuck his cock up into the toy. 

“Does it feel good, pretty boy?” You asked, so heavily enjoying the sight of him so messy, so wrecked. 

“Yes!” He easily replied. 

“What are you thinking about? Hmm?” You couldn’t help but to ask. 

“I - hnng - I - I don’t know!” He gaped. 

Either he was lying, and simply didn’t want to tell you what was on his mind, or you had truly fucked his head empty. If it was the second, then you would heavily enjoy that fact. 

“You don’t know?” You asked, your voice absolutely teasing once again. “Well, that’s a first.” You chuckled. 

Spencer panted harshly, filling the space for a moment - along with the wet squelching of the toy moving up and down on his cock as your wrist continued to work. And then you became bold enough to ask the question that you truly wanted to. 

“You thinkin’ about my pussy?” You prodded. “You imagining that this toy is me? Wondering what’s gonna be like when I finally sit on your cock?” 

“Yes!” He was suddenly very eager to admit to this. Clearly it helped that he didn’t have to say the words for himself. “Yes! Yes, Miss! I want you. I want your-”

He cut himself off suddenly, moaning sharply as the tip of his cock brought up in the end of the fake pussy once again. It sent a jolt of pleasure-pain through him that had his skin boiling even hotter. You wondered if he would be bold enough to say the word ‘pussy’ or if you would have to heavily prompt him. 

But that thought left your head completely with his next words. 

“Oh! Oh, please! I’m so close!” 

Again, feeling the devil rise up inside of you, you stopped off his orgasm. 

This time, by pulling the toy away completely. You lifted the fleshlight off his cock, and watched with lustful joy as his cock slipped out of the opening with a wet pop. His thighs quaked with bitter agony and his long cock bobbed in the air, dripping thick waves of precum and lube as it separated from the toy. 

Everything was so wet. 

It was honestly a gorgeous sight, like a mini tidal wave dripping down onto the chair as the toy continued to leak the generous amount of lube you had put into it and his cock let out pathetic little spurts of precum. His pubes were glossy and matted together, his inner thighs were absolutely slick. He was glistening and whining harshly as the ruined orgasm crashed through his body, making his mind somehow even hazier and more desperate. 

“God!” He choked out. “Please!” 

He blinked harshly and a few tears escaped the corners of his eyes, making him look even more gorgeous somehow. 

“Please - please! I need - I need - oh god!” He began sobbing nonsensically, begging you for release as he was practically on the verge of madness. 

Your cunt throbbed at seeing him so wrecked - so utterly dependent on you. 

“Hey, hey, shh.” You reached your free hand out and thumbed under the edge of his glasses - the thick lenses only magnifying his glassy eyes and lustful, broken tears all the more. You soothed your touch across his burning cheek, reassuring him. “You’ve been such a good boy. I’m gonna let you cum now. Okay?” 

“Please!” He sobbed. 

Hearing his voice so broken and needy probably shouldn’t have turned you on so much, but you absolutely loved it. 

“Hey, shh,” You continued to rub his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. “I just need one thing from you first.” 

“Anything!” He easily declared. 

“I need you to say: ‘may I cum, please?’” You told him. 

It was a start on the scale of filthy things that you wanted to hear from his mouth, but it would definitely be oh so satisfying. 

And then - as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, he blinked his big eyes and looked up at you through tear wet lashes, giving you the most pouty, fuckable look as he leaned into your hand before he said the words. 

“May I cum, please?” He asked. And then, like the wet dream that he was, he seamlessly added on. “Please, Miss. I-I’ve been a good boy.” 

“Yes, you have been.” You told him. “I’ll make you cum now baby.” 

You used both hands to get his cock back inside of the toy - the sound of his cock fucking back into the fake pussy was so much wetter, the whine he let out made your knees weak. 

You doubled your efforts now, even going so far as to squeeze your grip on the outside of the plastic - which made the silicone grip his cock just that little bit tighter as you slammed it up and down on him. Your movements were hard and fast in the effort to make him cum for certain this time. 

“Oh, oh, oh, you - oh!” Spencer began babbling nonsense, his words barely broken up by harsh breaths being sucked into his lungs and whimpers emanating from his throat at the intense pleasure. “Oh, Miss - you - you’re so - ah!” 

“Where’s that big IQ now, boy genius?” You taunted him, keeping up the brutal pace. “Did I make you all stupid? Did I melt your big brain? Huh?” 

Spencer all but confirmed this as truth when he gurgled out nothingness as a response. 

You felt slightly bolder, and you became slightly harsher in your degrading words. You almost couldn’t help yourself. You loved tearing him apart so much, having him melt under your touch. You couldn’t help but to brag about the amazing job you had done. 

“Just a dumb little baby now, aren’t you?” You cooed, your voice entirely condescending. “Just a stupid little boy for me. So cumdrunk you can’t even think now, huh? There’s no boy genius here now. Just a dumb baby who needs to cum.” 

He only inflated your ego with his next words. 

“Yes!” He shouted out, entirely confirming what you had said - if he had even properly heard it through the blood pumping in his ears. To him, it might have just been the raw hum of your voice in the background, like an undertone with no true words to it. “Yes! Need - need t’ cum!” 

It was the most incoherent you had ever known Doctor Spencer Reid to be. 

You stared on eagerly as you watched his stomach tighten up, his lungs struggling for breath. 

“Y/N-!” He gasped out your name right before it hit him. 

And when it hit him, when he finally tumbled over the edge into the abyss - boy, it was a big one. 

It was an intense, full body orgasm. His legs shook, his body arched off the chair as though he were having a seizure, actually putting a strain on his bonded arms for the first time. He wildly bucked up into the toy as you continued to work it over his cock, his mouth dropping open wildly as a strain of high pitched, needy whimpers poured out from between his pretty pink lips. 

You were feeling selfish, and you wanted to see him cum at least a bit. 

So knowing that he was riding the wave, you ripped the toy off him, causing a wounded noise to come out of him as his spurting cock fell from it. But you didn’t leave him hanging. You immediately replaced the toy with your hand, and put a tight grip around him, pumping viciously over his throbbing cock, wanting to milk the rest of the orgasm out of him by hand. 

The sudden, shocking overstimulation sent his body into overdrive. 

His thighs shook so hard it could have been mistaken for electrocution, he gasped like a drowning man - he would have begged for mercy, but he couldn’t catch his breath. 

It was the best feeling he had ever experienced. It was pure euphoria, it was heaven on earth. It was an icy hot fire running through his veins that he didn’t even know was possible. 

He had never experienced an orgasm like this before. He knew the feeling of an orgasm to be more like a dull tickle in his groin. But now that he had done this - he didn’t think he could go back to anything else. 

Large spurts of cum blasted from his cock, so overpowering then that painted his stomach, his chest, and much to your delight - a few thick white spurts even dirtied his glasses when you angled his cock that way and kept viciously pumping him. 

His cock was so hot that it felt like it could have burned your hand, so needy and bloated with blood from how long you had edged him. Eventually, when the tip of his cock began to weep out a pathetic clear liquid, and he was on the verge of sobbing once more, you let him go from your grip, finally giving him a moment to breathe. 

You knew for certain that you would never be able to look at Spencer Reid again without seeing this imagery: him, completely fucked out, his face flushed red, mouth agape as he struggled for breath. His naked body, limp cock laying against his pelvis, painted in his own cum - including dirtying up his own glasses. 

You loved those glasses even more now. 

You couldn’t get him to swear - but fuck, that was really something. 

“Thank you.” He said meekly, still struggling for breath. “Th-thank you, Miss.” 

“Good boy.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Such a good boy for me.” 

Now, it was time to take care of him and make sure that he had a good come down. 

You put the toy on the coffee table, placing it with the opening up so it wouldn’t leak everywhere - you wouldn’t clean it later. You also took off his glasses and placed them aside. Again - you would clean them later. 

You rushed to untie his hands, and eased his arms back around his body by gently rubbing his shoulders, hoping that the muscles wouldn’t be too sore or stiff from being in the same position for so long. 

“Such a good boy.” You assured him. “You did so well for me honey.” 

He hummed in acknowledgement. Clearly, he was absolutely exhausted from the ordeal. You hoped you could get his tall, gangly self to his bed on your own if he was so fucked out and weak. You walked back around to his front and laid your lips on his forehead again, murmuring more praises against his skin as you continued to rub his shoulders and run your fingers through his hair. You told him how good he was, how perfect he had been for you, how beautiful he was. 

After a few minutes, you felt his hands on your hips as he came out of the haze. He ran a thumb along the waistband of your pants, and his first words after that haze surprised you. 

“What - what about you?” He asked. 

Clearly, he meant that you should have an orgasm. Your cunt was aching dully between your thighs, and you were sure that you had soaked through your underwear. But that had been a lot for him, and you didn’t want to overwhelm him during the first time. 

“That’ll be a lesson for next time.” You told him quietly. He hummed quietly at this. He felt assured by you simply saying ‘next time’. “I have to clean up your toy now, so you can use it again later. Then I’ll clean you up and tuck you into bed, okay, baby?” 

He nodded. “Yes, please. Thank you.” 

You hesitantly broke away from him and grabbed the toy, and as you moved to leave the room, you paused at him mumbling out more words. 

“Can - can I have a glass of water, please?” He asked quietly. 

“Of course you can, baby.” 

You went into the kitchen and ran the toy under hot water - which you left going as you got a glass and filled it with cold water and ice from the dispenser. You were lucky to find a straw in the takeout bag from earlier - you put it in the glass and, while the hot water was still running in the sink, you rushed out to give Spencer a drink. 

You held the glass while he chugged gratefully from it, and after a few moments, you ensured that he could hold it with his sex tired hands by himself and then you left to finish cleaning up the toy. You set it on his empty dish rack to drip dry (which was quite a sight). And then you went to the bathroom, coming back with a warm cloth to wipe him down. He was only slightly unsteady on his legs as you guided him to bed - his muscles shaking and tired after the whole amazing ordeal. 

You found it endearing that his bed was unmade, surrounded by stacks of books that were lined up on the floor, rather than on any shelf. 

You pulled back the covers completely and helped him get in, and you were tucking him in nicely when he asked the sweet question. 

“Will you cuddle with me?” He asked quietly, looking up at you with those adorable, expectant eyes once again. “You know, for - for the aftercare?” 

You likely would have done it simply because he asked, even if you didn’t deem it ‘necessary’ for aftercare. But because he asked, it was part of good care. 

“Of course.” You answered. “I don’t have any pjs, so do you mind if I sleep in my underwear?” 

You had just tucked him into bed naked, and he was asking you to lay down beside him like that. But still, you wanted to ask how comfortable he would be if you were in a state of undress. 

His eyes shined with interest at the idea of seeing you at least partially undressed. 

“I don’t mind.” He told you. 

You nodded, and stepped back slightly to begin undressing. 

“So - did you have fun?” You asked. You suspected that he had entirely enjoyed himself, but you did want to hear him say it. 

Spencer grinned at this. “I think what we just did has changed my definition of ‘fun’ entirely.” He told you. “In a good way. So you know.” 

You preened at the idea that you had shifted Spencer’s worldview. Someone who most likely spent his free time reading research papers and playing through chess games entirely on his own and called it ‘fun’ would now be thinking about spending his free time playing with you instead. 

You stripped out of your pants, socks, and work blouse, which left you in your simple cotton underwear, a thin cotton camisole and your bra underneath. You decided to take off your bra underneath your shirt and just sleep in the cami and panties for comfort. You knew your underwear was stuck to your cunt from your previous burning arousal, and Spencer’s eyes did focus hard on that, and then focused even harder on the outline of your bare breasts as you ditched your bra off to the side. 

If he had the ability to get hard again after that spectacular orgasm, he probably would have been throbbing at the sight of you. 

You lifted up the covers and crawled into bed with him, cuddling into his side as he tentatively wrapped an arm around your waist. Your stomach fluttered when he kissed the top of your head before you felt his body relax into the mattress. 

“Thank you.” He said quietly, clearly exhausted. “I love it when you teach me things.”

...

Keep Reading Here - Lesson Two: Magic Metacarpals

Note: This is a Capsule Series, so each fic can be read as an individual oneshot. There is no overarching story, and no specific ending.

[mediumgayitalian]

“What are your parameters for loving me?”

Careful to keep her head locked forward, Naomi glances over at her son. Will’s picked-bloody fingernails scrabble at the worn bandage around his wrist, twisting until his knuckles turn white. The car shakes with his violently bouncing leg, out of time with the shuddering engine and rumbling dust roads under the wheels.

“There aren’t any.”

“There have to be — some.” The bandage is longer than she thought, unspooled in his lap. He winds it back up again quickly, hands blurring; darting around his wrist, tapping on his knees, flexing and locking, flexing and locking. “I mean, what if I became a misogynist?”

She snorts. “I think you’re good, honey.”

“No, Mom, what if? Think about it for real. You’d stop loving me, right?”

“I might knock you around a bit, but it’d pretty hard to stop loving you completely,” she teases. She pinches the stubbornly-clinging baby fat of his cheeks between her knuckles, ruffling his hair when he ducks away.

“Seriously, Mama.”

“I dunno, Will. I’d send you to work for your Auntie Di for a while, probably. Reckon she’d straighten you out good.”

“Okay.” He nods, twice to himself, chewing on his lip. The bandage is wrapped around his elbow, now, pulled tight enough that she can hear the groan of his joints. “Okay. What if I killed someone?”

“Be a pretty hefty secret for the two of us.”

“An innocent person. Cold blood, just because I wanted to.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I could, Mom. People are — unpredictable.” He picks at a hole in his shorts until it’s wide enough to slide three fingers through, pulling the bandage in after them. It looks yellowed next to the green of the fabric, worn. “Sometimes you think you know someone but you don’t.”

“I know you.”

She pushes on her turn signal, slowing to a near stop. Will’s twitching fingers unconsciously synch up, cri-tap, cri-tap, cri-tap. The rusted rims groan as her tires amble around the bend, quieting as she lurches forward. They both duck as she hits a pothole, narrowly avoiding the warped ceiling.

“Cold blood, Mama.”

“I’d — it would scare me, I guess.” The next few potholes are smaller — she can avoid them with some manoeuvring. A mouse darts out onto the road, rushing out from the surrounding cornfields, and she slams on the break, thrusting her arm out to the passenger side. Will’s hands come to cup over her forearm as he slams into it, grunting softly. The mouse sprints across the rest of the road, tail swishing behind it, disappearing into the stalks. She settles back into her seat, brushing across Will’s seatbelt as she does, and presses the gas again. “More for you than of you. For what would happen if someone came knocking.”

“You wouldn’t report it?”

“No I wouldn’t report it, Will, Jesus.”

“But I — but I did something evil.”

“This is a hypothetical, baby.”

“And in the hypothetical. You’re —” He scrubs his hand down his face, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re a good person. You have — morals.”

“I’m a person, Will.” The GPS beeps at her — twenty-five miles to the Tennessee border. “And I’m a mother before that.”

“So if I — you would just — just like that? You’d — forgive me?”

“I’d love you,” she corrects.

“But you wouldn’t forgive me.”

She shrugs. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

“So how do you know you’d still love me?”

“Because there’s nothing you could do, baby. I mean it.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Not even if I was a bully? Or a landlord? Or if I — liked boys?”

He says it quickly, or tries to, but he stumbles over his words, tripping over the syllables. Naomi sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, biting it hard.

“You would still love me, if I — if I —”

Keeping her movements steady, she removes her boot from the gas. Will glances, fast, at her tightening knuckles on the steering wheel, looking quickly away. She guides the car to the shoulder of the road, pulling into park, and kills the engine, unclipping her seatbelt and turning ninety degrees to face her son. Will crowds into the corner of the seat, hunching in on himself, shoulders tense and curling, hair failing over her lowered head.

“Oh, Will.”

His body shakes as she pulls him into her, hands trembling so bad they spasm, twitching out of the fists he makes. She shifts until both of her arms wrap tightly around her torso, ignoring the burn of the trench, tucking his forehead into her collarbone, dropping her lips to press against his temples, his cheeks, the crown of his head.

“It’s okay, baby.”

“It’s — not. I’m still, I can still —”

“Sh.” His tears drip onto her shirt, her skin. He chokes back a sob and she tightens, reflexively, pulling his whole body even closer to her, somehow, making space for his too-long legs, knees hitting his chest, feet dangling off the seat, gearshift shoved into his thigh. His chest heaves with the effort of keeping his cries locked up in his throat, hidden behind clenched teeth, squeezed shut eyes. His fingers cling onto her shirt, twisting the fabric so hard it warps. Her own fingers clutch desperately at the ridges of his spine, the inside of his elbow; squeezing, holding, bruising. His voice is rough as raw grit and reedy as pond scum, barely above a whisper.

“I like boys, Mama.”

“I heard you.” She rests her forehead on his shoulder, her own breaths shuddering. “I heard you, sweetheart.”

“I like — a boy.”

“Okay.”

“For a long time.”

Her swallow constricts her throat, shoving the air back in her lungs. How long, she cannot bring herself to ask — when was it, exactly, that he decided he could not trust her with this? When did she lose that privilege? Was it when he started protecting her from the pain in his life, or before? When he lost everyone close to him at once, or when he broke down and told her about it? When was she no longer the person he ran to when he was scared, nervous, afraid?

He used to come to her for everything.

“I love you,” she whispers, voice wet as it slides against the lump in her throat. She squeezes him again, and this time, he squeezes back, pressing his face into her skin. “Will Solace, you are what keeps me going, do you understand that? Come up here, baby, look at me.”

His eyes aren’t hers. He takes after his father, really; after his older brother once upon a time. But he speaks like she does and smiles like she does and stands like she does, and when he cries he gets that same look, like the ocean has emptied itself inside of him. She cradles both palms to his wet cheeks, thumbs pressing under his eyes, kissing his forehead, his cheekbones, wiping the tears away.

“Fifteen years long you’ve been the light of my life. I need you to understand that, Will. I have never loved anything like I love you and there will never be anyone who comes even close. There is no hypothetical, no situation, no anything that could change that. There are no parameters. None. You understand me?”

“Everything stops,” he croaks. “Everything has a limit.”

“Not me,” she says firmly. “You ain’t a baby no more, baby, but you’re gonna have to pretend for a moment that I know everything again. I am telling you that there is no boundary. And I am not giving you the option to disagree. You are my son and my sun and that’s final, Will. That’s final.”

His face crumples. She pulls him close again, sighing, letting him curl up in his lap like he’s ten years younger than he should be, instead of the ten years older he acts. She runs a hand through his knotted hair and another down his back and presses her lips to his temples, holding him every place she can reach, and rocks them, even though there’s no room to do it, humming slow and low under her breath.

“We’ll get there,” she promises, tapping a beat on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Okay?”

He nods into her neck. “Okay.” His voice is small but not cowering, thankfully; small like he’s hiding in her instead of from her. She fights the urge to sag into him, to burst into tears of her own.

“I love you, Will. No matter what and forever.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

[lani-heart]

|| ENHYPEN SERIES – 7 TALES MASTERLIST ||

genre(s) -> hybrid au, non-idol au, university au paring(s) -> ehyphen ( individually ) x reader(s) warning(s) -> angst, violence, crimes, bullying, drinking, etc.

abstract -> what can go wrong in a world of hybrids?

-> uploading will start May 18 //Schedule tbd -> taglist open !!

RIKI NISHIMURA || SPOILED & MISBEHAVED

abstract -> Freshman in college and put to socialize with the other kids from wealthy families. y/n and Riki Nishimura being childhood friends and hybrid / master weren’t anything like other owners. Instead, Riki misbehaves and is rude when around others wanting his owner for himself. Getting her in trouble a few too many times had got him worried that he’d be replaced like her father had warned him. So instead of waiting to be replaced… There's a new etiquette class available at the same school as his owner. How convenient… now was that gonna guarantee him a spot by her side forever?

COMPLETE -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || “perfect hybrid” CHAPTER TWO || etiquette CHAPTER THREE || misunderstandings  CHAPTER FOUR || fake relationship CHAPTER FIVE || for you

JAEYUN SIM || EVERYTHING FORBIDDEN

abstract -> Seeing how Riki is treated, Jake, jealous and tired, runs away from the adoption center. Only to save a girl from the predatory men on the streets of Seoul. Not knowing he’s a hybrid, they both have the time of their lives… while he pretends to be human. How scandalous… the daughter of a wealthy known CEO to be caught with a stray hybrid?

COMPLETE -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || outcasts CHAPTER TWO || luxury CHAPTER THREE || abandonment CHAPTER FOUR || forbidden CHAPTER FIVE || anything

PARK JONG-SEONG || NEVER ENOUGH

abstract -> Haechan always liked to interfere where he didn’t belong. Making a scholarship student take a hybrid and making a bet she’ll regret wasn’t on this year's calendar. Especially with how mean and rude he was… no way he was the well-behaved and sought-after hybrid the rich kids wanted. But… was sweet and caring, at the end of the day, however, he wouldn’t turn his life from riches to rags… right?

ON GOING -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || temporary CHAPTER TWO || scholarship  CHAPTER THREE || mean CHAPTER FOUR || insecurities CHAPTER FIVE || forever

KIM SUNOO || WON'T YOU BE MY MUSE ?

abstract -> The principal's spoiled daughter returns from her trip to China only to find that her artist's block hasn't gotten any better. Who knew a cute and innocent fox would fix that? However… she swore never to own a hybrid so she could only admire him from afar as his owner turned out to be everything Sunoo hated. Even through that hatred and pain… she still saw him worthy enough to be her muse. 

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || artist block CHAPTER TWO || exhibition CHAPTER THREE || envy CHAPTER FOUR || disappointed CHAPTER FIVE || muse

LEE HEESEUNG || DYSPHORIC BEAUTY

abstract -> Never adopted… I mean who would want to adopt a hybrid with big antlers on his head? It was a shame that such a pretty face had such an ugly thing growing out of his head. Would you want to adopt him? Even after he tried to cut them off risking his life in the process? Even after your parent's threats?

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || ugly CHAPTER TWO || doe eyes CHAPTER THREE || antlers CHAPTER FOUR || empty CHAPTER FIVE || pretty

PARK SUNGHOON || GRACE OF AN AMNESIAC

abstract -> The figure skater hybrid was sought after being sold for millions… but he met his match to take care of a clumsy woman. He was famous after all why should he have to take care of an idiotic woman like you who forgets to look both ways when crossing the street? Especially when you’ll end up forgetting him… all over again? 

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || spring CHAPTER TWO || lies CHAPTER THREE || hate CHAPTER FOUR || truth CHAPTER FIVE || winter

YANG JUGWON || ESCAPE ARTIST

abstract -> Daughter of two renowned lawyers who just busted a case on the black mart hybrid traffickers damned their daughter with a hybrid. They thought it was a good thing to have someone to go home to after a long day… well that wasn’t true when he tried to run away every day. Until… one day she decided to not go find him.

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || service CHAPTER TWO || escape CHAPTER THREE || law CHAPTER FOUR || riot CHAPTER FIVE || liberty

if you would like to be on the taglist please send an ask or comment under this post. If you message me there might be a chance I don't see if and if you ask on another post such as in one of the chapters it'll be hard to keep up with.

taglist -> @ilovecheese09 @gudkc @nikisvanillaccola @blossominghunnie @mheretoreadff @k1ttylvr @starzniiky @kibs-and-bits @b3tt7boop @in-somnias-world @lol6sposts @xiaoderrrr @jihyosgfremade @b-a-nshee-blog @mimisamisasa @katsukis1wife @eggomi @thunderous-wolf @tinyteezer @lilactangerine @starfallia @sousydive @bearseulgs @rooomeo

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[landograndprix]

where your heart truly lies ✾ l.n - III

❧ in which you and lando are not together, right?

❧ warning: this fic contains cheating and such so if that's not your cup of tea, you should probably not read this 😉

❧ prev part – next part

landosgfuser

liked by y/nusername, landonorris and 16,872 others

landosgfuser I have been guided around london by two lovely locals ✨️

tagged: y/nusername, yourbestfrienduser

view all 120 comments

lonelyheartsclub the woman is too stunned to speak 🥴

landoscar y/n AND yourbestfriendname???

y/nusername your home town next 😉

landosgfuser definitely!

lilith15 nah this girl is too innocent for these two goblins

verstappenmax I want to feel sorry for her but she can read right, she knows about yourbestfrienduser disliking her and y/n potentially getting raw dogged by lando? 💀

landonfour4 girl stfu, maybe she enjoys the idea of her bf getting it with some other girl 😂

verstappenmax because she probably can't satisfy her man

bott_ass why we all bullying this girl? I bet she gets lowkey bullied by the others enough 😭

teampapaya oh no girl run..

landonorris ❤️

bananaleclerc for who it is Lando? For who is the heart, your gf or y/n? 👀

norry4 leave the man alone :')

☆☆☆☆☆

f1.gossipp

liked by landosgfuser and 461 others

f1.gossipp Charles was spotted having dinner with a girl in Monaco earlier this night, according to the person who send the picture the girl looked like y/n y/l/n, lando norris' friend, it would make sense since y/n posted she was in Monaco today for a fashion event. New wag alert?

view all 182 comments

sixteencharles this wasn't on my 2023 bingo card

oscarp81 god I love gossiping

hamilt44n I mean they would be cute together, right?

carlito55 they would but people are so obsessed with the idea of y/n and lando

hamilt44n kinda fucked up since he has a girlfriend though,

charlezz cmon they would not be having dinner in public, they would keep it lowkey for now 💀

chilisainz Charles should make her pasta pesto

charlezz pasta crocante 🥧

norrisfour all I'm seeing is the back of a head lmfao could be any girl

lanlan landos girlfriend in the likes 👀

y/nnorriss she said I like this cause now I have my boyfriend all to myself 💀

☆☆☆☆☆

landonorris

liked by y/nusername, landosgfuser and 215,862 others

landonorris NYC 🗽

tagged: martingarrix

view all 1,561 comments

lanlan4 😍😍

maxmaxmax Martin out here collecting drivers like infinity stones

landosgfuser ❤️‍🔥

landonfour44 when McLaren's tractor makes you want to jump 😭

yourbestfrienduser martijn I'm willing to pay dirty money to push that man off the building

landonorris you're getting meaner with the day

yourbestfrienduser good because you're getting more on my nerves each day 🥰

maxnorris siblings are fighting again 💀

norstappen pls be careful!!

y/nusername do a flip

landonorris back or front flip?

y/nusername face first :)

landonorris because you asked so nicely 😉

landoscar lando completely ignoring his gf in the comments but running straight to y/n's and yourbestfriendname 😭

☆☆☆☆☆

y/nusername posted to their story

☆☆☆☆☆

☆☆☆☆☆

taglist; @honethatty12 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @spideyspeaches @babyvinnie @summerslike11

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

There's something in the differing emphasis that Brad and Hunter and Charles place on the phrase "good guy" that really affected me on my first watch and hit even harder on my second. I'm going to try and put it into words.

When Brad and Hunter say it, they say "we're good guys", as in, good at everything a guy "should" be good at - good at sports, popular with the ladies, on their way to a good university. But they turn out to be total shitheads. They don't care about being "good", they just care about their reputation, how they're perceived. It's status and power - they're good guys and they feel entitled to do whatever they want.

But when Charles, feeling betrayed by this reveal of their character, says he wanted them to be good guys, the emphasis is completely different. Charles wants to be a "good guy". He doesn't want to be a "bad guy".

The emphasis is on good, because that's really the crux of Charles' greatest fears, isn't it?

When Charles wants to be a good guy, he doesn't mean it the way Brad and Hunter do; that veneer of goodness that comes with popularity. He means that nothing he did was ever good enough for his dad. Doing the good thing and helping that kid his "friends" were beating up literally got him killed. Trying to stop Devlin only got him trapped in the loop, stuck until his friends freed him, only able to watch helplessly as a mother and her innocent children get slashed to death before his eyes.

And it's this helplessness that is the thing that truly sets him off at the end of episode 4.

It always struck me just how much of his breakdown there, for as much as he finally gives a voice to his own hurt at the injustice of his situation, was still about other people. Because he was secure-ish, at one point, when he was Edwin's partner and protector. He thought he did a good job at it anyways, but guess not, because something obviously happened with Edwin and he's not talking to him about it. And he likes to think he did good with solving cases, but Crystal is still hurting and haunted by a demon and nearly threw herself off a cliff earlier that day because she wants her parents so badly, and he's no closer to helping her solve that. And all of it, every single part of it, is a reflection of his own unresolved trauma; that he never "made it better" and he can't, so now he tries to be good enough for other people, but that isn't working anymore either, and now someone is threatening to take Edwin away, and even this final shocking act of anger and violence is still in service of protecting; of saving someone from the suffering he was never able to escape except by fucking dying.

His anger, really, stems from the injustice of it all, and the abuse of power by guys who can get away with it because they're guys, when they should've, could've, been good to others instead. It's a large part of why he projected so strongly onto Brad and Hunter - they did everything right, they were good guys who got screwed over, because even if everyone seems to love you, there's always that one person you can never please, right? Who will hurt you, no matter how good you are. When it's revealed that Brad and Hunter are far more like his bullies, like Devlin, like his dad, than he'd thought - controlling, intolerant, cruel to those who "step out of line" - Charles feels betrayed and horrified because he related to them... so what does that say about him?

But here's one major difference that Charles does not seem to recognize well. Charles has never had the power in these situations. He was the victim, and his being the victim is through no fault of his own, but the fault of those who decided to be cruel. It is certainly not contingent on how good he is. Being good in the eyes of people who want to hurt you will not stop them from hurting you.

When he lashes out at the Night Nurse, it's out of helplessness and rage. Once again, he's pitted against someone who holds more power than he does and is threatening harm, and he's just been bitterly, brutally reminded that a smile and a helping hand and a firm word never, ever worked to make it stop. There's only one other way he can think of to shift the balance of power, and he's finally livid enough to actually do it. This violence is a desperate attempt to finally overcome yet another force much greater than him, a transdimensional entity that has unjustly arrived to take his best friend to Hell. And Charles wins, he did it, he stopped her, at least for the moment. But at what cost, when he looks at his friends and can't tell whether they look more scared for him or of him? And can he blame them, when he's clearly scared of his own anger and how overwhelming it is now that it's been let out?

Because he tries so hard to be good and it's never good enough to stop the suffering. Because that anger rose to the surface so easily and maybe that means he's not good at all.

But of course, Charles once again misses something important here - there is a distinction in why that anger exists. His dad, Devlin, and Brad and Hunter get angry because their power over others makes them feel they have a right to punish when things don't go their way. Charles gets angry because he feels more helpless than he'd care to admit, and seeing cruelty inflicted onto others by those with power makes him want to cut them down to size.

And herein lies the second major difference. Charles... is a kind person, at heart. He's genuine. He really does likes helping out, he likes making people happy, he doesn't turn people away who need help, he's friendly and protective. The scene where Edwin pulls him out of his fear that he's somehow bad even though he really doesn't want to be, is outright one of my favourite scenes for what it brings to both of their characters. Edwin knows exactly what to say. While it's always good to check your behaviour, to apologize and take accountability - because no one can be good all the time, and even the most well-intentioned of us will mess up sometimes - Edwin is right.

"Bad guys do not worry about being bad guys."

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Lessons For A Genius - Lesson One

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader

Lesson One: Slick Silicone

(aka the one with the pocket pussy)

Summary:

What could a certified genius possibly have to learn from someone like you? Turns out - a hell of a lot. 

And the real ‘teaching’ started when your graphic explanations of slang toward Spencer for the sheer shock value of it turned into something a lot more… hands on. 

Sub!Spencer Reid x (BAU)Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during early Season 2.

Word Count: 17,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

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Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: A lot of general stuff pertaining to an average Criminal Minds episode - mentions of death, mentions of murder/killing, mentions of possible trauma from being in the BAU, somewhat graphic descriptions of a dismembered corpse; this is not a casefic but there is a small section where Reid, Morgan, and the reader are at a crime scene and details of a case are mentioned (not a case in the canon, one that I made up); the reader sticks her hand inside of a corpse to get something out of it for the purpose of discovering evidence; making inappropriate jokes about dead bodies - the reader character uses dark humour to cope with the trauma of the BAU job; Spencer doesn't understand sexual slang and the reader has to explain it to him (warning for slightly awkward moments because of this?); the reader calls Spencer 'honey' (could be considered condescending); use of Y/N and L/N (meaning Your Last Name); Reid struggling with his sexuality/Reid has some internal biphobia; mentions of anal sex/anal stimulation but it does not take place during the fic; passing mentions of Reid being bullied in school; mentions of past Spencer x Lila Archer (in this fic, she blew him while he was working that case but they didn't keep contact when he left LA); mentions of the reader going to a sex shop; mentions of the reader dressing feminine/wearing lingerie; mention of Spencer being taller than the reader - but I think he would be taller than most people.

This is primarily a smut fic; there is sub/dom dynamics - Reid is submissive and much more inexperienced (he is 'learning' about sex from the reader character, but he is not completely a virgin, he has had one singular sexual experience before); the reader is dominant and much more experienced sexually; the reader has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; mentions of Reid being 'innocent' (it's more so that sex is an under-researched area of his life and he is too shy to explore it by himself); undertones of corruption kink; use of a sex toy - the reader gifts Spencer a fleshlight/pocket pussy and they use it together; hand kink - the reader admires Spencer's hands; undertones of corruption kink - the reader is enjoying 'corrupting' Spencer and showing him these things for the first time; BDSM/kink negotiations, possibly under-negotiated kink; the reader teaches Spencer BDSM terms.

Everything in this fic is fully consensual and safe for the characters; Spencer calls the reader 'Miss'; mentions of Spencer cumming inside the reader (does not actually happen during the fic); passing mentions of Spencer being insecure (about his sexual skills and his looks); Spencer is very obedient; the reader calls Spencer: 'good boy', 'baby', 'pretty boy', 'dumb baby'; most of this fic is Spencer being fucked with a fleshlight while it's controlled by the reader; heavy praise kink (from the reader toward Spencer); light bondage - Spencer's hands are bound behind his back; edging - orgasm delay/orgasm denial (from the reader toward Spencer); the reader makes Spencer ask permission to cum; some size kink - big dick Spencer is too big to fully fit inside of a fleshlight; Spencer does a lot of begging in this; slight crying kink - the reader thinks Spencer looks pretty when he cries from being overwhelmed/edged a lot; degradation kink, dumbification kink, reader is condescending towards Spencer; some overstimulation toward the end; slight cum kink - Spencer cums all over himself and the reader enjoys it. I believe that's it. There is descriptions of aftercare!

A/N: fair warning - a lot of this fic is build up/sexual tension (my speciality). and there is a long section before the smut where the reader is teaching Spencer BDSM terms and teaching him how to pick a safeword, but I think it's interesting and I enjoyed writing it. and it's worth the pay-off imo. also remember, if you want me to continue this series, please give me some feedback on it! I would love to hear what you thought of this fic before I start writing another one! I highly resisted the urge to put Mommy kink in this, but I feel like it would be unrealistic for a shy Spencer to be comfortable calling his partner Mommy during a first time (he would have a Mommy kink but he would be way too uptight/uncomfortable to admit it).

...

Being an FBI Profiler meant there were some rather… strange parts to your day. 

Things that were once in a lifetime tragedies for other people that had become intensely casual routines for you. Things like - looking at gruesome crime scene photos, seeing a dead body in person, facing down a killer. 

You liked to thank your nihilism and dark sense of humor for keeping you sane, working a job that would have driven others insane in such a short amount of time. You also liked to distance yourself from the darkness of it, and preferred to think of the people you helped, rather than the people you couldn’t. 

Especially during moments like this, when you were exiting the car at yet another crime scene. It was a dump sight for the body of another young woman, adding to the trail of victims this newest killer was challenging the BAU with. 

“Just like all the others… the limbs and jaw are missing. Eyes gouged out. This guy has one hell of a compulsion.” Morgan commented, looking down at the body… or rather, the torso, with intense disdain. 

“I would say it’s less of a compulsion, and more of a fractured sense of reality.” Reid commented. “It’s likely that the UnSub sees these corpses as pieces of art. It’s why he was frustrated when the first four weren’t found soon enough, that they weren’t discovered when they were… ‘fresh’, so to speak. That’s why he started leaving the clues for law enforcement. He wants his ‘art’ to be seen in a timely manner.” 

“Couldn’t the guy just take up painting or something?” You replied, looking at the body, still slightly shocked by how brutal the whole thing was. 

“Looks like we got another one.” Morgan pointed out, crouching down beside the body, motioning toward a large gash between the victim’s ribs. “Another clue, that is.” 

For the last three victims, the UnSub had cut a hole into their torso and left some kind of object inside. Something small that hinted at where the next victim would be found. 

Morgan looked over his shoulder at you, as though waiting for you to make a move. When you turned to Reid, he was looking over the rim of his coffee cup at you with very expectant eyes, the thick lenses of his glasses making his stare all the more imposing. 

You quickly realized that both of the men wanted you to stick your hand inside the corpse and pull out whatever was inside. 

“What?” You chuckled. “You want me to do it? Is it just cause you think I’m the gross one?” 

Your reputation for having a strong stomach preceded you. 

You were shy or squeamish about anything, socially or functionally, and the team often took advantage of this. They would throw you into an interrogation with a suspect who made crude comments and you would end up grossing the man out with even more graphic words. They would have you sifting through a suspect’s trash looking for receipts or pieces of evidence and sometimes you would laugh at the things you found, rather than gagging at the smell. 

It was rare that anyone on the team saw you flinch. 

“The body’s been sittin’ out here in the sun for three hours.” Morgan said, glancing from the corpse up to the bright sky overhead. “I’m not doin’ it.”

You chanced another look at Reid. The small smirk he wore told you that he wouldn’t have to give some lame excuse about how he was squeamish and had just eaten in order for you to truly give in. 

“Ugh, fine.” You said. 

You naturally met Reid’s hand when he came out of his pocket with a blue latex glove for you to wear. You put it on, switching places with Morgan so you could kneel down beside the body. You put your ungloved hand on the ground to support yourself, and then inserted your fingers into the cavity - the hole between the ribs that the UnSub had made. 

Luckily, you didn’t have to reach too far inside before you felt something. Though, because of the slight decomposition of the body and the bloat from the sun beating down, you did have some trouble getting a good grip on the item to pull it out. 

Naturally, your discomfort with the situation caused your dark sense of humor to act up. You needed the comfort and you barely thought about the odd joke before it left your lips. 

“God, it’s like a fucking fleshlight in here,” You groaned, disgusted laced through your voice as you finally hooked your fingers around the object and managed to pull it out of the wound. 

Morgan chuckled at the joke and held out an evidence bag for you (which he had gotten from one of the uniformed officers on the scene). Before any of you could truly analyze the item that you had just pulled out of the body cavity, a voice trampled over your thoughts as you dropped the item into the plastic bag. 

“Don’t you mean flashlight?” Reid piped up, so eager to correct you, as always. “Also, how is that comparable?” 

You looked up at Reid with awe. 

For a moment, you wondered if he was fucking with you. 

But the look of genuine confusion plastered across his features - something so rare for the certified genius. That look made you realize that he genuinely didn’t know what a fleshlight was. He had no idea what you were talking about. 

Your insides tingled with glee at this realization. 

Morgan sighed when he saw the look that you and Reid exchanged. You, wearing filthy, smug dawning and Reid painted entirely with cluelessness. He hated where the exchange was going, knowing how shameless you always were in conversation. He quickly tried to distract from the interaction. 

“So, this looks like a horseshoe-” Morgan said, motionting to the object in the evidence bag. 

“No, I meant fleshlight.” You said, quickly trampling over Morgan’s words. “F-L-E-S-H-L-I-G-H-T. Fleshlight. Do you not know what that means?” 

This caused Morgan to sigh sharply and shake his head. 

You took off the glove with a snap and tossed it away, happy to be rid of the smell. 

You stood back to your full height, entirely intrigued by Reid’s continued confusion. 

“It could represent luck. Maybe a casino?” Morgan tried in vain to distract the two of you from the conversation once again. 

Maybe he was trying to preserve Reid’s naive innocence, something you were determined to dismantle piece by piece because it gave you intense joy to see the shock cross his features whenever you explained outrageous concepts to him. The time you had explained to him what a ‘blumpkin’ was, you hadn’t stopped laughing for hours when he could hardly believe you. 

“The nearest casino is 45.6 miles away, it’s far outside the UnSub’s geographical comfort zone.” Reid said, quickly dismissing Morgan’s thread of conversation before he turned back to you. “And no, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is it a coroner’s term?” 

You let out a harsh snort at this. You had gotten a degree in mortuary science before you became a Profiler (likely something to thank for your strong stomach). But it was your other area of ‘study’ that made you an expert in this. 

“No, honey, it’s not.” You quickly answered. 

There was a slight flash through his features when you called him ‘honey’. You weren’t sure if it was shock or displeasure, but either way he quickly straightened his face and went back to intrigue. He stared at you with his full attention, ready for you to explain it to him. He was ready to learn and catalog the information in that big brain of his.

It was something you found entirely endearing. 

“L/N, please, don’t-” Morgan begged you not to explain it any further, once again wanting to keep Reid in the dark. 

Mostly, he wanted to save himself from the embarrassment of witnessing the interaction between the two of you. 

“What?” You chuckled sharply, turning to Morgan. “There are some things the genius still needs to learn, apparently.” 

Reid rolled his eyes at this. He didn’t want to admit that it was true. 

“The other night I had to explain to him what the distinct difference between a Butt Dial and a Booty Call is,” You continued, giving an example to prove your point. “Because he walked into the bullpen and loudly announced to JJ and Elle that he was sorry that he booty called me at 3am and woke me up.” 

Morgan choked on his laughter when you explained this. 

“Dude, seriously?” He posed, raising a brow at Reid. 

“I fell asleep with my phone in my back pocket when I was reading Voltaire.” Reid explained, a heavy blush falling over his cheeks. “I thought - I thought -” 

“Okay, playboy, I’m gonna go call Hotch about this,” Morgan announced, motioning toward the evidence bag. “And I’m gonna pretend not to hear anything that’s happening over here.” 

Morgan walked off to the car, and Reid turned to you with a defeated look cast over his features. 

“I do appreciate when you explain these kinds of things to me.” He told you softly. “It… it saves me from future embarrassment.” 

As much as you enjoyed the shock factor of watching Spencer’s innocence melt away when you explained such crude things so abruptly - that was also part of your motivation. You knew that as much as he was a genius - had stunning intellect on paper, could recite statistics by heart - he didn’t have the kind of social skills or social knowledge that you did. 

“Do you really wanna know what I was talking about before?” You posed, giving him one last chance to preserve that innocence. 

He nodded, ever thirsty to chase an unanswered question. 

You held back a giggle. 

“A fleshlight is also called a pocket pussy.” You told him, launching into a quick, efficient explanation for his confusion so that he could have his question answered. 

“What?” He gaped, having the most beautifully dumb look on his face as the words left his lips. 

“It’s a sex toy.” You told him. 

His face scrunched even further into bewilderment, and you knew that now he was simply jumping through mental hoops, wondering what kind of sex toy a ‘pocket pussy’ could be. So you decided to make your explanation a bit more detailed. 

“It’s a…” You thought for a moment about how to explain it to someone who had never seen one before. “A kind of tube? Usually in the shape of a large flashlight, and on the inside there’s a silicone vagina, or sometimes a silicone anus, and it’s meant to simulate intercourse the same way that a dildo can simulate intercourse by going into a vagina. Or an anus, of course. You do know what a dildo is, right?” 

Reid quickly nodded his head - that bright flush even fresher on his cheeks as a deep thoughtfulness came over his features. 

“Yeah. Y-yeah. I got it.” He quickly stuttered out, assuring you that he now fully understood. 

“Cool.” You said, walking by him and thumping him on the shoulder for reassurance that the conversation was over. 

“Wait, is that the hand that you - inside? You haven’t washed your hands yet!” 

“I wore a glove, Reid!” 

… 

Turns out the horseshoe had a unique stamping on it from a closed down metalworks business. Four thousand square feet of abandoned building, perfect for the UnSub to make his ‘art’ inside. He had intended for the clue to lead the team to a barn where he had staged the next corpse, but you broke into the building and caught him in the act of drugging another woman before she was killed. 

The state of the building was horrifying - the limbs of the other victims strewn about, a lot of them put on display like trophies. 

Overall, you would call it a good day. There was a life saved. 

On the way back home, Spencer could barely make eye contact with you while on the jet. His eyes constantly flickered away from you with purpose whenever you looked near him. The two of you played Gin Rummy and you had to remind Reid to take his turn several times. There was even one point where he won a hand and you had to tell him so - he claimed that he had ‘forgotten the rules’. As if. 

You couldn’t figure out why he was acting so strangely. You wanted to chalk it up to the harshness of the case, the graphic nature of things - but you both had seen much worse. The ‘fleshlight’ conversation was so minimal on your radar, such a shameless moment for you. It was something you considered so entirely regular as an interaction on the rollercoaster of all things bizarre that was Spencer Reid. You were barely even thinking about it. 

You had no clue that it was racing through his mind at top speed as he remembered your words from earlier that day. 

… 

Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

He wasn’t sure why it had never occurred to him before. Sure, there were plenty of things he didn’t know, like you said. Plenty of things he was curious about, but far too shy to look up. Plenty of things he didn’t want to get caught looking up out of fear of embarrassment. 

He knew some things about sex toys. He knew far more about the history of sex toys than he did about modern sex toys. He could tell you that Cleopatra had owned one of the first rudimentary vibrators, made from the shell of a hollowed out gourd filled with bees. But if he walked into a sex shop today, he probably wouldn’t know what half the stuff was or what it was used for. 

When he thought about what you had told him, it only made sense. 

Of course there would be some kind of solution, some kind of ‘opposite’ to a silicone penis used to simulate sex inside a vagina. 

(“Or an anus, of course.”) 

Those words flying out of your mouth so casually had sent Reid’s imagination flying into an array of interesting directions. Of course he knew that plenty of men liked to partake in anal stimulation for pleasure. There were no particular statistics about this that came to mind, because it was never something he had directly read a study about. 

It was something Reid had always been curious about, because he did know that prostate stimulation was often considered to be the height of pleasure for men. 

(Spencer’s attraction to men was a can of worms that he would leave untouched and attend to another day. The innate warmth that he felt when he looked at Morgan was something he always felt the need to suppress. Even though it was quite literally impossible for him, he was still trying to forget the involuntary reaction he had when he looked at a gay porn magazine that his classmates had left in his locker as a joke when he was thirteen.) 

For the most part, his mind was hyper-fixating on your explanation of that object he had never even heard of before. The antithesis of a dildo, the supposed inversion of the male genitalia in a more portable form. 

A pocket pussy. 

You talked about it so casually, explained it so perfectly. You spoke about it in such a way that it left Reid’s mind whirring, wondering what such an object could specifically look like. Of course, he knew what a vagina looked like. In theory. 

Yes, he was a virgin. 

He actually wondered if he fit that definition exactly. He knew that most people considered virginity to be a milestone passed once they had participated in full blown intercourse for the first time. But he wondered if what he had done would ‘count’ as losing his virginity. It was something he would have asked you, would have wanted your social colloquial opinion on - if he wasn’t so embarrassed about being a virgin in the first place. (Or maybe being a virgin, he still wasn’t too sure.) 

He had been touched by a woman before, but only once. 

After he and Lila Archer had climbed out of the pool, before the team had arrived, she had kissed him on the mouth again and continued to thank him for his ‘bravery’ and ongoing protection in a very interesting way. And before he could truly process it or stop her (due to the intense unprofessionalism) - his pants were down and her mouth was on him. Because of his inexperience, it had lasted a whopping three minutes. (According to Spencer’s impeccable memory and the fact that he had been glancing between the top of her head and a clock on the wall, worried they would get caught, he knew for a fact that it had been three minutes and fourteen seconds to be exact.) 

Which, at the time, was lucky. Because as she licked off her lips and looked up at him through her lashes, Morgan called out his name through the house, finally looking for them. He had rushed to straighten his clothes and look normal - but because Morgan caught them both looking incredibly guilty, he had hounded Reid for days about the ‘details’. Reid gave him none. 

But that had been his only experience with a woman sexually. His only experience with anybody, for that matter. So any of his knowledge about vaginas was based entirely on pictures; scientific diagrams, and renaissance art. He was never gutsy enough to buy porn for himself. 

He tried to imagine what a silicone vagina would look like - how one would fit molded into a plastic tube. He tried to imagine how it would feel to stick his penis into one. 

Of course, he had plenty of experience with masturbation. 

His instincts had taken over at the right age for that. Even though his brain was always advanced well beyond his years, puberty kicked in just the same. He had been a hormonal teenager just like everyone else. (Of course, he was the only one going to CalTech getting a PhD in chemistry, but he was right on track in terms of his physical development.) 

And naturally, his imagination often ran away with him whenever he had the time alone to masturbate now that he was an adult. 

One of the things he thought about most often when he masturbated was you. 

The fact that you were so self-assured, so confident, the fact that nothing could shake you. It always made Spencer imagine you pinning him down, taking control of him, kissing him hard. He had orgasmed in his hand a great many nights, imagining you on top of him - imagining what you might feel like around him, on top of him, riding him. 

He found it intensely difficult to pay attention to Gin Rummy when all of these thoughts were running through his mind. 

… 

You barely remembered the fleshlight conversation at all. Barely remembered it, that is, until you were on your way to work the next morning. 

There was a small fender bender between two cars on your normal route and the traffic build-up around it caused you to deviate. Because of that, you just happened to drive by your favorite sex shop. The sign caught your eye, and you figured: you were already late. There was a great coffee place across the street. You could grab yourself a latte if you parked. 

You were surprised that a sex shop would be open so early in the morning, but you were glad that you made the stop. Usually, you would have taken your time to browse. You liked to see what was new, especially in terms of costumes and lingerie. 

You didn’t have a long term partner to impress, but sometimes you did like to strut around the house in lingerie (in your fleeting free time away from the BAU) just to make yourself feel good. That, and it was always fun to see the look on a date’s face when you gave the sensual promise of ‘slipping into something more comfortable’ and then came back in a latex nurse’s outfit and six inch red heels. 

Unfortunately, today you were low on time and very set on what you wanted. 

You went straight to the wall of toys and zoned in on the selection of fleshlights. You picked out the most ‘basic’ one you could find. You didn’t want to assume Spencer’s preferences, but you picked one that resembled a pussy rather than an ass. 

It was on the expensive side, but you knew the look on Spencer’s face when you gave it to him would more than pay it off in your mind. That and imagining him using it, knowing that it would be far too tempting of a gift. He would never be brave enough to buy something like this for himself and once it was in his hands when he was alone, he would be far too curious not to use it - yeah, it was definitely worth it. 

You walked past a rack of lube on your way to the cash register and realized that it would be rude to give this kind of gift without a bottle of lube in accompaniment. So you bought a bottle of your favorite water based lubricant. An unscented one, knowing that Spencer was a no-frills kind of guy, even though you usually bought a strawberry scented one for yourself. 

You got the items put in a discreet, labelless black bag and then got yourself a latte. And you couldn’t help but to grab an almond croissant for Spencer because when you spotted it in the pantry case, you did think of him. 

Of course, when you walked into the office (the black bag safely in the backseat of your car) Hotch just happened to be walking by with a handful of files on the way to his office. 

“You’re late.” He commented, not looking up from the paper he was reading. 

“Traffic was hell.” You fired back. 

“Yeah, and I’m sure that latte just magically transported into your hand.” He said, his tone blank and unreadable as usual. “I want all your reports about the case on my desk by tonight.” 

Usually, there was a grace period of two or three days to get the reports about a case done. But clearly, Hotch didn’t like your tardiness. You considered it worth it. 

“Yes sir.” You mumbled under your breath. 

He didn’t say anything else after that, simply retreated off to his office. 

You figured he couldn’t be that mad. He knew the job could be an emotional strain, and it was okay to deviate from such a hard routine every now and then. Especially because now you were going to be spending the next five hours writing out all the gory details of how you had pulled a horseshoe out of a woman’s dead torso in order to catch a killer. 

You walked over to your desk, which was right in front of Reid’s, and placed down the paper bag with the croissant on top of one of his files. This easily distracted him from whatever he had been writing - most likely one of his reports about the case. 

“Almond croissant,” You said, placing down your coffee cup and placing your purse underneath your desk. “Your favorite, right?” 

“It is.” He grinned at you. “Thank you.” 

It was that sweet little smile, those big kind eyes staring up at you through the lenses of his glasses like you hung the stars in the sky - it was that bit of sweetness that got you through writing your reports. So yeah, it probably wasn’t just dark humor and nihilism that helped you keep your sanity. It had a lot to do with the pretty boy you got to sit across from every single day. 

You worked on your reports. And yeah, you took too many coffee breaks, including a long lunch break with Elle, Penelope, and JJ where they insisted on discussing your ‘crush’ on Spencer. 

You denied it. 

Elle profiled your lie (which you insisted was not a lie) and JJ laughed about it. Penelope started humming wedding music under her breath and you threatened to spit in her salad. 

By the time you actually got the reports done, it was late. Everyone else had gone home - except for Spencer, who was still sitting at his desk across from you with his lamp on and an air of quiet concentration. When you got finished with the last report, you slammed the file closed and let out a sigh, leaning back in your chair and running your hands harshly over your face. 

“Finally done?” Spencer’s delicate voice inquired, peeking up over the median between the desks to look at you. 

“Yes, finally.” You grinned back at him. “You done too?” 

You couldn’t help but to ask. Spencer was always incredibly quick with his reports, simply by the nature of the speed at which he could read and compose writing. You wondered what exactly he had been doing at his desk for the past few hours. Perhaps he had been looking through old case files, possibly unsolved ones, thinking up new leads while there was no pressure looming over his brilliant mind. 

“I finished up at three o’clock.” He said. 

You glanced at your watch - it was getting close to nine. That made you entirely curious about what he had been doing, sitting at his desk for that many hours. What had he felt the need to stay so late for? 

“So what has been keeping you busy this late into the night, Doctor?” You asked. 

“I was reading.” He told you honestly, motioning toward a thick novel that he had in his hands. 

“How many books do you have over there?” You chuckled. 

Again, you knew that because of the intense speed he was capable of reading at, it would take a lot of books to keep him busy. 

“Just one.” He answered, easily catching your eye and maintaining eye contact. 

Both of you knew what this meant. 

For a while, he had been rereading through old case files. But, not wanting to haunt himself with those gory details, he had chosen instead to simply sit at his desk and reread the same book over and over again because he had wanted to keep you company. 

What you didn’t know was that his mind had still been heavily plagued by thoughts of your sex toy discussion from the other day, so he wasn’t exactly reading at lightning speed as per usual. Instead - letting his imagination wander, thinking about where he would get a silicone vagina if he wanted to buy one and if a toy would feel as good as yours. What yours would feel like around his penis if he ever got the minuscule chance to actually experience it. 

“The Hollow Men by T. S. Eliot - but um, I was waiting for you, actually.” Spencer announced, making his intentions entirely clear, just in case you hadn’t already figured it out. “I was hoping maybe we could get dinner together? We haven’t - we haven’t hung out in a while.” 

He seemed nervous asking you this, even though you were always enthusiastic in welcoming his invitations to spend time together outside of work. 

Last month, he had brought you to a conservatory housing and actively breeding endangered species of butterflies in order to save the populations from extinction. It was a building full of plant life, an indoor jungle filled with the beautiful insects that took your breath away. Listening to him ramble on about the different species and their latin names, the patterns on their wings and their purpose of camouflage - it had been one of the most pleasant, most romantic non-dates of your life. 

You didn’t understand why others on the team acted like his presence, especially his ramblings, could be a bother. 

“Sounds good.” You told him with a smile. 

He smiled back at you fondly. 

“I have to drop these on Hotch’s desk and then we can go.” You explained as you stood up and began gathering your files. “But uh, I don’t really feel like going out? I’m way more in the mood for take-out and a comfy couch.” 

“There’s a good Chinese place a few minutes away from my apartment.” He told you. “If you consider my couch comfortable?” 

You resisted the urge to tell him that you loved his apartment because the smell of books penetrated every inch of it; the scent of yellowing, worn paper living there like the comfort of a library. But you held that back - choosing instead to say something else. 

“The comfiest,” You grinned at him as you walked by with the armful of files. 

… 

You weren’t entirely sure when you were going to give the ‘gifts’ to Spencer. 

A large part of you thought that it would be best to have an out, in case he got embarrassed, or hated it. Most likely, you would wait until after dinner and hand him the bag on your way out without telling him what it was. Which was why you shoved the black plastic bag holding the lube and the sex toy into your oversized purse while Spencer was distracted with carrying the takeout bag toward his apartment. 

One thing that had not surprised you about Spencer when you found it out: he didn’t have basic cable. Part of you was surprised that someone who was so pro-book and anti-technology even had a TV at all. But apparently he had some favorites that he couldn’t stand to miss out on, like Doctor Who and Star Wars. So he had a DVD player hooked up to a very small TV that was banished off to a corner of his living room. A device that was dwarfed by bookcases, which did make a lot of sense. 

He said that he spent so much time reading and away at work, traveling for cases that it just didn’t make sense to pay for cable. He said that he could get his mental enrichment from reading, and his nerdy pleasure from rewatching his old favorites, and apparently he got the news from listening to the radio. The radio. Sometimes you wondered if he was Benjamin Button - an old man who had somehow gotten into the body of a twenty five year old. It truly mystified you. 

Either way, it meant that you spent dinner with season three of Friends on as background noise. Friends being a box set of DVDs that you had gifted him because you considered it to be classic television that he needed to see. The first time he had asked Morgan to his face if a girl had ‘friendzoned’ him with full confidence in what the term meant, you knew that Spencer had been watching it in his free time. 

You easily fell into the comfort of your surroundings, enjoying the comforting canned laughter of the show, paired with the delightfully greasy food and Spencer’s ongoing commentary - both about the show, and about other, completely unrelated things. You were so relaxed that you had almost completely forgotten about the gift you had waiting in your bag for him. 

It was such a strange coincidence that he had been the one to bring it up. 

He offered to take your plate into the kitchen, leaving behind a waft of soy sauce as he went. You were wonderfully full and reached to the small side table where you were nursing a half empty (now warm) diet coke. You took a few sips from it, and heard Spencer’s footsteps shuffling back into the room. He hovered behind you as you watched Monica rush out of her bedroom with her phone pressed to her chest, concerned about calling Richard. 

You were so focused on the show that you almost didn’t hear Spencer’s shy, tentative voice when he spoke. 

“I’m sorry about the other day.” He said quietly. 

“Hmm?” You looked over your shoulder at him, wondering what he meant. 

He was rather nervously fidgeting with his hands, standing in the white glow of the TV in the dimly lit room - the only other source of light being a small lamp on the side table and dimness of the light above the stove shining in from the kitchen at his back. 

You grabbed up the remote and paused the show, silencing the characters and their temporary problems in order to address the stress that Spencer was very clearly feeling - his whole body tight, hunched over, his face quite tight with worry. 

“I’m sorry about the other day.” He repeated himself, slightly louder this time - perhaps not more confident, but simply not drowned out by any further noise. 

You didn’t want to butt in, and gave him the room to explain himself slowly. 

“I - I didn’t mean to put you in such an… uncomfortable position. If I don’t understand the things you say, I should just pull you aside and ask you privately what you meant.” He sighed. “I - I know that I need to learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes. It’s something I’m working on.” 

You became flooded with peril at this. Had he really thought that he had inconvenienced you? Put you in an ‘uncomfortable’ position? 

“Come sit down.” You told him, beginning to feel annoyed with craning your neck back to get a proper look at him. 

Like a dog being beckoned, he couldn’t help but to follow your order. 

He sunk down against the other arm of the three seater couch, leaving quite a bit of space between the two of you. He had his arms folded - closed off, clearly nervous. His eyes were focused on the leg of his pants, distinctly refusing to look at you. Perhaps he was afraid he would find disgust or disappointment among your features. You turned off the TV completely then and angled your body to face him before you continued speaking. 

“First of all, you don’t need to learn to keep your mouth shut.” You told him easily. “I’m not sure who, or what gave you that impression, but it’s not true. Whenever you open your mouth, something brilliant comes out, and we’re all better for it.” 

Reid’s lips flexed into a smile at the intense direct praise, and this made you happy. 

“Second, you didn’t make me uncomfortable the other day.” You told him honestly. “I meant what I said - despite you being a genius, there are still some things you need to learn. And I’m more than happy to teach you.” 

These words sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine. 

There were so many things that he would beg for you to teach him if given the chance. But he didn’t want to embarrass himself. And most importantly, he didn’t want to come off as creepy or desperate toward someone as perfect as you. 

When he dared to glance up at you, you were boldly staring him down. You wore a small smirk across your face. Heat began to stir in Spencer’s gut, and he couldn’t help but to wonder if you were thinking the exact same things that he was. 

You couldn’t be. You couldn’t possibly want someone like him. You couldn’t possibly want a nervous, inexperienced ‘virgin’ like him. 

Oh, but you did. 

You were thinking all of the same things that he was. You were imagining giving him the most intricate ‘hands on’ lessons for everything he had ever been curious about. Giving him the most close-up, detailed tour of the female anatomy he ever could have asked for. 

“Spencer,” You called out his name gently. 

This forced his attention up from fiddling with a loose thread on the edge of the couch cushion - clearly something out of nervousness - and got him to look at your face. You wondered how someone who was six feet tall could look so delicately small, purposefully slumped over in his seat like that. You wondered what his pretty features would look like warped by an orgasm. 

“What are you thinking about right now?” You asked him. You had to know if he was truly on the same filthy wavelength as you. 

He knew he had to make up a lie. Because he wouldn’t be brave enough to speak the words out loud. He was too shy to actually tell you that he was wondering what it would be like to bury his face between your breasts, that he wanted to drown there. 

“You… you did get me curious.” Spencer admitted quietly. “About the… the - uh-” 

He trailed off, clearly too nervous to say the word for himself now that he knew the filthy implications behind it. 

“About the fleshlight?” You finished the sentence for him, wanting to encourage him. 

You wanted to make him feel brave about the topic. You were too curious about where this interaction was heading - you couldn’t bear to have him get shy on you now. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, nervously clearing his throat. 

He went back to fidgeting with the edge of the couch cushion, once again purposefully looking anywhere but at your face. You stared him down with purpose, all too intrigued by whatever might come out of his mouth next. Especially with the tense, thoughtful expression dipped along his eyebrows - the same one he got when he was reading or staring at maps. 

“I was thinking - I was curious - curious about - about where someone might get one of those.” He finally announced. 

He put intense stress on the word ‘where’ - his voice low, almost a lulling whisper in the already quiet apartment. He was speaking as though he was asking you about something incredibly illicit. Like a college kid asking where he could buy weed or a lonely man in his thirties inquiring about a prostitute. Though sex toys were perfectly legal, you guessed that for someone like Spencer, this was just as trepidacious. 

You felt a sense of eager giddiness stir within you. You resisted the urge to bounce on the spot like an excitable, hyper kid on their birthday waiting to open their present. Even though he wasn’t looking at your face, you forced yourself to hold back a grin. 

You didn’t want to ruin the surprise, after all. It was just too perfect. 

“Well… lucky for you, Doctor Reid,” You told him, easily capturing his attention with the use of his proper title and the fact that you shifted slightly in your seat, reaching down by your feet to grab your bag. “I happen to have a spare one right here.” 

Spencer watched you cautiously, his neck still sloped with anxious shyness. He almost had to believe that this was a prank, and you would pull a tape recorder out of your bag and laugh because you had captured his perversion for everyone to know about. 

But of course - you weren’t that cruel. You were honest, and you were definitely not half as shy as he was. In fact, he would go so far as to say that you didn’t have a bashful bone in your body. 

So of course, it made sense that it was not a big deal for you to walk into one of those stores and simply purchase that kind of toy. 

Spencer watched eagerly as you pulled out a cardboard box. He heard the rustle of plastic inside your bag and guessed that it was a shopping bag. But he couldn’t be too focused on that once your arm extended out to him, showing him what the rectangular box was. 

Spencer had never seen a sex toy in person before, but he quickly realized that they were packaged similarly to any other product. A clean, white background with a picture of the product on it, several claims and promises (‘new and improved design!’) (‘easy to clean!’) (‘soft and durable!’) - and a picture of someone smiling on the front, unconsciously promising a good user experience. In this case, it was a stereotypically beautiful woman in lingerie holding the… item, as though it were comparable… to her… to her parts. 

“Open it.” You encouraged him, wagging the box in his direction. “Unless you don’t want it. I could return it.” 

It was then that Spencer realized he had been sitting with his hands numbly in his lap for several silent moments, staring at the box in your extended hand. 

“Oh!” He said quietly. “No! I mean - yes. I - um.” Rather than trying to articulate it, he reached out and grabbed the item, finding it surprisingly heavy. It easily compared to the weight of a good book in his hands. “Thank you.” 

You would be lying if you said that watching him inspect the sex toy as though it were an object from an alien planet wasn’t the hottest thing you had seen in your entire life. Doctor Reid approached this the same way that he approached everything else in life: with intense scrutiny. Clearly his analytical mind was working hard as he carefully peeled back the cardboard flap of the box and slid out his prize. 

You had to wonder if that mind of his ever shut off. 

You wondered if you could make him dumb and cum drunk, make his head completely empty. You wondered what he would look like mindlessly chasing an orgasm, begging for release with absolutely no statistics or scientific papers running around inside that big brain of his. You wanted to see him completely worn down, just his base instincts at play. You wanted to see him with just the need to fuck and cum and have his release pounding between his ears as he whined desperately for more. 

There was a sharp pain between your legs, intense arousal at the thought of it. 

That arousal only increased when Spencer dropped the box in his lap and then - like man walking on the moon for the first time - he held the toy delicately in one hand and popped the cap off with the other. Clearly, it was a big discovery for him. Watching his eyes widen with shock did bring you an intense joy. It also immediately made you wonder if seeing the silicone pussy was his first time seeing a pussy so up close and personal at all. That thought only made your own cunt throb with need. 

What he did next nearly sent you into orbit. 

He gently placed the cap down on his lap, and without looking at you, his thoughtful eyes still entirely focused on the fake pussy - he reached toward it and oh-so-gently stroked his fingers across it. From your perspective, with the angle he was holding it at, you had a perfect view of his gorgeous hand delicately exploring the toy. Your cunt fluttered, clenching around nothing, and you knew that at this point you were definitely sitting in soaked underwear. If you didn’t know Spencer any better, you would have guessed that he was doing this on purpose, to tease you. 

But that’s what made it so perfect - he was just naive, just exploring these things for the first time. 

When he dipped two of his fingertips into the opening of the toy, you had to consciously hold back a moan. It was almost too hot watching his strong, thick fingers get swallowed up by the soft entrance of the toy. Of course, imagining how those fingers would feel dipping into your pussy with such tender grace. 

“Wow.” Spencer said quietly, almost a gasp under his breath as he pulled his fingers back, in pure awe at this new discovery. “I didn’t expect it to be so soft.”

“It’ll feel even better when it’s wet.” 

The words came so naturally from your lips, you couldn’t have stopped them if you tried. 

Spencer looked up at you with a distinct pinkness spreading over his cheeks, clearly imagining that tight, soft wetness wrapped around his cock. 

You dared to take a glance downward and surely enough - beside where the empty box was sitting in his lap, a bulge was forming in his slacks, pressing harshly against the zipper. You deeply resisted the urge to reach over and grope that bulge, not wanting to scare him by coming on too strong. Instead, you put that grabby hand back into your purse to get the other thing you had to give to him. 

“Another lesson for the genius,” You announced, extending out the bottle of lube for him to see it. This time he was quicker to grab it, bringing it up to his face to inspect it with thoughtful eyes. “Water based lubricant is best. It’s water soluble, so it’s easy to clean up. And unlike other kinds, it won’t wear down the silicone of the toy over time or wear through the latex of condoms.” 

You bringing up condoms caused a jolt in Spencer’s chest. Were you just giving him some friendly advice about safe sex or - or did you actually intend to have intercourse with him? Would there be a need for condoms between the two of you in the future? 

The words gave him a temporary bold streak (that and the sexual adrenaline pumping through his system) and he decided to voice his thoughts before he became too shy. 

“Can I ask you something?” He asked quietly, his voice taking on that sweet, mousy quality that it usually did whenever he got nervous. 

“Of course.” You nodded. 

You thought that he might have more questions about the lube or the toy. But what he said next - combined with the fact that he looked at you shyly through his lashes like a doll, like he knew exactly what he was doing - absolutely knocked the wind out of you. 

“You… You said that you like teaching me things. So - do you think-?” 

He paused for a moment, clearing his throat. 

“Could - could you give me a demonstration?” He asked, his voice still shy and sweet. 

Your lips gaped in shock - at first you thought you had misheard him. And when the words fully penetrated your ears, you thought that you had somehow misunderstood him. He couldn’t possibly mean-? He wanted you to use the toy on him? 

You were shocked that Spencer Reid was openly asking for something like that. 

Seeing the shock and slight confusion across your features, Spencer’s mouth raced past his better judgment. His lips plowed over that thing in the back of his brain nagging at him to shut up - and he kept on going. 

“It only seems logical that, when tackling something new, especially something this… skill-based, I would need to be shown what to do.” He explained, his mouth running off in that way it always did when he sounded far too much like he knew what he was talking about. “It seems advisable to be shown by someone with more experience. Experience that I don’t have. I need you to show me. Please.” 

The last word came out as a breathy plea from him. You could have easily gotten stuck on the fact that he had basically just admitted to you that he was a virgin. But instead, him simply saying that word: ‘please’, begging to you like your attention was the most precious thing in the world; it kickstarted something in your brain and switched on the dominant persona that you had always wanted to use with him. 

The air shifted in the room then, and you both knew it. It was like a fire crackling around you. Spencer didn’t know what to do with it, but luckily, you did. He waited with anxious breath for your guidance, your instruction. 

“You need me to show you?” You repeated his words, using the buttery sweet voice that you usually did when you had someone so willing and pliant for you. 

Instinctively, you reached over to him and gently cupped his cheek. He easily leaned into the touch, shuddering with delight and letting out a small sigh as you made contact with his skin for the first time. It was the first time you had really touched him, aside from casual hugs of comfort after stressful situations that the job naturally gave the two of you. But this was entirely different. 

He hummed in affirmation to answer your question, his eyes growing large with lust, pupils blown out as he melted into you. 

“What do you want me to show you, pretty boy?” You asked, running your thumb along his bottom lip, admiring how absolutely pink his mouth was. 

You hoped that you could prompt a genuine answer out of him - get him to say the words. You had never heard Spencer talk about anything crude before, and you wondered if he was even capable of talking dirty. You hoped that if he wouldn’t say the words on his own, you could coach him into doing it. You could only imagine the satisfaction of getting that smart mouth to utter such filthy things. 

“I want…” Spencer swallowed harshly, clearly having a difficult time with his mouth drying out now that you had a hand on him, even though the touch was fairly ‘innocent’. “I want you to show me… everything.”

The intense emphasis that he put on the word sent sparks flying inside of you. 

It sounded like he wanted a lot more than just a ‘demonstration’ of the toy. It sounded like he wanted a lot more than just a one night stand to get off. 

Intense want flared up of you. 

The temptation to own him, to make him yours… the temptation to take all of his first and have him tied to you like a lost puppy because of it - it was an intense one. But you wouldn’t hurt him, no. You would do it right. You would own him in that way because he wanted it just as badly as you did. 

“Spencer,” 

You said his name suddenly, harconing for his attention with it. You stroked your thumb along his cheek before you pulled the touch away completely. His head bobbed forward slightly to chase your hand, but he let you go without protest. 

“If we’re going to do this, there has to be rules.” You told him firmly. “If I’m going to be your teacher, you have to listen to me. Teachers need rules, right?” 

Spencer nodded vigorously at this. 

“Of course. Yeah - yeah. You’re right.” He eagerly agreed. Then of course, he asked the obvious question. “What are the rules?” 

You beamed a smile at him, loving his enthusiasm. 

You knew that he would be a good boy. He was so eager to follow rules, to learn. Your body began tingling with delight at the thought of him looking up at you with hazy eyes, asking for his next command. 

You had to forcibly clear your head. Right now you had to be level headed in order to teach him the rules. 

“Okay the first rule - the most important one,” You prefaced, causing Spencer to straighten up slightly, showing his attentiveness, an eager student ready to learn. “Is that you need to pick a safeword. A word you can say during the scene so that I can know if you’re uncomfortable or if you need to stop.” 

“‘The scene’?” Spencer asked, repeating back the phrase to you. “Also - why can’t the safeword just be ‘stop’, or ‘no’? Wouldn’t you just stop things if I said ‘no’?” 

You decided to tackle his questions one at a time. 

“Calling it a ‘scene’ - it’s lingo.” You said. “You know that everything comes with its own set of linguistics.” You told him, playing into his pre-existing knowledge. He nodded at this. 

You then continued your explanation. 

“A ‘scene’ means… any type of sexual play. Some people call it ‘playtime’. It’s lingo that exists because for a lot of people, sex is much more than just intercourse. It can start with speech and behavior and any interactions that they have with their partner when they’re alone. Like foreplay. So a safeword needs to be included in those moments too, in case someone needs to call timeout.” 

Spencer nodded at this. It made him wish that he had developed a safeword with Lila Archer. Not because he hadn’t enjoyed the oral sex - but because to this day, he still shuddered at the possibility of being embarrassed by someone walking in on them, or the consequences if someone found out about the improprieties of it all. 

“As far as the safeword being ‘no’, or ‘stop’...” You took the time to find the right words to explain it. 

Spencer waited patiently, feeling curious about this. 

“I will always look out for your safety, and if you seem uncomfortable, I’ll ask you if you’re okay.” You assured him, giving him a gentle pat on the knee. Spencer smiled at this, and you enjoyed that you had comforted him with these words. 

“But sometimes ‘no’ doesn’t work.” You went on to explain. “Like… if I asked you something like ‘do you want me to stop?’ and you say ‘no’, that is a positive affirmation to continue what I’m doing, but it uses a negative word. Same thing with the word ‘stop’. If you told me ‘don’t stop’ - but your voice was too quiet on the first word or I didn’t properly hear you, then I may stop when you wouldn’t want me to.” 

For the first time, Spencer felt as though he was the one being schooled. 

You telling him ‘I may stop when you don’t want me to’ had him drawing an image up in his head of you vigorously riding him, taunting him while you were so well composed and he was reduced to a stuttering mess because of your wetness clenching around him. With you mistaking his words for a signal of distress, and taking away your beautiful body before he got to orgasm. It would be tragic. 

He easily understood what you meant. 

“The point of a safeword,” You continued on. “Is that it stands out. It’s a word you would never otherwise say during playtime. A word that would never come up during sex - except for you signaling your discomfort. So when I hear that word, I know that we need to shift gears into aftercare.” 

“What’s aftercare?” Spencer asked, eager to learn another new term as it was introduced to him. 

Again, you were puzzled about how to explain it, how to put it into words for someone who had no clue what the word meant. 

These were things you had known about for years, words that were a natural part of your vocabulary now. Things you had been doing before you even knew the terms for it. It was strange having to explain it to someone so fresh. 

“It - um…” You thought for a moment. “Aftercare is what happens after a scene. It’s the period of time when you mentally and physically wind down, in order to take care of your body and mind. Because of the physical exertion and the endorphins, sex can be exhausting and mentally tedious, as much as it is fun. So - aftercare helps transition the body and mind back into non-sexual activities. Different people need different kinds of aftercare, but usually it’s things like: drinking water, eating a snack, cuddling, words of affirmation.” 

“That sounds nice.” Spencer said quietly. “Would you do that for me even - even though I’m not your boyfriend?” 

You held back what you instinctively wanted to say - that you wanted him to be your boyfriend. That you wanted to own him like a cute little pet and didn’t want any other woman (or man) to touch him. 

Instead, you went with the diplomatic answer. 

“Of course I would.” You told him. “Aftercare is part of being a good - a good teacher.” 

You quickly cut yourself off from using the word ‘dominant’ and replaced it with ‘teacher’ instead. You didn’t want to scare him with the idea that you would be intimidating, mean, cold - traditional ideas behind the term ‘dominant’. 

“I want to be good to you, Spence.” You quickly added on. 

His cock throbbed inside of his pants at this. 

“So, you have to pick your safeword.” You told him. “Something that stands out, something that will easily come to your mind.” 

Spencer took a moment, and you saw him take a sideways glance at the coffee table. The chess set that was there caught his eye, and that didn’t surprise you. 

“Bishop?” Spencer posed, looking at you with eyes that said he was absolutely searching for your approval. “Is that good?” 

“Yes, baby, that’s perfect.” You told him. 

If you did your job well enough as a dominant, then he wouldn’t need to use the word. 

You would be able to tell just by his body language and him voicing his enjoyment how far you should take things. And when he was comfortable enough, you would discuss other sexual acts, and what else you should try. Though, for tonight, you had a feeling you should take control without telling him too much of what you wanted to do. You didn’t need him getting shy on you just because of some dirty talk. 

“You said that was only the first rule,” Spencer mentioned, remembering what you had said. “What are the other rules?” 

“Well, the second rule is: you listen to me. You listen to everything I say. You do everything I say. You don’t question me.” You told him firmly. “Because I’m the teacher, I’m in charge.” 

Spencer wanted to question you then. He wanted to point out that this sounded like multiple rules, but the way you said ‘I’m in charge’ caused something inside of him to quake, and he easily fell under your authority. 

He nodded. 

“The next rule is: you speak when spoken to, Spencer.” You told him, your tongue sharp on the words. 

You were heavily enjoying ordering him around now. 

These were two roles that the two of you fell so naturally into: he was soft and submissive under your dominant energy, and he only wanted more as your ego thrived off his eager submission. It was the start of a beautiful relationship forming. 

“Yes.” He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” The title came flying out of his mouth before he could stop it, and then he instantly wanted to backpedal. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, I like that.” You told him with a grin. “Though, if you want to give me a title, call me Miss.” 

You held back from telling him the true title you desired. Again, not wanting to scare him away. Perhaps it was something you could ween him towards on another day. 

“Yes, Miss.” He corrected, nodding. “Uh - Miss? Is - is there anything else?” 

“Only two more things.” You told him. Of course, you didn’t want to overload him, but you wanted him to know your most important rules up front. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to explain. “You can’t touch me without asking first. And of course, you can’t touch me unless I give you permission.” 

This news cast the saddest puppy look across his features. Clearly, he was deeply disappointed by the thought that he wouldn’t be able to grope and grab at your body freely. He was upset by the thought that you would deny him access to touching you. You could definitely use that if he ever misbehaved. 

“And the last thing is: you can’t cum without my permission.” You told him, almost as if it were an afterthought. With any of your other partners, it would have been. Because it would have been a basic ground rule. 

“Come where?” Spencer asked, his brows knit together in the most adorably confused manner you had seen yet. 

Of course, he was confused. He had never before heard someone use the term ‘cum’ to refer to an orgasm. He was used to hearing that word - ‘come’ - paired with something else like ‘come here’. So he wondered what the hell you possibly meant by it. 

You found yourself grinning like the cat who ate the canary as you realized that you would also have to explain this piece of slang to him. 

“No, Spence, not C-O-M-E, like the verb. It’s C-U-M. It’s slang used interchangeably with the word ‘orgasm’.” You explained to him. “Sometimes it can be a verb. Like the act of cumming, it means orgasming. Or sometimes it’s a noun. Sometimes people use the word ‘cum’ instead of saying semen. ‘Cum’ is the fluid. As in: ‘I want your cum inside of me’.” 

You intentionally teased him with this example, saying it as casually as a straight forward grammar lesson, looking him in the eyes the entire time. His eyes lit up at your words - obviously, he had no clue that such a simple sentence could turn him on so much. But the words immediately painted a picture in his mind of that white, sticky fluid dripping down your inner thighs, put there by him. It was so perfect that it almost made him dizzy. 

When Spencer didn’t say anything, you continued with your ‘lesson’. 

“When I said that you can’t cum without my permission, I meant that you can’t have an orgasm unless I say so.” You told him with finality.  

He looked struck with worry at this. Partially at the idea that he wouldn’t get to have an orgasm if you didn’t give him permission, and partially at the thought that if he accidentally orgasmed without your permission, you would be angry with him and cut off all further sexual contact. 

“What’s wrong, Spence?” You had to ask. 

“How - how does that work?” He asked, all too curious at how he could stop himself from orgasming or how he could get your permission first. 

“Well, you know what it feels like when you’re about to have an orgasm, right?” You asked, really hoping that he at least masturbated regularly. You didn’t think you could have the burden of giving him his first ever orgasm. He nodded and this and you felt a small breath of relief leave you. “So, when you feel like that, you simply ask me if you’re allowed to cum. Ask me if you can cum.” 

“Will you let me?” Spencer asked nervously, sheepishly. You distinctly noticed how he avoided the word. He didn’t say the sentence as you had. You yearned to hear him say ‘will you let me cum?’ - but you knew you had to give him time to shake off his shyness. 

“If you’ve been a good boy, then yes.” You told him. “Good boys follow the rules. But I don’t think you’ll have any problems, Spence.” 

You saw him relax at this - any tension leaving his muscles. 

You conveniently left out the part where you might edge him, might not let him cum just for your own amusement. 

“I think that’s all for now.” You told him. “Now that we have the rules set - do you wanna play with your new toy?” 

Spencer’s face absolutely lit up at this. 

“Yes, please.” He said, his voice somehow still shy and quiet. “Yes, please, Miss.” 

Your stomach jolted with intense pleasure at his declaration. 

Spencer thought that you would simply grab the toy from him and unzip his pants. He was surprised when you stood up, and began looking around the room as though you were looking for something. But in alignment with the rules, he didn’t question you. He didn’t ask what you were looking for or why. Instead, he just sat there quietly and waited for your instructions. 

When you seemed satisfied with your idea, you then began moving around. You leaned down and pushed away the coffee table, pushing it as far back as it would go. This made a fair amount of space in front of the couch. And before Spencer could become truly curious about it, you turned to the side of the room - toward a space where he had a small table. 

It was meant to be a sort of ‘dining’ table, suitable for one or two people in an apartment like his. It had two chairs, but one of the chairs was piled up with books and the surface of the table had some files on it that he had taken home from work. He did sit on the other chair to eat occasionally - during the rare times he actually sat down and had a meal at home. 

You grabbed the empty chair - which was a wooden chair with a round back and decorative wooden bars coming off the seat, holding the back of it up. (Something Spencer had picked up at a yard sale.) And then you put the chair in the middle of the room, right in the space you had cleared from moving the coffee table. The chair was facing the couch - and it became apparent to Spencer then that this was a stage. 

You were either going to sit in that chair and watch him, or he was going to be the thing on display in the middle of the room. The idea of that happening - the idea of you watching him like a show, like he was something to admire - that put a twist in his stomach. It was something almost too daunting for him to conquer. He found himself swelling with shyness again, wanting to back down from this. 

He feared that he wouldn’t be able to impress you. He feared that he was gangly, thin, undesirable. He feared that his experience would steer him wrong somewhere and he would mess up terribly and turn you off. 

He thought that he wouldn’t be able to impress you. 

But he wanted to impress you so badly. He wanted you. He wanted your touch. He wanted to be a good boy for you, like you had said. 

“Give me your belt.” You said, turning to him expectantly and holding out your hand. 

“My - my belt?” He asked. 

Then, he immediately scolded himself inside as he realized that was questioning you, and against the rules. 

You let that one slide. He was still getting used to this, and it must have been an odd, confusing instruction to hear right off the bat. 

“Yes, your belt. I need it.” You said, still holding out your hand. “Come on.” 

Spencer stood up then, his hands and legs shaking slightly from nerves and the overwhelming lust. Although he was taller than you, he felt so entirely small as you stared at him, waiting patiently while his shaking hands struggled to undo the buckle and then slip the leather out of the belt loops.

When he finally handed it over to you, you took the belt in hand and inspected it for a moment before you quietly said ‘perfect’ under your breath. You then looked between Spencer and the chair - he was still wearing his work attire. A cardigan, a button up shirt and tie, his usual slacks, and his adorable dorky glasses. He had taken off his shoes at the door, revealing his oddly sweet mismatched socks. 

“Spencer,” 

You called his name, capturing his attention from where he was swaying on the spot, nervously fidgeting with the buttons on his cardigan to avoid looking at you. As soon as he looked up at you with those big, wet eyes, you felt confident in giving him your next instruction. 

“I want you to take off all your clothes. Except for your glasses and your socks.” You told him, giving him his first proper orders. 

He held his voice in his throat when he felt the need to question you about it, to ask you why. 

You wanted him to keep the glasses on because they brought an entirely dorky charm to him - you wanted to see if they would fog up when he became heated with lust. The socks? You thought they were cute, but it was mostly a test to see how closely he would follow the instructions. To test how well he would listen. 

He did as he was told. He stripped off his sweater, and then his tie, and then his watch, leaving his wrists nice and bare for you. His fingers began to shake slightly as he descended on the buttons of his shirt - clearly, he was feeling nervous once again, so you decided to give him some encouragement. 

“You’re being such a good boy, Spence.” You told him. “So good for me.” 

He let out a quiet breath at the praise - a precursor to a moan. It was something that compelled him to strip faster, and gave him a small boost of courage when reaching for the zipper of his pants. After he unzipped them - his erection clearly fighting to be freed of the fabric - your mouth began watering at the sight as he reached for the waistband of his pants and his underwear all at once and slid them down. 

A snake of surprising length popped out of his pants. His dick began bobbing around carelessly, smearing shiny precum all over his skin as he unhooked himself from the legs of his pants and put them aside. 

You had to marvel at it. 

You had never really thought about what Spencer might look like naked before. You had never allowed your mind to venture there. But now that you were seeing his cock: nine inches long, skinny and lean like he was, pale with a bright pink tip, sprouting from a thick thatch of dark pubic hair - it just made sense. He was tall and gangly, and so was his cock. It would be an impressive sword to impale yourself upon - but that would be for another day. 

Spencer caught you staring, of course. 

He had the urge to cover himself with his hands, and found himself clenching his fists by his sides because he figured that you wouldn’t like him trying to hide from you. 

He wondered if it looked weird. He wondered if you didn’t like it. He wondered-

“You’re beautiful, Spencer.” You said, your voice so drenched in utter sincerity that you almost broke into a gasp trying to get the words out. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Again, he wanted to question you - but didn’t. He wanted to be a good boy. He would follow the rules. 

“Th-thank you, Miss.” He muttered out quietly, almost unable to accept the compliment. 

“Come here, sit down.” You told him, motioning toward the chair. 

He nodded, his legs feeling rather numb as he moved to follow your instructions. When his ass made contact with the wooden surface of the chair, he let out a gasp at how cool it was compared to his heated skin. You quietly giggled at this, and then grabbed the belt from where you had put it down. He grew tense and curious once again when you walked behind him. 

You grabbed one of his wrists and began to guide it behind him, but he was so tense that you knew it would be uncomfortable for him. You eased your touch with a flat palm up his forearm and bicep, across his shoulder until you could press the weight of your thumb into the base of his neck. He moaned lightly at this, melting into the touch. 

“Relax, baby.” You urged. Spencer relaxed even further at the nickname, absolutely blooming with affection inside because of it. “I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you. I just want to make you feel good.” 

To drive home this point, you leaned in and planted a simple kiss on the back of his head, and then one on the side of his neck. Spencer let out a fluttering moan at this. He wanted more of those kisses, but he couldn’t work up the nerve to ask for it. 

He could find no faults with what you had said, so he did his best to do as you instructed. He relaxed, leaning back fully against the chair - which was slightly uncomfortable while he was completely naked and throbbing hard, waiting for you to touch him more. But he trusted you. 

You grabbed one of his wrists, and then the other, and guided them behind his back. 

It was much easier now that his muscles were softer, more pliant to you. 

You knelt down and used the belt to tie them simply. You looped the belt through the wooden slats so his hands would be held to the chair, and then placed both of his wrists into the loop. You didn’t want it to be so tight that the material would cut into his wrists painfully or cut off circulation, you just wanted to restrict his movement. 

Which would absolutely be the case when his arms were bound behind him, awkwardly tied to the back of the chair. You hooked the buckle into the smallest notch, giving him a bit of room to move, a bit of a gap to put your finger between the belt and his skin. However, it put his shoulders at an awkward angle so he would need your help getting out of it. 

“Is that okay?” You asked. “Not too tight? Be honest.” 

Spencer thought that he should feel slightly afraid or too vulnerable - being completely naked and tied to a chair like this. But with you, he felt safe. 

“It’s good.” He told you honestly. “Not too tight.” He assured you, moving to show off that wiggle room, demonstrating that the material wasn’t cutting into his wrists. 

“Good,” You sighed quietly, standing up once again. 

You walked around him like a predator circling their prey, making graceful, careful moments as you took in the sight of him. 

He was absolutely, beautifully sinful in this state. 

Stripped entirely naked, except for those glasses and those adorable, mismatched socks, sitting in the chair with his hands bound behind his back. All while he stared at you with his wide, expectant eyes, waiting for whatever your next move would be. While his heavy, hard cock leaked freely against his stomach, smearing a trail of sticky precum across his skin. 

You reached forward and grabbed his chin, tilting his head up slightly to look at you. Having someone as tall as Spencer look up at you for a change was entirely powerful. You held him there while you asked him a very important question. 

“You gonna be good for me?” You asked him. 

Instinctively for him, there was only one answer. 

“Yes.” He whimpered out. “Yes, Miss. I want to be good for you.” 

The pure sincerity of his declaration caused another wave of wetness from your aching pussy. For now, you would ignore your own needs. You would take care of him, make sure that this was a pleasurable experience for him. 

“Good boy,” You praised him, giving him a light kiss on the forehead - to which he sighed quietly in delight. 

Then, you let go of his face completely and turned to grab the item that had started this whole thing. 

You were excited to finally use it on Spencer. 

Spencer watched with awe and intrigue as you grabbed the toy and then the lube - you peeled off the plastic shrink wrap on the lube bottle with your teeth, and then popped the cap. And you turned so Spencer could see as you poured a generous amount of lube into the opening of the toy. 

“Don’t be afraid to use too much lube,” You told him, being a proper teacher. “In my opinion, there’s no such thing as ‘too wet’. But ‘too dry’ can cause skin irritation from friction. Or tearing if you’re trying to insert something like fingers or a penetrative toy. Like a dildo. Adequate lubrication always reduces the risk of both those things,” 

Spencer wanted to ask if there were other kinds of penetrative toys aside from dildos, but he figured that would be a question for another time. 

“Yes, Miss.” He nodded in understanding, absorbing what you had told him. 

You looked between the toy and his cock, and realized you might as well slick him up beforehand. 

You took a step closer to him and put the thickness of the fleshlight between his thighs, propping it there while you quietly mumbled ‘hold this’ - which caused him to tense his thighs in order to keep it from falling. He became enraptured by the sight of the silicone pussy, lubed and wet as a real one would be. He was so distracted by the sight that he almost didn’t take in you pouring lube into your hand before you capped the bottle and put it aside. 

“This is probably gonna be cold,” You warned him quietly before you used your lubed hand to take a hold of his cock. 

It was. And he let out a harsh gasp - from the shock of the cold wetness, a sound that quickly turned into a strangled moan as you formed a loose grip around his cock and began spreading the wetness over him with purpose. The lube soon warmed between your palm and the throbbing skin of his cock, and he unconsciously bucked into your touch, almost knocking the fleshlight out from resting between his thighs. 

“Stay still.” You ordered sharply, shoving his hips back down with your free hand. 

The harshness behind your voice, and your thumb pressing into his hip bone sent him reeling. He was so pliant under your touch. Between your commanding authority and the slickness of your lubed hand moving in a slow rhythm in lazy pumps up and down his cock - he was already way too fucking close. 

You knew it. You could see the way his stomach muscles quaked, the tensing of his thighs. Those little lilting gasps like music to your ears. 

You wondered if he would spurt cum all over your hand before he warned you. (If he did, you would likely pump him through it just to see if he would get hard again.) 

“Miss-!” He hollered, choking on the word. 

You abruptly stopped then. You stiffened your grip around the base of his cock - which was now nicely lubed up, and throbbing even harder as you effectively used your fingers around his pelvis like a cockring, causing his orgasm to fade dully back into his muscles. He let out a wounded sound, a confused moan from deep in his chest, his stomach shaking even harder as if he was trying to force the orgasm out past your gatekeeping touch. It was almost cute. 

“Yes, Spencer?” You asked, looking at him dumbly as though you had no clue what he had been trying to say. 

“I - I was getting close.” He completed the thought breathlessly. “C-close to orgasm.” 

Damn. If he was this fucked out now, you couldn’t wait to see what he would be like when you were done with him. 

“Well, good boys only cum with permission, right?” You said, grinning at him fiendishly. 

“Yes, Miss.” He said quickly, his voice dull with disappointment, but agreeable. 

“Good boy.” You praised once again. You felt his cock twitch in your hand at the words. “Besides, you haven’t even gotten a chance to try out your new toy yet.” 

You then grabbed up the toy and turned it over, using your hand on the base of his cock to feed his length into the fake pussy. More cool lube came rushing down to meet him, and his lungs shook once again and his heated skin was shocked by the feeling. It was strange, but pleasurable as his cock was enveloped by the soft, wet walls of the toy. It was so, so very tight around his cock - and oddly cool, far wetter than he had expected thanks to the amount of lube you had used. 

Spencer reasoned that it might be like sticking his cock in a watermelon, if that watermelon were also made of rubber bands. 

You knelt down in front of Spencer, looking in awe between the spot where his cock disappeared into the fake leaking pussy to his face. Seeing his reaction to this was utterly beautiful - the way his jaw naturally fell open, his eyes half closed as the pleasure overtook him. 

“Oh!” Spencer let out a sudden, high startled sound as you shoved the toy down onto his cock fully. 

Your eyes once again flickered between his dick and his face, and you came to an utterly stunning realization. 

He didn’t fully fit inside of the toy. 

There was about an inch of his cock that was still sticking out of it at the base, and with the resistance your hand had brought up into, you knew that he was fully seated inside of it. Well - as fully seated as he could get, apparently. 

It was one of the hottest things you had ever seen, and it sent a dizzying wave of endorphins through you. The sight of his cock not fully fitting into the silicone pussy was a stunning visual that made you realize just how deep he would go inside of you. It made your throat dry for a moment, forced you to swallow hard before you could speak. 

“You’re right here, baby?” You asked, tapping a finger on the top of the toy, knowing that he would feel it as a vibration through the plastic. 

He let out a gasp and bucked his hips up slightly, something that made you smile. He was too hazy to answer you already, something that you forgave for now. He was just too beautiful to scold in these moments. 

“Fuck, you don’t even fit into this thing all the way, do you?” You gasped quietly, still absolutely marveling at the sight. 

“I don’t?” Spencer gaped, finally looking down to where the toy was swallowing his cock, seeing as your words had captured his attention. “Is - is that bad?” 

He was struck with worry. He thought that perhaps his cock wasn’t right - that he shouldn’t be doing this, that you wouldn’t like him. 

It was in that moment that you realized what a treasure you had come across. A beautiful, intelligent man with a huge cock who had no idea how to use it. Someone who needed to be taught from scratch. Someone who could be molded into anything you wanted him to be. (At least in the sexual sense.) That, and he seemed to be naturally submissive and derive pleasure from following your orders. 

You most definitely weren’t going to let him go anytime soon. 

“No, baby, that’s a good thing.” You assured him. “That’s a great thing.” 

Spencer smiled at this - an expression that slacked off into a moan when you made your next move. 

You gave the toy a slow half-pump before you seated it on his cock again, seemingly knocking the wind out of them. Then, you let go of the toy completely, letting him sit there with the fleshlight on his cock, bobbing in mid-air. It began to rise up slightly as the tightness of it hugged his cock, and unconsciously, he bucked up his hips, seeking more friction. But of course - the object was simply hanging there, seated on his cock, unmoving. It was an entirely fruitless venture. 

With his hands tied behind his back, he needed you. It was an adorable struggle to watch for a moment, especially when his face knit with frustration and his thighs began to quiver from the effort. 

“Please,” He begged. He was so pretty when he begged. “Help me.” 

“You want me to help you fuck your toy?” You teased, reaching for it again. 

“Please, Miss.” 

When he whined like that, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. 

You took a good grip on the plastic then, and began a quick, smooth rhythm. You were eager to see his reaction to being fucked well, being fucked without hesitation. 

Spencer immediately shuddered and began letting out harsh whimpers. He bit his lip, but it didn’t keep the sounds from wailing out of his throat as you pumped the toy up and down on his cock. 

His chin was tilted down onto his chest, keeping his eyes locked on the place where the toy was devouring his hard cock. This caused his glasses to slip down his nose bridge slightly, something so entirely adorable to you in the moment. With his thighs tense and his stomach quaking, with that pool of artificial wetness leaking onto his pubes and slowly creeping down over his balls - he was so beautifully fucked out, the most perfect picture you had ever seen in your life. 

“Oh - oh, oh, oh god!” His mouth fell open once again and an array of sounds fell out, a beautiful little choir that you could have only dreamed of coming from him. “Oh, please!” 

You had to wonder if he was the type of person to swear when he came. Spencer was never the type of person to swear during other extreme situations. You had never seen him let out a single curse, not even with a gun to his head. 

You had to wonder if you could be the one to make him swear. 

“Please, Miss!” He squeaked out, sounding entirely wrecked and desperate. “Please, I’m close-!” 

You couldn’t resist the temptation of stilling the toy completely, abruptly cutting off his orgasm once again. Spencer let out a broken sound as his muscles jolted and the feeling ebbed through him - so close, but not quite there. It was like a terrible ache in his muscles. Like a deep, terrible thirst with nothing to drink. 

“Please,” He begged, his eyes shooting to lock onto you. “Please! Please, Miss.” 

“Please, what, baby?” You teased him, reaching up and gently carding your fingers through his hair, brushing some of it off his forehead. He had a light sheen of sweat going, his body clearly strained. It was delightful to witness. 

“Please,” He rasped out brokenly, so entirely desperate.  “I - I need it.” 

You bit your lip, holding back laughter at how perfect this was.

“Need what, baby?” You continued to tease him. “Come on, use your words.” 

He swallowed hard, and stared at you with glassy desperation in his eyes. Either he was shy, or had no clue what exactly it was you wanted him to say - so you decided to guide him along. 

“Say: I need to cum.” You told him, hoping that he was desperate enough now that he would simply repeat the filthy words. 

“I - I need to cum.” He repeated, only mild hesitation on his lips. 

“Say: I need you to make me cum.” You told him, pushing it a bit father. 

“I need you,” He said, pausing slightly to catch his breath. “Need you to make me cum.” 

“Good boy.” You praised him, running his hand through your hair once again. 

You stood up this time, and put one hand on the back of the chair behind his shoulder for leverage, leaning over him as you took the toy in hand and started moving it once again. This gave him a perfect view down your top, and his lustful gaze locked onto your swaying cleavage as you worked on jacking the fake pussy on his cock. It was a maddening suction that had him grunting lowly with every thrust, letting out whines, flexing his hips to fuck his cock up into the toy. 

“Does it feel good, pretty boy?” You asked, so heavily enjoying the sight of him so messy, so wrecked. 

“Yes!” He easily replied. 

“What are you thinking about? Hmm?” You couldn’t help but to ask. 

“I - hnng - I - I don’t know!” He gaped. 

Either he was lying, and simply didn’t want to tell you what was on his mind, or you had truly fucked his head empty. If it was the second, then you would heavily enjoy that fact. 

“You don’t know?” You asked, your voice absolutely teasing once again. “Well, that’s a first.” You chuckled. 

Spencer panted harshly, filling the space for a moment - along with the wet squelching of the toy moving up and down on his cock as your wrist continued to work. And then you became bold enough to ask the question that you truly wanted to. 

“You thinkin’ about my pussy?” You prodded. “You imagining that this toy is me? Wondering what’s gonna be like when I finally sit on your cock?” 

“Yes!” He was suddenly very eager to admit to this. Clearly it helped that he didn’t have to say the words for himself. “Yes! Yes, Miss! I want you. I want your-”

He cut himself off suddenly, moaning sharply as the tip of his cock brought up in the end of the fake pussy once again. It sent a jolt of pleasure-pain through him that had his skin boiling even hotter. You wondered if he would be bold enough to say the word ‘pussy’ or if you would have to heavily prompt him. 

But that thought left your head completely with his next words. 

“Oh! Oh, please! I’m so close!” 

Again, feeling the devil rise up inside of you, you stopped off his orgasm. 

This time, by pulling the toy away completely. You lifted the fleshlight off his cock, and watched with lustful joy as his cock slipped out of the opening with a wet pop. His thighs quaked with bitter agony and his long cock bobbed in the air, dripping thick waves of precum and lube as it separated from the toy. 

Everything was so wet. 

It was honestly a gorgeous sight, like a mini tidal wave dripping down onto the chair as the toy continued to leak the generous amount of lube you had put into it and his cock let out pathetic little spurts of precum. His pubes were glossy and matted together, his inner thighs were absolutely slick. He was glistening and whining harshly as the ruined orgasm crashed through his body, making his mind somehow even hazier and more desperate. 

“God!” He choked out. “Please!” 

He blinked harshly and a few tears escaped the corners of his eyes, making him look even more gorgeous somehow. 

“Please - please! I need - I need - oh god!” He began sobbing nonsensically, begging you for release as he was practically on the verge of madness. 

Your cunt throbbed at seeing him so wrecked - so utterly dependent on you. 

“Hey, hey, shh.” You reached your free hand out and thumbed under the edge of his glasses - the thick lenses only magnifying his glassy eyes and lustful, broken tears all the more. You soothed your touch across his burning cheek, reassuring him. “You’ve been such a good boy. I’m gonna let you cum now. Okay?” 

“Please!” He sobbed. 

Hearing his voice so broken and needy probably shouldn’t have turned you on so much, but you absolutely loved it. 

“Hey, shh,” You continued to rub his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. “I just need one thing from you first.” 

“Anything!” He easily declared. 

“I need you to say: ‘may I cum, please?’” You told him. 

It was a start on the scale of filthy things that you wanted to hear from his mouth, but it would definitely be oh so satisfying. 

And then - as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, he blinked his big eyes and looked up at you through tear wet lashes, giving you the most pouty, fuckable look as he leaned into your hand before he said the words. 

“May I cum, please?” He asked. And then, like the wet dream that he was, he seamlessly added on. “Please, Miss. I-I’ve been a good boy.” 

“Yes, you have been.” You told him. “I’ll make you cum now baby.” 

You used both hands to get his cock back inside of the toy - the sound of his cock fucking back into the fake pussy was so much wetter, the whine he let out made your knees weak. 

You doubled your efforts now, even going so far as to squeeze your grip on the outside of the plastic - which made the silicone grip his cock just that little bit tighter as you slammed it up and down on him. Your movements were hard and fast in the effort to make him cum for certain this time. 

“Oh, oh, oh, you - oh!” Spencer began babbling nonsense, his words barely broken up by harsh breaths being sucked into his lungs and whimpers emanating from his throat at the intense pleasure. “Oh, Miss - you - you’re so - ah!” 

“Where’s that big IQ now, boy genius?” You taunted him, keeping up the brutal pace. “Did I make you all stupid? Did I melt your big brain? Huh?” 

Spencer all but confirmed this as truth when he gurgled out nothingness as a response. 

You felt slightly bolder, and you became slightly harsher in your degrading words. You almost couldn’t help yourself. You loved tearing him apart so much, having him melt under your touch. You couldn’t help but to brag about the amazing job you had done. 

“Just a dumb little baby now, aren’t you?” You cooed, your voice entirely condescending. “Just a stupid little boy for me. So cumdrunk you can’t even think now, huh? There’s no boy genius here now. Just a dumb baby who needs to cum.” 

He only inflated your ego with his next words. 

“Yes!” He shouted out, entirely confirming what you had said - if he had even properly heard it through the blood pumping in his ears. To him, it might have just been the raw hum of your voice in the background, like an undertone with no true words to it. “Yes! Need - need t’ cum!” 

It was the most incoherent you had ever known Doctor Spencer Reid to be. 

You stared on eagerly as you watched his stomach tighten up, his lungs struggling for breath. 

“Y/N-!” He gasped out your name right before it hit him. 

And when it hit him, when he finally tumbled over the edge into the abyss - boy, it was a big one. 

It was an intense, full body orgasm. His legs shook, his body arched off the chair as though he were having a seizure, actually putting a strain on his bonded arms for the first time. He wildly bucked up into the toy as you continued to work it over his cock, his mouth dropping open wildly as a strain of high pitched, needy whimpers poured out from between his pretty pink lips. 

You were feeling selfish, and you wanted to see him cum at least a bit. 

So knowing that he was riding the wave, you ripped the toy off him, causing a wounded noise to come out of him as his spurting cock fell from it. But you didn’t leave him hanging. You immediately replaced the toy with your hand, and put a tight grip around him, pumping viciously over his throbbing cock, wanting to milk the rest of the orgasm out of him by hand. 

The sudden, shocking overstimulation sent his body into overdrive. 

His thighs shook so hard it could have been mistaken for electrocution, he gasped like a drowning man - he would have begged for mercy, but he couldn’t catch his breath. 

It was the best feeling he had ever experienced. It was pure euphoria, it was heaven on earth. It was an icy hot fire running through his veins that he didn’t even know was possible. 

He had never experienced an orgasm like this before. He knew the feeling of an orgasm to be more like a dull tickle in his groin. But now that he had done this - he didn’t think he could go back to anything else. 

Large spurts of cum blasted from his cock, so overpowering then that painted his stomach, his chest, and much to your delight - a few thick white spurts even dirtied his glasses when you angled his cock that way and kept viciously pumping him. 

His cock was so hot that it felt like it could have burned your hand, so needy and bloated with blood from how long you had edged him. Eventually, when the tip of his cock began to weep out a pathetic clear liquid, and he was on the verge of sobbing once more, you let him go from your grip, finally giving him a moment to breathe. 

You knew for certain that you would never be able to look at Spencer Reid again without seeing this imagery: him, completely fucked out, his face flushed red, mouth agape as he struggled for breath. His naked body, limp cock laying against his pelvis, painted in his own cum - including dirtying up his own glasses. 

You loved those glasses even more now. 

You couldn’t get him to swear - but fuck, that was really something. 

“Thank you.” He said meekly, still struggling for breath. “Th-thank you, Miss.” 

“Good boy.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Such a good boy for me.” 

Now, it was time to take care of him and make sure that he had a good come down. 

You put the toy on the coffee table, placing it with the opening up so it wouldn’t leak everywhere - you wouldn’t clean it later. You also took off his glasses and placed them aside. Again - you would clean them later. 

You rushed to untie his hands, and eased his arms back around his body by gently rubbing his shoulders, hoping that the muscles wouldn’t be too sore or stiff from being in the same position for so long. 

“Such a good boy.” You assured him. “You did so well for me honey.” 

He hummed in acknowledgement. Clearly, he was absolutely exhausted from the ordeal. You hoped you could get his tall, gangly self to his bed on your own if he was so fucked out and weak. You walked back around to his front and laid your lips on his forehead again, murmuring more praises against his skin as you continued to rub his shoulders and run your fingers through his hair. You told him how good he was, how perfect he had been for you, how beautiful he was. 

After a few minutes, you felt his hands on your hips as he came out of the haze. He ran a thumb along the waistband of your pants, and his first words after that haze surprised you. 

“What - what about you?” He asked. 

Clearly, he meant that you should have an orgasm. Your cunt was aching dully between your thighs, and you were sure that you had soaked through your underwear. But that had been a lot for him, and you didn’t want to overwhelm him during the first time. 

“That’ll be a lesson for next time.” You told him quietly. He hummed quietly at this. He felt assured by you simply saying ‘next time’. “I have to clean up your toy now, so you can use it again later. Then I’ll clean you up and tuck you into bed, okay, baby?” 

He nodded. “Yes, please. Thank you.” 

You hesitantly broke away from him and grabbed the toy, and as you moved to leave the room, you paused at him mumbling out more words. 

“Can - can I have a glass of water, please?” He asked quietly. 

“Of course you can, baby.” 

You went into the kitchen and ran the toy under hot water - which you left going as you got a glass and filled it with cold water and ice from the dispenser. You were lucky to find a straw in the takeout bag from earlier - you put it in the glass and, while the hot water was still running in the sink, you rushed out to give Spencer a drink. 

You held the glass while he chugged gratefully from it, and after a few moments, you ensured that he could hold it with his sex tired hands by himself and then you left to finish cleaning up the toy. You set it on his empty dish rack to drip dry (which was quite a sight). And then you went to the bathroom, coming back with a warm cloth to wipe him down. He was only slightly unsteady on his legs as you guided him to bed - his muscles shaking and tired after the whole amazing ordeal. 

You found it endearing that his bed was unmade, surrounded by stacks of books that were lined up on the floor, rather than on any shelf. 

You pulled back the covers completely and helped him get in, and you were tucking him in nicely when he asked the sweet question. 

“Will you cuddle with me?” He asked quietly, looking up at you with those adorable, expectant eyes once again. “You know, for - for the aftercare?” 

You likely would have done it simply because he asked, even if you didn’t deem it ‘necessary’ for aftercare. But because he asked, it was part of good care. 

“Of course.” You answered. “I don’t have any pjs, so do you mind if I sleep in my underwear?” 

You had just tucked him into bed naked, and he was asking you to lay down beside him like that. But still, you wanted to ask how comfortable he would be if you were in a state of undress. 

His eyes shined with interest at the idea of seeing you at least partially undressed. 

“I don’t mind.” He told you. 

You nodded, and stepped back slightly to begin undressing. 

“So - did you have fun?” You asked. You suspected that he had entirely enjoyed himself, but you did want to hear him say it. 

Spencer grinned at this. “I think what we just did has changed my definition of ‘fun’ entirely.” He told you. “In a good way. So you know.” 

You preened at the idea that you had shifted Spencer’s worldview. Someone who most likely spent his free time reading research papers and playing through chess games entirely on his own and called it ‘fun’ would now be thinking about spending his free time playing with you instead. 

You stripped out of your pants, socks, and work blouse, which left you in your simple cotton underwear, a thin cotton camisole and your bra underneath. You decided to take off your bra underneath your shirt and just sleep in the cami and panties for comfort. You knew your underwear was stuck to your cunt from your previous burning arousal, and Spencer’s eyes did focus hard on that, and then focused even harder on the outline of your bare breasts as you ditched your bra off to the side. 

If he had the ability to get hard again after that spectacular orgasm, he probably would have been throbbing at the sight of you. 

You lifted up the covers and crawled into bed with him, cuddling into his side as he tentatively wrapped an arm around your waist. Your stomach fluttered when he kissed the top of your head before you felt his body relax into the mattress. 

“Thank you.” He said quietly, clearly exhausted. “I love it when you teach me things.”

...

The sequel to this fic has now been posted!

Keep Reading Here: Lesson Two - Magic Metacarpals

[little-pondhead]

Thinking about if Dani ever gets added to the Villain Everlasting Trio au, like how would she fit in? Obviously the JL would have to figure out she's a clone and try and figure out why she exists ("maybe fenton is just that narcissistic?" flash asks, meanwhile batman is already texts agent a to get ready another room in addition to the three already prepared). Maybe she acts like the innocent kid in danger until heroes get close? batfamily trying to pspspsps her away from fenton? The trio collectively calling her their daughter?

I love this au so much, even if I still don't fully forgive you for making Tucker hot.

The way I SPRINTED to my computer.

Disclaimer: This particular AU has nothing to do with Fun Sized and Feral by @nutcase8691 or my Dani Fenton redesign from a while ago. This isn’t really important, but I thought the plot of this au might be straying the tiniest bit too close to the Feral AU (which I love btw) and I just didn’t want to cause confusion.

TLDR: Dani had to mature too quickly in their home world, so when she arrived in the DC universe, she finally got to slow down and be a kid. :)

Okay okay. Give me a moment. Since everyone is acting like the opposite of their usual self when they're playing villains, your question was, how would she fit in? To backtrack to this earlier post, I said that each of the trio's specific gimmicks somehow ties into their everyday lives. They looked at their immediate friends, family and acquaintances, picked out the traits they saw as 'villainous,' and then applied that to themselves.

Danny became a mad scientist because even though his parents love him through and through, they still hurt him the most. The threat of capture and dissection from the GIW didn't help, either. He wears a suit similar to his parents, pushes his hair up so he can see better, and his white lab coat looks a little like the GIW's suits. The suit is also red, which is the opposite of green, distancing himself further from his hero life as Phantom and connecting him more to his civilian self, where red is present on his shirt. He refuses to use his powers, as well.

Sam looks like an angel, which seems odd given her completely goth look and slightly pessimistic attitude. And if she uses her plant powers (shut up, she totally has them) as part of Team Phantom, then that rules out using them as a villain. They want to completely separate these alter-egos from each other. Well, one of the most significant sources of strife in Sam's personal life is her parents. In the show, they're seen constantly fighting with Sam, trying to mold her into their perfect daughter, when Sam is very obviously happy with how she is right now. So as a silent fuck you to her parents, Sam gets a hold of a Realm artifact, the halo, which gives her a pair of ghostly wings and the ability of flight. Now, she's the one in the air, and Sam is still doing what she does best, even as an angel. She tries to show the world that not all angels are perfect, and in fact, they can be downright monstrous. (This is where her more aggressive and destructive attitude comes in.)

As far as I'm aware, Tucker doesn't have any trauma related to his parents. (The lucky bastard.) He is the tech-nerd stereotype, however. And since he's from a cartoon from 2004, that means he gets bullied. A lot. The show focuses mainly on Danny, but you cannot tell me Tucker wasn't bullied like that, either. For the sake of the au, let's say Danny was taking all the beatings for Tucker. Maybe he was in canon; I can't remember. But not only is Tucker being physically bullied but so is his best friend. (Eventually lover!) And imagine his feelings when Team Phantom shows up to a ghost fight, and Tucker is absolutely useless the entire time. He just can't help at all. Danny and Sam are on the front lines, redirecting hits and doing damage control, and here he is, waiting for the Wi-Fi to catch up on his PDA. It eats him up. He wants to be helpful in more ways than one, and that's what the DC universe gives him. He takes another Realm artifact; this time, it's actually his by birthright, and the artifact drastically increases his physical power, just like he's always wanted. He learns Egyptian magic and dresses in a way that gives homage to his time in Egypt-which was traumatizing by itself, but hey, he has sweet beetle magic now.

Basically, Fenton, Manson, and Foley are all the results of the trio's frustrations and fears. They become the things they stress about the most to help cope with their everyday lives. The DC universe is their outlet.

So where does Dani fit in?

Well, Dani is a clone, as we know. Her creation and introduction to the world were rather sudden if you compare her to a typical baby. And that's what she is; a baby. Unless you jumped the timeline far into the future, Dani is barely a year old in canon (I think.) And after her team-up with Danny to defeat Vlad, she makes the decision to leave Amity and travels the world. She has to navigate an entire world independently, even if Danny wants to help her. So now, plop her in the DC verse. What's the opposite of an independent clone who's had to fend for herself from a very young age and has had almost no real familial bonds?

A kid. A scared, touched-starved child who's had no one to look after her for who knows how long. (Vlad doesn't count here.) Dani gets to the DC verse and cries because she and Danny can finally bond like she always wanted to. She doesn't have to put up a strong front because the trio is there to protect her. Dani is extremely young, and now she can finally be a kid. It's not mental age regression; instead, Dani no longer has to hold herself back from doing childish things or crying. Both are things that could be a danger when you're living on the streets. She spends almost all her time here now.

The Everlasting Trio had already missed her before, but they had just fully adopted her in this new world. Dani is their baby. Their little girl. She didn't ask to be born-she shouldn't have to suffer because it was unsafe at home. Well, they can make a new one, just for her, here in this universe. And look! There’s more clones for her to bond with! The GZ is more accessible than ever, and their commute between universes really isn’t that bad. They like it here! And the heroes and villains will never take her away, no matter how hard they try. Sure, Dani can have playdates with some of them, but she will wail and scream if anyone so much as suggests she stay the night without her parent's permission.

Oh, and she never stops being a little shit. If anyone doubts that Fenton and Dani are related, they are simply ushered online to see that one viral clip of Dani latching on to King Shark with her teeth and not letting go in the middle of a shopping plaza. The camera pans to the left a moment later, and the audience spots Fenton doing the exact same thing to John Constantine.

The first time the Justice League meets Dani, it's right after she got lost during a spacewalk with Danny and Sam. She enters the first place she sees, the Watchtower, and breaks down in front of Wonder Woman about how she can't find her parents and doesn't know how to get home. The heroes are baffled and try to comfort her until Danny comes barging in five minutes later, panicking over his baby girl missing. They reunite, the heroes are reeling, and Superman mentions he didn't think Fenton was old enough to have a kid.

Fenton looks up from his bear hug and goes: "Huh? Oh, no. I'm only seventeen. (work with me here) Dani is technically my clone, but we adopted her properly as soon as possible."

And now the League has two issues. Their most annoying enemy is only seventeen. And he has a clone.

What the f u c k.

Extra analysis: Dani's outfit is cleaner and a little fancier than what she wore in the show. She ties her hair up like Tucker and pins her bangs back like Sam. She already looks identical to Danny but likes to wear his sweaters, especially in cold weather. The oversized clothes remind her of her time with Danny in Amity Park, and helps hide her physique better, so it's hard to tell how old she is. She wears leggings to show that she no longer has to fight for her life every day on the streets. Now that the trio adopted her, she can relax and let someone else take the hits for a while. (We all know how fast leggings and tights can be ruined when doing literally anything.) Fright Knight gifts her a cursed doll that helps protect her in stressful situations and functions like an SOS beacon. JLD hates the bear. (She named it Strawbeary.)

She acts on her impulses more often, which the trio sees as a good thing. Even if that impulsive desire gets her in trouble, it gives everyone a chance to learn and grow as a family. Dani also refrains from going ghost at first, following her dad's wishes. Right now, she's just giving herself a break from her previous nomadic lifestyle. After a bit, she and Danny will bond over their halfa status, and she'll grow into her own unique core and powerset. The heroes dread the day the littlest Fenton decides to join her parents in their shenanigans.

[oh-meretseger]

part 9 - Smitten

attack on titan modern college au // Jean Kirstein x fem!reader

notes: I’M BAAACK, still struggling with uni stuff, but had some time to write so enjoy another long smut+fluff and my own little sketch of a modern au Jeanbo [he can have it]

cw: 18+ smut! explicit language, lot of teasing, sending nudes hehe, unprotected sex in various positions, both receiving oral, spanking, dirty talk, and some sweet little fluff at the end(:

wc: 8,6k

Jeanbo

wanna bring that smartass over, Rocky Balboa?

Connie’s out for the night

You chuckled at your phone, the stupid nickname instantly flooding your mind with memories of the brutal physical fight of the previous day.

It started out as an innocent afternoon of studying, the four of you gathering in your dorm for a scientific conference like the sophisticated citizens of the university that you are — but it quickly turned into a boxing match when Jean stole your pen to write "I'm a loser" across your neatly organized notes. Connie and Sasha had no choice but to watch with motionless, completely unconcerned expressions as Jean digged his fingers under your ribcage as a self-defense move, and you (being slightly ticklish) decked your fist into his face as a reflex.

"Pfft, would you be Rocky Balboa?" Ymir scoffed after she stopped pushing you, grabbing the chain of the swing you were sitting on, so she could read the text you were so amused by.

"You phould phee Jean's nose, phe nearly broke it.” Sasha's words fell victim to the giant lollipop filling her mouth, neither of her hands free as she was hanging from the monkey bars, exactly as an orangutan would be casually chilling.

"It was an accident!" you unconsciously raised your hand to your nose, an embarrassed tint of pink dusting your cheeks as Sasha reminded you of the injury you caused to Jean. He kinda deserved it, but you didn't mean to hurt him.

Sasha let go of the cold metal bars, hopping onto the thin dust of snow covering the ground. As if the chilly air bit into her cheeks, they glowed with a vivid red blush even in the dim, grey lights of the winter afternoon dusk. "It was a perfectly executed right hook, but it's okay."

"Hard to believe, with all due disrespect," Ymir sneered underneath the furry trim on the hood of her coat as she pulled on the chains again, pushing you in the swing with such force that your attempts at texting back to Jean instantly failed. "I would knock you out in a second."

"And Mikasa would knock you out in half a second," you grimaced as you digged the heels of your boots into the rigid ground, fighting back against Ymir's evil strength. "So what are you saying?"

Sasha giggled with the stick of the lollipop between her teeth and you smiled. Even though you couldn't see her face, the moment of hesitant silence was enough of a sign — Ymir knew it was true.

"Yeah, sure, in your dreams," she scoffed.

In contrast to your desperate twitching as you fought back against Ymir, Mikasa sat on the other swing like a picture of serenity. Her legs moved ever so slightly as she pushed herself off the ground, the small movements of the swing creating a quiet, but eerie creaking sound that would've sent shivers down your spine if you heard it in a horror movie.

Mikasa's eyes moved to Ymir, gazing at her above the big, red scarf that covered the lower part of her face as it wrapped tightly around her. "We can give it a try, if you want.”

"I'd pay an INSANE amount of money to see that fight," Sasha stated after growing impatient and biting down on her lollipop, crunching on it with loud cracks — like she always did with any hard candy.

"I'd pay you an insane amount of money to shut your goddamn mouth," Ymir snapped back right away with her usual snarky tone.

"Ymir!"

"I'll shut up for a couple hundo," Sasha shrugged while her teeth destroyed the last bits of the candy.

"For like two minutes, I suppose,” Ymir snickered, but as usual, Sasha couldn't be less bothered by her bullying, simply nodding in agreement.

"Pretty much."

You shook your head as you laughed, your eyes glued to your phone's screen while your fingers moved fast to reply to Jean, your heart's thumping even faster. It was beating with an excited joy, much more than just a lustful desire. Something that felt so pure, almost innocent — only a couple of hours passed since you ran into him, but still...

You couldn't wait to see him again.

you

i know you'll be waiting for me with a baseball bat to get revenge

but sure thing🤓 see you in 20

"I'm sorry, Mikasa, we have to reschedule me kicking your ass." Ymir's sarcastic tone earned a roll of Mikasa's eyes, even if she couldn't hide the amused spark in them. "I'm outta here"

"Are you going to volleyball practice?" you blurted out the mindless question, instantly knowing it was a mistake to ask.

"I'm going to your mom, actually," Ymir replied as she pushed your back with a vicious force one last time and you bursted out laughing. Right after Jean, Ymir was the second most skilled 'your mom' expert you knew.

"Right, tell her I said hi.”

"Anything for you, my dearest sweetheart," Ymir sneered as she leaned down to pinch your cheek and you let out a painful squeak. "Have fun getting busy with mullet-man."

"You're particularly vile today," Mikasa pointed out, winning an immediate ticket to Ymir's bullying-train as she grabbed the end of her scarf and with a simple movement, threw it on top of Mikasa's head, covering half of her face.

Then Ymir put her hands into the pockets of her coat and simply walked away without a word.

"Bye, girly pop!" Sasha yelled at her as you were chuckling to yourself at the hilarious absurdity of Ymir's behavior and she just raised a hand in the cold winter air as a goodbye.

"Typical" Mikasa commented, then brushed the scarf off of her face.

"Another date night?" Sasha asked you with a huge grin, her voice quivering with excitement as her hands cheered with small little claps. She was almost more excited than you were.

"Not a date night, just... Just hanging out," you replied as casually as you could, but even your hand couldn't hide your sheepish smile as you rubbed the bridge of your nose.

"Suuuure"

"Leave it, she's in love." Mikasa flicked her hand and Sasha let out a heartfelt laugh while you blushed. It's been long, long weeks since you and Jean's little dates and meetups got regular, but you still couldn't gather the strength to admit to your friends how tragically smitten you were.

But you weren't the only one being teased about him — Jean couldn't avoid all the playful pestering in the past few weeks, either.

BAM!

Jean's head jerked back at the impact after a padded shoulder found him in the most unfortunate slouching position as his focus drifted off for a few seconds, hitting his jaw with full force.

"Eyes on me, Jeanbo!" Reiner yelled back above his shoulder, already skating back to his place.

Jean grunted at the sudden pain, then raised his glove to his face. Reiner's strength met his jaw right at a spot that made his vision go black, seeing stars for a couple of seconds. For a moment, he couldn't even remember what drills they were doing.

"Kirstein!"

Jean shook his head to get his thoughts and senses back together, already pushing himself on the ice to skate towards Coach Levi's voice. The new headcoach had a few very strict basic rules which, as his stern stamp has already won the respect of the team, Jean tried to immediately obey as well.

"You're here to collect dust today, I see," Levi said in a low voice, leaning on the boards with both hands. Jean's skates came to a stop in front of him, but the coach nodded his head to order him out to the benches.

"I'm sorry, Coach." Jean's eyes dropped to his skates as he stepped out of the rink, deliberately avoiding to look at Levi. He almost opened his mouth to add an 'I'm tired', but stopped himself immediately. Shitty excuses were a no-go with Coach Ackerman.

"You look like a dog chewed through you, swallowed, then threw you up." Levi's voice was unexpressive, but his grey eyes pierced through Jean's with a coldness exactly as sharp as the stinging, frosty air above the ice rink. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, Coach, I'm just—I'm a little tired." Jean decided not to explain any further, even if Levi seemed to care. He figured the coach wouldn't appreciate his heartfelt story about the little date of yours the previous night, a spontaneous evening walk turning into hours of conversation, irrationally long laughing fits and cuddling as the first snow of the winter was softly falling down on you. Coach Levi probably wouldn't care about how he just simply couldn't go home, unable to break away from you as you both slipped your arms under each other's coats, warming each other up with tight hugs and sweet, deepening kisses — and he just didn't notice the midnight stars above you, even if they tried to warn him about the late hour.

"It's time to decide if you want to keep dreaming awake in the rink or stay forward in line one, then," the coach bluntly replied with his arms crossed. "Understood?"

"Understood." Jean nodded. The coach was right. He didn't come to the rink at least four times a week for nothing. If anything, he felt a little embarrassed about the fact that others noticed a change in his behavior and focus since... Well, since you were in the picture.

"Maybe try focusing on your goals a little more than your girlfriend, Kirstein," Levi added and that stopped Jean in his tracks. He hesitated for a moment before nodding again, then grabbed the board, jumping over it to get back to the rink. The coach's comment sounded like an honest advice rather than a snarky remark — although Jean had no idea how the hell he knew about your existance.

"A girlfriend? I thought we bros were sharing," a guy slammed into the boards next to him with a loud bang and Jean instantly rolled his eyes. Floch was the third player of their line with Reiner, and Jean could've punched all the teeth out of the disgusting pervy grin that was plastered across his face at that moment.

"Eat shit, dumbass," Jean simply responded before pushing him with his shoulder as he skated back to their assigned corner.

"How about getting your head out of your ass, Forster?!" Levi wasted no time swinging his arm, hitting Floch's helmet with the timer he had in his hand, the loud knock on his head only confusing the guy. "NOW!"

Jean touched the spot on his jaw where Reiner hit him and he hissed at the sharp pain. If it was already feeling sore, he could imagine how colorful it was bound to get later.

"Sorry, man."

"It's fine, Reiner," Jean shook his head, knocking his stick on the ice as a sign to get back to the drills.

Though the bruise instantly felt a lot better when your soft lips pressed onto it, kissing it gently as Jean's hips rolled into you with a steady rhythm. His jeans pooled around his ankles and yours were thrown across the room somewhere, your shirt tugged up your chest to let your perfect boobs bounce freely as Jean devoured the beautiful sight with eager eyes. You two just figured the drawer in their dorm was the perfect height for you to sit on, legs spread wide apart, Jean's hands grabbing the flesh of your ass as your hips met at one messy, sloppy wet spot as he slowly fucked into you.

"You're getting so wet, love," Jean mumbled in your ear and you mewled in response, feeling your slick trickling down your ass as the lewd squelching sounds got louder. There was not a time when Jean didn't make you soaking wet, but there was a special something in the way his thick cock slowly dragged in and out of your pussy that just made it drool in response. Maybe it was the way you felt every inch of him taking the sweet time to rub against your spongy, sensitive spot that made you lose your mind. "S'wet for me."

"It just feels s-so fucking good," you moaned, your sweet voice and your warm walls squeezing around him making Jean groan in pleasure. You pressed another soft kiss onto the purple bruise on his sharp jaw, then gently ran your finger over it. "Please keep fucking me so slowly, baby"

"Holy—shit" Jean squeezed his eyes shut as his head started spinning. He was a sight to see as he struggled not to fill you up right then and there. His breathing ragged, a gorgeous flush on his cheeks, small beads of sweat glistening at the line of his soft  hair, a few ashy brown strands falling into your face as he pressed his forehead to yours. You clung onto his broad shoulders for dear life as your eyes wandered down to his happy trail glistening with your mixed wetness, then his throbbing cock, splitting you apart...

"I—I'm so close," you whispered desperately and Jean's lips crashed into yours in a sloppy kiss, his moans into your mouth making you whimper in response. "Hnngh"

"Am I making you feel good, pretty girl?"

"So good, baby," you pressed your forehead to his again and your fingers glided along his stubble, behind his ear, then to the back of his head to lovingly entwine with long strands of his hair. Your big doe eyes pierced through his with such an intense glint of pleasure, your cheeks and lips so plump and burning with heat, Jean felt himself stumble closer to the edge at the beautiful sight. "You're stretching me out so good, please don't stop, I—I'm..."

He tried to squeeze his eyes shut to hold back, last a little longer, but you calling him baby, praising his every movement, and your soft moans against his lips mercilessly whirled his mind even further.

"Fuuu—fuck, I can't," Jean grunted and you let out a devastated shriek at the sudden loss of him inside you as he pulled out. He moaned looking at the string of your clear wetness connecting you to his swollen tip, his cock hard and heavy, slightly bobbing as he got down on one knee in front of you.

"Nooo, what are you doing?" you hopelessly cried out as Jean looked up at you with an apologetic smile, both of his hands sliding up your thighs, large fingers harshly digging into the flesh, his hot breath tickling you as it grazed your sensitive clit.

"I'm sorry, love, I don't want to cum yet," he mumbled into you as his lips already pressed on your puffy lips. You didn't even have a chance to reply as his warm tongue glided through your slit, making your eyes roll back into your hand.

The way Jean could eat you out — how he was practically making out with your pussy, cruelly licking you into madness, his tongue feeling soft, yet so sloppy, so nasty... It just made you lose all control. You caressed the bruise on his jaw, unable to take your eyes off of the gorgeous man burrying his face into your core.

"Oh my fff— God, you're so fucking hot." Your head was spinning as you whimpered, Jean's deep grunts sending such ecstatic vibrations through your center that your fingers had to clutch into his hair for support. As your legs trembled, your fingers tugging on his hair, Jean's composure started crumbling — he moaned loudly at the pleasure, your fingers tugged even more harshly, his moans into your warmth got even louder...

Then to Jean's own surprise, he suddenly came undone.

Without warning, hot spurts of cum wet the floor below him, running down his untouched length with a yearning anguish — and that was the time you realized that Jean really, really liked his hair being pulled.

From then on, you made sure to take advantage of this little secret weak spot of his. Nothing crazy though, just lightly grabbing his hair while you softly moaned in his ear about how good he's fucking you, lacing your fingers through his strands, pulling him closer to you as you described to him how amazing his cock made you feel — your sweet voice mumbling these dirty confessions, paired with the heavenly sensation of your delicate fingers running through his hair at the nape of his neck, pulling on it, made it extremely difficult for him not to cum instantly.

"Fuck... You know exactly what you're doing, right?" Jean would huff as he slowed down the stern snapping of his hips, answering the mischievous glint in your eyes with a few large fingers stuffing your mouth full to shut you up for a little while. "M'sorry, baby, I have to."

And as the naughty spark turned into desperate tears in your eyes, you couldn't help but moan around Jean's fingers in agreement. You did exactly know what you were doing. But you just couldn't help it. The more familiar you became with each other's bodies, the more you discovered of all the little things that made Jean feel good. And you wanted nothing more than to make him feel so, so good.

Jean loved making out with you. Even the smallest, soft little pecks made his core tingle that your pretty lips pressed onto his, but the way your tongue danced around his, so eager to feel him in your mouth, just made him melt. Both of your moans and sweet saliva meeting in the sloppy kisses felt so good, so dirty, his cheeks always flushed with a pretty red color that you loved to admire. And the intense eye contact paired with the delicate touch of your fingers on his warm skin didn't help his state.

Touch was another thing you loved to use to your advantage in making a puddle out of him. You could feel the goosebumps that formed on his skin as you gently ran your fingers along the muscles of his arm, fingertips ever so slightly touching him, or when you innocently slid your palm over the shirt that covered his chest, up to his neck — that beautiful, sensitive neck that you loved kissing so much. It was just the perfect height for you to nuzzle into the warm skin, his intoxicating scent filling your mind with a dark haze as your lips kissed him softly, feeling the familiar goosebumps of his strong arms as they pulled you into an embrace.

Jean loved all your gentle touches, the caressing of your hands, the warmth of your tongue on his body. His hands couldn't get enough of you, either — he took every chance to brush his fingers against yours as you passed each other on the hallway, to grab your waist as he slightly guided you through crowds, or to hold your hand under the desk at the library, his fingers intertwining with yours while he kept reading his notes, smiling as he felt your doe eyes staring at him. Even the most innocent touches sent hot tingles through his core, and it made him feel so pervy, but he couldn't help the swelling bulge growing in his pants as the playful spark in your eyes reminded him of what an incredibly nasty girl you actually were. And it was the secret of you two.

The first few times you talked dirty to him left him absolutely dumbfounded. He had to get used to the insane spinning of his mind as you whispered such filthy stuff into his ear, sometimes out of nowhere, in the middle of the most casual public settings.

"I'd love to suck your cock under this table, y'know," you said softly as you leaned close to his ear, and Jean literally choked on his lunch, followed by immediate coughing and an instant strain of his pants as your sudden words wandered straight to his groin. You smiled at his surprised expression, then bit your lower lip as a prominent blush started to spread on Jean's cheeks. Oh, how you loved teasing him.

"Yeah?" he simply replied, trying to play it cool, but you saw right through him. Him being so adorably flustered just made you want to suck him off even more.

"Yeah," you eyed his lips with a half smile, and the sinful flash of your face made Jean grow even harder under his jeans. "You look so good..."

He swallowed with a heavy gulp, all the blood rushing to his lap, right out of his brain. He glanced at Connie, who just got up to get another slice of cake at the counter, and would be back at your table in about twenty seconds. Jean gazed back at your darkened eyes, your pretty lips glistening as you swiftly ran your tongue across it, and had to keep his eyes from rolling back into his skull at the thought of those same lips wrapping around his already rock hard cock, your eyes glued to his as you couldn't care less about the public surrounding — maybe you'd even enjoy it.

"You're a nasty girl, you know that?" he spoke in a low voice, your faces just a few inches from each other as your eyes melted into his, invisible sparks flying and setting both of your bodies on fire.

Your eyes lowered to Jean's lips and you slowly nodded, smiling. "I know."

"You drive me fucking crazy," Jean mumbled under his breath as you turned to Connie with a lively smile, laughing about the way he already had his face stuffed full of cake before he could sit back down — pretending you didn't just offer him a public blowjob half a minute ago in the canteen.

And you did, you drove him crazy as you became more and more comfortable and skilled in teasing him. Sometimes throughout the whole day, with dirty whispers in his ear as you passed him in the hallway, stolen touches as you suddenly grabbed his bicep or his inner thigh, catching him off guard in class, in the library or the canteen... Not only did an electric wave of arousal run through his body, but he almost fainted off his chair when his phone buzzed in class one time and he checked the attachment you just sent him, expecting it to be a meme — one of those that you usually sent to each other back and forth when a class got too boring to pay attention to. You watched from the other side of the classroom as Jean’s eyes widened at the sight of your mirror selfie, his breath catching in his throat. Your phone covered half of your adorably innocent-looking smile, your hair wet as you seemingly just got out of the shower, your naked hips, the curve of your waist and one and a half of your perfect boobs showing as your delicate fingers lifted Jean’s oversized shirt up on your body. To Jean, an undescribable, painting-like beauty.

Jean felt his lips slightly part and his face burn as he gazed at the screen of his phone, the picture of your delicious body making all the blood in his veins rush right to his lap. You bit back your smile as his eyes flicked up to you, his flushed cheeks and pursed lips letting you know you successfully reached your goal. Jean shifted in his seat, slightly adjusting the crotch of his pants as he tried to keep calm, but your playfully glistening eyes piercing through his didn’t help much. The professor loudly explained the basics of property rights in the background, but all he could wonder was if you knew how mercilessly he was going to overstimulate every inch of that beautiful body you hid under that baggy hoodie.

Jeanbo

you’re sooo paying for this later

u little rat

You knew exactly what buttons to push to get him worked up, and even though he felt agonizing pain as he suffered through a number of days with a raging boner, he secretly loved how more and more bratty you got while teasing him. You didn’t even have an idea of how many times you made him palm himself through his jeans in public, or escape to the restrooms to look at your spontaneous nudes and jerk his already hard cock just a little bit before having to go back to his usual tasks. Jean felt like a fucking perv, but he couldn’t help it — you made him turn into a perv, and he couldn’t stop thinking of all the different ways he wanted you.

Jean’s weakness was how only he knew your dirty little secret side. No one else in the world knew how skilled you grew in sucking his cock, giving him the most perfect blowjob he could ever dream of. You took your time to get to know all his sensitive spots and preferences, slowly suckling at his tip with pretty puckered lips, beautiful eyes looking deep into his until he couldn’t help spilling his hot load inbetween your lips. No one else knew what a dirty girl you were, getting bossy with him from time to time when he taunted you on purpose. He thought he’d lose conciousness right then and there when you stuffed your wet panties into his mouth one time, jokingly — even though you were on top, Jean kept teasing you with that shit-eating grin on his face, knowing you’d soon be begging for his cock. Oh, but he couldn’t have been more wrong…

He then slowly melted into a messy, blushing putty as you took charge on top of him, milking his cock in various ways as he just laid there, unable to move or say too much with his wrists tied to your bed, gagged with your cute little panties. Good thing he also loved watching you — he felt like he was in heaven as your gorgeous naked body towered over him, using him for your own pleasure.

That was a weakness you both shared. You loved watching Jean. He noticed pretty quickly how you liked admiring him, be it from afar as you sat on the other side of the classroom, or from up close, caressing his face with eyes so loving, it made him melt. You also loved to admire him in his naked glory — Jean was a man so big and beautiful, your hungry eyes could never get enough of him. He noticed your habit of basically devouring the sight of him touching himself, so he made sure to pay back all the damn teasing with a few mirror videos here and there, of him gently stroking his slowly swelling cock, sometimes through the towel when he was fresh out of the shower, or half naked in his room when he went back home for the weekend, already missing your presence…

His little revenge usually worked, seeing him touch himself in any way made you drool and your mind go blank instantly. You adored getting close to him, looking up at his handsome face, deep into his eyes as you were kneeling in front of him, watching and feeling his cock just an inch from your face before you begged for him to stroke you with it, slap it on your tongue, smear his precum on your lips, then stuff your face full… You were absolutely crazy about this man.

You also couldn’t get enough of his voice. Jean was definitely a talker, and your ability to cum in seconds as he whispered the most filthy, nasty words into your ear was completely new to you.

“S’creamy little pussy’s squeezing me so tight,” he moaned before gently biting down on your earlobe, his thick shaft stretching you from behind with the dirtiest loud squelching sounds. Another delicious groan reached your ear, and your eyes rolled back, knowing you were going to cum in no time. “That’s it, messy girl, cream on my cock f’me.”

Jean was all about being gentle and soft, but he was also quite passionate as he quickly got carried away. It was a beautiful clash of pleasures when his words and praises remained soft and caring while the movements of his hips, strong arms and large hands became rough, almost cruel.

SMACK!

His hand came down on the round of your ass with a harsh slap, and you whimpered in pain as you hovered over his face, your hands clutching his strands of hair as Jean sat on the floor below you, eating you out with a feverish greed. His wet lips mumbled into your pussy before he continued licking your sensitive little knob into insanity. “Mhmm yeah, keep holding onto my hair, pretty girl”

“JEAN!“ you cried out as another loud slap left a stinging pleasure hot on your ass, and your knees felt like giving out as his tongue swirled you closer to your peak.

“Cum on my face, baby, please make a mess f’me…”

Maybe that was the secret to all the otherworldly pleasure you experienced with each other — you both loved making the other feel incredibly good. After a long day of teasing each other, you couldn’t wait to feel his strong, large body wrap around you, his hot skin on yours, soft lips sucking your tongue into his mouth…

“Oh my god… How are you so—so fucking big?” you muttered and Jean chuckled as your jaw stayed fallen open, your pretty eyes staring at his erection as it jumped free from the confinement of his boxers. The sight made your mouth water. Even though you haven't touched it yet, his cock was already so heavy and wet, the flush tip leaking, so messy and eager to be inside you.

“Y’gonna be in shock every single time?”

“Mhmmm”

But what you loved most was how safe you felt surrounded by his thick, muscular thighs, or big arms as they snaked around your naked body, hugging you tightly to his chest, his length thrusting up into you slowly as his honey-like eyes sank into yours, his soft lips uttering secret little praises into your mouth… Words that made you feel like your hearts poured right through your ribs and melted into each other, words that felt so warm, so sacred, only yours...

"I'm only yours…”

Your hand moved on its own as you knocked on the door and your heart fluttered with the most childlike excitement you felt in a long while. The lock clicked, the door opened...

And there he stood in front of you.

You looked up to Jean's face and your heart sank to your stomach. An unexplainable contentment filled your chest every single time those beautiful hazel eyes met yours, his expression softening as he looked at you, his pretty lips curving into a smile and uttering words you could barely comprehend as your mind immediately turned to putty.

"Hey! Come in."

Warmth filled your chest as Jean turned to let you in and Mikasa's words echoed in your mind from earlier. You felt like she might've been right.

He felt like home.

"Will you be playing tin soldier in the doorway all night?" Jean tittered as he leaned onto the doorknob and you shook your head to jerk yourself out of your spontaneous daydream. Jean found it absolutely amusing when you became flustered — he noticed your eyes running down his body and the slight blush of your cheeks didn't escape his attention either as you stared at his face with big sparkling eyes.

"Shut up" you frowned as you quickly looked away, but you couldn't hide your embarrassment from him. "I'm eating your present"

"What present?" his curious eyes followed your movements while he closed the door behind you and you put down the paper bag you had in your hand.

"I brought you a—fuck—AHH!" you let out an irritated grunt as you turned to him, trying to unzip your winter coat, and failing miserably as the fringe of your knitted scarf got caught by the zip.

"Wait, let me help you," Jean snickered at your clumsiness and immediately stepped closer, his warm fingers taking the hardware from your frozen ones.  "Y'little twit."

"Hey, don't make me beat you again," you shot a threatening look up at him, then bit back a smile as he let out a heartfelt laugh. You felt your heart pounding against your chest faster as he stood so close to you, his eyes fixated on your zip with an adorable little frown.

"Your hands went numb in the cold?" Jean's eyes flicked up to yours for a moment and you nodded. Oh god, how your cute red, frostbitten cheeks made his heart flutter.

"Mhm, they always do," you replied pouting as you slipped your hands out of your colorful gloves that Sasha knitted for you. Crocheting wasn't her only craft and your closet got the best out of it. "My circulation's as shitty as it can get. And it's freezing out there..."

"This big ass scarf, I swear to god," Jean murmured, annoyed, as you chuckled, feeling the heat radiating from his face so close to yours. He found you so adorable in your huge, thick coat, big scarf and bigger snowboots. You reminded him of a dressed up little penguin.

And his face seemed so warm and welcoming, you couldn't help sliding your frozen hands on it. "HOLY SHIT, you're freezing, what the fuck?!"

"Ouuu god, and you're burning me." Your shoulders shook with laughter and Jean let you warm your little fingers on top of his stubbled jaw with a smile while he successfully operated your scarf out of the zip.

"There you go."

"Thank you, doctor," you finally unzipped your coat as Jean stepped back, his nosiness turning his attention back to the mysterious paper bag again. "See, it was worth it becoming a neurosurgeon."

"Shit, lucky you, you're in dire need of a brain transplant," he snapped back with the familiar shit-eating grin and you stared back with narrowed eyes.

"Aight, it's final, I am eating your present."

"But what is it?! Let me see." Jean's hand already reached for the paper bag, but you swiftly jumped in and grabbed it before he could.

"Na-uh-uh! It's a present, I have to give it to you," you smiled as one of your hands slipped into the bag, and Jean's heart skipped a beat at your happy, frostbitten little expression. Whatever you'd gift him, he was already melting.

"Ah yeah, silly me." He mirrored your smile while you dropped the paper bag, a familiarly wrapped pack of something remaining in your hands.

"I know you were dying to try out the new pastry shop in town center." Your hands reached out to Jean, but he didn't move yet. His look was glued to the pretty joyful glint of your eyes. "So I got you lemon cake 'cause you said your mom's was your favorite."

Jean's eyes finally left yours and he gazed at the colorful packaging of the cake as you carefully handed it over to him, an inevitable smile growing on his face while his chest filled with warmth as you explained further.

"It's probably not as good, but I figured your insanely sweet tooth might like it," you chirped cheerfully as Jean felt the familiar little butterflies wake up in his stomach, returning his gaze back to you with the most gorgeous, sheepish smile. He was flustered.

He didn't even remember the last time someone surprised him with such a small, yet so thoughtful little gift.

Jean turned to the cake again, looking for the easiest way to unwrap it as he tried to hide the blush he felt heating up his face. He's blushing over a slice of cake, how fucking stupid.

"Thank you— Grab a plate, we'll share."

"Nooo, I got it for you," you grinned, noticing the rosy tint of his cheeks even in the dim lighting of their dorm. "Only for you."

Jean's eyes returned to meet yours again, visibly softening as his cheeks burned with the immense love he felt at that moment. He stepped closer to you, closing the distance between your bodies, and your hearts fluttered to the same chaotic rhythm as he leaned down to softly kiss you. The sweet taste of your watermelon chapstick made him tingle inside as you kissed him back, now blushing a whole lot more than Jean was previously.

"Thank you, pretty girl." He spoke softly as your kiss broke, smiling at how quickly you softened under his lips, eyes glistening up at him with desperation for more.

"I hope you'll like it," you mumbled in response, your eyes sheepishly dropping to avoid the intense feeling in your chest woken up by Jean's stare.

As if you didn't regularly fuck the soul out of each other.

It was kind of a weird place to be, casual affection still felt a little awkward between you two because despite the excruciating sexual tension, you still didn't declare any romantic intentions verbally. You and Jean hanging out casually was just that: talking about any and every possible thing, sharing your silliest theories, fooling around... Until one of you couldn't bear the tension of the intense eye contact and being so close anymore, and broke the ice with a touch on the inner thigh, a gentle stroke on the lips, or a soft but eager kiss. And there was no stopping from there.

Getting so close to each other as friends just made it even more of a strange situation, really.

"Speaking of doing favors... Can you please cut my hair?" Jean flashed a forced robotic grin at you and you stared at him for a moment with a genuine confusion furrowing your brows. He laid on his bed in front of you, still having a few small crumbs of the cake he just devoured stuck to his lips. "I don't trust anyone with it anymore."

"Oooh, so this is why you wanted to "hang out"," you sneered at him as your fingers imitated quotation marks in the air, earning an amused roll of Jean's hazel eyes. "You're using me for my insane manual skills..."

"Yeah, I'm with you solely for the free haircuts."

"With me?" you raised an eyebrow and bit back your smile as Jean's smug confidence seemed to suddenly disappear as his eyes dropped to his fidgeting hands. Your heart nervously skipped a beat at the phrase, but you decided to joke it off. "And I'm with you solely for your mullet."

"Knew it," Jean shook his head with a renewed smile. "Taking advantage of my body... How dare you?"

"I'd rather not comment on that," you chuckled to yourself as Jean started rummaging through the drawer of his bedside table, now laying on his stomach. "But I'd love to know how I earned your trust to touch your treasured locks."

"Here you go," Jean reached for your hands with a self-assured look on his face, carefully placing a pair of scissors in it. You gazed at them for a second before meeting his confident stare again.

"But these are regular scissors."

"And?"

"These aren't good, they could damage the ends of your hair," you said, but immediately bursted out laughing at Jean's deadpan.

"Okay, mom, I do not give a single flying fuck about my ends."

"Okay, honey-boo-boo-sweetiepie, whatever you say," you shrugged, getting to your feet as you took to the bathroom with your assigned hairstyling shears in your hand. "C'mon then."

"I'm starting to think you spend way too much time with Sasha," Jean smiled as his eyes involuntarily followed the smooth motions of your hips as you walked away, the sweet tinkling of your laughter sending a wave of warmth through his core.

You couldn't even imagine how endlessly content he felt in your presence.

"And I'm starting to think you lost your mind and share one singular braincell with Connie now," you snapped back, flicking on the bathroom light as a chuckling Jean got out of his bed to follow you. "Trusting me to cut your hair..."

"You said you usually cut your own and it's really good. The layers look pretty," Jean replied as he stopped next to you in front of the sink and his large fingers gently caressed your soft strands of hair. He liked it when you wore it down.

"Really?" you glanced up at him as you felt your face getting warmer and Jean smiled, letting his hands tangle in your hair at the back of your head. He found you so cute.

"Really."

That's how you found yourself spending your Friday night standing behind Jean with the scissors and a comb in hand. He was seated in front of the mirror above the sink, a towel wrapped around his broad shoulders, smiling at your reflection as you furrowed your brows in serious concentration, trying to get a thorough look of his hair before every single snip.

"Just a trim, right?"

"Yeah, just an inch or two," Jean replied, keeping his head perfectly still, unable to scrape the smile off his face as he was watching you. "I'm leaving it up to you, though."

"Do you really trust my skills that much?" you grinned as you slowly moved the comb to grab a section of his ashy brown hair, trimming off the ends to the same length as the previous section.

"I do." Your eyes met Jean's in the mirror for a moment as he responded, and you had to take a second look. His hair was kind of messy, having been brushed and clipped in multiple different directions, but despite looking a bit silly, the playful sparkle in his eyes still made your heart skip a beat.

"You're so handsome," you smiled back at him, lifting your hand for a second to gently caress his warm cheek as he sat completely motionless for you. Jean just chuckled, but even though he always became flustered, you knew how much he liked being praised. "It's a shame you're my customer."

"Oh, so no head?!"

"Nooo," you laughed at the reference and cut another section, moving the scissors to snip the ends a few times vertically as well. "It wouldn't be ethical."

"I forgot my wallet though, can't pay any other way," Jean fake-pouted and you shook your head giggling. Snip. Snip. More and more pieces of hair fell slowly to the cold tiles.

"We'll figure something out, don't worry, pretty boy," your eyes followed your own fingers' movements, brushing them through his hair a few times to see where the section needed to be adjusted. "Are you washing it after?"

"Probably."

"Can I braid it when it's dried?" you asked, eyes lighting up as the sudden thought came to you, but Jean quickly knocked down your enthusiasm.

"You absolutely can not."

"Pretty pleaseee," you grinned at his reflection in the mirror and he let out a small chuckle as your fingers moved on to the sections at the back of his head.

"You wouldn't even be able to braid this length, smartass." Jean found the idea weird, but your excitement adorable. He was also kind of curious how you'd braid his hair, but still. He couldn't let you know that.

"How do you know? Ya knucklehead," you frowned. "I wasn't aware that a world-known hairstylist graced me with his professional presence."

"Yeah, you're the chosen one," Jean grimaced as you ruffled his hair on the side that you were done trimming, the freshly cut strands of hair tickling the skin on his face.

"Thanks for choosing me, your majesty," you replied, quickly pinching his cheek before removing a clip from a section on the other side of his pretty head. Your heart already fluttered at the way his hair looked, tousled and wild...

But it still didn't compare to the warmth spreading in your center as Jean stepped out of the bathroom after a quick shower.

His grey sweatpants and oversized shirt smelled fresh as she stepped to his bed, leaning down to press a soft kiss on your shoulder as you laid on your stomach, typing on your phone. You glanced up at him as he flashed his signature grin at you and as you watched him dry his damp hair with a towel, you felt straight up mesmerized. How the hell can a man so beautiful be real and standing in front of you?

"Who are you texting?" Jean's hazel eyes flicked to the screen of your phone while you shifted on the bed, making place for him to sit beside you.

"Sasha," you smiled as you laid your head on your arm, still watching him. "She asked me to take a pic of this masterpiece of a haircut."

"Wait, let me turn so you can get the back..."

"Nooo, don't turn away, lemme see your face." You opened your camera app, then smiled at him on the screen. Jean was surprisingly unaffected by anyone taking pictures of him, anytime, never being awkward in front of the camera, and of course being extremely photogenic in addition — that handsome bastard. "You look so good."

"No, you." Jean suddenly leaned down to nuzzle into your hair near your ear and you instantly raised your shoulders to protect your neck, bursting out laughing as his stubble and hot breath tickled your skin.

Jean shifted his body to lay down beside you, the heat radiating from him immediately making your core tingle. A warm hand slipped under your shirt to gently slide along your waistline, up to your back while his face stayed close to yours. Your laughter quieted to a content sigh as your arms wreathed around his neck, his soft lips slightly grazing the skin of your jawline, giving you goosebumps.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his deep voice making your eyes slowly close in pleasure. His fingers skillfully unhooked your bra behind your back — although it wasn't a sexual act, at all. Jean's touch felt incredibly loving as his caring fingers glided on your now uncovered back, rubbing slow, soothing circles on the skin. Another sigh fell from your lips as you felt relief fill you, his tender touch and gentle little pecks on your face making your heart flutter.

As your body pressed to the front of his, your soft skin under his fingertips and your sweet scent filling his nose, Jean felt like his heart might burst out of happiness. Your name fell from his lips as he waited for your eyes to meet his.

"Hmm?" you opened your eyes to look at him and Jean smiled at how sleepy your expression turned under his touch.

"I... I just wanted to know if you felt comfortable, y'know—with where this is going." Jean spoke softly and your eyes melted together in a safe warmth.

"What do you mean?" you asked, eyes blinking slowly.

"I mean... I know we've been on a lot of dates, but I still feel like—like, we haven't talked about any labels or anything, so I wondered if—"

"If I felt comfortable," you smiled and Jean pressed the tip of his nose onto yours as he nodded.

"Yeah. I don't want you to feel like we're just fooling around... Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be so greedy, as if I can't control myself around you," he mumbled, his thumb caressing your lips as his hand on your back wandered up to the back of your neck under your shirt. "Sometimes I feel like I ruined the chance to start out right, to treat you right..."

"I don't know how it should go, but... This feels right," you replied as you held eye contact, then your fingers found Jean's, both of your hearts pounding faster as you held hands. The moment felt so close, so sacred, it made you smile before you quietly chuckled. "But I know what you mean, it's—it's hard to keep my hands off of you."

"Yeah, you tell me," Jean smirked. "I never thought I'd be the pathetic piece of shit who couldn't keep it in his pants for the life of him...”

You laughed wholeheartedly as you shook your head, "Well, I don't want you to keep it in your pants."

"Yeah, that's the problem."

"But it just feels so good," you returned your gaze back to his honey-like eyes, your legs tangling between his. "It's not because I'm a horny pervert, I swear, it just feels so incredibly good to be close to you..."

"I know," he replied quietly, almost whispering as he smiled, butterflies in his stomach flapping around once again. "I feel the same."

Jean tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your foreheads pressed together. A few moments of comfortable silence set between you two and you felt so safe in his arms, you felt like you could easily fall asleep.

"You're so different from the tough little shell that you hide under," Jean whispered, poking a finger on your sternum. "Inside your frozen little heart."

"It's not frozen," you chuckled. "I'm just... I got used to being alone. I didn't open up until we didn't know each other, I don't see the use of opening up to most people, most of the time, you know."

As Jean's lips turned into a pout, you felt the need to explain further.

"I mean, I wasn't lonely. Just alone. I've always been alone," you spoke, then chuckled at his saddened expression. "Don't look at me like that, I didn't mean it as a sob story."

"I know, I get it... I do," Jean reassured you, slightly squeezing your hand.

"Then you know how special this is for me," you mumbled as your lips were just an inch from his.

"I know," Jean whispered. "And I want you to know how special your pretty little heart is to me."

Your eyes met again and you felt your bodies molding perfectly into each other as his arm pulled you even closer to him.

"You should show it off a little more often," Jean smiled and you mirrored him.

"I—I do, I try to. I've never had this many friends in my life before."

"I know. I'm happy to see it... And to be next to you," he smirked. "It did feel like trying to break through a tough layer of ice in the beginning, though"

"Good thing you know how to skate," you joked with a sleepy voice. He chuckled in response — that even gave him an idea for later.

"Good thing I know how to make you melt."

"Yeah, into a small, pathetic puddle," you laughed as Jean watched you, eyes softening as they examined your beautiful features. He felt like he never wanted to take his eyes off of you.

"No, when you melt, you feel more like a... Like a huge summer rain." Jean stared at you, lingering. "Y'know, the one that's warm on your skin and feels like a liquid hug, and you don't mind it soaking through all your fucking clothes..."

"A thunderstorm?" you smirked up at him.

"Yeah, kind of," Jean replied with a half smile. "Like a crazy ass thunderstorm that comes out of nowhere, but feels so damn good in the summer heat..."

"I love those."

"Yeah," Jean mumbled as your lashes batted at him with slow, tired blinks. "I love those, too." He pressed a soft kiss onto your lips before adding, "They make my heart so happy."

[onyourhyuck]

LOWLIFE. | L.DH

— Prologue: “Dear diary, today Lee Haechan looked so fucking hot coming out of the boy’s changing rooms shirtless and I can’t believe how quickly I got turned on staring at his bare stomach.” — He pauses turning to you holding up the red book. “Oh y/n and you claim to be innocent, then what is all of this?”

— Summary: Where your childhood enemy found your diary one day where you wrote all your dirty thoughts about Lee fucking Haechan.

— Genre: Childhood enemies. Smut dni. Haechan is mean, cruel and horrible to y/n but she somehow likes it. Haechan treats y/n like she’s his pet. Hard Dom x submissive y/n. Edging and overstimulation. Mention of sex toys being used in public. It’s pretty filthy. Haechan doesn’t give Y/n a break. He sorta blackmails her, but everything is consensual. Minors dni. Manipulative Haechan. Y/n peeks and stalks Haechan secretly, she watches him change in the boys changing rooms.

— Notes:

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

There is one secret no one knows about you except piece of paper all jumbled inside a journal. Two years worth of research and your dark secrets. You are known as the quiet girl at your school. You don’t have many friends and you prefer your own company than yourselves shared with others.

You’re a pretty girl, the innocent type that looks lost all the freaking time. You wear thick black glasses, your hair is mostly straight and down with your bangs out. You try to stay out of everyone’s eyes because of your shyness.

But one thing no one knows is that you have the biggest crush on your childhood enemy Lee fucking Donghyuck, infamously known as Haechan at your school.

You weren’t sure why you started developing these sudden feelings for the boy when he’s done nothing but completely ignore you unless he wants to bully the fuck out of you with his annoying group of friends.

You see you and Donghyuck used to be friends. Quite close friends actually up until you both started going to middle school you lost your friendship and Donghyuck turned on you suddenly. He became friends with another group of people. Leaving you all alone. But nonetheless you remain the same.

He started doing all things to you because he knew you were weak and defenceless he also knew you cared for him so it made this twice as more thrilling for the sadistic boy.

You’re leaving your classroom soon to leave the high school. You’re a senior who’s going through the terrible exam trauma season, just like every other senior student in your school has been doing for these past month and a half. You left packing your bag in an empty classroom because everyone was dismissed to go home, no student was left behind except of course you.

You’re taking your time packing your things. The class that you’re coming out of was history and that’s something you’re pretty good at. Honestly you’re probably the only student who’s taking that subject seriously. Your teacher always praised you for contributing when no one else was.

You walk towards the doorway about to leave till a long arm blocks the road to leaving the class, you could recognise the arm from mile away, in fact you could smell this distinctive smell from countries if you could. It was Lee Haechan running in with short sleeve white plain shirt and sweatpants he wore the sports attire looking like he was dripping an entire ocean from his hair and down the face.

You hate how much you were weak in comparison to the boy because knowing him he wasn’t feeling as stargazed as you are watching every bead sweating down his chin, to hear the sound of his ruffle pants, the veiny hands clenching the doorway because he wants to go inside to grab his remaining stuff and bag he’d forgot in your class due to the football practice.

“D-donghyuck…!”

You gulp as he saw your gaze lower down and he pushes through you staring you down like you were a piece of meat to him.

“Move out of my way specs.” He taunts going behind the classroom grabbing the black bag putting it on one side of the shoulders while grabbing the grey celine hoodie in the other arm. He turns towards the door again watching you standing there like a lost dumb sheep.

He always called you these devastating teasing names because of your glasses, even though he wears them, he found it to be fun seeing you grow shy or blush at these names. Somehow you never once told him to stop which made him think you probably enjoy the slightest attention you get from him.

He wasn’t wrong.

You did like it even though many people found it to be the term ‘bullying’. In your eyes it was called something that friends do, no, not even friends would do this. Instead it’s something you and Donghyuck do. Just you together.

“Why are you still standing there like you have something to say to me?” A smirk crawls right on his bronze stultifying face he was glowing with sweat making him look like a giant star right in front of you it was impossible not to stare. Donghyuck’s voice had a way of pulling your head into the gutter where everything was ten times more lewd and unnecessarily making you a huge mess.

You look away from the moment his two dangerous daggers were watching you up and down waiting for an answer you could’ve give. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak up enough.

“Oh. You’re not going to answer me now? Don’t you think when someone’s talking to you it’s polite to look at them when they are.” He tauntingly adds closing the space between you where his hands crawls up to your jawline latching it in the hold of his palms and then twisting your face round so you can stare at his face.

Your eyes met and he felt your breathing hitch and your mouth letting out a tiny yelp in the process of twisting you round to face him finally. Your throat goes dry and you swiftly shake your eyes when he was watching you with a face that could kill you. You’re praying that he can’t hear the way your lungs were hyperventilating.

You break midst trying to make sense. “Donghyuck i—“ He blankly looks at you. “Haechan.” He strut towards you once more.

You’re blinking now helplessly, in confusion.

“It’s Haechan. Not Donghyuck.” You can see that he was now visibly annoyed by how you’re freely calling him by his first name. Unlike everyone in the school and even the teachers, they know him by Haechan. They call him Haechan and nothing else.

But you’re not someone who was used to calling him by such a foreign name because he will always be little Donghyuck to you. The Lee Donghyuck who was your friend and will always be that person to you in your heart. You couldn’t help it you suppose you were too used to calling him by that.

“Sorry I slipped my tongue i guess.” You say apologetically.

He wanted to roll at you apologising because he knew no matter what he says you’ll always forget it and do the same again; calling him by his first name that he so hated. He hates the way you call him so sweetly too as if you care for him. If anything it was pathetic. You were pathetic.

“I’m going now.” You announce without Haechan’s care he silently stares, not giving much care to you. You bow your head leaving the classroom and he watches you leave until something dropped at the back of the classroom making the boy twitch around and walk to what could’ve fell.

He thought at first it was one of the paintings on the walls but when walking to the further back something slides on the wall when the left leg hit something skidding a square book on the floor.

It was a red journal with a leather type strapping case round it and he felt his eyebrows twitch when he picks it up standing in middle of the classroom where he was the only one left now.

‘Did Specs leave this behind?’ He thought dusting it off. Donghyuck looks behind him until he sighs trailing off. “She’s so hopeless, what an idiot.” He frowns as he opens the book.

“I bet she’s got class notes here.” He mockingly adds. “She’s got nothing better to do.”

He wasn’t expecting anything in that stupid journal of yours if anything he was expecting it to be the most boring thing ever written and he could’ve read. It should’ve been history. It should’ve been maths or maybe even freaking science he was reading. — but the minute the pages were flipping through like a crust off the bread he saw the life out of his eyes leave his body like he saw the most unbelievable things ever to be discovered.

It was a moment to remember for sure because even the soul inside him was deceiving him when he saw the written things you’ve done and thought about. It will never end now. Donghyuck will never let you live this down even in death he will remind you of this forever and ever, because this was a whole new side to you that you’ve been hiding.

And whatever you’re hiding now is with him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Nonononono!”

You are rummaging around your bedroom trying to find where on earth your diary could be it’s not like it’s easy to forget it somewhere considering how bright red it is. It’s not entirely small either so you have no idea where it could be.

You’re stressing out because what if you lost that thing forever? You had the diary since the start of your second year in high school. You can’t lose it now, it’s too precious to lose.

Your mother is standing by the door arms crossed watching your distance expression go from small sadness to absolutely terrified thought of someone finding it. It’s not exactly the most pleasant thing to find when you have your deepest secrets written on there that no one could ever know.

“Where could it be?” You grab on your duvet lifting it up trying to search your bed now from head to toe. You’re going on all fours looking underneath the bed and then looking over it. Hell you were even looking inside your attic for it and you knew it could’ve be there but there was a slight chance your mother put it up there with the rest of the storage garbage.

You sat down sighing deeply failing at finding your precious item that’s got your heart running hundred miles a minute just by thinking all sorts of bad scenarios that you could be having right now.

“I swear it was just here in my bag, I am sure of it. I never leave it behind without me.” You state seriously, your mother knows how important it is for you now that she saw your eyes searching everywhere for it.

She looks around the room seeing the amount of mess laying on the ground, your clothes on the scattering bedroom floor, your wardrobes open door widely available for anyone to look inside, your bed was a mess and so was your school bag. You forced it open letting everything out when you saw your diary missing.

“Honey maybe you left it at your school locker have you thought of that?” Your mother told you.

It was certainly a possibility it could’ve been there, you will check tomorrow but you swore you grabbed it on your way home in the history class.

Your voice hurls at the end syllables like you were still unconvinced by the whole lot.

“Check tomorrow okay? Clean up for now. Your whole room is a pigsty mess. Afterwards come downstairs to have your dinner.”

She leaves your room and you lay on the bed suddenly before your legs curl up kicking in the air. You wanted to rip your hair out because now you’re here worried as hell about your flipping diary that could ruin you — quite frankly it could make your whole life miserable. If anyone read it that is. But no one would read something like that and expect it’s you, right?

You told yourself it’s okay. There’s many people with your name, therefor no one will expect it’s you. Afterall you’re a nobody at your school.

You turn around when you saw your phone screen pop up with a new notification. Turning to the phone grabbing it with your palm, you saw an unfamiliar username texting you.

‘No way…’

“Lee Donghyuck!” You murmur sitting up on your bed now intensely looking at the screen wondering why was he texting you this late? Actually why was he texting you at all. He doesn’t text you unless he calls to force you to give him your class notes so he could cheat in the tests.

You couldn’t believe it until you open it up fully replying back.

lee donghyuck : Specs come meet me right now.

You : What why?

lee donghyuck : Don’t ask and just do it.

You : I don’t want to donghyuck I’m very busy i don’t want to go anywhere.

lee donghyuck : that’s fine i’m outside your house.

You: WHAT

You couldn’t believe the text in front of you. Your mouth was wide open dropping dead at how fast he responded.

Lee fucking Donghyuck was outside your house, unannounced. It pulled you thinking you did something wrong because why else would the hottest guy at your school be there?

Running down you grabbed the spare black hoodie on yourself before opening the door letting a harsh cold breath of air hitting your face putting all your hair up and your gaze meets the boy standing in front of your door, he wore a white hoodie with a spare denim jeans. He looked super good out of the school uniform you had to admit.

You couldn’t stop drooling but you looked away questionably.

Donghyuck saw your expression falling apart but the moment you had your eyes laying on him like he was the most ethereal person ever he felt a giant egotistical boost to the already large ego he has.

Your mouth opens unable to find any motive nor the reasoning for his sudden actions. “What are you doing here Donghyuck— at 8pm.” You look at your phone lockscreen. The time was taken away and the boy gave a quick smirk to you.

“Y/n?— who is it.”

Your mother rushes to the front door the moment she saw Donghyuck her expression lit up. But yours fell into darkness out of hell because you knew damn well your mother was about to embarrass you through her way. She remembers Donghyuck, in fact she loved little Donghyuck. But she didn’t know you guys were still not friends anymore and she doesn’t know how much of a giant bully he is to you now.

Because of course you don’t want to burden your mother with how much you are confusing with Donghyuck. When he’s without his friends he’s probably half decent and with his friends he’s got no decency to his own persona. However he certainly wasn’t your friends either way.

But you guys still treat and speak to one another as if you guys were.

“Oh my gosh if it isn’t Lee Donghyuck! I haven’t seen you since you were… oh my lord this small to my ankles darling.”

Donghyuck gave this foreign smile to his beautiful face full off mysterious evil because you knew damn well he couldn’t smile for anyone this sweetly. You look at that smile you cannot recognise it felt like everything you knew of him now was gone. Your mother welcomes the boy inside your home. As much as it gave you massive anxiety to have your crush and enemy in your freaking house.

“Ah it’s okay Y/n’s mum i came over to see Y/n. If it’s okay that is. I have something important to discuss regarding our maths test we have tomorrow.”

It somehow made you wonder why he was here in the first place and what was he intending to do.

The room grew into a tiny square because you felt your lungs puff out by the mention of maths. Donghyuck’s scarce energy could kill you there was an eerie sense about this whole thing and you could feel it at the bottom of your stomach ready to cause a spillage over.

Your mother smiles. “Of course. Y/n take Donghyuck upstairs and show him what he needs so he can be on his way.”

You look at your mother giving a nod saying nothing. Your gaze returns to Donghyuck who was staring at you already, smirking widely like he won something.

But you couldn’t put your hands on it.

Donghyuck slowly enters your room seeing how much of a mess it is he can imagine what you’ve been looking for, it somehow would begin to fill his empty stomach with cruel satisfaction seeing you worry because he was five steps ahead of you before you know it the moment he hears you come in and close the door he grabbed your wrist turning around and throwing you on the bed making you lay there as you let out a soft scream that’s cut off by a lean dainty hand with long fingers and a vein stretching on it so mythically making this feel like a fever dream seeing how the boy who hates your guts the most was on top of you covering your mouth.

He smuggles his palm across your soft chapped mouth putting his finger on his lips to shush you down with a look belonging to a man with malicious intents.

A shiver was sent down your neck watching him. He loved seeing this expression of confusion on you, the way your eyebrows furrow together arching down to resemble a small animal scared to die.

“Shhh. Don’t scream okay, understand?” He said looking for somewhat a nod or something from you.

You look at him letting out a muffled okay and a nod with your head. He slowly retracts back his hand when he felt like he could let you go and then going inside the hoodie pockets he would take out,

Your freaking diary.

“How did you—!”

You couldn’t believe your eyes but you open your mouth to shout what and how does he have this but he puts a finger on your lips glaring down at you.

“You said you would be quiet.” He growls at you as if he knew you’d be like this and you move your eyes ready to grab the diary but he has stretched his arm up in the air making you fall over and tip toe to grab it.

“Give me that back. It’s mine.”

But no matter what you’ll always be unable to reach it no matter how much you jump or do the tip toe with your feet you’re never going to reach your diary when he’s got this long arms and legs. He was looking at you smirking widely.

“Donghyuck this isn’t funny give me my diary back!” You shout with your eyes watching the diary in his hand.

“Nahuh.” He said with a condescending laugh pulling away from you holding the diary down again in the both hands. You watch him with your eyes widen terrified by this.

You wished it could be anyone but him, anyone but him. Donghyuck was the spawn of devil in other words he’s going to ruin you now.

You felt small and exposed by this whole thing you couldn’t believe it this whole time your flipping diary was with the guy you were literally begging it not to be with it’s like earth was punishing you. It’s like this was your most lowest point of your life now, you’re doomed and you are in disbelief because how can this happen to you?

You whisper begging. “Please can i have it back?”

You tried to appear pathetic than you already look because embarrassment and shame wasn’t enough to describe how you’re feeling currently in this moment on. But it seems like the boy had no intention of letting you go easily, at least not like this. He hasn’t even had his fun yet with you.

Donghyuck ignores your plead starting to open the diary up. The fingers were flipping the pages to a section in the middle where a crowding smile was drawn on the boy’s cheeks like a Cheshire Cat.

You clench your hands seeing him open it. “Donghyuck don’t read it.” You say out loud in panic.

“Shhhh Y/n I’m trying to find a very specific page.” He retorts back until he found it looking back with a bright light on him. “Aha! Found it.”

He turns to you to get a good wild and live experience of seeing the life crush out of your eyes and leaving your home. You’re dreading it seeing that the boy knew exactly how to push your buttons now. He had control and you weren’t even aware of it until you were read like a story from Donghyuck reading upon the pages with his fingers and his eyes trailing from word to word on the diary page. “Dear diary, today Lee Haechan looked so fucking hot coming out of the boy’s changing rooms shirtless and I can’t believe how quickly I got turned on staring at his bare stomach.” — He pauses turning to you holding up the red book. “Oh y/n and you claim to be innocent, then what is all of this?”

You stand there still like you were a mime stuck in an imaginary see through dimension box. You wish you were actually because Donghyuck’s live vocals reading your own diary out loud to you knowing damn well it’s about him and how your true feelings were there about lingering. It was embarrassment beyond anything you’ve ever felt before and you don’t wish this on anyone, not this feeling not when your enemy.

“Now tell me this. How long have you been spying on me in the boy’s changing rooms?” He smirks waiting for some kind of vocal response from you but all he got from you was bright red cheeks and trembling eyes.

As much as he loved seeing you this ashamed he wanted actual words and not just a physical reaction. Perhaps you were shocked. Too shocked to even speak. Donghyuck fits his tongue across his cheek balling it up in annoyance. “No answer? Of course no answer you’re the one who writes all these dirty fantasies with me in this book.”

You look away stuttering. “I- I didn’t mean to look at you getting changed.”

He laughs. “Oh yeah? Your diary says otherwise darling.” He rolls the pages out. “Here it says you’d want me to fuck your mouth full of my load until you can’t talk anymore so how about that?”

You didn’t want him to re-read all your dirty thoughts about Haechan you have with him out loud it physically pains you and makes you cringe out loud even more than you’d think.

“I want him to make me scream his name so the whole world knows I’m his.”

‘I can’t… make it stop.’

“Lee Donghyuck can be mean to me and treat me like shit and I’d crawl back for more.” He laughs finding this one sort of funny. Who would’ve thought you’d crawl back to him for more.

You clench your nails into your palm.

“My favourite one is this one.” Donghyuck clears his throat straightening up the shoulders as he starts to tauntingly read. “I’m starting to think i may have feelings for my enemy Lee Donghyuck it’s shameful because it began with the moment he started to hate me.”

“Oh specs that’s freaking shameful. Are you a masochist perhaps?” He snorts watching you. He may be right at this moment. Donghyuck knew you could handle this shame considering you wrote a whole diary dedicated to him he must give you the prompt that you did well worshiping him behind the close doors.

It’s an effort to be this diligent as you.

“Can I have it back now… are you done insulting me yet?” You bit your bottom lip now simple angered and Donghyuck could notice the visible fire in your eyes nevertheless he couldn’t care and he took a step forward pushing you down on the bed making you sit down as he grabs a fistful of your hair tugging it.

You couldn’t help but wince but somehow you wanted him to pull more of your head. He made you look up at him as he puts the diary in the air again with his hand raising it up.

“I’m not done with you Y/n. Listen up if you don’t want the whole world to know about your fucking secret then you listen to me and do as i say got it?” Donghyuck spat leering his eyes at you and you harshly clench your eyes nodding as he lets go off your head.

“Good, tomorrow wear this and don’t take it off understood?”

Your gaze goes bleak and pale like you’ve possible seen a freaking paranormal ghost right now but the minute you touch the small pocket sized vibrator you look at Donghyuck with shaky teeth.

“W-What? Why am i going to wear this tomorrow. ” You let out pushing the Vibrator back but Donghyuck taunts you smirking.

“I don’t want to do that.” You state throughly.

“Wear it tomorrow or your mother will know about your diary. You wouldn’t want your mother knowing how much of a slut her daughter is right?”

He coos brushing some of your bangs behind the ears smiling down at you evilly and you shudder at his warm touch against your pale skin. You gulp looking down.

Looks like there’s only one way.

“Good it’s settled then.” He says after you gone quiet thinking about it seeing how you’re up for it now. You couldn’t help but think how cruel and mean he is you are starting to completely change your whole feelings about the boy. But some deep part of you only remembers the little him. It was a war in your body knowing damn well you aren’t able to fully hate him.

But you’re sure of one thing now.

Donghyuck is the biggest lowlife.

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The next day came but you’ve never been dreading more about the sun rising to pass on the next day. You hated that you came into school full jumpy and anxious knowing damn well your enemy is on the hunt to end you. To torture you on endless terms.

The first class you had was English but you couldn’t help but sit down blowing out gentle air waves from your lips as you get out your English’s book and workload papers from the last lesson.

The next minute someone else enters after you slamming down behind you taking a seat there. You weren’t sure who would sit there because no one sat there before. Everyone has an arranged seating arrangement that can’t be changed.

You turn around to see who it was only to be met with the familiar sight of the boy laid back slanting watching you keenly.

“Donghyuck…?” You let out as you turned to look around and the boy leans in whispering. Then a sudden burst of energy from underneath your school black skirt begins to run you down your spine with shivers. Donghyuck saw your face disappear from surprised to shocked knowing you, you were probably embarrassed to realise the situation you’re in. The vibration in your panties had you squirming on your seat suddenly and you couldn’t help but realise it was on a low setting right now.

Your eyes fell down to Donghyuck’s hands who were hidden in the pockets with the live remote controller for the vibrator inside your panties like he said, you wore it today only to get absolutely punished in middle of your English class that’s starting. You were now filled with absolute contempt to focus but no matter what during class you could only focus on your thighs rubbing together to grab more friction. At the same time you didn’t want to do that because the more friction you will lose yourself and you need to be quiet.

It didn’t help that Donghyuck was behind you Whispering remarks only to piss you off. He was pretending to be innocent but you knew well what they meant in actual reality.

“You’re awfully quiet there y/n.” Sang Donghyuck from behind you tapping his pen at your back.

You flinch at the sudden change of his actions he usually would never do anything in class. He often avoids you in your classes with him finding you a complete nuisance but now he’s doing all he can to push you off the edge cliff you’re standing on but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You instead bury your head low and clench your eyes tight when suddenly the finger on the remote controller has increased the speed seeing you resist the low pressure; Donghyuck wasn’t going to let you go easy. He wanted to see you fall apart in front of him and beg him to do something about it.

The speed of the vibrator brushing your clit ever so slowly made you whimper into your hands the classmates around you swore they heard you but they weren’t sure who it came from. Donghyuck saw the people chatting amongst themselves and the teacher was silently marking the papers at the desk. It was quiet and it was starting to hit the dangerous territory where even the slightest sounds can be heard. You never wanted to move away so fast because the vibrator mixing into your wet soaking panties through your black skirt will be having you sweating like you are at a giant room becoming cooked alive. From inside your pussy lips were brushing at the folds of the vibrator where it felt like a whole new sensation and you bite your tongue when a moan was coming out.

You never felt so exposed. You’re squirming at your seat and you’re at everyone’s eyes who could see you slip out if you make any mistake. Donghyuck smirking watching you as his body was slanting back on the chair behind you with an innocent face he sped the next vibrator speed to maximum. But your body began to flinch and trying to run away from your high you felt your hips rut on the chair and the redness coming to your forehead and cheeks making it visible like you’re sick. You put your hand up suddenly standing up.

“Miss I need the toilet.” You loudly announce with a pant and the teacher looks at you. “Okay be quick with it.”

Donghyuck was laughing under his breathe watching you run out of the classroom like your life depended on it. He didn’t change the speed he left it on the maximum so you could suffer with it. The boy chuckling from afar made Jaemin turn around seeing his friend laugh a little for once, with a true smile of something he was addicted on.

‘Strange.’ Jaemin thought.

As you ran out you were inside a toilet stall taking off your panties down to the ankles and taking a seat on the toilet you let out a grasping moan rubbing your folks and the chasing your whole high; you play with your clit clenching your eyes the more pleasuring overstimulation hit your pussy. Your swollen clit was red and abused it made everything so much more sensitive and difficult that you were so quick to your own high. You made sure to keep your thoughts on being quiet but the further you went the deeper you got and you remembered it was Donghyuck doing this to you and somehow you were more aroused than before. You couldn’t help but get your feelings involved and now you’re here moaning his name softly in the girl’s bathroom where anyone could walk in on you. Fingering your tight and wet sloppy hole with your two fingers until you came hard.

You came so hard you couldn’t remember if it was two orgasm or a singular orgasm that felt like it would take forever to get over it. The vibrator eventually stopped and you could feel it turn off. You let out a sigh as your red face was visible when coming out the stall with your panties back on and the skirt lowered down. You’d wash your hands in the sink and then you washed your face to cool it down you couldn’t help but notice how fucked out you look. You can’t go in class like this.

You look away leaving the girl’s toilets and as you did your arm was pulled by a boy you noticed to be Donghyuck standing out the girl’s bathrooms with a low angle levelling your eyes so you could see him.

“Now that was a long toilet break, Y/n. Wonder what took you so long Hm?”

Your eyes drop down. “Donghyuck— how long were you standing there for…” you felt your eyebrows raise up and Donghyuck smirks coming closer.

“From the moment you left the class, and i heard everything.” He whispers.

You never wanted to be buried alive so much until now knowing he heard you moan his name and as well as do so much more, it’s like he’s only going to get more information off of you and use it against you some more. You cannot escape Lee Donghyuck.

You gulp as you saw the boy point at the remote in his front school trousers pockets. The brunette locks on his face made him so much more attractive you couldn’t help but had the urge to caress it and wrap your fingertips in them but you pulled yourself together the moment his stern honeymoon voice broke your thoughts away.

“Next class you can’t walk out to use the bathroom excuse understand? You need to stay in that classroom.”

‘Oh god I’m fucking screwed.’

Donghyuck walks away going back into class leaving you all alone standing in middle of the corridor outside the girl’s bathroom. You never felt so exposed until Donghyuck has the effect on making you feel all sorts of emotions like a rollercoaster on steroids. Somehow, you knew this was going to be a challenge.

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The next class was mathematics which you were luckily okay with but currently with the situation of having a running vibrator pleasure you inside while focusing on numbers was not a good mixture at all. You never felt so tense and frustrated when doing maths unlike now and all thanks to Donghyuck making you feel high and then leaving you dry. Sometimes he let you feel high until you were wanting to scream in middle of your class but you covered your mouth often until he dropped it to a low speed again which you calm down.

Donghyuck knew what you wanted though. He knew what you fantasise about and it intrigued him because now he knows what you hate and what you love. It was like doing things absolute the worst things and you’d love them, because it’s him. You cannot make yourself feel the hatred and the pain to do that for something like this.

You tap your pen on the desk repeatedly as you felt your pussy clutch around the vibration and the shape of the vibrator making you want to lose yourself there and then. Your stomach was breathing in harshly enough to feel your ribcage and your throat was bleeding dry wanting to let so many noises escape. You couldn’t hear anything but your beating heart. Your fingers wrap round the pen clenching it as your thighs rub in circular motion together. The buzzing vibration made you fall into excitement of pleasure that you couldn’t compare to. The speed increased with each time the class went down off and you soon were holding the desk suddenly.

The teacher saw your sudden movements and eyes you suspiciously as you look down at the test paper clearing your throat.

‘Shitshit that was close.’ You mentally screamed, your thoughts were running back to how you’re literally being treated like a sex doll for Donghyuck’s sick pleasures but here you are having the same sick pleasures because this is turning you more and more.

The idea of getting caught was certainly a factor and he knew this he could see it on your body posture you loved being observed as you are getting off in class where a whole examination test is being done. You couldn’t focus on your paper though, because you were lost in your own mind with the way the vibrator was making you feel.

The next thing you knew you felt a wet gushing raindrops down your legs like they were your tears when in reality it was coming from your soaking panties lining down your body. Your thighs were covered with your pussy juice and you came without knowing for once you felt scared and you look back at Donghyuck with a terrified expression starting to beg him with your whimpers.

“Donghyuck please can i leave?” You whisper and he looks up from his math test paper smirking as he hears you finally beg.

This is what he wanted to hear from you, a pathetic beg because he’s the one in control and you’re the one who’s dealing with the consequences.

He was about to give you an answer until the teacher in front of you slams on your desk. “Y/n I expected better from you. Keep your eyes on your test paper until everyone is finished. Do not cheat off Donghyuck.”

You slowly turn around lowly avoiding eye contact but your face was red and feverish. You couldn’t help but feel light headed because the vibrator kept on digging into your sensitive core making you squirm more and more. The teacher walks back to the desk and Donghyuck’s laughter was heard behind you.

“Tut tut tut Y/n cheating.” He trails and you clench your fists together on your lap as you saw the water dripping down on the floor underneath your chair. You whimper once more.

Donghyuck saw you go silent whimpering and he raised his eyebrows as he saw your legs shaking on the floor and your hands were trembling now due to the overt stumbling pleasuring sensation surrounding your body putting it on your back and chest. Your face was swollen with your pleasure from your own pussy aching.

And then the class bell rang. You never got up so fast ready to run out to the toilet for the same reasoning however you were stopped by two arms engulfing you and dragging you into a pair of doors you couldn’t reach until the body pulling you with him dragged you into the boy’s changing rooms where it was empty leaving only you and a specifically someone called Lee Donghyuck. The lowlife you’ve been tortured by the entire door and for once you were glad to see his face as you go on your knees shaking as you let out sudden choking moans. The vibrator got faster with Donghyuck’s thumb putting it on the maximum speed amount you couldn’t put limit on.

“Fuck please— please please Donghyuck fuck me make it stop make this pain stop.” You held your breath putting your hands on the stomach that was aching for a release finally and the remote was turned off the vibrator no longer providing you with the pleasure because he got what he wanted.

You asking him to fuck you senselessly.

He’d grab your shoulders pushing you off the ground and into the changing room showers where he pinned you on the wall where you could both fit. Putting your mouth on his down kissing you roughly he grasps your hips rubbing them rougher than before and stressing down your clotheslines we’re stripped off your body so quickly you weren’t aware of it at all. You grasp between the heavy kisses, Donghyuck swore hearing you gasping for him was the sexiest thing he could ever hear anyone do. “God you’re so fucking lewd Y/n telling me to fuck you senseless in the school where anyone can walk in on us. You’d like that to happen won’t you?” He’d grab your face away as he pressed on the vibrator inside you pushing it out off your hole and instead you felt the hard tip of his body go in.

You never wanted to come back to reality ever again because this felt like a forsaken fantasy. You’re pushed on the tile wall bare naked with your enemy someone who’s been nothing but horrible to you now pushing his hard cock inside your sloppy wet hole that’s been waiting to be stretched by him for over four hours you couldn’t believe it; it felt like years ago when you were friends and now you’re being so mean together you couldn’t even imagine what you’re doing if you were sane in your head. The way your head snuck in and so did your stomach feeling him go up and imprinting his shape deep within you where you let out trembling stutters out. “Fuckfuckfuck hyuck—! You’re in my stomach.” You wanted to scream it out but Donghyuck made sure to take his fucking time with you.

“Hyuck huh? That’s a new one darling.” He couldn’t help but find it hard to dislike. Afterall you were fucked out when saying it. It made it ten times more better.

He wanted to make you know that this will become a daily thing where he will rock your shit and leave you alone right after. This wasn’t nothing sweet and mutual. You are living your fantasy and that’s it, you’re nothing but a ragged doll for him to use you and you were willingly.

“You’re a fucking slut Y/n. You want nothing but my cock to fill your hole and stuff you until you have no fucking purpose for me. Do you want that?” He growls against your face kissing down your cheeks with so much power over you, your skin shivers against those harsh breathing and his voice was so mean you could cry. In fact you wanted to knowing how he was completely right about you.

You murmur when Donghyuck squished you in a whole different position directing you towards a doggy stile where your hands put on the tile he rocked behind strutting the hits right into you going now deeper where the shape travels to your womb and you choke but clenching your eyes in the process. You never expected him to be so long and girthy, he was thick and all departments you were shaking and trembling in the middle of his body weight crushing you with how tough he was treating you. There was nothing single. Not a single moment where he spared you from his dangerous hold over you.

At the moment when he lost himself nearly he was so close to coming in you and you were here dripping in the shower with sweat and panting ramming inside your hole while your ass was perking up in the air for him to spank and grip. He squeezed your hips forward until your face was roughly rammed on the tile as you begin to wail out your moans. Your arms gave up on you and now your entire legs were tired from the excruciating exhaustion from being pleased for hours beforehand.

“That’s right cry for me you stupid whore. You’re crying because my dick feels so good aren’t you?” You wished you could disagree with him but you can’t. You sniff out croaking in broken sentences denting your voice. “It feels so good please please Hyuck I want you to come inside me.” His eyes darken going smaller hearing you and he pushed your head down on the tile smirking.

“Begging me to fill your little hole up yeah? Since you’re asking like a good whore you are, I will.” It absolutely irks your mind how he can sound so attractive but still be completely ruthless to you.

And he did exactly that leaving you down when he was done with you covering your walls full off his load and painting everything in you white. Donghyuck left you on the floor in the shower with his liquid coming out of your pussy down your thighs he smirks facing you as he was doing the zipper on the trousers and you dazed looking at him in the corner.

He whistles leaning down and crouching to your eye level seeing how you’re out of it still. You couldn’t focus on anything but him and the comforting silence of your beating heart.

“You still like a Lowlife like me?” He trails asking you with a deadly smile that knew you would say yes.

You should be hating him because god knows he’s terrible human being on the face of earth. He’s the biggest scum you could meet.

But you know you will always love a lowlife like Lee Donghyuck.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting my work thank youu!! Please reblog this fic and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Jude Jazza's "The Past Records": A Ruthless, Arrogant Man, & An Unfulfilled Promise - Record 6

This is a fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾. CW: Mentions of Child Death, & Death Wish

Please read chapters 1-3 here.

I entered school where I further studied business administration and economics.

I acted like innocently in front of those I could use.

This line literally translates "I wore a cat in front of others I could use. 猫を被った "Neko o komutta" means 'to wear/put on a cat'. This is an idiomatic expression. It means one feigns friendliness of a cat while hiding their fierce claws.

The only ones who go to public school are rich kids.

To them I was just an overreaching no body who didn’t know his place.

— I was also subjected to vicious bullying.

Their methods were cowardly, under handed, and they harassed me daily.

Rich Student 1: Your Irish accent is repulsive. Can you not speak again?

Rich Student 2: Just breathing the same air as a poor person can contaminate you like them.

Everyone seemed to hate me.

That hatred became power.

And as I studied, I relentlessly looked for information on those who killed my sister.

(…..Found ‘em, these are the ones who killed her.)

They were from a prominent, respectable noble family.

When I told that shitty doctor about it, he said that the nobles would soon fall to ruin on their own due to taxation.

I guess he wanted to prevent my revenge.

(Idiot. “Soon” is too lenient, it isn’t enough, ya nutter.)

I’ll  completely torture ‘n kill ‘em socially.）

(They’ll experience a livin’ hell)

And then, several years after my sister was killed

My revenge was complete.

The nobles I killed, my father, and my older brother, I ensured they suffered and died.

I didn’t do it directly. But….

(一I killed ‘em all.）

Afterward, I repaid that shitty doctor every last bit of the money he lent me with interest.

(It’s all over now）

As I wandered around London that night, I took smoke break on the bridge.

Jude: Ahhh, how refreshin’.

Jude: Sent ‘em all to hell. Well, they had it comin’ to ‘em.

Ever since that pure black hatred bloomed inside me, I’ve lived only for this day.

I dragged all of those who looked down on us to hell.

Because of that I was certain that I’d feel peace.

However -

(…..Haaaah…..)

(…..I feel empty.…..lonely…….and bitter)

(I’m jealous….of other happy people)

I could hear the sounds of laughter of families walking behind me.

I could hear the sounds of laughter of friends and couples.

Everyone was laughing with someone.

And all I had was the reflection of myself on the water’s surface.

(My health’s better ‘n I got money)

Jude: I’ve got nothin’.

(Ah, that’s right. Once somethin’s lost it can’t be replaced…that’s how it is.)

Filled with hatred, memories that I didn’t want came flooding back to me.

Jude’s Mother: ….Please, take care of your sister, Jude.

(…..I couldn’t keep my promise)

To protect my sister’s life.

I couldn’t even keep that promise — living shamelessly.

As my cigarette smoke drifted up towards the moon, I recalled a trivial promise made to my sister.

That was when she was alive.

In order to gloss over the pain of a fever, I asked a question.

What would you like to do if you were rich.

So, my sister answered,

Jude: “When ya get rich, take me to the moon.”

All I had left was that small promise.

But at that moment, that’s all I had.

Jude: Wanna go to the moon?

Humans going to the moon is pipe dream.

With that alone, I started walking once again through the depths of hell.

Unaware that eventually I’d meet a woman who wouldn’t laugh at my dream, but would join me in making it come true.

[Past Records Master List] [710 Bonus Story]

Dividers: @.natimiles

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tags list! Please specify the suitor or if you want all IkeVil translations.

[nevernonline]

✧.* pancakes for dinner; svt smau

chapter 05; mic drop.

✧.* synopsis: y/n while in her third year at greenwood international university finally gets an opportunity to move off campus into a new complex, she has to deal with the realization that her childhood rival is her new next door neighbor.

 paring: seungcheol x fem! reader. 

feat: non-idol! svt, nct mark&jaehyun, other passing idols ykyk.

genre/s: reader is super oblivious, fluffy, sexual themes. 

content: swearing, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃

updates: weekly

tag list - open

word count: 5.1k (written portion between texts!)

masterlist ▸ 04 house not so warming. ▸ 06. husband material.

Y/N walked out her front door, keys shaking in her hands as she set out to the small studio space next to Seungcheol. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was freaking out so badly. It was just an interview, after all. It’s not like he could embarrass her in front of Mark or Chaewon. This was his first show for the university, and he’d be a complete idiot to spill her secrets here. 

Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her racing heart, but the nerves clawed at her insides. As she approached the elevator, her legs felt like they were melting like ice cream under the summer sun. She avoided eye contact with the door to his and Seungkwan's apartment, trying to mentally prepare herself for what was ahead. 

But of course, like clockwork, as soon as she stepped inside the elevator, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps rushing down the hallway right towards her. Panic surged through her as she instinctively pressed the close door button like her life depended on it, but it didn’t work. The door slid open, and she was met with the sight of his Nike sneaker blocking her escape. 

“Hi, Y/N. On your way to the show?” Seuncheol asked, leaning against the elevator wall, a menacing yet playful smile plastered on his face. 

Y/N’s heart dropped. “Uh, yeah. Just, you know… heading in or, uh, out for that matter.” she stammered, trying to sound casual despite the knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. She could feel the heat creeping up her cheeks as she stared straight ahead, avoiding his gaze. 

Seuncheol chuckled lightly. “Cool, cool. Are you ready? I mean, we’re just going to have a little fun, right? You seem nervous.” His tone was teasing, like he was trying to bring her down to his level, reminding her of all the times he’d made her feel small back in high school.

She plastered on a brave smile, determination flickering within her. “Yeah, just… don’t make it awkward, okay?” The words escaped her before she could think them through, and she instantly regretted the sharpness of her response.

He raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Awkward? Me?” he replied, acting innocent. “I promise to keep it professional. Honestly, I’m a little nervous too.”

Y/N could only roll her eyes internally. Could he really have forgotten all the things he did to her? Or was this some kind of twisted game he enjoyed playing? 

“Well that makes me feel better.,” she replied, her voice steadying as the elevator dinged and the doors began to slide open to the ground floor. “Let’s just try to make this painless.” 

As she stepped out and headed towards the studio, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to be a much longer day than she had anticipated. Would she be able to hold her ground against the past, or would it all come rushing back in the form of laughter and teasing questions? Only time would tell.

Y/N steps into the small recording studio, after Seungcheol and her make their way in pure silence, her heart racing as she sees the sight of Seungcheol getting seated behind the mic, his confident smile masking the tension in the room. It’s been years since high school, and though she thought she’d left those painful memories behind, here he is—her former bully—now the host of a popular college radio show. Beside him is his co-host, Mark, who seems oblivious to the underlying tension which oddly isn’t helping her feel at ease. Logically she knew the show was live, but in her head maybe they could edit out any weird tension that was swirling around.  

“Welcome everyone to ‘Strawberry Jams,’” Seuncheol begins, his tone light and playful. “Today we have a very special guest with us, someone who we’re excited to get to know. Y/N, right?”

Y/N forces a smile, caught off guard by his nonchalant demeanor. “Yeah, that’s me,” she replies, trying to keep her composure.

Mark chimes in, “So, Seungcheol, what do you think we should ask Y/N first? Her experience in college, first impressions of joining the radio crew, or breaking the ice with some embarrassing stories about her past?”

Seuncheol feigns thoughtfulness, glancing at her as if he’s genuinely curious. “Hmm, I don’t know... Maybe we should start with something really easy. Y/N, tell us what you’ve been up to since high school?”

Inside, Y/N can’t help but feel a mix of anger and confusion. Does Seungcheol really not remember the torment? Or is this all just part of his game? As she gathers her thoughts, Seuncheol leans forward with a teasing smile, clearly enjoying the moment, and Mark excitedly nods for her to share.

In this moment, Y/N feels a wave of nostalgia and unresolved feelings crashing over her. Will she choose to confront him, or will she play along for the sake of her own peace? The air is thick with unspoken words and long-buried emotions as the interview continues. 

“Well, uh, obviously just going to classes, staying mainly at home or out with my friends. Nothing that embarrassing to tell you guys, I'm afraid.” Y/n just smiled thinking she evaded the question naturally and easily. 

Seungcheol just sat back in his chair and crossed his legs, watching her intently. “Really? Nothing embarrassing? Like getting stood up at a dance or maybe some embarrassing moment in front of the whole student body like the one in the Lizzie Mcguire movie?” 

Y/N could feel the heat of his words washing over her, mixing with old wounds that had barely healed. It was infuriating how effortlessly he could reach into her history and extract the moments that still made her cringe. “Yeah, well, things like that happened, I did think I was brave enough to try out for the school play, but you know, sometimes bravery doesn’t pay off,” she replied, biting back whatever harsh retorts danced on the tip of her tongue.

Mark sensed the shift in the mood and tried to lighten the atmosphere with a laugh. “Come on, Y/N, it can’t be that bad. One embarrassing story is all we ask to kick off the show!”

Seungcheol jumped in, an almost playful challenge in his eyes. “Or maybe we can take turns sharing stories. I could tell you all about the time I slipped in front of the whole gym at the championships… But I think you might have to go first.” His smile was disarming, but Y/N could feel the ancient tension rising like a tide.

As she stared at him, somewhere between infuriated and amused, she realized she had a choice to make. Would she continue to deflect, letting him steer the narrative, or would she take the reins and confront the demons of her past in this unlikely place? The stakes felt somehow higher in this makeshift confessional; every question could unleash a deluge of feelings she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

With a deep breath, Y/N decided it was time to reclaim her narrative, one story at a time. “It wasn’t just a play, but a musical. My Fair Lady to be exact. And if anyone knows me well they’d know the only type of singer I am is a shower pop-star, I have no business doing a legit musical, but I tried anyway. I sang that song from High School Musical the one with Troy when he’s dancing on the golf course, uh- It’s-” 

Mark laughed, “Bet on it? No way you actually did that.” 

Y/n smiled, maybe Seungcheol can't ruin this for her. “No, Mark. I’m dead ass serious. I wore a green polo shirt and jeans and legit danced around the stage like it was nobody's business and not just like a 16 bar cut I did the entire song.” 

Seungcheol’s eyes widened, genuinely surprised, using his brain power trying to remember this story. “You committed to the whole thing? How did that go?”

“Let me tell you,” Y/N continued, embracing the moment, “I’d never felt so alive, even if I was pretty sure, no not even pretty sure, very sure, half the audience was laughing at me. I just kept thinking, ‘Dance like no one’s watching,’ shit like that. Even though I could hear my classmates snickering in the back. It was my time to shine, or so I thought. Sometimes I envy the amount of confidence I had when I was younger.”

Mark was doubled over with laughter, and even Seungcheol couldn't hide a grin. “Okay, that’s gold. I could totally see you putting all of yourself into it, though. The over-the-top performance style, right?”

“Exactly, yes. I like to think I was channeling my inner Troy, but honestly, I probably looked more like a lost puppy trying its best,” she admitted, her voice light with humor despite the embarrassment that lurked in the corners of her mind.

As she spoke, she could feel the weight of the past beginning to lift—allowing herself to laugh about her experiences rather than feel ashamed of them. “But hey, at least I captured a moment that I won’t forget, right? Even if the high note was a little… questionable.”

Seungcheol chuckled, shaking his head. “That is honestly impressive. I mean, who knew you had that in you?”

“Right?” Mark chimed in, grinning widely. “You’ve been hiding your talents from us! Next time, we need to see you perform live. Shower concerts don’t count!”

“No, no talent at all, just pure moxy.” Y/n just took a deep breath in settling her laughter. “I am a karaoke killer though, so watch your backs.” 

The conversation flowed easily now, and as they continued to tease each other, Y/N felt a delicious sense of freedom. She could tell her story without fear; reclaiming this piece of her past made room for new memories to be created. Maybe this show wouldn’t be such a disaster after all. As the interview progressed, she felt herself relaxing more into the laughter and warmth of friendship, leaving behind the shadows that Seungcheol’s presence had once cast over her.

The tension may have been rooted deep, but here, in this moment, Y/N realized that laughter had the power to blur those boundaries, reminding her that growth was about acknowledging her past while stepping boldly into the present. And maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward for both of them after all. Or so she thought. 

After the interview started settling down, they began diving into the actual theme of the show—sharing songs that had changed their perspectives and made them who they are. It was Seungcheol's turn to share, and Y/N felt a mix of anticipation and trepidation. Would he truly open up, or would his past vindictive nature rear its ugly head yet again? 

“Alright, guys. Thank you for tuning in once again,” Mark said, grinning as he prepared to transition the show into its next segment. “Our next song was chosen by none other than the new hot boy on campus, Seungcheol. So, man, what’d you go with this week?”

Seungcheol leaned forward in his chair, his expression shifting from playful to serious. “I chose a song that actually means a lot to me. As corny as it sounds—and maybe once you hear my choice, you'll think it's even more corny than I described—but my pick this week is ‘What a Feeling’ by One Direction.”

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She knew the song well, its infectious energy and uplifting message had always resonated with her. But hearing him say it out loud felt like an unexpected twist. “I know Y/N is still a big One Direction fan,” Seungcheol continued, his gaze fixed on her with sincerity. “So I felt like it was appropriate, both for me and her being here this week, so please enjoy.”

As the opening notes flooded the room, Y/N’s surprise melted into something more—curiosity. What had this song meant to Seungcheol? She could feel all eyes on him as he prepared to share his connections to it. 

“I’ll be honest,” Seungcheol began, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability, “I’ve gone through a lot of phases in my life where I felt lost. And this song—back when it came out—was like a lifeline. There was this one summer when I thought I was going to waste my life away doing nothing, but then I heard this song and it made me think about what could be. It was like a reminder that you shouldn’t give up on your dreams, no matter how silly they might seem.”

He paused, casting a glance at Y/N before continuing. “I know I’ve messed up in the past, honestly who hasn’t when they were young and dumb? But this song reminds me that it’s never too late to turn things around. It’s about finding joy in pursuing what makes you happy. And I guess I’m still learning to do that—especially now that I’m in a different place with people I care about.”

The words hung in the air, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something gentler in her heart. She had thought Seungcheol's charm was just a front, a mask to hide behind. But as she listened to him, she realized that maybe there was a genuine intent underneath his bravado.

The song played on, its lyrics weaving through the air like a shared experience, rich with memories and hopes. Mark nodded along, seemingly impressed by Seungcheol's revelation. “Wow, man, that’s really deep. I think a lot of us can relate to that feeling of searching for meaning.”

As the song reached its crescendo, Y/N found herself swept away in nostalgia, the music resonating with her own struggles and aspirations. She realized that they were all navigating their own paths, and that perhaps Seungcheol was trying to do the same—even if clumsily.

When the song came to an end, the room filled with a momentary silence, an unspoken acknowledgment of vulnerability shared. Then, Mark clapped his hands together, breaking the stillness. “Alright, I see you. That was a move for sure. I think you just elevated this whole show, man.” 

Y/N caught Seungcheol’s eye, and the playful, teasing smile from earlier had transformed into something softer—more genuine. For the first time since he walked into the studio, she felt a bridge forming between them, built on mutual understanding and perhaps even a flicker of forgiveness.

“Thanks, guys. I really appreciate letting me share that,” Seungcheol said, his tone sincere. “And Y/N, thanks for still being a fan of them. It actually reminded me of how much they’re music helped me navigate the uncertainty of my teenage life..” 

However, as the interview drew to a close, Y/N found herself grappling with a whirlwind of thoughts. She was surprised by how different she felt from when the show began to how it was ending. Yet, a shadow of uncertainty lingered in her mind. What if Seungcheol’s newfound vulnerability was just an act?

Was he simply picking songs and sharing stories to manipulate her feelings? Did he want her to feel a sense of connection, only to later flip that affection on its head, turning her trust into rubble like he had before? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she had to fight against the instinct to put up walls.

Or perhaps, she thought, maybe Seungcheol was genuinely trying to reach out. Maybe “What a Feeling” did mean something significant to him, and his reflections were sincere, revealing more depth to his character than she had ever seen. Maybe she had meant something more to him than just being a punching bag for his frustrations during their turbulent past.

She glanced over at him. Seungcheol was bantering with Mark, a comfortable smile spread across his face. It was a smile that looked so different from the smirk she had known; it didn't feel like the mask he often wore. Her heart wavered—could this be the real him?

Y/N couldn’t deny the chemistry they shared during the interview. Laughing together felt good—refreshing, even. But could she trust that he wouldn’t revert back to the person who had hurt her? The scars of their tumultuous history were still fresh, battling against the potential of a new beginning.

When they finally wrapped up, Mark thanked her and told her how good she was on radio, as Seungcheol lingered in the background packing up his bag, stealing glances their way, for some reason Y/n got a bolt of confidence and decided to do something big for her. 

“Do you guys want to come out for a drink? It’s just going to be Mingyu and I, but we could always  use some new company?” 

Mark raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, of course. That sounds like fun. Count me in. Cheol?”

Seungcheol paused, his expression shifting slightly as the words registered. “Uh, yeah, I—if you’re sure about it. I’d love to hang out,” he added, his voice carrying a hint of relief and perhaps eagerness.

Y/N felt her heart flutter. Could this be her moment to redefine their relationship, to push past the fears that weighed her down? This was an opportunity for a fresh start, and maybe an evening of laughter and drinks could be a step in that direction.

“Great!” Mark concluded. He quickly gathered his things, excitement brewing in his voice. “ I think we all deserve it.”

They made their way out of the studio, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows as they walked. The light felt warm on her skin, almost symbolic—like it was shining on a new chapter waiting to unfold. Mingyu was already waiting outside for her, leaning casually against the wall with a broad smile that transformed his face.

“Hey, you.. and friends.. You’re right on time.” he called out, waving them over.

As they settled into a small outdoor table, laughter filled the air, the atmosphere full of a mix of lighthearted banter and lingering questions. Y/N found herself seated across from Seungcheol, who seemed more relaxed now, his playful demeanor a stark contrast to the tension that had previously existed.

“What do you like to drink, Seungcheol?” Mingyu asked, breaking the ice.

“Uh, I’m a sucker for a good cocktail, actually,” Seungcheol replied sheepishly. “Something fruity, maybe?”

“Too easy.” Mark teased, and they all shared a laugh, the sound echoing into the evening air. As the drinks were ordered and the jokes flew freely, Y/N felt herself leaning into it, enjoying the simplicity of the moment.

But as she looked at Seungcheol across the table—his laughter genuine, his eyes bright—she couldn’t shake the nagging questions at the back of her mind. Could he truly change? Would he be someone she could trust moving forward? For now, though, she pushed those thoughts aside, choosing to focus on the warmth of the present, and the laughter that filled the air around them.

She had been eagerly awaiting Seungcheol’s return from the bathroom. The thought of standing there alone felt slightly awkward—like she was trying too hard to ease their past tensions, and she didn’t want to put any unnecessary pressure on the evening. She took a deep breath, savoring the cool night air and letting herself get lost in the thoughts swirling in her mind.

Suddenly, she heard his voice calling her name. “Y/N?!”

Seungcheol was running up behind her, and she instinctively didn’t turn around. Instead, she pretended to be intensely interested in something just across the street—a small café with glowing neon lights, a vintage record store, anything that would provide a distraction.

“Oh, shit. Sorry I left you back there,” he said, slightly breathless as he caught up to her.

Y/N finally turned around, forcing a smile to cover the flurry of emotions. “No worries, I’m not surprised,” she replied, her tone light but her heart raced slightly with uncertainty.

He looked a bit sheepish, his cheeks slightly flushed, whether from the drinks or their earlier stimulating conversations, she couldn't quite tell. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting. The line was longer than I expected,” he explained, glancing back toward the restroom, as if it held an explanation itself.

“It's fine. I was just... enjoying the view,” she said, motioning to the streetlights that bathed the sidewalk in a golden hue. She felt a little silly but wanted to keep the conversation flowing. As he stepped closer, she could see the warmth in his eyes, the genuine interest he had in her presence, as if he was absorbing every moment they shared.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said with a chuckle, matching her gaze toward the lights. “You look like you’re lost in thought. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, all good. Just wishing my buzz from before hit a little better; the pain of having a high tolerance,” she replied, laughing lightly as she rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment.

Seungcheol’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Want to maybe grab a drink at the convenience store? We can walk around for a bit?”

Y/N’s heart skipped at the suggestion. It felt easy, casual—a perfect way to remain in this moment without the weight of their past hanging over them. “Sure, why not..” It was remarkable how a simple offering stirred a sense of excitement within her, a feeling that they'd often missed in their previous encounters.

As they strolled toward the convenience store, the lighthearted atmosphere wrapped around them like a comforting blanket. Seungcheol fell into step beside her, their shoulders brushing occasionally, igniting a delightful warmth that she had almost forgotten existed between them. 

“So, what’s your drink of choice?” he asked, a playful eyebrow raised.

“Oh, definitely something sour. I’m not much of a cocktail girl. But like a sour as hell lemon w/ vodka hits hard.” she stated, playfully making a face. “The last time I had too much, I ended up singing in the karaoke booth with Mingyu until the sun came up and losing my voice. Not my finest moment.”

Seungcheol laughed, the sound smooth and genuine, his smile pushing away the remnants of tension that once hung heavily in the air. “I can imagine. Based on your story of your singing voice too. But hey, those moments make the best stories, right?”

“True,” she replied, her heart soaring at the way he was able to navigate their conversation with ease, pulling her into lightheartedness. Soon enough, they arrived at the convenience store, the bright fluorescent lights illuminating the aisles filled with snacks and drinks.

They wandered into the beverage aisle, Y/N scanning the colorful selection to find her drink. “How about this?” she said, holding up a can of tropical-flavored beer, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Not bad! I’ll go with something fruity too,” he decided, picking up a canned cocktail mix that promised a burst of summer flavors. “Same, same, but different. Like us, I guess.”

They checked out, sharing a few jokes with the cashier that had Y/N giggling as he rang up their drinks. Once they walked back outside, the night air felt even sweeter, cooled by the gentle breeze that tousled her hair. 

“Where to now?” Seungcheol asked, cracking open his drink and taking a large sip, he sighed in satisfaction.

Y/N followed suit and took a sip of hers, initial bubbles dancing on her tongue. “How about we just drink in silence and find our way back home?”

“Great idea.” he nodded enthusiastically, and together they walked down the street, side by side, their laughter punctuating the peaceful night.

As she led the way, a mix of anxiety and nostalgia churned within her. The laughter they had shared echoed in her mind, yet the weight of unspoken truths lingered just beneath the surface. Every step she took felt like a countdown, a reminder that the longer she delayed confronting the past, the more complicated things might become.

Seungcheol walked closely behind, his presence comforting but oblivious to the inner turmoil she faced. His easy demeanor contrasted sharply with the heaviness in her heart. She could still hear his voice, full of laughter and warmth, as they teased one another and reminisced about old memories that felt both fresh and distant.

But deep down, she knew that their connection was built on more than just the joyful moments they shared that night. The shadows of their shared history loomed, and she felt the urge to turn around and spill everything—about who she was, the secrets she kept, and the reasons why they had drifted apart all those years ago.

As they approached their separate front doors, the soft glow of the overhead lights illuminated their surroundings, casting gentle shadows on the ground. She hesitated for a moment, caught in the whirlwind of her thoughts. Would it shatter the bond they had just begun to rebuild? Would he still look at her with that same warmth, or would the truth drive a wedge between them? 

She decided to just wave him goodnight and tucked back inside her fortress. Except as she tried to slip inside she took one last look in the hallway and found Seungcheol hesitating to open his door. 

“You okay?” She questioned, watching his head pick back up and send his dark brown eyes her way. 

“Can, I, Uh..” He hesitated for a moment, stepping into the middle of the hallway, his frame facing her now, making her feel small, “Would you want to do this again? Like get a drink with me sometime?” 

“Like, just the two of us?” Y/n just stared at him dumbfounded, still one foot placed inside her apartment.

“Yeah. Unless your datin-” 

“No. I mean no to dating someone, I’m, uh, single.” Her heart starts racing realizing that saying yes would mean more moments alone with him stuffing down her old hatred towards him. “A drink sounds good, yeah. Why not?” 

“Okay, cool. Just text me when you’re free? Or I’ll text you? I mean I guess I’ll see you and whatnot, but whatever works.” 

“Yeah, sounds good. Have a goodnight, Seungcheol.” 

“You too, Y/n. Sleep tight.” 

As she closed the door, Y/n leaned her back against it and let out a long, shaky breath. What had just happened? Seungcheol—her former rival, the guy who once drove her mad with all his cockiness—had just asked her out. But it wasn’t a date, was it? Just a drink. A simple gesture, but the implications had her stomach swirling with excitement and dread all at once.

Y/n paced around her living room, her mind racing. Memories of their past confrontations floated to the surface, but this time she tried to view them through a different lens. She could still remember the way they'd often argued over the most trivial things, their banter charged with an underlying tension neither had fully understood. And now here they were, standing on the brink of something new, something that could transform their antagonistic dynamic completely.

She plopped down on her couch, pulling her knees to her chest as she replayed their conversation in her mind. The warmth in Seungcheol’s voice, the way his eyes had lit up with a hint of hope—it was undeniable that beneath his sharp exterior, there was a gentler side to him. Maybe she’d spent too long judging him based on past encounters when there was a chance he was different now.

But was she ready to let go of the grudges? Could she afford to face the vulnerability that came with a newfound friendship? A drink, she reminded herself. Nothing too serious. But the thought of being near him again made butterflies erupt in her stomach. God, she wished Yuqi was here. But, she couldn’t tell her, not yet until she decided for herself to let go of her anger in fear of someone telling her they told her so. 

She flicked on the TV, hoping to distract herself, but every scene felt muted. Instead, her mind raced with scenarios of what their outing could be like: would they share laughter over awkward jokes? Could she really enjoy his company, even after everything that came before? 

The night stretched on, and despite all her attempts at distraction, Y/n found herself staring at her phone, debating when and how to text him. She wouldn’t allow herself to overthink it. Maybe she’d just keep the conversation light, something casual.

Resolute, she grabbed her phone and opened a new message to Seungcheol. “Hey. I had fun tonight. Let’s figure out when we can get that drink.” 

After hitting send, she settled back into her couch with a sense of anticipation. Whatever this was turning into, it felt like a chance to rewrite their story, one that could lead to something surprising, maybe even delightful. She closed her eyes, letting the possibilities wash over her before sleep finally took her.

note: hi omg I'm back into the swing of things, pls enjoy this chapter I wanted to work on them building their relationship instead of my girl y/n being a lil bitter girly all the time lol. do we think they'll actually not bring up they know each other or will it end poorly I mean idk??

taglist: @minhui896@sun-daddy-yoriichi@luchiet@miles-sketchbook@kissesfrmwonwoo@readerlozies@vcutparis@mxnhoeuwu@writingbarnes @headlockimnida @odxrilove @jeonghaniehaee@bath1lda @wonwootakemyheart @dokyomis @hanniesdegree

[affableramen]

Assorted creditor Pantalone x afab!debtor reader headcanons. Episode one

((highly requested))

tags: tsundere!pantalone ; condescending, slightly vulgar villain ; he is a meanie ; toxic relationship ; early stage of relationship ; manipulative Lone ; slight degradation+humiliation ; choking ; slap dynamics (you slap him) ; degrading names (“bitch”) ; pet names (“kitten”) ; sexual themes ; criminal themes ; pantalone has chronic illnesses

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Madman’s note: I like mean guys and judging by what we know about Pantalone so far (Arlecchino’s voice-line, Lazzo teaser, Wriothesley’s weapon, Pantalone’s artefact) he fits this category perfectly. I see the pattern of a rude boy here. Charming on the outside but once he opens his mouth it’s disgusting (hahaha.) He probably likes mocking and lecturing others, that’s for sure vibing in the Lazzo. He also talks a lot (thanks Cholde). As for the toxic assorted au, Ik half of you don’t like reading gentle n sweet Pantalone, but when I see this man I just can’t imagine him being cruel to his lover who accepted him when the Gods did not. I really think he is very soft inside (with a person he trusts). He’s all about equality and fairness so probably he treats people the way they treat him, and if ur nice to him, well Panty acts with equal respect to you back. That’s for the personality part. Speaking of other aspects, at least you guys get a happy ending. Coz I hate bad endings. Don’t wanna fuck up huge efforts. The angst and struggle was worth it. Come get your man guys. He’s like the mean classmate who bullies you but is secretly in love with you. As for the gentleman part, I wish I could write something more than just him protecting the lady, coz I believe Pantalone to be a big deal of a gentleman who has his standards even though what he does for a living is very questionable. I’m afraid it will be too much information for this post already. I must also mention that he might say a lot of disturbing and condescending things in the beginning. Oh, and to avoid any misconception--i don’t like writing innocent readers. My reader is fierce, chronically exhausted and crazy.

⟣

“You will be my prize. A perfect fit for a powerful man like me. You have no friends, your parents are far away, the only person to care for you is your grandmother who was, for sure, foolish enough to take a loan from Northland Bank. You are helpless in front of me, and I enjoy seeing that smug smirk disappear from your face once you realise you’re completely at my mercy. All alone, with your life depending on me. And I will, by any means, show you mercy if you are worthy enough.”

Said Pantalone as your résumé was forcefully slapped down on his desk. Your past jobs, experiences and skills — all in front of him, in his long fingers which are sliding through the pages as if it were an action book.

Your grandmother, indeed, was the only dearest person you had and, unfortunately, in order to save your life (and future) she took the risk of becoming a debtor to the old devilish banker who was by any means an extremely questionable person.

You had a rough path of changing jobs, trying to find the most fitting and well-paid one, however ending up in only worse conditions. A few years passed like this, the workload traumatised you so much that you couldn’t believe two years had passed since you started doing work for a living. Your grandmother was too prideful to retire, but you both knew her money alone could not sustain your happiness.

And thus, you ended up under Pantalone’s sharp gaze. Now, standing up in front of him with an unfazed expression, knowing too well this man just adores chewing on others’ suffering.

“Fuck you and your long ass monologues”, you think but your face remains cold.

The tapping of his fingers suddenly stops. You feel your heart sink, and it makes you wanna vomit.

“What was that? The look on your face just a moment ago”, Pantalone takes his glasses off and looks at you sharply. You can feel that heavy presence with your skin alone. The violet charm of his eyes suffocating you. His whole presence does nothing but choke you.

“Beg your pardon?” You narrow eyes and ask him as politely as possible.

“Were you thinking something a bit ago, dear? Or should I say, were you doubting my professionalism?”

“Shit, he is reading my mind. I have to think about something stupid.”

“You’re so untamed and so… wild, I’d say”, he says as he rises from his desk and approaches closer to you. “But alas, I can’t discount your value after one mere impression, can I? That would be too unconscionable of me as a businessman.”

You see him lean to your ear, his body bending cause of how tall he is, and you feel nauseous once he opens his mouth again.

“Your résumé is trash, but I’m not a monster everyone thinks I am. I will let you work under me because of how persuasive your grandmother has been. Though, I’ll be watching you, kitten. Perhaps I’ll even put you under my strict supervision—"

A sharp slap lands on his cheek. That is the moment Pantalone should realise that your pride cannot be underestimated. With his face thrown to the side, he pats his cheek, holding his fingers on the reddened skin.

“…at the lowest position”, he finishes the sentence. “Heh, the audacity of yours.”

Pantalone grabs your throat, your is suddenly pulled closer. While being choked heartlessly you turn your eyes to him and hold them for a few long deep moments.

“I’m not afraid of you”, the words come out of your mouth weakly. “Just let me work for you. I won’t be plotting anything. Not interested, to be exact.” He keeps suffocating you, you almost roll your eyes at the back of your head before the banker finally releases you. You slowly fall onto your knees. “Haah… hha…”

“I’d never be mean to a lady. But a particular someone just doesn’t know any manners.”

He signs the papers quickly, squeezes a used draft in a ball and throws it into the trash bin. The signature he leaves on your zero-hour contract is so lazily made as if the man wanted to deal with you as soon as possible.

“Don’t disappoint me. You wouldn’t like to see me when I’m angry.”

“Thank God”, you sigh in relief, despite being choked a few seconds ago.

His movements, his body are so quick and flexible, you do not notice how the eyeglasses return to his face.

“You have a zero hours contract here, but I’ll personally make sure you work not less than six days a week.”

“Just so you know, I won’t kill for you. That goes against my principles.”

Pantalone raises his eyebrows, giving you a bored look.

“I wouldn’t let you have a privelege like that anyway. I have enough henchmen of my own to stain hands with unneccessary violence.”

When the conversation ends, you go to the bathroom and throw out. This man gives goosebumps, and he is not easy at all.

To your biggest surprise, as a leader Pantalone turns out capable enough. Just seeing him intricately managing his resources and employees makes you admire him at some point. No matter how unattractive his personality, for sure, was, none could not deny the fact that he is a skilful individual. He possess finesse and determination. Though speaking of his other traits, you cannot ignore the fact how suave he is. Women touch him with or without his consent all the time. And you’d agree: the man is attractive. Affable demeanour in public, though quite closed in private. “Closed” is an understatement. He is, in fact, incredibly emotionally unavailable.

His ill-favoured personality, hidden under that affable demeanour and polished looks, however, could not prevent you from falling. For him. And you are gradually finding yourself more and more addicted to him. Brushing off these ideas as soon as possible, of course. Occasional touch of your fingers, frequent looks he’d give you. You cannot remember the exact moment when Pantalone started showing signs, but you remember well that his glances in your first meaning were anything but interest. As you are a “special” debtor with a large sum to owe, Pantalone almost cages you in his main office buildings. To your knowledge, there were a few of them, but out of all people the fate of working with him has fallen onto your shoulder.

There was one day when he scared you.

“You… killed someone?” You ask, holding your hand to your chest as you walk into his office to bring some papers. But they are dropped down the moment you see the so-called crime scene. The heavy metallic scent of blood blocks your breathing and you dream of disappearing from this room, however it is too late.

“Just taught a disagreeable debtor a valuable lesson”, Pantalone walks out of the shadows, lighting the cigarette right in his own office.

Your eyes widen at the sight of the blood on his face once he makes himself visible.

“What are you doing here? Ah, the job. I almost forgot.”

A panic attack crashes you sooner than Pantalone inquiries.

“Why the sour face? Just put the papers here and you’re dismissed.”

You look down at the body next, and even if!(fat chance) that person is alive, you cannot pull yourself back into the calm state.

“Are you deaf? Put your stuff on my desk,” the banker commands, wiping the blood off his cheek.

Your vision goes blurry when you see his stained with crimson skin and you feel like fainting.

“I don’t… exactly like… seeing blood, yes.” You turn away but lose your consciousness the moment after.

When you wake up you find yourself lying in the leather couch, a blanket dropped sloppily over your body. Pantalone is sitting at his desk per usual, working on his papers when he sees you slowly come to senses.

“Alive? Good. Now go back to your duties.”

You rise from the couch slowly, pulling the blanket down and slightly wobbly proceed to the door.

“Y/N.” Pantalone stops you with his voice.

“What now…” you think. But your expression softens one you hear what he tells you:

“There is a bottle of water I left for you on the desk. Take it. I’m not exactly eager reviving you after another fainting because your careless ass is dehydrated”, he stops writing with his left hand and says again, this time harsher: “And never enter my office announced again.”

“Thank you”, you take the bottle of water the Harbinger offers you. It has a distinct spicy scent from cologne lingering on it. “Your couch reeks of tobacco, by the way.”

One time, when you save him.

Pantalone storms into the office visibly injured and infuriated. You can see his secretary come up to him, presenting some sort of intel while her hand slips under his sleeve trying to pull his gloves out. You see it all through the small doorway.

“Lord Harbinger, you must have had a tough mission, let me release this stress of yours…”

The other employee of his, a male, presses a wet sponge against his expressionless face. Pantalone, seemingly weak and tired doesn’t respond immediately to the secretary boldly roaming her lustful hands over him but a while after his consciousness makes itself known. He grabs the recently presented papers and slaps the woman’s hand with them.

“Sir—”

“Have you two no shame? I need privacy. For once, just leave me alone!” He shouts, uncharacteristically to him. Both the secretary and the lowly subordinate rush out of the room under his strict command.

When the shift ends you can see everyone leave the office, however there has been not a single move from Pantalone’s office since he shut his door. You look on the clock, it’s already 9:15 p.m. Why is he not going home? You decide to spy on Pantalone. Soon, as everyone has left the office empty, you raise from your working desk and go to check on your CEO.

“Pantalone.”

You knock, but the response is none.

“Pantalone, coming in.”

You push the door slowly. Even his spicy cologne mixes up with the metallic scent of blood. You walk in the office and feel your heart sink at the sight: the banker is lying on the floor, as if he had fallen from his desk, there are lots of tablets scattered around the floor, and a bottle of wine, shattered, the salty smell filling your nostrils. The ashtray on his desk is full and messy. Everything looks chaotic and Pantalone himself is, for sure, out of character.

He is unconscious as he is lying on the floor. You rush to him, gently placing your hand on his shoulder and start shaking him.

“PANTALONE!!”

He doesn’t wake up and you have to resort to drastic measures. You slap him. At that, he finally comes to the senses.

“This is the second time you have slapped me. Are you not afraid of the punishment I might force upon you?” he asks, groggily putting his body into a sitting position.

“Why didn’t you go to the doctor?”

“I’m perfectly fine handling some scratch.”

“Just a scratch? Then, what are the tablets for? I thought they were painkillers.”

You see as Pantalone examines his own mess, and his expression is calm yet a hint of exhaustion can be spotted.

“Clever”, he says. “I was beaten up, and my muscles obviously hurt.”

“And the wine?”

“To relax.”

“I see.”

Pantalone eyes you once again, his face extremely pale and tired. “Are you done? You can go home.” He turns away from you, you don’t know what he’s doing but you hear a drawer being pulled and Pantalone let out a short sound similar to groaning. His knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the desk. You see a used needle roll across the very same desk…

“You’re… you’re diabetic?”

“An astitute observation” (silently). “Didn’t I tell you to go home?”

You analyse him from the top to bottom and deem this person likely not being able to get home himself. You open your eyes to offer taxi, but realise that he has a personal chauffeur. “Right, rich people…”

“That’s all? You won’t even give me a lecture for spotting you in such a vulne-” Pantalone’s gaze becomes so evil that you rethink over the choice of your wording. “In such a predicament. I mean, shouldn’t your mighty self cut my tongue in order to prevent me from gossiping about your health concerns?”

“You’ve been reading far too many detective stories. I’m not so…” he sighs, realising that given the circumstances of his long list of crimes even as a polished businessman he is a perfect match to Meropide. So Pantalone cuts his wording as well. “Forget about it.”

“You sure will be alright?”

“Worry of yourself, it’s getting quite dark and seems like rain and thunder.”

Wow. That’s a gentleman indeed! He won’t even offer you a lift? You roll your eyes.

“I’ll get home just fine. And also, you reek of alcohol. Can’t have the employees think poorly of you.”

You don’t even know if you are happy with your doing or not, because if you didn’t wake him, he’d probably be lying there on the floor until the very morning.

As you’ve cleaned your desk and taken your coat on, ready to leave, you see that the raining outside has become even more aggresive.

You walk outside and slip on the first level of stairs. “Great.” Before you could dial the number of the taxi, you hear the voice behind you stopping you.

“Don’t need to spend money. You’re coming with my chauffeur.”

“No thanks, I am quite fine being al-ready indebted to you.”

“That won’t need repayment. You saved my life. If I were not woken up in time, and didn’t inject insulin, I would most certainly end up in a coma not long after.”

“Especially considering that you drank wine”, you think.

“If you insist. Look like today I’m but a slave of the weather conditions.”

Pantalone hums to your response and leads you to the sleek black car. He throws the door open for you and gets onto the back seat with you. Once he’s settled and you wait to be dropped off your place you notice the holes on his gloves, revealing already dry blood stained cuts. You are only able to see them properly now, due to your close proximity.

“May I ask who attacked you?”

“It happens quite often so no one is really surprised by now”, he clears throat. “An assassination attempt. But I’m faster” he gives you a warning look, by which you conclude that the killer is no longer alive.

“I see.”

As you’re dropped off safely to your place, you sneak into your bedroom before your grandma has questions. As you lie in bed under a fuzzy blanket you cannot brush his scent, the mix of spicy cologne with blood, off your mind. The sight of him almost helpless, injecting that insulin like he was on a thin ice, stays carved into your mind as well.

⟢

[jerktournament]

FINAL ROUND - GLaDOS (Portal) VS Herbert P Bear (Club Penguin)

!!! PROPAGANDA BELOW !!!

GLaDOS: "So mot only is she running your character through a series of puzzles with the intention of killing her at the end, but in the second game she spends the Entire. Time. Verbally and emotionally abusing you, including body shaming and bullying you for being an orphan. If it's any consolation, she does have to exist as a potato for the second and third acts of Portal 2."

"Known for being mean (hot). Mercilessly targets the player character's every possible insecurity. Petty and mean. I understand if you don't want to include her since she tends to dominate polls, lol."

HERBERT: "This mf spends his whole life trying to heat up a frozen island and terrorizing the innocent penguins that live on it all bc he was bad at sailing one time and is too much of a wimp to try again. Classic Misery loves Company type asshole."

"operation blackout would have been NOTHING without him (mostly because he caused it). he has a SOLAR LASER. this polar bear is an ass who literally harnessed the power of the sun and froze the top members of the elite penguin force (a group of penguin special agents) and his best friend is an equally villainous crab"

"Herbert may be a fandom darling in our fandom of like, 20 people. BUT DON'T LET THAT FOOL YOU! He is a conniving, EVIL bear, and a professional jerk and some highlights of his jerkishness include...

- Spending ten years of his life (by the time the game closed) trying to destroy the Penguin Secret Agency and Elite Penguin Force (both were agencies that protected the island from disasters and villains like Herbert) with varying success...

- SUCCESSFULLY destroyed the Penguin Secret Agency with a popcorn bomb, which destroyed their HQ. It should also be noted that while doing so, he locked in the player, Rookie, and Gary the Gadget Guy, presumably so the bombs explosion would have killed them all.

-Teamed up with the EPF to stop the Ultimate Protobot 10,000 and the Test Bots, a small group of four dangerous robots after he personally brought them back. When Protobot went "too far" for Herbert's standards by threatening the environment and trying to completely destroy the EPF (despite the aforementioned Popcorn Bomb incident literally destroying the PSA, and also a certain Operation: Blackout), causing him to temporarily switch sides. This might sound like a character growth moment...except for the fact that he immediately betrays them once Protobot is dealt with and attacks and damages the EPF's HQ using a robot hydra made for the Medieval Party that he stole.

- A canonical ex-dictator. Don't believe me? Look up Operation: Blackout on the Club Penguin Wiki! He froze several agents during his reign of terror, was open to freezing innocent civilians, and also wanted to do away with puffles- the pets of penguins. He also banned several hobbies and professions during his reign (being a Ninja, a DJ, a Pirate, etc) for no reason other than disliking them. He also destroyed the EPF'S HQ and exposed two agents' private information to the public. This means Herbert is the first and only character to canonically dox people he doesn't like on Club Penguin.

-Was planning to bomb the EPF literally two months later with a hot sauce bomb (makes sense in context of the game and yes, it is more destructive than it sounds).

-Brainwashed puffles into digging coins for him purely because his henchman, Klutzy the crab brought a coin slot to use for his DIY heater, instead of just removing the coin slot and retooling it to work without one like a normal person."