#plus i wanted to experiment with different outfits

[soulchronicity]

i love (politely) looking away from canon to make these bitches happy

[lxvemaze]

txt bf! headcanons

pairing: ot5!txt x reader

tags: fluff !!

warnings: n/a

a/n: if ya'll liked this, i'd appreciate a like and reblog!! i love you all!!

more under the cut!

⚝soobin

literally a romcom boyfriend. he does all the things you thought you'd only see in a romance movie; he opens doors for you, doesn't let you pay for dinner, gives you flowers, and walks you to your door at the end of a date. and he does it all with a smile on his face. BC HE LOVES TO DO IT!! he loves to make you feel loved! plus, your family loves him!! he's the type of boyfriend that any mom would want their kid to have! would 100% buy your mom flowers before meeting her for the first time and wins her over immediately! if you two end up living together, he'd looove to make dinner for you. even if he's not the greatest at cooking, he'd try his hardest to master all your favorite dishes. if you two ever fight, he will not want either of you to leave or go to bed until you get it resolved. he hates fighting with you :(( soobin is THE dream boyfriend.

⚝yeonjun

he's the boy that your family would be wary of at first, but end up loving him as one of their own. even you think that he's too cool for you at first- but you find out pretty quickly that he's just a silly guy. loves to go shopping with you! we all know how much yeonjun loves fashion, so im convinced that this would be one of his favorite pastimes with you! if you're not super into fashion, he'd love to pick out outfits for you! and if you are into fashion, he'd love to experiment and share a wardrobe with you! i think he'd like to just lounge around the house with you! watching tv, laying in bed, showering together, whatever! he just likes to be near you :)

⚝beomgyu

dating beomgyu, you'd literally be attached at the hip with him. he's like a puppy when he hears you grab your keys, he comes running over like, "where you going? what are you doing? can i come?" like, broski, you're just going to the store???? along with that, he'll just yap at you 24/7. he'll be talking to you, and if you need to pee or smth, you just stand up and go to the bathroom bc you know he'll just follow you in there and sit on the edge of the tub while you're peeing and he's still just talking about whatever. you love it, though. don't get me wrong! BIG cuddler. he likes to be little spoon :(

⚝taehyun

he likes to quietly admire you<3 you can just be taking your makeup off in your room and you'll see him in the mirror laying in the bed looking at you like ":))))" he just loves you so much! we all know taehyun is a very fit guy, so he'd probably like to go to the gym or hiking with you!! even if you're not a very active person yourself, he'd like to work out with you and act like a personal trainer of sorts. you'd be dying while doing the leg press, and he'd be like, "one more! you can do it!" after you got home from the gym, he'd be sure to massage your sore muscles after you took a shower<3

⚝hueningkai

i think we can all agree that hueningkai is the biggest loser ever! and i mean that in a very loving way! when you guys first start dating, he's soooo nervous, so you just kind of end up leading the way in the relationship. but as the relationship progresses, he starts loving to take care of you! he likes to make dinner reservations, he likes buying gifts for you, etc. but he's still so nervous about it! he'll probably be like "i made reservations for dinner! do you like that restaurant? we can go to a different one if you don't like it!" or "do you like that necklace i bought you??? i can buy a different one if you don't :(((" like, no bby you love everything he does for you<333 even after the relationship has gone on for literal years, he still needs that reassurance<3

thanks for reading!!

[flavorcountry]

I got a cold and watched that Jenny Nicholson video about the Star Wars hotel (it's very good) and fully lost my mind: even after experiencing a comprehensive four-hour deconstruction of why it didn't work for Star Wars, I still think a version of this would absolutely work for Star Trek. Take my hand and walk with me on my journey into madness, where I have infinite money, talent, and team to make it all happen!!

Overall vibe

If you want to make a hotel/resort experience that takes place inside a fake spaceship, I still think Star Trek is the way to go: so much of Star Trek takes place on ships, and we've seen the rooms are pretty nice!! Like the Star Wars one, my Star Trek hotel is also a simulated starship, but with better rooms and more fun stuff to do.

Are you ready for this shit

Can you tell I drew this myself

You'll arrive at Farpoint Station,* where the concierge checks you in and your luggage gets whisked away by station staff. Gift shop's also here. When you're checked in and ready to head to your room, you're brought to one of several transporter rooms. If you never went to the Star Trek Experience at the Vegas Hilton when it was active, I am truly sorry for you, because they had a ride whose boarding process included getting beamed away: you and your pals were herded into a zone where you were clearly meant to board a run-of-the-mill 20th-century simulator ride, and then there were jets of mist and a sound and suddenly you were in a transporter room on board the goddamn USS Enterprise NCC-1701-D. It was fucking magical and I never, ever want it explained to me. Anyway, that's what happens to you at my Star Trek hotel: you step onto a transporter pad and get beamed from Farpoint to a Galaxy-class Federation starship. Exit the transporter room and walk down the ship's corridor to take the turbolifts to Cargo Bay 1, where a "temporary muster point" has been set up (this is where the guest services desks will be), or just follow the lit-up companel signs to your cabin. Yes, it will look like guest quarters aboard the Enterprise-D, more or less — maybe a little smaller — but it'll have the carpet, the plant, the glass coffee table, and most importantly a window that looks out into space.

Or!!! If you booked the resort, keep heading down the hallway and take another turbolift to a different section of the ship where the holodeck entrances are. The holodecks, naturally, are running a Risa program, so you walk through the doors and under the arch and suddenly you're outdoors looking at a beautiful landscape with a pool and whatnot, plus the resort accommodations where the more conventional fancy rooms are, and also the restaurants and entertainment venues, all themed. There's a Quark's. There's a Klingon bar and grill. A Bolian salon/spa. Talaxian arcade?? Nausicaan axe-throwing pit?!?! Come on!!!!!!!!!

Here, have a floor plan

Key learnings

Two things stuck out to me that the Star Wars hotel fucked up that I think the Star Trek version can do better:

🤷‍♀️ LARP too complicated: Give 'em credit where it's due, the Star Wars hotel fucking swung for the fences trying to make a multi-hero story guests could integrate with, but it just didn't work. Technical failures! Possible conceptual flaws! Too much stuff packed into the schedule!

The fix: Just make it mostly a hotel most of the time. One or two weekends a month, there's a two-day fully-immersive LARP adventure that people explicitly book separately, and it's more expensive (more on that later). But at all times, hotel staff will be in uniform with division colors that make sense: concierge and guest relations in red, support and janitorial in gold, teal for any medical personnel. I think that means the people working in food services have to wear that plaid/vest combo the Ten-Forward staff have on, but there are certainly worse outfits.

🌴 No resort: The food at the Star Wars hotel was good, but there was no pool and no other luxury resort type stuff to do. It didn't sound relaxing.

The fix: Putting an actual resort in the Star Trek hotel under the guise of a permanently-running Risan holodeck program. The sheer elegance of it!! When the weather is bad, hotel staff in gold uniforms can make apologetic comments about how the sim's malfunctioning.

Roleplay though

People are going to want to stay onboard the ship. That's good! The thing about the ship cabins is you can build them in maybe two semicircular layers (the rooms will need to be curved because these are quarters onboard the saucer section, naturally) and just bury them underground. They don't need real windows — you're putting screens in that'll show a space view, especially when the ship goes to warp and you can see those rainbow trails. Inside the semicircle there's a lot of space where you can put the other, bigger sets: the bridge, main engineering, Ten-Forward, etc. None of those have real windows either, and also I don't think it matters where you put them physically: just stick a pretend turbolift in front of all the entrances and make guests take those whenever they need to go there! One thing we're also doing is putting little hidden speakers everywhere that put out a small amount of shipboard white noise; it may not even be noticeable on a conscious level, but it'll be there and it'll be soothing. This speaker network is also a great way to make an actual announcement if there's a real park emergency.

During most of the month, I think the bridge and main engineering are mostly just photo ops — maybe you have to book a timeslot? Just so you're guaranteed some time with just you and your buddies? But I also think there should be opportunities for what I'm going to call mini-LARPing: you and your pals can book an hour-long session and the staff trains and then runs you through a short scenario. If you've ever played Artemis or the actual Star Trek VR bridge crew game they put out a while ago, you know where I'm going with this: for however long, you and your friends are now the crew of a genuine-ass Federation starship trying to survive a battle! It's fuckin' Kobayashi Maru time, motherfuckers!! Everyone gets their own station! Lights flicker! Mist shoots out of stuff! The whole bridge shakes! There might be a warp core problem — better call down to main engineering! Whoever's down there gets escape room-style minigames and puzzles to work out and help their shipmates. At some point — and this will happen in every run of every scenario — there'll be a very mist-forward "coolant leak" near the warp core that forces whoever's in the room to duck and roll beneath a descending garage-style blast door before heading up to the bridge to activate their station up there; bonus points if the player can work in a "We lost a lot of good people down there, Captain." Maybe there's an actor in makeup who menaces the crew on the main viewer from time to time (pick beforehand from a list of villains! want to fight Klingons? Romulans? a rogue Borg tactical sphere? etc). Can you see it? I can see it, and it fucking rules.

I must at this point mention that in my world, you can buy an add-on where a camera crew joins you, and they cut up the footage afterward to make you and your pals your very own mini-episode. Yes the editing and post-production are expensive and time-consuming; I'm creating jobs here!!!! Maybe …… okay, hear me out: there's an array of hidden fixed cameras and microphones built discreetly into the set, and also players are issued a combadge with an individual RFID tracker that pings the cams and mics, so they only save footage when a player comes close. After the players are done, a machine algorithm uses the data gathered to assemble a rough timeline of each player's material and create a draft movie that a human editor can pick up and fine-tune. Yeah?? When you check out, you get handed a USB drive that looks like an isolinear chip with your mini movie on it, and maybe another one with all the raw footage just in case you're feeling ambitious!!!!

For one or two other weekends during every month, there's a heavily advertised, much more involved, and way spendier LARP for people who really want to get into it. It takes place over two days. There are lots more actors portraying characters necessary for the plot/gameplay. Don't bother packing for the daytime: all players are issued a uniform they get to keep afterward. Do I have any details on the scenario or RP? I do not. But I fully believe it's possible to construct something you could run over the course of a weekend that would keep a hundred paying guests occupied, amused, and delighted, provided you have a truly ridiculous amount of money and people, which I do because this is utter fantasyland.

Also it probably won't cost six grand. Probably??

Let's gooooooooooooo

The rest of the time — and I cannot stress this enough — the Star Trek hotel is just a very heavily and specifically themed all-inclusive resort that has nice, fancy rooms and luxury amenities plus bookable ship cabins and opportunities for photo shoots or quick one-shot roleplay adventures for the real heads. You don't ever have to enter those latter parts if you don't want to! You can just hang out at the resort and have fun with all the themed entertainment, which I must stress is going to be both in-universe plausible and great, with something for everybody. Yes, there'll be a daycare, and yes, Flotter will be there in some capacity to entertain the kids. The food hall is my favorite part by far; I could pitch you Trek restaurant concepts all day. Romulan gourmet soup stand. Gummi candy store staffed by Ferengi where all the offerings are shaped like alien bugs. A vending machine where you can get a jumja stick or a three-pack of those nutrient pucks Picard and his new friends kept getting in "Allegiance." There will be an entire plant-based food vendor with a wide variety of delicious options for all meals, and it will be run by Vulcans.

A word on the gift shop

Question for you: have you ever watched a Star Trek show and seen a Starfleet officer pull on a jacket or shoulder a duffel bag that had the words "STAR TREK" on it? If so, then friend, I want to know where you get your hallucinogens because I want to experience this exactly once. All of the gift shops on my hotel grounds sell responsibly sourced, highly thought-out, well-made items that would be in-world plausible and have no obvious branding. Of course you can get a hand-carved horga'hn, but let's go bigger. Why not a light-up Tox Uthat for your nightstand? Ressikan flute for you, queen? How about a whole-ass knife store that's nothing but various kinds of Klingon cutlery? There will absolutely be an entire tailor's shop whose whole job is to put you in the Starfleet uniform of your choice; there may or may not be a Cardassian managing the place who's got a 50/50 cheerful/menacing vibe going on. There'll be not one but two stores that sell little models of ships: the regular ones and the gold ones. Don't tell me you can't picture it!!!!!

I think that's about it

Thank you for coming along with me on this bespoke journey into 100% insanity; now can somebody put me in touch with the Star Trek licensing people and also give me a billion dollars to build all this? Okay, thanks a lot!!

For timeline purposes and because it's fun, I'm positing a version of Farpoint that got built after the events of the TNG premiere where the Denebians got their act together and just built a normal surface base without suborning an interstellar lifeform.

[theblackfemininesociety]

Feminine Tip #003: Invest In Your Fitness Journey Sis 🔑

Ladies, Fitness takes your look to the next level.

Let’s have a little heart-to-heart about something super important. We all know that confidence and self-love are at the core of our power, but what if I told you that fitness could be your secret weapon to your leveling up journey ?

Feminine women set a higher bar for themselves.

Why Fitness?

1. Glow from Within: When you work out, you’re not just toning your body; you’re also boosting your mood, energy, and overall well-being. ✨

2. Confidence Booster: There’s something incredibly powerful about challenging your physical limits and coming out on top. Whether it’s lifting heavier weights, running that extra mile, or mastering a new yoga pose, every victory makes you feel like the queen you are. 👑

3. Fashion Flex: Let’s be real, clothes fit differently when you’re toned and strong. That favorite dress or those killer jeans? They look even better when you’ve got that fitness edge. Plus, the confidence you radiate makes any outfit look like a million bucks. 💃🏾

4. Mental Clarity: Fitness isn’t just about the body; it’s also about the mind. Regular exercise helps reduce stress, anxiety, and even depression. A clear mind means you can conquer anything, from boardroom meetings to brunch plans. 🧘🏿‍♀️

📌 How To Get Started

1. Find Your Jam: Not everyone loves the gym, and that’s okay! Explore different types of workouts until you find something you love. Dance classes, hiking, swimming, Pilates, or even a fun Zumba session—there’s something out there for everyone.

2. Set Realistic Goals: Rome wasn’t built in a day, and your fitness journey won’t be either. Start with small, achievable goals and celebrate every milestone. Progress, no matter how small, is still progress. 🏅

3. Squad Goals: Everything’s better with friends. Find a workout buddy or join a fitness group. Having a support system can keep you motivated and make the whole experience a lot more fun. 👯‍♀️

4. Self-Care is Key: Remember, fitness is a form of self-love. Listen to your body, rest when you need to, and don’t be too hard on yourself. Your journey is unique, and every step forward is a step towards a better you. 🛁💕

😼 Let’s Do This!

Ladies, it’s time to reclaim our power and elevate our lives through fitness. Let’s embrace the strength, beauty, and confidence that come from taking care of our bodies. Whether you’re a fitness newbie or a seasoned pro, there’s always room to grow and glow.

So, lace up those comfy sneakers, put on your favorite workout gear, and let’s stand on FITNESS the same we stand on business. The next level is waiting for you, and it’s going to be game changing 💋

Don’t forget to surround yourself with what you want to become! follow us on Instagram 💋

[forzaferraris]

UH OH ! — cl16. [ series masterlist . part ii . ]

CHAPTER ONE / gorgeous.

❛ you should take it as a compliment, that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talked. ❜

summary : usually, birthday parties are supposed to be a close friend's and family celebration, so why on earth are you being dragged along as your friend's plus one?

warnings : implied references to cheating. food mentions. vomiting mentions but not explicitly written. sexual themes, inuendos. a purposeful choice to refuse to write without capital letters. too many taylor swift references. google translated french. no use of y/n but reader is referred to as soleil by charles and that transfers on through all the fic. charles leclerc's toxic relationship. alcohol consumption, drink responsibly. suddenly charles leclerc is actually decent at flirting. inaccurate storyline of pierre's birthday. 2023's silly season just got sillier. live laugh love kika gomes. word count : 1.7k

yourusername just posted to her story . . .

[ caption one: hot girls always do skincare 🧖🏻‍♀️ / caption two: i fear i girlbossed to close to the sun, how did i end up here ⁉️🤨 ]

THE STREETS OF PARIS , were lively enough that you could blend in seamlessly, everyone else dressed essentially to the nines in their finest attire, walking in and out of all the restaurants in the vicinity. you want to cower, wrap the shall around yourself tighter and hide away; you'd never felt more insecure and out of place in the entire month you'd been vacationing in france, until this very moment.

everyone around you exudes the amount of confidence that comes naturally to them that you wished you had, even if you felt genuinely good in the outfit Kika had practically forced you in when you'd briefly mentioned having nothing to wear to the event she'd asked you to tag along to. a part of you wants to remind yourself that you knew better than to expect things to play out differently, it wants to ridicule you for going back on your usual stance of always expecting disappointment to no longer feel disappointed.

you wave off a taxi that pulls beside you, you're already at your destination, and a fleeting wave of nausea makes you want to clench your gut, and hurl what little you'd eaten earlier throughout the day into the hedges beside you; you don't, thankfully. instead, you resort to the safety of your phone, back-and-forth bickering between your best friend and Kika to work up your nerves to get yourself inside the building.

you feel wobbly on your feet, something you will also plan to blame on Kika when you find the courage to get yourself to walk in through the door of the Laperouse, a considerably more elegant spot to eat at than you would have picked, you only dread the fear of looking over the menu and bearing witness to the prices of the food.

the ding of the bell above the door pulls your head out of your phone when you're met with the silhouette of quite possibly the most attractive man you'd ever had blessed your gaze — excluding that one time you'd run into lorenzo zurzolo on a girls trip to madrid and fumbled the whole ordeal so embarrassingly you had to block him on instagram to keep from ever seeing him.

his actions are almost more exaggerated in frustration than you'd plainly described to your friend, his hand is constantly dragging down his face when he pulls the phone away from his ear, promptly allowing you to hear the snippets of french being, basically, screamed through the phone at him. yikes. the phone call seems to drag on and the amount of time you've been staring at this man can be somewhat considered borderline stalking if he wasn't uninterested in the world outside the french screaming match on the phone.

deciding you'd done enough oogling to satiate for the brieft maladaptive day-dreaming you'll experience during mundane errands. with the very little courage you had, you wipe your hands on your dress, pitifully, and tuck your phone into the clutch before making your way inside. you're blissfully unaware of the way the man had turned towards the noise the heels of your shoes had made against the pavement, his attitude doing a complete 180 had him disregarding the remainder of the phone call before finally giving up, a defeated sigh follows the silence of the call being ended.

'i told you so. . .' your brain supplies when you feel even more out of place being inside said restaurant than how you were simply just standing outside of it, you felt both over and under-dressed watching the mass of patrons standing at the front bar along with the glimpses you could get inside the dining room from where you wait at the hostess stand.

"can i help you?" the hostess asks, words sleek with her french accent as she flicks her gaze up towards you before down at the booking book in front of her. you fiddle with your fingers, white-knuckling the black clutch, suddenly unable to find your own words. the woman rolls her eyes, and taps her perfectly manicured finger against the book and you visibly shake.

"elle est avec moi et la réservation Gasly" a voice speaks, standing behind you, close enough to be flush against you, but remaining a finger length away from you, refusing to lift your head, you don't dare look at who's just saved yourself from any more bouts of unwavering embarrassment for the night.

"profite de ta soirée" the hostess grins, it doesn't shine in her eyes and it's clearly a put-on customer service smile, forced to maintain a friendly atmosphere within the restaurant, you're allowing yourself to be lead through towards the private dining room, stepping away from the man, you mumble a simple thank you in your own butchered french pronunciation as you spot kika and find yourself attached to her hip for a majority of the night.

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[ caption one: @yourusername spotted arriving at pierre's birthday party / caption two: @yourusername wearing the monot black maxi cutout ]

now, see if you weren't the type of person to be so easily persuaded into joining in on the drink festivities, you wouldn't have ended up with kika as one of your closest friends. you were never one to turn down alcohol, especially open bar alcohol; which is perhaps why you'd found yourself in a state of being a social butterfly, you'd floated around the room, meals long since eaten and cleared by the wait staff left people standing around and conversing.

mixtures of english, french and portuguese filling the room, bits and pieces of conversations you were picking up, but with your minimal understanding of french you found yourself avoiding anything beyond "hi how are you?" and introducing yourself, aside from that you smile and nodded before politely excusing yourself to float around once more.

"are you purposely ignoring me?" there it is, the sound that would haunt your best dreams and your worst nightmares; the shiver that runs up your spine makes you inadvertently cringe at yourself, how were you this reactive to a voice, you're going to blame the entire thing on the amount of sparkling moscato you'd been drinking by the glass.

"hm? no, no i'm not ignoring you?" you mock his accent, turning around to finally make eye contact with him, lips pursed into a line to keep yourself from giggling, the bubbles in your stomach is either your own nerves, the bubbly alcoholic beverage you'd consumed or a mixture of both — either way you feel content enough to be less than self-aware of the situation.

you can almost see the way he visibly lights up at the interaction, the way can't hold himself back from laughing at your attempt to mock his accent, the way his eyes crinkle and the laughter that follows the expression leaves you virtually speechless, you'd never been in a situation where someone, especially not a man. had ever laughed at you in a way that didn't feel the least bit mocking towards you; his laughter subsides and you feel yourself mourning the noise, head tilting to the side before he's taking a sip from his own glass.

"how do you know pierre?"

"through kika, she's the sole reason i'm here" you explain, gesturing with your hands as you talk, the conversation carries on throughout most of the night, new drinks replacing old ones all whilst the distance between the two of you closing inch by inch and shamelessly, perhaps even a little selfishly you allow it.

you allow more than just close proximity, you allow his knee to knock against your own, the hand to graze your waist as his arm moves around you to put his empty drink on the bar. you allow yourself to meet his gaze, hold it and find yourself lower and lower your own inhibitions. the good, the bad and the ugly of a man who hasn't asked for your name and whose name you hadn't bothered to ask for either.

perhaps, it's the events of the night that led you to here, in this heat of the moment pursuit of pure guiltless drunk happiness, lips against the nap of your neck in the back of a taxi, a hand dragging dangerously up your thigh, closer and closer to a spot you hadn't known longed to be touched until now. you're mutual shouts of laughter are shared through the streets of paris, leading into the hotel room you'd been staying in for the week, you're set to check out the next morning, but realistically, what's one night of parisian fun to end your trip with a bang, literally.

"soleil, fuck, the things you are doing to me right now" his voice comes out like a growl against your ear, his teeth dragging along your ear lobe and further down your neck, never biting, just allowing the feeling to pull the breathless noises out of you. your hand finds its way to nestle into his hair, grip tight and pull him away, the way he looks at you, a gaze you're all far too familiar with, lust.

god, had you wished you knew life wouldn't feel so horribly if you'd felt like this the entire time, the way the man finds himself home between your thighs, even as they clench around his head as soon as his tongue flicks against your abused and overly sensitive clit, fingers working their way in and out of your as you're pushed to complete your third orgasm — your hands griping the pillow behind your head, back arching as you moan out breathlessly, the needy coil in your stomach untangling once more as he pulls the orgasm out of you; your left breathless and shaking as your ride out the orgasm on his fingers.

his face is glistening with your juices; god if you were brave enough to take a picture you would have, he looked effortlessly pretty as he wiped his face with the back of his hand and finally pulled his fingers out of you to lick them clean.

you were royally screwed. even after you woke up in the morning, he was still asleep, but check-out was soon and there really wasn't any need to actively remain in the hotel room bed any longer, even if the man sleeping beside you was dreamy, even asleep, you knew alcohol-influenced one night stands were less than impressive to boast about the next morning. so you do the easiest thing to bypass awkward morning conversations, you leave a note with your number and leave.

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liked by francisca.cgomes, yourbestfriend and 489 others yourusername are you happy to have been in paris? oui! tagged francisca.cgomes

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user girl, what is that on your neck in the second pic?? ⤿ yourusername the question is are you a narc?

francisca.cgomes paris couldn't handle us for longer than a week ⤿yourusername where too next gf x

yourbestfriend i miss you come home ! ⤿yourusername i think i might find a new home ⤿yourbestfriend you're really gonna abandon our kids like that?

user since when have her an kika been friends? ⤿user since like forever, they grew up together

yoursisteruser look at you being a slut pookie, we love to see it ⤿yourusername get out of my comments blocked and reported ⤿yoursisteruser can you answer my facetime now, you got a lot of catching up to do, this is new name lore !!!

authors note : hi oh my god, so i'm absolutely nervous to actually have this be posted, it's not been beta read so i apologise in advance trying to edit this myself was the longest task i've come to find myself tethered to. i really like the plot of this story, the smut a lil dry because my smut writing is dry, we gotta work ourselves up to that, later chapters pookies, later chapters. i would have added more to the story, i'm like super inspired by this, but alas the 30 image limit said, no. so we gotta listen !

add yourself to the taglist here !

taglist : @iluminaya @greenbaby12 @therealcap @marshmummy

[justawritterwithideas]

Who's your daddy? | s.r

summary: After a long day's work, the BAU returns to the head office where they find a stroller with a small baby sleeping and a child very determined to surprise his father… But who's his father?

warnings: too much fluff, spencer!dad, my best attempt at Spencer dad because it's 24/7 on my mind. I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING IT, AAAAAAAAAAA. This story is not spencer x reader, i wanted to try something different so i created a character. I hope you guys like it.

words: 4,241.

a/n: I decided to surprise myself and try the family/family found challenge from one of my favorite writers in the whole universe, @imagining-in-the-margins. I used, I think, one of my favorite concepts which is "secret family/spouse/child" for this little au.

i want to remind you that English is not my first language, so if there are mistakes I hope you will forgive me :( I hope you like it, plus I really enjoyed being able to try something new and outside of what I usually focus my writing on. THANK YOU, TQM.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

Catching criminals is a good way to kill time.

The BAU team knew this perfectly well, that's why they were dedicated to it. Every day was a new experience trying to find and capture the worst of the worst of humanity. Even though sometimes they just wished those freaks would take a day off.

The last case had sent them all the way to Silicon Valley, successfully catching the unsub and making it safely back to the FBI offices.

What they didn't expect was to find their technical analyst and friend, Penelope, gazing in amazement at the inside of a stroller.

"What is that, Penny?" asked Emily, walking up to the blonde figure who was totally engrossed by what she was seeing in that baby carriage. The group approached silently, after seeing the woman's signal for them to come as quietly as possible, and saw inside it.

A small baby was sleeping comfortably inside. They estimated that he was about eight months old; they could see a few strands of thin brown hair that were tousled falling down his forehead, his little nose was puckered and his little hand clenched the tail of a fluffy lion. His outfit was as cute as possible: his body was adorned by a white long-sleeved T-shirt with an iguana on it and a leaf-green overalls, but much of his body was covered by a gray blanket.

"Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen?" Penn looked up, feeling her heart stir. "I went out to greet you and found this beautiful creature. He was sleeping and alone, so I decided to keep him company until someone came to claim to be the father of this beautiful peach." J.J couldn't fall for the charms of that baby, after becoming a mother her Achilles heel was children.

"Was he alone, Penelope, are you sure there was no one with him?" Luke couldn't help but wonder how it was possible that they had left a baby, alone, in the middle of a hallway in a federal building. "Positive, I've been there for about ten minutes and I haven't seen anyone approach him."

The team brought their full attention to the mysterious stroller, looking for some sign of what would be the perpetrators. Hanging there was a gray-colored bag with a small giraffe keychain; inside it was the necessities for any kind of emergency that might happen. Diapers, change of clothes, some food, powdered milk, a bottle, everything necessary for a baby.

"We should check the cameras to see who brought him here" Matt suggested, feeling his nose being invaded by the smell of baby cologne, a very mild and almost hypnotic one.

"It's a blind spot, Matt." Tara replied, noticing how the little guy rolled over and let out an adorable yawn, falling back asleep. "He's too cute." Penelope's eyes seemed to shoot hearts.

"We should move him out of the hallway, it's drafty and he might catch a cold." J.J brought her hands up to the carriage and began to push it, being followed by the rest of the people back to their cubicles.

Despite the movement, the little boy, who was now nicknamed "peach" thanks to Garcia, remained in that deep sleep.

"I wish I had that deep sleep" Emily smiled, looking at peach's features.

He looked like someone.

Who was it?

"I want to go back to those times where my only problem was sleeping and eating" Rossi commented, causing his colleagues to laugh.

"I don't understand how a baby could have gotten up there without anyone seeing him. It's a building full of federal agents, there's no way no one saw anything." Matt nodded at Luke's words. "Let's jump to conclusions, how did a sleeping baby get here? There's no way he pushed his own car to get here." J.J peeled his gaze from the car, feeling a light bulb in his head turn on.

"In the bag there were juice boxes, it is unlikely that they are for him. It is recommended that at twelve months they can only have juice, so they may be from the parent or he has a brother or sister accompanying him" Rossi smiled, nodding at the words the young woman was saying. It was quite logical coming from the mother bear.

"If that were so, where is this responsabl-"

"Excuse me," A high pitched voice interrupted Luke's sentence "I believe you have my brother."

The group turned to see where the voice was coming from. A small figure was standing behind them, he looked quite calm and was running his hands down his brown pants.

The small glasses were drooping down the bridge of his nose, his hair was disheveled just like his little brother's and his hands were arranging the sleeves of his blue hoodie.

"I-is he your brother?" Emily stood at the height of the youngest, who was nodding before he approached the baby carriage and took to watching the little one, inwardly thankful that he remained in his deep sleep.

"I just went to the bathroom and when I came back he was gone." The little boy drew an elongated smile, taking in the faces of everyone around the stroller. " You're federal agents, so I didn't panic too much when I didn't see him."

The boy settled on the floor, taking off the backpack he was carrying and pulled out of it a book, which had in golden letters the title of "The Little Prince." Apparently, it was in French.

"How do you know we're federal agents?" Luke seemed just as surprised as the others, who didn't understand how the youngest could remain calm after taking his brother away, and besides, he knew they were federal agents.

"It says so on your badge, sir" The small hand pointed in the direction of the badge hanging from his pants, causing everyone to turn their gaze to it. "Besides, my mom told me."

"And where is your mom?" Rossi was the one who took the word, smiling at the confidence the young man possessed.

"That's a good question, sir. I'd like to know where she is, too." He shrugged, trying to remember what the woman had told him before leaving him in the hallway of the BAU office. "I know she told me, but at the moment I can't remember. It was too noisy when she said it."

The rest were silent. The little boy was handling a rather formal vocabulary, one that is very strange for his age, plus he looked quite interested in reading his book than paying attention to the rest of the stares.

"Excuse me, sweetheart… But how old are you?" Penelope smiled friendly towards the young man, who took his eyes off his interesting book.

"Five and a half, but many say from the way I talk I'm older."

Luke opened his mouth, surprised at the young age he possessed and that, moreover, he was in charge of his brother.

"What about your brother, how old is he?"

"He's eight months and two weeks old, he's still not close enough to say he's nine months old, so I'd rather be exact."

Emily was increasingly sure that he looked like an exact copy of someone she knows, but she couldn't associate it.

"Even so," Continued the young boy "there's something you guys haven't asked me" the book took a step back, closing it and setting it down on his lap.

"What's that, kiddo?" Tara asked.

"My name or my brother's" The group looked at each other. He was right, they had been so preoccupied with finding out about the person in charge of them or their age that they had overlooked asking his name.

"You're right, that was rude of us, what's your name?" Matt fixed his gaze on the young figure, who was giving them a smile where one of his front teeth was missing.

"I'm Alex, well… Actually my name is Alexander, but my mom and dad call me Alex, except when they're mad." A small giggle escaped Jennifer's mouth. "And my brother's name is Oliver, but we call him Oli."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Alex." Matt's hand extended in the direction of the little boy, who shook it with a smile. "What about you guys, what are your names?"

The group smiled, introducing themselves to each other so that the young boy could remember each name without a problem. After this, the little boy began to repeat the names, making sure he could remember each one well and be able to get each name right.

"Okay, Alex. Now that we know each other, I want to ask you a question" J.J addressed the little one, who gave him his full attention.

"Shoot, Miss J.J" His answer caused everyone to laugh, letting the little guy's charisma win them over.

"What are you doing here? I don't think you decided to come here at nine o'clock at night with your brother and mother just to see the place."

"Well, we actually came to see my dad." Admitted the little boy, adjusting his glasses.

"Your dad? And where is he?" Penelope searched with her gaze, as if she were on her computer looking up the information on her servers.

"It's a surprise! Dad doesn't know we're here, it's the first time we've come to see him at work. I wanted to surprise him so I asked Mom if she could bring me here, and since I've been good, she agreed." Proudly, Alex reached into his backpack for a neatly folded piece of paper. He opened it and held it out to J.J., who was surprised at the grades on that slip of paper.

"Wow, I see only A's here" The printout passed from hand to hand, noting that every course had been passed with the highest grade.

"Yep, even sports! Mr. Adams, my teacher, said I'd been the fastest in the class. Even though I prefer literature, I got along better with letters than balls."

Emily was sure she was a clear copy of the youngest on her team, Spencer Reid.

Wait, where was Spencer?

"Where is Spencer?" Emily turned her gaze to her buddies, who were handing the paper back to Alex so he could put it in his backpack.

"He said he was going to do some stuff on the fourth floor, then he'd be on his way here." Tara replied, turning her attention back to the little boy. "By the way, what's your dad's name? Maybe we can help you look for him, we're the best profiling group in the whole FBI, so we can find him fast."

"His name is Dad!"

"And what's your mom's name?"

"Mom?"

The group went blank. It was clear that a five-year-old wouldn't know what his father or mother's name was. Despite being quite intelligent, to him his parents were called "Mom and Dad."

But it seemed they had managed to summon something, for after mentioning the progenitor of both, little Oliver interrupted their conversation with a whimper announcing that his bedtime was over, plus his beloved mother figure was missing.

"Oh no…"

Alex moved in the direction of the backpack, opening it to look for his brother's pacifier.

The longer they lingered, the louder and louder the little boy's crying got. J.J tried to cuddle him, trying to soothe him while Emily rocked the stroller back and forth and Tara hummed a lullaby.

Luke and Matt were trying to distract him, waving their hands in front of him and making funny faces. Rossi was trying to help Penelope and little Alex with the search for the pacifier, who would occasionally bring his hands to his ears to stop the sound of his brother for a couple of seconds.

But silence came in surprise, causing everyone to stop their actions. Their gazes turned to the baby, who was giving a giggly laugh and wiggling his feet, babbling something. It looked like Oliver was feeling something.

"What's going on here?" a female voice interrupted them, again directing their gaze back.

A tall woman, who was wearing a simple beige sweater and black pants plus black converses, was approaching the stroller. The group of people moved away from her, who was leaving a plastic bag with a box in it on one of the desks and holding the baby in her hands.

She made sure to settle him on her shoulder, stroking his back slowly. Alex smiled, moving closer to the young woman and hugged her side, letting his glasses lift a little from being so tight against her.

"Mommy! Where were you, I thought you'd left me alone forever! Well… Not alone, I was with Oli but you know what I mean." The woman let out a giggle, bringing her free hand to the younger one's disheveled hair and stroked it, feeling the younger one squeeze tighter and tighter.

"Alex, love, I told you I was going to the store to buy Daddy's donuts, don't you remember?" She pushed little Oliver away so she could kiss his forehead and settle him back into the stroller. Her hands, now free, went to Oli's side and took a small pacifier, bringing it up to the baby's mouth, which he immediately accepted to begin sucking on.

"Oh… That's what you told me."

Thewhole group let out a laugh, noticing the little one's rosy cheeks. The woman, now recognized as "mommy", turned to look at the group who had taken it upon themselves to care for her two children.

"Gee, sorry for ignoring you guys." The girl giggled, giving them the same look Alex had given them a few minutes ago, fixing on each one. "Thanks for watching them, I know Alex is responsible, but I'm glad to know there were older ones around."

"You don't have to, Alex was a sweetheart. We were nosy and took his little brother, it was our mistake." Emily admitted.

"That's right, Mommy! I went to the bathroom and they had taken Oli" The young woman simply laughed, kissing the younger boy's forehead before speaking again.

"It's okay, kiddo. They did the right thing, they did the reasonable thing."

"We tried to find out who his parents were, but he told us their names were mom and dad" Alex nodded, looking at his progenitor who seemed quite amused by the whole situation.

Alex took her mother's hand, motioning her to come closer to tell her something. The female complied, listening intently to what her young son was saying before she let out a giggle and nodded, returning to her position.

"Well, actually called me mommy. But before I was called mommy I had another name, pumpkin. My name is Amanda, but at home they call me mommy or baba." Alex opened his eyes, surprised that his mother had another name besides "mommy."

"It's a pleasure, Amanda. I see all your names start with a vowel." Rossi was the first to speak, reaching out to shake Amanda's hand. "Your husband's too?"

"No, he's the exception." The femme admitted, beginning to wave to the round of people standing there.

For a couple of minutes, the group began a pleasant conversation where they talked about the time she was missing. They had jumped to the wildest conclusions, but they knew that at some point they would meet the mother of those two angels.

"Oh, I bought a lot of donuts now that I remember, do you like them? They're my husband's favorite." The woman walked over to the bag, from which she pulled out the box and smiled.

The group appreciated the gesture, beginning to receive and distribute the pastry among those present.

A chocolate-covered doughnut with sprinkles on top was received by each person.

Wait… Her husband's favorite?

Emily looked at the two little ones, then her gaze went to the young woman, then to the doughnut and her eyes went back to the little ones.

Emily could feel her head smoking from the way she worked.

No, it wasn't possible.

Spencer would have told her if it was.

"Excuse me, Amanda…" The mentioned one looked up, fixing her gaze on Emily as little Alex took small bites of his donut and shared it with his mother. "What-what did you say your husband's name was?"

"Oh! I didn't say it, actually." She admitted, taking a bite of the donut she was sharing with Alex. "His name is Spe-"

The answer interrupted by the shout Alex gave, turning away from his mother to run down the hallway for the new presence.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Spencer peered down the elevator, noticing how the small little man ran into his arms and pounced on him.

"Alex! What are you doing here, little one?" He carried the little guy, leaving a resounding kiss on his cheek and looked him in the face. His cheeks were covered with chocolate and his glasses were drooping gracefully down his nose. "Are you alone, who brought you?"

"Mom did!" The youngest was smiling happily, playing with his progenitor's hair. "Dad, did you know Mom has another name besides Mom, her name is Amanda!"

"Yes, buddy. I knew mommy's name was Amanda, but I affectionately call her Mandi."

"I thought you called her Mommy, not Mandi."

Spencer carried his little boy over to the cubicles, finding his work group/friends staring at him with stupefaction on their faces. He was sure their faces were perfect for being part of a surreal painting.

"Spence, surprise." Amanda approached the man, leaving a kiss on his lips and received her husband's kiss back.

"What are you two doing here?" Spencer looked at his family with some surprise.

"Three, daddy. Oli's here too" The little hand pointed toward the stroller, where the movement of the youngest of the Reid family could be heard.

Spencer walked over to the baby carriage, leaving the eldest of the Reid brothers on the floor and peeked out so he could see his little boy, his newest devotion.

"Hi Oli, are you awake yet? Daddy's here." Oliver watched his father with his big hazel eyes, moving his hands so he could reach one of his father's curls. "Hey, buddy. How big are you." The man took the little guy in his hands, drawing him into his body so he could carry him, smiling at the feel of his son's movement stopping as he began to pet him.

The whole group was silent, unable to believe that the youngest of their team had such a well-kept secret.

A wife and two children! How was it possible that even Emily hadn't known about this?

"Spencer…w-what is this? When did you intend to tell us? About your wife, about your children, about-about this!" Emily waved her hands around trying to take in the situation, feeling the pieces of the puzzle coming together on their own.

"I thought Hotch was going to tell you before he left." Spencer looked at the group of people, stopping his gaze on his wife who lifts her shoulders, trying to tell him "don't even look at me, I didn't say anything."

"Clearly he didn't say it" Jennifer looked at her best friend, trying to look as relaxed as possible, but it was impossible, I guess no one was trying to "act cool" at that moment.

"Well, I guess it's time to introduce you to my family." Amanda smiled, leaning against one of the desks as she watched Alex approach her. "This is Amanda, Amanda Reid, my wife" The young woman waved her hand, crossing her arms again with a smile on her mouth. She loved that he said my wife. "This is Alexander Reid and Oliver Reid, Alex and Oli of affection." Little Alex smiled, again waving to everyone with his hand and took what was left of the donut his mother offered him.

"How long have you been married?" Next to speak was Rossi, who felt Hotch had betrayed him by keeping that secret so long.

"Well, married… we've been married for five years. Dating we've been dating for seven…" Amanda turned to look at her husband.

"Seven years, five months and thirteen days." Spencer nodded, looking down at the baby who had just fallen asleep in his arms.

"So…" Matt looked over at Alexander, who looked amused eating the sprinkles on top of the donut.

"Yeah, Alex was a surprise. We knew we wanted to be parents, but we wanted to live together first, and well… The first night of living together caused Alex's arrival." Amanda laughed with her cheeks flushed, noticing how Spencer's cheeks were also filled with that crimson red. "Oli arrived after a couple of tries. We didn't want Alex to be alone and have to read all the books to himself."

"Now he reads Oli to sleep, like the good big brother he is" Spencer smiled, placing little Oliver in the most comfortable place to sleep.

After that confession, the pair settled in at the desk where the woman was sitting.

"I have so many questions I can't process, I really don't understand. So…how come we didn't see this in your apartment when you went to jail? We'd be completely blind if we hadn't noticed." Penelope had gotten to a good point, causing the friends to nod and the pair looked at each other before they could respond.

"It's because you guys went to Spence's old apartment." Amanda replied. "When we had Alex, we outgrew the apartment. We tried to look at an apartment in the same building, but they were all the same, so we pooled our paychecks and managed to rent a slightly larger apartment down the street from there. After Oliver came along we had to move to a bigger place." Spencer nodded, wiping the corner of his son's lip, which was full of chocolate. "But when Spence needs to focus, he goes to his old apartment to work. Diana was living there for a season and then she came to our house." The young woman pushed her hair back, feeling her husband's warm hand wrap around her hip.

The group was attentive to what they were saying, nodding at every word and concentrating on the story they had for them. Like little children, they formed around the young couple to follow their narrative.

"When Mexico and jail happened, it was really an ordeal. Hotch called us to get into the program with him and Jack, we had to go into hiding because we were Spencer's immediate family. Before Diana could hide she was kidnapped and, well, you know the rest of the story." Amanda's hand went to her son's hair, playing with the unruly locks of the scalp. They were exactly the same as his father's.

"But we would have known, I would have figured it out! H-how did you…?" Penelope was utterly convinced she would have found that information.

"It wasn't in the system." Spencer admitted. "I begged Hotch not to release it, it's manually, on paper. But online it's not, it was more likely to endanger my family." The young couple looked at each other and gave each other a smile. Sighing, Spencer continued. "Something like Foyet and Hotch would have happened, it was too dangerous. I wasn't willing to lose them and place them in danger."

Finally, the group of people began to understand, nodding at what he was saying and relaxing after that news.

"Spence had intended to tell them, but after Cat Adams, Scratch, Mexico, jail, Diana… I don't know when the time was right, to be honest with you." A collective chuckle filled the room echoing at that moment.

"Wow Spencer, you sure had this secret well hidden." Luke smiled, patting the younger man on the back, who was grinning broadly after breaking free of that secret that had him gnawing inside.

"Well, it's never too late to throw a welcome home party for the new family." Rossi smiled, moving closer to Amanda so he could hug her.

Mandi smiled receiving greetings from everyone, feeling like she was home.

"Good, then I'll start buying presents from now on. For both Oliver and Alex." Penelope smiled, receiving a wide smile from Alexander, who was the most excited to receive gifts. "I've missed so many birthdays and Christmases already."

"So…" Alex stole glances at everyone, who looked quite intrigued by his words. "Can I tell you aunties and uncles?"

That was the straw that broke the excitement level in the entire group, causing everyone to nod and smile broadly, feeling their chest heaving with joy.

"Did you see, Alex? Now you have lots of aunts and uncles to share, plus cousins." Spencer fell into step with his son, who was hugging him by the neck with a smile.

"That's right daddy, lots and lots!" The little boy turned to look at them all before stretching his arms out to hang around Luke's neck, who was greeting him with a smile that went so far as to make his cheeks ache.

The entire group stayed talking for a couple more minutes before deciding to head home to relax after a full day full of excitement.

Before she could get on the elevator, Emily smiled in the direction of the group of people.

"I think we know who his daddy is." Tara's whisper caused Emily to laugh and step onto the elevator, letting the doors close and signal the end of the work day.

The day had closed on a high note, not only for the capture of a criminal, but also for the discovery of a new family.

And Spencer couldn't be happier to finally reunite their families.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

kissesssss, bai. 💕

[sreyeh]

Back with some Bleck Squad redesign concepts, all for fun! Some of these are subject to change or get expanded upon over time, but I wanted to share what I have so far.

Design notes under cut!

Bleck - Expandjng upon previous designs I’ve toyed around with, I decided to go full bat for Bleck! The shape of his cloak plus his allusions to vampires, taking a bat inspired direction with the Tribe of Darkness (TOD) seemed fitting. I also just really like the idea of his having ears that are hidden in his top hat. Can’t stop destroying all reality if you can’t hear the haters! 

The lining in his cloak is also now his wings, although they don’t actually connect to the torso and legs like real bats and just hangs down the back (ineffectiveness in physical flight can be substituted with magic)

Nastasia - As she is canonically a bat, plus the theory (I believe it’s just a theory) that Nastasia would have taken on Bleck’s TOD traits when she transformed, she of course has that as inspiration as well. Unlike Bleck, however, her bat features more closely align to that of her original species (as roughly shown)

Mimi - Fully leaning into the bug-iness of her true form, Mimi has now been equipped with segmented limbs, extra eyes, and an exoskeleton! The extra pair of legs that sprout from her head in her true form transformation are now partially implemented as well.

Dimentio - I’ve wanted to make a Dimentio design fully based on Venetian masquerade outfits for a long time now, and this is my first attempt. Will definitely change and evolve as I experiment.

O’Chunks - I wanted to lean into the game’s stylization with at least one of these characters, and O’Chunks is my victim. Mainly inspired by his segmented arms, I made him a sort of living doll/marionette (not in the way Geno is) to further accentuate that he is from a different dimension. I also very slightly leaned more into him being a former general.

Mr. L - Didn’t go too crazy with changes, mainly just gave him some tools and changed his mask to a pair of tinted safety goggles so he gets those inventor vibes.

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Lessons For A Genius - Lesson Two

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader

Lesson Two: Magic Metacarpals

(aka the one where Spencer learns how to finger you)

Summary:

After his first 'lesson', Spencer is even more eager to learn from you.

And while both of you are ignoring your growing yearning for something more, you teach him the next logical thing: how to pleasure you in return.

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

Word Count: 26,300

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

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

Warnings: General themes for a CM episode - murder/killing/mentions of gun violence/mentions of women being murdered and sexually assaulted/mentions of strangling; once again, there is a mention of a case that isn't in the canon (one that I have made up) and this fic is not case-centric; the reader is held in a choke-hold by the killer and uses dark humour to get out of it; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; mentions of the reader wearing a dress/very girly outfit; the reader is heavily implied to be plus-sized; mentions of the reader being older than Spencer, but there is no specific mention of how much the age difference is/number of years (tbh the way I am playing it, it could be months, a year, or years of difference because they make jokes about it) (because this takes place in early S2, Spencer would be 24/25, so if you're younger than that, just imagine? lmao); the team being very nosy about Spencer and the reader's sex life and the reader lying about it in order to spare Spencer because he's shy (not because she's embarrassed of him); heavily implications of Morcia as a background couple; mentions of drinking/drunkenness (does not take place in this fic, it's just mentioned in passing); mentions of Spencer being bullied as a child.

General sexual themes; ongoing dom/sub relationship - Spencer is submissive and the reader is dominant; a safeword is in place but it's not used; Spencer is generally inexperienced and the reader is 'teaching' him things about sex, including slang, kinks, sexual technique, and the emotional consequences of sex, generally helping him explore his sexual side; mentions of using sex toys (a fleshlight, passing mentions of dildos, including a tentacle dildo that is not used); mentions of Spencer masturbating independently from scenes/playtime with the reader (these scenes are not detailed); descriptions of subspace; descriptions of Spencer having a subdrop/bad subspace experience because he masturbates without the reader there (this is a very brief part of the fic and all other moments of subspace are described pleasantly); the word 'MILF' is used to describe the reader - as a joke, and because Spencer doesn't fully understand the context.

The actual smutty meat of the fic (aka girl dinner) consists of: panty kink - Spencer wears a pair of lacy panties under his clothes while in public because it turns the reader on; praise kink - Spencer loves being praised; public/semi-public 'sex' (they don't have full-blown sex, it's just groping through clothing, and they are in a secluded area of a public place when it happens); risk of getting caught; strength kink - the reader exerts her strength over Spencer and he likes it; heated making out; hair pulling (Spencer receiving); groping through clothes (reader and Spencer receiving); Spencer cums in his pants while being groped; clothes sharing - Spencer wears the reader's clothes; the reader calls Spencer honey, sweetie, baby, pretty boy, good boy; Spencer calls the reader Miss; this fic does feature Mommy kink - Spencer starts calling the reader Mommy partway through; mentions of the reader wearing traditionally feminine lingerie; hand kink - the reader likes Spencer's hands; finger sucking (the reader sucks on Spencer's fingers); vaginal fingering/clitoral stimulation - the reader teaches Spencer how to finger her; Spencer edges the reader unintentionally; guided masturbation - Spencer masturbates for the reader; Spencer cums on the reader (by accident?); the reader licks some of Spencer's cum; mentions of pregnancy (Spencer likes the idea of getting the reader pregnant, but she is on birth control so it won't happen in this fic lmao); some mentions of aftercare (not as in depth as the previous fic); and I believe that's it.

A/N: I do intend for each part of this to possibly be read as a oneshot, so you don't have to read Lesson One in order for this to make sense narratively. But if you want more sub!Spencer stuff, then you should go back and read Lesson One just for your enjoyment. This makes reference to things that have happened in the first part, but you won't be utterly confused if you jump into reading this without reading the other one first. Anyway, I do hope you enjoy it, especially those of you that have been waiting for this part to come out!

...

When you woke up the next morning, you had almost forgotten about what had happened. 

You were drowsy, your body almost entirely sunken into the soft bed. If not for the ripe scent of coffee drifting through the air and undertone of something uniquely masculine stuck to the pillow - Spencer’s aftershave - then you likely would have thought that you were comfortable in your own apartment and simply turned over to go back to sleep. 

But then it all came flooding back to you. 

The Chinese take-out date, gifting Spencer the fleshlight - tying him to the chair in order to ‘help’ him use it. His moans, the sweet way he had looked up at you with those big eyes. The way he had called you ‘Miss’ with such utterly beautiful desperation, how perfect he had looked covered in his own cum. 

You sighed with delight as you remembered it all, a gentle tingle coming over your body as you thought about it. 

It was then that you realized what the pungent smell of coffee meant: Spencer must have been brewing a pot. You had no clue what time it was or when you had to be ready for work - but coffee sounded fucking amazing after the eventful night the two of you had. 

You were surprised that Spencer wasn’t still in bed, cuddled up to you. 

He had spent the whole night clinging to your back like a koala in the most endearing way. You had no clue how a man so large could make himself seem so small at times, but he definitely accomplished that by hooking his leg around your hip and whining whenever you tried to pull away from him even a slight bit. 

(You hated that it was something that would have been intensely annoying from any other partner or one night stand, but when he did it, you found it adorable. You knew that you were letting him get away with too much already, but you couldn’t help yourself.) 

What you didn’t realize: yes, Spencer would have loved to be cuddled up with you in bed all morning. But he had woken up before you - and he would deny the amount of time he had taken to stare at you while you were sleeping, ogling your beautiful, peaceful face. After he had gotten out of bed, he had taken the initiative to attempt to prepare breakfast. 

He rarely cooked for himself. When he did cook, it was usually simple, plain, unimpressive dishes that were more meant to kill hunger than to actually taste nice. And he was even further screwed by the fact that his fridge wasn’t even well stocked because the team had been so busy on cases that he hadn’t even thought to go grocery shopping in a while. 

Of course, he had coffee (and cream, and sugar - because he wasn’t a monster, he made himself a cup every morning). And he had some basics like eggs, so he was trying his best to make something nice for you. 

When you walked into the kitchen, still dressed in nothing but your camisole and your panties, the chill of the morning air was biting and Spencer looked invitingly warm. 

He was standing at the stove, concentrating on some sizzling pan, and you couldn’t resist the urge to walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. He had gotten dressed since getting out of bed, so he was wearing a bright blue cotton tee shirt (that you didn’t yet see had the Superman logo on the front) and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. It was an entirely adorable sight: Spencer in loungewear. You indulged in pressing your face lightly between his shoulders, loving the feeling of the soft cotton against your cheek. 

You noticed that the radio was on in the background - a low hum compared to the pan sizzling on the stove. But from what you could tell, the news was playing. He was such an old man in some ways. 

“Please tell me that’s coffee I’m smelling.” You moaned quietly, feeling snuggled by his soft embrace. 

“A teaspoon of sugar and just a little bit of cream,” He said, taking his hand off the handle of the frying pan to reach over to the side, grabbing a coffee cup and hoisting it in your direction - which was slightly awkward with you behind him. 

You met him halfway, taking the coffee thankfully. Then you moved to lean against the counter to actually drink your coffee. He was rueful that the hug didn’t last longer, but he didn’t say anything about it. 

“You remembered,” You grinned at him, referring to the fact that he had made your coffee exactly how you liked it. 

When you took the first sip, it tasted amazing, and began to wake up your senses from the drowsy lull that you had been feeling. 

“It’s quite literally impossible for me to forget.” He replied, giving you a grin. 

“Hmm,” You hummed thoughtfully, clutching the warm coffee cup with both hands. “I’d like to test that theory one of these days.” 

If you could make Spencer so incoherent with an orgasm, even just begging for one, you were willing to bet that you could feed him information that he wouldn’t be able to repeat back to you when he was so fucked out. It would be one of the ultimate victories - proving the genius’s perfect eidetic memory wrong. 

Spencer saw that look in your eyes - the same one you had given him last night before you had gifted him the fleshlight. (Which was still propped up in the drying rack, a sight that had startled him when he had first gotten into the kitchen that morning). He had a feeling that, based on that look alone, he knew what you meant. He shied away then, looking back down to the pan of eggs as your brain moved on to another subject. 

“I still can’t believe that you listen to the radio in the morning,” You commented, nodding toward the device that was propped up on the half-wall that partitioned off the kitchen from the living room. “You’re such an old man.” 

“I’m younger than you!” He chuckled. 

“No, no.” You easily corrected him, your voice taking on a very typical joking tone. “Being an old man is a way of life. It’s not about your age. It’s why you and Gideon get along so well.” 

Spencer snorted with laughter at this. He turned off the stove, deciding the eggs were done, and began to scrape them onto a plate, hoping that it wasn’t too measly or unimpressive. 

“Well then… you had sex with an old man last night.” Spencer chuckled, trying to sound confident in this ‘joke’. 

You couldn’t help but to laugh at his nervousness. 

“You need to work on your comebacks, too.” You told him with a grin. “I should get you one of those ‘yo mama’ joke books that seventh graders pass around.” 

“Oh, that explains why I suck at comebacks. I skipped seventh grade.” He shrugged casually. 

You laughed even harder at this. For him, it was a simple statement of fact, but to you, it sounded like he was purely bragging, and that turned out to be a better joke than the one he actually intended as humor. 

Spencer bit his lip to hold back a grin. 

Mornings with you - it was so much better than he had expected. He had expected things to be intensely awkward after what had taken place last night. He had expected that the entire tone of your relationship might change. And that was something he was fearful of. But you were still making jokes, still absolutely not afraid to insult him in that joking way that you did. 

Spencer felt a yearning deep inside of him at the realization - like the string of a harp being plucked, setting off vibrations of bitter harmony through his entire being. He wanted his life to be like this every single morning. He wanted to make coffee for you every day - he wanted to be yours. 

You picked up a fork and took a small bite of the eggs he had offered up, and Spencer felt his heart drop when your face immediately coiled into disgust. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked quietly, fearing he had terribly disappointed you. 

“Honey… how much salt did you put in this?” You asked, your words slightly muffled by the food cradled on your tongue. 

You walked over to the sink and spit the eggs out, and Spencer rushed to pick up a fork for himself as he answered. 

“Not much, I think.” He said, taking his own bite of the food. Then he immediately understood. “Oh my god. That’s so bad.” He said, feeling a gag curling in his throat at just how putridly salty it was. 

He leaned over and spat his bite in the sink next to yours, and before the fear of disappointing you could fully set in, you burst out laughing brightly. 

“Oh god.” You chuckled. “You don’t usually cook, do you?” 

“Not really.” He said, giving you a timid smile. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” You assured him, rubbing a hand gently across his back. “We can just get some breakfast on the way to work.” 

He would learn to cook for you too. Most definitely. 

The sweetness and peace was disrupted by a sharp digital chirping - a cellphone ringing. You didn’t think to question if it was your phone or Spencer’s before you put your coffee cup on the counter and rushed toward the sound, finding the small silver object buzzing in the middle of the coffee table (still off to the side of the room where you had pushed it the night before). You grabbed it up and flipped it open, and answered without hesitation. 

“Hello?” You said politely. 

Spencer stood in the doorway of the kitchen then, watching on with curiosity, wondering if the two of you were being called in for a case. 

“Y/N?” JJ’s voice came from the other end of the line - but she sounded oddly confused. 

“Yeah.” You confirmed. “What’s up?” 

“What are you doing answering Spencer’s phone?” She asked, an eager curiosity coming through her voice. 

Your work phones were practically identical, so it was a crapshoot. 

You scrambled to make up an excuse, even though you knew her mind had likely already strayed to something in the realm of ‘adult sleepover’. 

“He and I were hanging out last night and I fell asleep on the couch watching movies.” You said. “You know Reid, he went on that whole rant about how driving tired is like driving drunk, he insisted that I stay over-” 

JJ let out a hardy laugh, cutting you off. 

“Yeah, keep working on that.” She said. “I’m sure the others will definitely believe it.” You rolled your eyes at this, and JJ continued. “Did the two of you use a condom, or should we be expecting some genius babies coming our way nine months from now?” 

You wanted to conjure up a crude (but truthful) joke about how Spencer had cum into a silicone pussy and you didn’t think babies could come from that. But for once, you managed to hold your tongue. You wanted to respect his privacy rather than flaunting your sexual exploits in front of other people and embarrassing him. You did have some sense of tact. 

“Do we have a case or are you just calling around cause you’re lonely?” You fired back, trying to get her off this topic. 

“Yes, we do.” She said. “And you just saved me a phone call. So you and your little boyfriend get in here as soon as possible, okay?” 

You sighed. “Yeah, of course.” 

You snapped the phone shut before she could make any more cute comments, and then you walked over and handed it to Spencer. 

“There’s a case?” He asked. 

“Yeah.” You told him. “Sweetie, would you mind running down to my car and grabbing my go-bag? I need a fresh change of clothes.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I can do that.” 

His overall obedience toward you kicked in again, and he found himself nodded eagerly. He knew that if he were a dog, his tail would have been wagging relentlessly as he shoved on a pair of shoes and a sweater and you tossed him your keys from your purse in order to go and do the task. 

You chugged down your coffee and headed toward the bathroom for a quick shower to freshen up. As Reid went down to the parking garage, he had to wonder about the things he had just heard you say on that call. 

He knew that you had made up the excuse about you ‘falling asleep on the couch’ to JJ because you didn’t want to simply expose the fact that the two of you had played around the night before. It was a private thing that should be kept between the two of you. Even though you were relatively shameless about toting other private matters in public. You were never ashamed about announcing to the world when you were on your period or if certain foods had upset your stomach - in great detail. 

So - if you weren’t so eager to announce being with Reid, did it mean that you were ashamed of him? Did it mean that you didn’t want to tell everyone that you had a sexual partner like him? 

He tried not to stew in that thought as he brought your bag back upstairs. When he closed the door to the apartment and you heard him come in, you called him and told him to come toward the bathroom, and he heard the shower shutting off. 

It was only then that it occurred to him that you were using his shower - you were naked in the shower. You were naked in his apartment. 

He felt warmth in his pelvis at the thought, and he tried dampening it down (tried thinking of horror, sadness, dead bodies) - because he really didn’t have time to masturbate or ‘play’ more with you before work. He didn’t have time to take care of an erection right now. Would this be a recurring problem? Getting erections around you so easily now because you had awakened something in him? Because now he knew that you would actually touch him? 

When Spencer came to the bathroom door, it was partially cracked open, and there was warm, hazy air pouring out - clearly steam from how hot you had the shower. 

“Did you find the bag?” You asked, clearly having heard Spencer’s footsteps in the hallway. 

“Y-yeah.” He answered. 

“Okay, well, you can come in and bring it to me.” You chuckled, bright and confident as ever. 

Spencer pushed the door open fully. 

He felt like he was stepping into an early morning heaven when he stepped into that humid air and saw you standing in the middle of the bathmat, wrapping a towel around your naked, dripping body. 

The way you held it kept your breasts and vagina fully covered, shielding all of the ‘important’ parts from Spencer’s view. But when you pulled it back to adjust the tightness of the towel around your chest, you clearly didn’t care about the skin that was revealed. The thickness of your hip and the plushness of the side of your stomach was bared to his eyes; his gaze devoured the large strip of skin all the way up the side of your body, just barely kissing the side of your breast where the towel covered you. It looked so scandalous even though it showed so little of you before you covered yourself back up and tucked the towel into itself, securing the fabric around your body. 

“Thank you, Spencer.” You said, reaching out and grabbing the bag from him. 

Spencer stood there for a moment longer, watching in utter awe as his eyes traced a droplet of water down your neck and into your cleavage. He wondered what it might be like to lean over and lick it up, wondering what your skin might taste like-

“Spence, shouldn’t you go get ready now?” You posed, looking up from rooting around your bag that you now had propped up on the closed toilet lid. 

“Right.” Spencer said. “Right. Yeah.” 

Spencer rushed off to his bedroom, doing just that. 

He did have to masturbate before he could focus at all on getting dressed. He felt slightly shameful for it, but he picked up your discarded blouse from his bedroom floor, left there by you from the night before, holding it to his nose while he pumped his cock with his hand. And with it, he came faster than he ever had by his own touch. And then he rushed to clean up and get dressed and managed to meet you just as you were emerging from the bathroom, looking as beautiful as ever in another button up blouse and simple black pants. 

You gave him a grin and didn’t at all seem to suspect that he had touched himself, and he felt so utterly victorious - like he had a secret, like he had gotten away with something. 

… 

You had to laugh as you watched Spencer struggle to clean the dried cum off his glasses in the car with a couple of wet wipes. It was something you had forgotten to do the night before, and you found it entirely amusing as he muttered and grunted to himself, trying to get the lenses fully clean while you drove. 

By the time you got to the office, Spencer’s glasses were glimmering clean and you recklessly pulled into the first parking spot you saw in the garage, hoping that you weren’t terribly late. (Unfortunately you hadn’t had time for breakfast, and hunger was gnawing at you, but you would take care of that later.) 

Spencer began voicing complaints about your parking job and the likelihood of your doors getting dented by someone else getting out of their car, but you simply dragged him forward with a hand on his wrist and told him that it would be your problem as you shoved him into the elevator. 

Nobody else was lingering in the bullpen, which worried you, and surely enough - everybody else was already sitting at the roundtable as you and Spencer walked down the hall. Many prying eyes stared at the two of you from the doorway, clearly expectant of the two of you. When you got in, you noticed that the only absent face was Gideon. At least you and Spencer weren’t the only ones holding up the presentation of the case. 

“You’re late.” Hotch grumbled as Spencer shut the door behind the two of you. “Again.” 

“So sue me.” You shrugged, causing Hotch to roll his eyes, and causing a smirk from Morgan and Elle - who generally loved your snark. 

“Don’t blame her, Hotch, she probably had a hard time finding her keys after Boy Genius rocked her world.” Elle said, making an obvious joke about the fact that you and Spencer had come in together. 

That, and you wouldn’t put it above JJ not to tell everyone that you had spent the night at Spencer’s place (especially if she delivered that news under suspicion that the two of you had sex). 

Reid - who had gone to the counter off to the side to get himself yet another cup of coffee - dropped a packet of sugar on the floor out of nervousness when he heard Elle’s comment. You found it entirely adorable when he scrambled to pick it up, clearly trying his hardest not to seem suspicious. 

“So come on, how was it?” Morgan said, looking right at you as he hopped onto the joke. “Did he spread you open like a good library book?” 

Hotch sighed, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose, knowing he could do nothing to stop the conversation. He looked to his phone, desperately trying to ignore this as it went on around him. 

“Very funny.” You griped sarcastically. “If I look tired, it’s because this loser had me up all night rambling on about Star Wars - fun facts, behind the scenes trivia.” You said, motioning toward Spencer for emphasis when you said ‘this loser’. “I absolutely did not need to know the difference between a protocol droid and an astromech droid, but now I do.” 

On any other occasion, you casually throwing around the word ‘loser’ in reference to Spencer would have hurt his feelings. 

But during this moment, Spencer found himself suppressing a grin. Everyone in the room had basically invited you to openly mock him for his lack of sexual ability, to spill his secrets as office gossip. But instead, you had chosen to keep those secrets close to your chest, clearly as a way to protect him from future mockery. And on top of that, you had made a clever reference to a previous conversation that the two of you did have about Star Wars. He was proud that you remembered the term ‘astromech droid’ off the top of your head at all. 

He felt proud, sharing a filthy secret with you. And he knew that he was definitely not a loser after what had happened last night. 

“Star Wars?” JJ questioned, looking at you with an expression that said she definitely knew you were lying, but she obviously didn’t have any proof. 

You had told her that you fell asleep on his couch by accident, and now you were telling the others that he had kept you up all night? 

“Yeah, that sounds more like it.” Morgan chuckled, receiving a knowing nod from Elle. 

Spencer passed by you, placing a coffee cup in front of your chair as you took your jacket off and sat down. He highly resisted the urge to give you a grin - knowing that it would give away your sweet little secret to the rest of the room. He simply walked around the table and took his own seat, and before any further discussion about the possible antics of your private lives could occur, Gideon walked in with a file in hand and JJ began presenting the case. 

… 

It was a case like any other. (Unfortunately.) Women strangled, sexually assaulted, left in areas of the woods that weren’t too difficult to find. 

As you looked at the horrific crime scene photos, you couldn’t help but to think that perhaps part of the reason you loved to dominate subservient men was to take back your personal power. Because deep down, you knew that you were terrified of ending up like that, and you loved the small piece of the world that you could take back when you got your hand around a man’s neck and made him beg for mercy (consensually, of course). 

But you couldn’t dwell on that for too long, because you had a job to do. 

There was a fresh crime scene when the team arrived, and Hotch sent you and Morgan to investigate it while he and Gideon went to speak to the victim’s family. The others left to set up at the local police station, and you couldn’t help but to notice Spencer’s eyes lingering on you as you parted ways. 

There were some drag marks in the dirt and a camera perched on a public bathroom that insisted the victim (and her attacker) could have been seen, so Morgan stepped away to call Garcia to see if she could pull anything from the camera’s feed. You did some more looking around, but couldn’t find anything of note. 

When you walked back over to where Morgan was perched beside the SUV, grinning with his phone beside his ear, you couldn’t hold back a comment at his final words before he hung up. 

“-oh, of course. Well you are beautiful and brilliant as always, my love. Thank you.” 

“You didn’t tell me Reid was on the phone.” You commented snidely, giving a wide smirk as you walked around into Morgan’s view. 

You thought you were being clever, making the joke that he would call Reid beautiful, or playfully call him ‘my love’. But of course, he turned this right back around on you. 

“No, that was just Garcia. She said the camera’s a dud and she couldn’t get anything off it.” Before you could comment on this fact, he continued. 

“But I took a message from Reid earlier. He said he left his panties at your place and he wants them back,” He smirked widely himself as he said this. 

Likely the exact opposite of what he had intended, this caused a distinct image in your mind. One of Spencer wearing a pair of pink lacy panties - his long, hard cock straining to fit inside the skimpy material, and leaky wildly inside of it, making everything so wet. 

You forced yourself to refocus, and purposefully put on a sour look, pretending that you were annoyed by his crude comment. 

“Ha-ha.” You griped sarcastically. “You know Reid and I aren’t a thing. So you can stop with the jokes before you embarrass him.” 

Truthfully, you did want the jokes to stop before it hurt Reid. You knew that he likely wanted to keep his sex life private. You didn’t want his shyness to come back tenfold before you could truly open him up and explore his filthy side. 

Morgan snorted, clearly in disbelief. 

“Oh, so you’re gonna act like that whole bit this morning wasn’t you and boy genius stumblin’ in late because of a late night booty call?” Morgan posed. “A real one. Not him fallin’ asleep on his phone.” 

You shifted your attitude then. If he wasn’t going to drop it, then you were going to arm yourself. 

“Okay, if you’re so invested in my sex life, you wanna talk about the size XXL purple leopard thong that I found in your back seat three weeks ago?” You posed sharply, a stone cold look on your face even though you were holding back the urge to laugh. 

At the time, Morgan had offered to give you a ride home because your car battery had died. And when you tossed your bag into his back seat, you randomly spotted the streak of bright color - very out of place among the few gray sweatshirts he had in the back. And when you picked it up, wondering what it was, you held it in your hands and in a moment, based on the size, knew who it belonged to. 

But he had been denying where it had come from (and the lustful tryst behind it) ever since. Clearly he wanted to keep his inter-office sex life private too. 

“I-” Morgan began stuttering out an explanation, then swallowed it up. “We should get going.” He said, motioning toward the SUV. 

“We should.” You easily agreed. 

… 

The whole time the team spent working the case, you found it difficult to interact with Spencer. 

You really wanted to say that having sex with him wouldn’t change your working relationship, but it wasn’t like you had fucked just anybody. It was Spencer. If you had railed Elle or Derek or anybody else on the team, you probably could have gone to work the next day and pushed it to the back of your mind with grace. 

But knowing that Spencer was inexperienced, knowing that you had likely been the first person to ever hear him moan like that, the first to ever see him covered in his own cum - it was definitely something that stuck in your head (to a painfully distracting extent). 

Every time you so much as looked at him, saw that thoughtful expression with those glasses perched on his face, you immediately pictured him blissfully fucked out with large spots of his own cum covering the lenses. 

So you tried your best to avoid him for the majority of the work. You volunteered to leave the station whenever possible, and left him with his maps, making a geographical profile, doing what he did best. You tried to keep yourself distracted and focused on a case. 

This - somehow - had you and Gideon following a lead, following up with someone who had spoken to the first victim a few minutes before she was murdered. While the two of you searched the man’s property looking for him, he managed to sneak up behind you and put you in a chokehold, attempting to strangle you. 

Because yeah - he was the killer. Great. 

And apparently, once again, your sick sense of humor paid off. Because when your hand reached for your gun upon instinct and you realized that in your Spencer Reid sex-haze distractions, you had somehow forgotten it in the car, you cursed yourself, and then you began to physically struggle. And then you realized that this man was too strong, and there was no good way for you to escape the hold with physical methods. 

With your vision becoming hazy, your instinct was to start moaning in a very exaggerated, pornographic way and tell him how much you liked the feeling of being strangled - which led him to loosen his grip out of shock. And that gave you more than enough room to elbow him in the face, knocking him loopy so you could call to Gideon for help. 

The two of you had him in cuffs in minutes and when everyone else got there and asked you how you managed to escape, you told them that you were simply too fierce of a fighter for the man to hold you down. They didn’t need to know what actually happened or where your mind went when faced with danger. 

Spencer looked at you with incredibly sad eyes when he saw the irritated strangle marks around your neck, but you pointed to the marks and told him you were fine with a chuckle. That it looked worse than it was. You were surprised and kind of hurt when he didn’t say anything to you in return. 

Spencer didn’t sit next to you during the plane ride home (which you took slight offense to). But he did come up to you in the parking garage when you were getting ready to leave. You had been inspecting a large bump in one of your doors (cursing the fact that Spencer always had to be right), and you became distracted when you heard his footsteps echoing through the large space behind you. 

You thought that maybe he needed a ride since you had been the one to drive him there after your heated night together. But he stood a few feet away with his hands in his pockets, so you took your hand off the key that was poised in your car door and made it clear that you were prepared to pay attention to him - clearly he had something to say. 

“Are you mad at me?” He asked timidly. 

“What? No.” You let out breathily, almost laughing. “Why would you think-?” You began to ask, and then cut yourself off, realizing the answer to your own question halfway through speaking it. “Because I’ve been avoiding you.” You spoke aloud. 

Spencer nodded, seeming very solemn and downtrodden by this fact. 

“You wouldn’t even look at me over the past few days.” He said. “I mean, I understand if I did something wrong.” He declared, his voice taking on the same broken wetness that his eyes had, as though he was on the verge of crying. “But I - I thought that what happened the other night, what we did, I thought it was special. I-” 

“Spencer. Come here.” You summoned him closer, not wanting to talk loudly across the parking garage at him. You didn’t want your voices to echo when speaking about your sex life - just in case anybody did happen to come by. 

You found it achingly adorable that he called what had happened ‘special’. Like he was a young woman talking about ‘making love’. It was tooth-rotting sweet. Especially considering that he wasn’t referring to some night where the two of you had laid in bed together with candles and Barry Mantilow playing. But rather, a time where you had tied him to a kitchen chair and fucked him senseless with a fake pussy. 

Spencer easily followed your order, finding nothing but natural order in listening to you. He came to stand just a few inches from your body where you were leaning up against the door of your car, and then you began to speak quietly. 

“What we did was special.” You assured him with a smile. The sadness on his features broke up slightly at this. “In fact, it was so special that I couldn’t get it out of my head. Every time I looked at you, I just imagined you moaning for me, covered in your own cum. I kept hearing your pretty voice in my ears saying ‘please’ in that gorgeous way you do.” 

Of course, you did angle your words more into dirty talk, and you leaned into him slightly when you said these things, whispering in a low, seductive voice. You loved how his Adam’s apple bobbed heavily as he swallowed thickly, and a slight flush moved across his cheeks at your words. 

When he didn’t say anything, clearly stunned into silence by your words, you continued. 

“I didn’t want to be turned on, or distracted when we have an important job to do.” You had to leave out the fact that you had been so distracted that you had almost made a fatal mistake. But nobody needed to know about that. “So… I just tried to focus on something other than you for a while. I do apologize if it seems like I was avoiding you out of anger, but that is definitely not the case.” You told him, easily capping off your explanation. 

“I understand.” Spencer nodded. “That’s… kind of how I feel every day. But I guess I’m just used to it by now. So I’m better at not being distracted.” 

You felt intensely flattered, and slightly turned on as he unintentionally fluffed your ego. 

“Because you’re a good boy.” You told him, knowing that praise was one of his weak spots. 

You swore you saw his knees shake when the words hit him, and he cleared his throat loudly before he spoke again. 

“Is - is it always going to be like this?” He asked. 

He would have mourned your friendship if that were the case. He didn’t want to trade off your jokes and your everyday interactions for the sex, as amazing as the sex was. Selfishly, he wanted both. 

“No.” You easily assured him. “I just need a bit of time to get my head on straight. I need some time to get used to it. Like you said, I need to get better at not being distracted.” 

Spencer nodded at this. 

He was very tempted to ask if you wanted to come over to his place that night. If you wanted to ‘sleep-over’ again. Not only had he enjoyed the spectacular orgasm, learning from you, but he had genuinely enjoyed the kind of domesticity that came from waking up with you there. He loved having someone in his kitchen in the morning. He knew he would miss that sorely if he woke up tomorrow morning and you weren’t there. (Perhaps you had spoiled him too much already.) 

However, before he could work up the courage to ask, you leaned up on your toes and kissed him on the cheek, muttering ‘goodnight, Spence’. And in return, he muttered something about paperwork before he walked back toward the elevator. 

… 

That night, Spencer went home and grabbed the fleshlight off the dishrack as soon as he spotted it. He knew that you had bought it for him with the intention of him using it independently, but as he grabbed the bottle of lube off the living room coffee table, he just felt… lonely without you there. 

But he supposed that he had to learn how to do it on his own, because you wouldn’t be there all the time to help him. It was only a fantasy - the two of you getting a place together, so he could serve you in every possible way, doing so gleefully, and in return, you would play with him whenever he wanted. 

He stripped naked and slicked up his cock and the toy just like you had shown him. He couldn’t help but to miss the feeling of your hand on his cock as he did it. When he got the tight softness of the fake pussy around him, he screwed his eyes closed tight - and all he could think about was you. 

He missed you like a tree missing sunlight, and he felt his head spinning - felt like he had no greater sense of control without your voice telling him what to do. It made him anxious and on edge the whole time he had that fake pussy wrapped around his cock, rather than the beautifully, buttery warmth he had felt before. 

By the time he came, he was practically sobbing. A deep ache for you in his chest as he missed your touch over him - missed the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, missed your voice calling him ‘good boy’ as that tingling ran through his gut. 

After he rinsed out the toy with hot water and put it back in the dish rack to dry (wondering if he was cleaning it right) and jumped in the shower, he wondered if he would ever be content to masturbate alone again. He wondered if you had ruined him, if he would ever truly feel satiated without your touch. 

… 

The next few days passed without much of note happening. 

You and Spencer stayed away from each other in the office and everyone began to whisper, theorizing that you were in some kind of fight. But of course, they didn’t notice the glances the two of you exchanged over the partition of your close desks - a deeply knowing stare that only the other person could decipher. 

Also, unknowingly, Derek had given you a fantastic idea. 

One day during your lunch break, you visited a lingerie store that you loved, and picked up a pair of lacy pink panties that would definitely be too small for you - but that you hoped would fit a certain genius’ slim hips just right. 

… 

At the end of the week, you were intensely thankful to have a day off. 

You were tempted to turn your phone off completely, not wanting to be cursed with being called in on your day off. You could say that you lived with the hope that nobody out there was needing the BAU’s help, but truly, you were just annoyed and wanted some time to relax. 

You woke up naturally around mid morning, and you were feeling hungry so you hesitantly rolled out of bed. You washed your face and did a light, lazy morning routine. On your way to the kitchen in your modest, cozy, but very well decorated apartment, you heard a knock on the door. 

You felt all of your muscles tense up unconsciously. You really hoped that it wasn’t someone from the team, needing something. (You also hoped that it wasn’t one of your exes, showing up unannounced to beg for you back because the sex had been too good and had ruined them for anyone else - which had happened before. Multiple times unfortunately.) 

You hesitantly walked over to the door (so tempted to pretend that you weren’t home and simply be left unbothered). When you looked through the peephole, you were delightfully surprised to see that it was Spencer. He was standing there, dressed like he usually did for work, holding a tray with two takeout coffee cups in one hand and a large brown paper bag in the other. 

He had brought breakfast. 

A sweetheart with a big dick and a pretty face who begged so pretty and brought food? Fuck, you might just have to marry him. 

You eagerly opened the door and grinned widely at him. 

“Spence!” You greeted him with excitement. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“Um, hi.” He gave you a smile himself, and nodded at you rather than waving because his hands were full. “Can I come in? I brought breakfast.” He motioned toward the items in his hands, and you nodded, moving aside to let him in. “I wanted to make up for those… abysmal eggs that I made you the other morning.” 

“They weren’t abysmal.” You told him with a chuckle as you shut the door. “And I do admire you for trying.” 

Spencer naturally navigated his way to your small kitchen, to the small round table that you had in there to set the items down. This was only his third time in your apartment. 

Two of the other times he had been there, it had been to hang out and play board games with you, JJ, Elle, and Penelope. Something that had started out as a joke - Derek telling him that he might have fun ‘tagging along on girls’ night’. So he had. And he did have fun. 

And one of the times it had been because he had gotten quite drunk and you had brought him here to take care of him. Because he had been so drunk that he couldn’t tell you where his house keys were. Waking up on your couch that morning to the smell of pancakes had been delightfully confusing. 

Either way, he found your apartment wonderfully homey. Decorated in jewel tones with girly touches. And there was always a nice smell lingering in the air from some kind of scented candle or nice perfume you were wearing. 

“Yeah, well, food is definitely not one of my areas of expertise.” Spencer admitted, carrying on the conversation as he took your coffee out of the tray and handed it to you. 

You noticed the distinct motion of his eyes going up and down your body, lingering around your thighs and your breasts, distracting him from picking up his own coffee for a few moments. 

It was only then that you became hyper-aware of the fact that you were still wearing your pajamas. 

It was a matching set made of a thin cotton fabric with a floral pattern on it - the top was a tank top with thin little spaghetti straps (and of course, you had just gotten out of bed, so you weren’t wearing a bra). The shorts were intensely short, revealing most of your wide thighs. It didn’t leave much to the imagination, so you realized why it caused Spencer’s eyes to wander. You loved his keen gaze, though. And you pretended not to notice as the conversation continued. 

“The genius finally admits that there’s something he doesn’t know!” You chuckled. 

“There are still plenty of things I don’t know.” Spencer said quietly - the glint in his eye told you that he was definitely referring to the pivotal conversation that the two of you had the other night. The conversation where he had lovingly begged you to teach him about sex. “Plenty of things I still need to learn.” 

There was a pause where the air was filled with intense sexual tension, but Spencer broke it by grabbing the paper bag with the food in it and opening it up. 

“I got you a breakfast sandwich.” He said. “Bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel.” 

“Sounds perfect.” You nodded. “Plates are in the cupboard above the sink. I’m gonna go down to my mailbox and see if my newspaper has been delivered.” You told him, walking over to the door to shove on your slippers. 

“Getting your news from the paper? What an old lady you are,” Spencer said, clearly recycling your own words from the other morning back at you. 

“That just means you like old ladies.” You chuckled, recycling his comment from the other day. “You must be into MILFs,” 

“‘MILFs?’” Spencer questioned, that adorably confused look coming across his features again. 

You became filled to the brim with glee at the realization that you would get to explain this to him. 

“It means ‘Mother I’d Like To Fuck’ or ‘Mommy I’d Like To Fuck’.” You told him. “Usually it’s used to describe a sex fantasy where someone wants to fuck - well, a mother. Someone who’s had children, because they’re attracted to the concept of motherhood. Or it can be describing a porn category, usually anything with a curvy older woman and a younger man… some people say that a MILF doesn’t necessarily have to be a woman who’s had kids, just a woman who’s older than you and hot.” 

Spencer’s lips gaped with lustful shock, and a flush came over him. He wanted to confirm that you were definitely a MILF - because you were a woman who was technically older than him, curvy, and very hot. And he definitely wanted to fuck you. All the time. But that would mean using the word ‘Mommy’ to describe you, and as much as that brought a tingle through him - that was not a can of worms that he was ready to open. Yet.

You left him standing there, gaping with shock and you couldn’t help but to laugh at this as you walked out the door to go to the mailbox. 

When you came back, you and Spencer sat on the couch and ate with the TV playing quietly in the background. A random network was playing Pretty Woman and you left it on because Spencer remarked that he had never seen it before, and you found it adorable how closely he paid attention to the film as it progressed. 

When you finished your food, you opened your newspaper and began reading. At some point, you had stretched out, and your feet had wandered into Spencer’s lap. Before you could wonder if he found it annoying, he began to lightly massage them. 

It was a delicate kind of peace, and you couldn’t help but to enjoy the silent, easy company as he watched the film and you read an article about a new baby penguin being given to two male penguin parents at the local zoo. 

You didn’t know that Spencer’s skin was crawling, eagerness building up inside of him as he sat in silence. Seeing you just sitting there, your face gently concentrated as you read. You putting your feet so carelessly in his lap, using him like he was just a lovely piece of furniture, just a footrest for you. All if it seemed to be checkmarks on some unknown list of things that only made him more lustful. 

And for the past ten minutes, he had been slowly losing focus on the plot of the film and found himself staring more and more at your thighs or sneaking glances at you over top of the newspaper. 

He had the urge to simply nudge your legs apart and crawl between them. To start touching you until he found out what was pleasurable for you. Until you called him ‘good boy’ in that way that made him melt again. But he wasn’t nearly confident enough to just do that. So he was just sitting there quietly. Slowly going insane as he thought about all the things that he wanted you to be doing to him now that the two of you were alone with free time. 

Of course, you noticed him becoming more antsy. You felt him moving more in his seat, you felt him becoming tense under your feet. So you decided to ask and see what he would say. You wondered if he would come right out and admit that he was feeling lustful, or if you would have to pull it out of him. 

“What’s up, Spence?” You asked, glancing over the newspaper at him. 

Then, Spencer said something incredibly stupid. 

“They’re hosting some of Van Gogh’s original sketches at the Smithsonian Art Museum this month.” Spencer said, motioning toward the back page of the newspaper that you had extended in one hand. It was all advertisements, but one of them did say something about a Van Gogh exhibit including some of his original art. 

He had been feeling dangerously nervous and wanted to deflect from himself. 

“Hmm.” You said after you read it. “Maybe we should go check it out.” 

Spencer’s face fell to disappointment at this suggestion, and you held back laughter. 

“What? Did you have some other grand plans for the day?” You posed, knowing this would get the right reaction out of him. 

“I…” Spencer let out a breath, clearly hesitating. “I was kind of hoping we could… play.” 

You couldn’t hold back your grin. You loved that he was using the language you had taught him, feeling confident in putting the vocabulary to good use. 

“How about this?” You posed, knowing that you were fully in charge, and it was up to you to make the plan. “We go and check out the art exhibit, and if you behave yourself on this little outing, then you can have whatever you want as a reward when we come back home.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up at this. He seemed highly motivated at the idea of having a ‘reward’. 

“What would ‘behaving myself’ entail?” He asked, ever eager to have a set of rules to follow. 

“Don’t touch me without permission.” You told him. “Keep your hands to yourself. Don’t nag me or keep asking when we’ll come home and play. And… well, there is one more thing. Something special that you could do for me.” 

Spencer’s face knit with confusion at this. 

“What’s that?” He asked. 

“Hold on.” You told him. 

Then you got up off the couch and abandoned your newspaper on the coffee table, leaving Spencer nervously fidgeting as he waited for your return. He was surprised when you came back with a bright pink shopping bag - something fairly small and girly. The shop logo on the side wasn't one that he recognized, so he had no idea what could be inside the bag. 

He waited patiently as you stood on the opposite side of the table and put the bag in the middle of it, and peeled back the pink tissue paper to take out the object inside the bag. He was slightly confused when you pulled out a small, delicate pair of lacy pink panties. 

When you unfolded them and held them up to display them to him, he easily saw that they would be too small for you, and the confusion racked him even harder. If you hadn’t bought the underwear for yourself then-? 

“I wanted you to wear these for me.” You told him, your voice steady. “Under your clothes all day. So just you and I know.”

Instantly, a wave of anxiety swept over Spencer. 

You hated the look that came across his face and you tossed the underwear down as he spoke. 

“Would - why?” He stuttered out. “Do you think it’s funny or something?” 

Spencer hated it, but he was immediately brought back to a time in his childhood. A time when, as a child prodigy in a public high school, he had been forced to take a gym class with a bunch of older teenagers, and forced to change in the same locker room as everyone else, because the coach refused to ‘treat him special’ just because he was ‘a smartass’. 

And at the time, he had thought nothing of his Ninja Turtles underpants until the other boys started pointing and laughing at them. They had thought his underwear was so funny, in fact, that they took his clothes, forcing him to walk out into the hallway in nothing but his underwear, fighting to get his clothes back. 

Back then, he didn’t understand why someone’s underwear would be funny. But it had changed him and left him guarded and feeling small - even now. 

“No, no, no, baby. Of course not.” You rushed to assure him otherwise, sitting down on the coffee table in front of him and putting a tender hand on his knee. 

“I would never want to laugh at you. Or humiliate you.” You told him very sincerely. 

You distinctly held back the urge to say ‘unless you want me to’. You didn’t think he was ready to know that some people role played humiliation on purpose. That would be for another day. 

“Baby, I only wanted to do this because it’s a turn-on for me.” You continued. “But you don’t have to do it if you’re uncomfortable. I don’t want to make you upset or uncomfortable.”

“It - it turns you on?” Spencer’s face knit with intense confusion, contemplating your words carefully. 

This was a brand new aspect that - now that it was presented to him, definitely had him processing the concept with fresh eyes. 

He knew that films or comedic shows presented the idea of men wearing women’s clothing as a form of public humiliation. Even though during Shakespearan times it was artistic, a beautiful form of theater. In modern times, men were publicly mocked and shamed for parading around in clothing that wasn’t ‘meant’ for them. 

Of course, growing up in Las Vegas, he was well aware of the existence of Drag Queens - people who fell somewhere between that Shakespearan theater and the Saturday Night Live style of comedy that was usually straight men wearing dresses. But drag performers dressed up in women’s clothing for money. They did it as a type of paid performance. 

No part of Spencer’s mental catalog had any idea that people dressed in clothing that didn’t align with their gender as, well… a fetish. 

Spencer imagined himself wearing the underwear - especially knowing that you would be looking at him with a lustful gaze while he wore it, and he felt a distinct tingle in his gut. He felt his mood shifting from anxiety to something warmer, but he was still on edge. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind, baby.” You pleaded gently, rubbing your hand on Spencer’s knee. “I know that look. So come on, tell me what’s going on inside that big brain of yours.”  

Spencer hadn’t realized that he had been sitting there for a prolonged moment, perhaps more than a few, a look of deep thought cast over his features as he considered all of this. 

“I… I don’t hate the idea.” Spencer said tentatively. 

He was still timid about his own desires, and he was unsure what it meant that he himself was becoming turned on by the idea of wearing women’s underwear. It was supposed to be a show for you, right? Was he supposed to enjoy it? 

“You’re not just saying that because you’re trying to please me?” You replied. 

You wanted to be sure that he was comfortable. You wanted to ensure that he knew he could say ‘no’ if he needed to. 

Spencer shook his head. 

“I - I think I could like it.” He said quietly, clearly shy about his own words. “I think I do. Just… can you tell me more about… why you like it?” 

You gave a small grin, always happy to explain these kinds of things to him. 

“Well, I think you would look good in them.” You said, being entirely honest. “To me, there’s something profoundly beautiful about the sight of a cock trapped in pretty lace. It’s unconventional and just so… pretty.” You explained, choosing your words carefully. 

Spencer felt a unique twist in his gut when you used that word - ‘pretty’. 

People had used that word to describe him before, but it always felt like it was teasing, or ironic. But when you said it, it sounded so genuine. It made Spencer want more. It made him want to hear it more because he wanted to feel pretty, especially in your eyes. It was something he had never wanted in his life before. It exponentially boosted his desire to wear those panties for you - if that would make him pretty to you, then he would certainly do it. 

But he held back on voicing that for now, and simply let you continue. 

“Plus, I do enjoy the idea of the two of us having a secret.” You told him. “The fact that you would be wearing those pretty panties under your clothes and we would be the only two people who know.” 

Spencer definitely understood that. He liked sharing secrets with you. 

It was how he felt all week - entirely filthy and victorious as he wielded his secret from everyone else. Having the knowledge that he had sex with you and the two of you were going about your days without anybody else knowing it. Sure, part of him wanted to brag to Morgan about it for some kind of social standing. But the bigger part of him much preferred the satisfaction of that secret. Having that secret side of you all to himself. 

“But like I said, you don’t have to do anything that you’re uncomfortable with. You don’t have to do it just to please me.” You reiterated the point, entirely open with him. 

“You really think I’m pretty?” Spencer asked quietly. 

You found it adorable that he had become fixated on this word, clearly slightly distracted from the overall point. 

“Yes.” You assured him. “You’re very pretty. You’re one of the most attractive people I’ve ever met, Spence.” You reached up and brushed your knuckles gently across his cheek, and he shivered lightly at the touch in combination with the brutally honest praise. 

“Thank you.” He said, giving you a small smile. Then, he had a thought. “Can - can I try them on, and then… see how I feel? Before wearing them for the rest of the day?” He asked, nodding toward where you had set down the pink lacy panties. 

It was such a brilliant idea - you weren’t sure how you hadn’t thought of it yourself first. 

“Of course, baby. That’s a really good idea.” You nodded. “Do you want to go in the other room and put them on, or do you want me to help you?” 

He found a warmth curling in his stomach at the idea of you helping him get dressed, and he absolutely couldn’t deny that offer. 

“Can you help me?” He asked, looking at you with the sweetest doe eyes. You resisted the urge to simply climb on top of him, kiss the life out of him and make him cum again. 

No. Today was going to be about making him wait. Making him needy - making him truly want. 

“Okay, baby, stand up for me.” 

Of course, he thrived on you giving him orders, so he did just as you told him without any hesitation. 

He stood up in front of you and you guided him around the coffee table to have more room. He was wearing such a perfectly Spencer outfit - a navy blue knitted sweater vest with a button up shirt underneath, a pair of gray slacks with a brown belt, and his usual mismatched socks (one red with navy stripes and the other dark gray). He also had a gray blazer that he had ditched on the back of one of your kitchen chairs shortly after coming in. 

It was interesting to know that even on his days off, Spencer still wore such ‘business’ clothing. But you supposed that it was all his wardrobe was made up of, because he likely didn’t consider it appropriate to leave the house in his loungewear. 

In a lot of ways, much like everything else that he did - it was intensely adorable. 

You put your hands on his belt and undid it, and unzipped his pants - when you slid them down over his thighs, you weren’t surprised to see that he was wearing the most Spencer kind of underwear: a pair of plain white briefs. He was half-hard, making a prominent shape in the cotton that caused you to hold back a wicked grin. 

“I’m sorry, my underwear isn’t… sexy.” He said, his arms hovering awkwardly around his front as he clearly considered covering himself but hesitated in doing so. 

“Don’t apologize, baby.” You said, getting down on your knees to take his pants the rest of the way down and untangle them from his ankles. Naturally, he put a hand on your shoulder and stepped out of them, a flush coming over him at how intimate the entire thing felt. 

“That’s why I got these special just for you,” You told him, reaching over and grabbing the panties, holding them up for emphasis. 

“You did?” He questioned. 

You had taken the tags off shortly before presenting the underwear to him, and even though you had brought them out in a shopping bag, it wasn’t something he had considered. You had bought something like this with him in mind. This was the second time you had gone shopping and gotten him a special present and he couldn’t help but to feel so lovingly spoiled by you. 

“I did.” You confirmed with a smile, looking up at him in a way that made him melt. 

“Thank you, Miss.” He couldn’t help the title from spilling from his lips, and it immediately made your pussy throb with need. 

Once again, you forced yourself to focus. 

“I’m gonna take these off now, okay?” You said, reaching up and thumbing along the waistband of his underwear. 

Spencer nodded. 

“Use your words, please.” You reminded him sharply. 

“Yes, Miss.” He said, nodding more frantically. 

You took down his briefs and his cock swayed in the air - clearly on the way to being fully hard, smooth and beautiful. You found it adorable that his pubes were still entirely untamed. You loved that even after you had started showing sexual interest in him, he hadn’t felt the need to rush to groom himself. You preferred him like this, especially because the imagery of that bush entirely slick with his own cum would always be stuck in your mind, and you definitely wanted to recreate it again. 

You were tempted to get a hand on his cock, to tease him. To get him to full hardness, making him leaking and whining and then force him to go out for a full day of activities. But he was still new to this and you weren’t that mean. 

That, and you had a feeling that because it was Spencer, if he started begging you to cum, if he said ‘please’ in that pretty voice again, then you would most likely just give in to him and your whole plan would be ruined. Rather than going to the museum, you would simply spend the day with him tied to the bed and incoherent. 

But you wanted to see how far you could truly push him if he was needy. If he was absolutely desperate. And a few hours of your attention directed away from him when he wanted it most (focusing on paintings rather than on pleasing him) along with rough lace scrubbing up against his cock should do very nicely. 

You pulled the underwear down fully and just the same as you had with his pants, unhooked them from his ankles, leaving him fully dressed from the waist up, still wearing his socks. Then you picked up the panties again - you had chosen something that was aesthetically pleasing, and hopefully not too uncomfortable for him. It wasn’t anywhere near a thong in the back, but you knew that it would be snug on his cock - just what you were hoping for. 

The moment that Spencer felt the lace brush against his skin, he was greeted by a brand new experience. He always chose his clothing based on the comfort of the fabrics - and he had certainly never worn anything with this kind of underlying roughness to it. 

When you pulled it fully up over his hips and gently tucked his cock inside the waistband, he did find it thrilling. The fabric created a slightly irritated pain across his highly sensitive cock, and a tightness around his balls, but he found that in a way, he liked it. It was truly all brand new, and though he knew that the feeling was going to become an annoyance after a while, he was curious about the sexual aspects of it. He found that he wanted more. 

Especially when he saw the look on your face. 

Spencer looked utterly stunning like this. Infinitely better than you could have imagined. Seeing his half-hard cock trapped behind the pink lace as it was stretched over his slim hips almost had you drooling. You knew that the lust was clearly written across your face, and you couldn’t help but to reach up and gently stroke his cock through the fabric, getting a low moan from him. 

“How does it feel, baby?” You asked, looking up at him from where you were still positioned on your knees. 

With your warm hand on him through the fabric, with you looking at him like he was the most perfect thing in the world, there was only one possible answer. 

“Good.” He easily replied. “Really good.” 

You smiled at him. “Do you wanna keep them on for the day?” 

“Yes, Miss.” He nodded eagerly. Truthfully, he was excited to see where the day would take the two of you. 

You helped him put the rest of his clothes back on, then you sat him on the couch to wait for you so that you could go get dressed for the day. You found it entirely adorable when he wiggled around on the spot, clearly adjusting to the new feeling of wearing such tight, lacy panties. 

Spencer felt even more intense lustful warmth wash over him when you returned in a flowy red dress with small white polka dots on it. It was a dress with a deep V neck and a tie around the waist, one that looked like it wrapped around your whole body. It accentuated your curves so well, making you look like a gorgeous Hollywood starlet. 

You had on a pair of red heels and had a red purse with a long strap on your shoulder. You were truly a vision of beauty. He felt like he shouldn’t be allowed to go out in public with you, especially because people would see the two of you and assume that you were on a date. 

(Was it a date? How the hell was he allowed to date someone as perfect as you?) 

“And remember, baby. If you’re a good boy all day, then you can have a reward.” You told him, putting your foot up on the coffee table to adjust the strap of your shoe, not-so-subtly flashing him your underwear with how open and flowy the skirt of your dress was. 

Spencer was brain dead by the sight for a moment, but then thought to ask:

“What kind of reward?” 

“Well… whatever you want. You can pick.” You told him. “As long as you follow the rules.” 

Oh, it was going to be a good day. 

… 

It seemed that your plan worked far better than you originally expected. 

When the two of you first got into the museum, Spencer’s hands kept hovering around his waist, clearly resisting the urge to grab at his pants, to try and adjust the panties through his clothing. You combated this by grabbing one of his hands, and kept him busy by prompting him with questions about the paintings as you toured the non-Van Gogh sections of the museum for a while.

At times, Spencer became a bit too fixated on whatever he was saying, and you felt an eagerness to distract him from the art. As much as you enjoyed listening to him ramble on and always learned something from the sound of his sweet, soothing voice, you did have another goal in mind. 

When he became a bit too immersed in his thoughts and recollection about whatever art history books he had read, you would provide him with some kind of physical touch that sent his mind absolutely rocketing off the rails, and sent his mouth sputtering as he tried to remember what he had been saying. 

You would reach over and wrap your arms around his waist, possibly brushing your hand over his cock on the way. You might wrap an arm around his lower back and lean into his body, purposefully pressing your weight up against his side, letting him feel every single curve that you had to offer. You began to feel more bold as you wanted to get more of a reaction out of him, and you even reached up and planted stray kisses on the side of his neck, behind his ear. 

As time progressed, his insights about the paintings became much more shallow, and he began to fidget more. You knew that he was growing intensely needy, and you loved it. 

By the time the two of you got to the exhibit with Van Gogh’s original sketches that had drawn you to the museum in the first place, Spencer was oddly pensive and quiet. You let the silence linger as you carefully planned your next move. 

Spencer interrupted the peaceful silence with his gentle, prodding voice. 

“Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all.” 

“What does that mean?” You asked, turning to look at him. 

“It was something Vincent Van Gogh said.” He noted, turning to look at you, mirroring your body language. “It means - well, I think it means that… that life can be full of trauma and darkness, but if you take the time to observe the beauties of your life, and realize how there are simplistic wonders all around us, then… the darkness doesn’t seem so big. The everyday parts of life can seem enchanting.” 

You reached up and gently brushed Spencer’s hair back from his forehead, eagerly listening to his sweet voice as he spoke. 

You knew - consciously or unconsciously - he was also speaking about the way that you made each other’s lives enchanting. Your job was full of darkness and horror, and it would be easy to fall to it. But you lifted each other up, and became that everyday enchantment that the other person needed. 

Spencer’s eyes pointedly flickered down to your lips and then back up to your eyes before he continued. 

“Van Gogh was famous for painting pictures of everyday sights. Flower vases, scenes from his village. The Starry Night was painted because he imagined that the stars above his village were a sure sign that God himself came down every single night to kiss the sky there. He didn’t see the mundane as simply… mundane. He saw it as beautiful and worth celebrating.” Spencer explained. 

“You’re beautiful.” You easily fired back, and Spencer crumbled under the direct compliment. 

In a moment, his cheeks dusted with pink and his posture shrunk. Where he was confident and tall when speaking about art history, he became small as he was trapped under your gaze, absolutely unsure how to take the compliment - especially as it was directed toward his looks. Especially as it made him feel oddly pretty. 

When his eyes jumped back up from looking at the floor, his gaze was locked on your mouth once again. He tugged on the bottom of his blazer, and you could tell that he was becoming fidgety and anxious. 

His anticipation was easily growing into need. 

And so was yours. 

Without telling him what was on your mind, you scanned the room. You thought you had seen something of note when you first walked into this section of the museum - and surely enough, in one of the corners, there was a thick black curtain covering a doorway. A curtain that had an ‘Employees Only’ sign pinned to it. Perhaps it led to some kind of storage closet, perhaps it led to another winding hallway. 

Whatever was behind there, you were about to find out. 

“Come here.” You told him, giving a gentle tug on his elbow that you were holding. 

Naturally, entranced by your every movement and having nothing but the ability to follow you - Spencer walked on easy feet, guided by you as you marched across the room with purpose. He thought perhaps you had seen a painting that particularly caught your interest across the room, or that you were finally ready to leave and it was time to go home and get his reward. 

But what happened next, he certainly did not expect. 

You pulled him toward a dark curtain that was labeled with a sign - Employees Only. 

Last time he checked, you hadn’t gotten a job at a museum. 

He found himself slightly filled with anxiety at this fact, but you seemed entirely unfazed. 

You simply pulled back the curtain and used Spencer’s anxious confusion to your advantage. You shoved him in first before he could question you, and then you climbed in yourself and carefully adjusted the fabric so it would seem completely undisturbed. 

The area behind the curtain seemed to be nothing more than a long hallway with a few doors. It was clearly a lesser traveled area of the museum - a few of the lightbulbs overhead blown out and not replaced, the floor dingy and dusty. Perhaps those doors led to storage rooms or the place’s security facilities - but either way, the two of you weren’t supposed to be here. 

His insides filled with panic at the idea of getting caught. 

“Y/N-!” He called out your name harshly, but you cut him off by putting a hand in the middle of his chest and shoving him back against the wall. 

Hitting the wall easily knocked the wind out of him. It was a surprising amount of force - you were much stronger than you looked. Of course, he had seen you take down suspects before. He had witnessed you tackle grown men to the grown with ease and marveled in awe at your strength, but you had never used that kind of force on him. He had never imagined what it would be like. 

He found that it turned him on more than he could have imagined. The presence of your hand fisting the front of his sweater vest spread a dizzying heat through his body. He stared at you with parted lips and a slacked jaw as the lust and shock overtook him. 

“Are you gonna be good for me?” You asked. 

You stood away from him for a moment, removing your hands from him completely and leaving a few inches of space between your two bodies in the dim, dingy space. 

You were giving him a clear opportunity to use his safeword if he truly wasn’t comfortable with fooling around in such a public space. 

“We - we’re gonna get caught!” He whispered urgently to you, his voice hushed but still strained at the very thought of it. 

You found it entirely adorable - how scandalized he was by this. You had done far worse and you hoped that you could get him to sink to your level over time. 

“You let me worry about that, pretty boy.” You told him firmly. “Now - are you gonna be good for me?” 

You asked one more time, your voice demanding and hopefully fully relaying the meaning of your words. 

Spencer had a choice. 

And with you standing there, staring him down with heat in your eyes, looking like such a vision of lustful beauty, when he had been waiting so long for your touch, for your attention… it wasn’t much of a choice at all.

He only wanted you. 

“Yes.” He squeaked out quietly, swallowing thickly around his own doubt. “Yes, I’ll be a good boy.” 

You grinned a wide Cheshire grin at his words, and in a moment, you were on him. 

You possessively gripped at both sides of his blazer, easily bending him to your will. You surged forward and met him as you forced his body to bend downward, capturing his mouth in a demanding, heated kiss.  

It was a tiny murmur in the back of your mind, reminding you that this was actually your first kiss with Spencer. You had already seen him naked and made him cum, and you were just now getting to taste his sweet lips. It was a funny thought. 

In that moment, any worry about potentially getting caught easily flew from Spencer’s mind - any logic quickly dripped out of his ears. 

He moaned beautifully into your mouth, and as you echoed a sound back, you had to wonder why you hadn’t kissed him sooner. He seemed to be a natural at it - or, this was the one thing that he had some real practice at. Which you were entirely thankful for. His lips were smooth against your own, heated and desperate, surging forward with intense gyrating motions - almost as if he was trying to consume you with his intense hunger. 

Though in a moment, he easily fell under your control. 

You reached a hand up to the back of his hair and took a tight grip there, holding him like he was a beautiful object that you owned, just a toy for you to play with. He let out a sharp whine from the back of his throat, and his jaw fell slack for a moment, allowing you to bite down on his bottom lip - hard, assuring him who was in charge. 

The shock of pain from the bite had his hips bucking forward, and surely enough, you felt him fully hard, brushing against your hip through both of your clothing. He whined even sharper as he felt the roughness of the lace pressing against his cock, brushing against him with more force as he humped himself against you. It stung roughly and sent beautiful shocks of pleasure pulsing through him. 

“What do you want, pretty boy?” You breathed against his lips. 

Still desperate, needy for contact, he left a sloppy kiss on your chin before he spoke to answer the question. 

“C-Can I touch you?” He whimpered out quietly. “Please.” 

Your lips formed a wicked grin against him at this. 

“Anything over my clothes.” You told him. When his hands still hung limply at his sides, you threw in some encouragement. “Come on, baby, touch me.” 

You did have to wonder if he would have been bold enough to reach under the hemline of your dress - even if you hadn’t given him explicit permission. You wondered what he would have done if his fingers had gotten as far as your underwear. But with your instructions, he had full access to your ass and breasts and you were curious to see what he would do within the rules. 

You dove in for another kiss, boldly possessing his mouth with a commanding strength once again. He whimpered against your lips and - feeling as needy as he was, he eagerly followed your instructions and began feeling you up over your clothing. His hands started out humbly on your hips as your experienced, certain lips battled against his needy, rapid ones. But soon enough, he became anxious and impatient with simply grabbing on your love handles through the cotton of your dress, and he needed more. 

You yanked on his hair again and took advantage of his gasp-parted lips to shove your tongue into his mouth, your body pressed firmly against his with him leaning against the wall for support. His hands began to eagerly wander, consuming your flesh for the first time and truly getting a taste of what it was like to not just be commanded by you, but what it was like to be with you. 

He began grabbing the roundness of your ass in needy handfuls, his touch truly exploratory - he didn’t touch you with any skill, didn’t touch you like he was trying to get you heated and turned on. He touched you because he wanted to touch your body, badly. He was simply displaying his own hungry need for you without even considering shame in doing so. 

And that was something that caused you to moan into his mouth as you raked your tongue along his teeth. He even reached a hand up and shoved it between your two bodies, groping at your breast with absolutely no grace. He was digging his fingers into the flesh like he was trying to rip it off your body and possess it entirely. It was something so filled with need that it made you so damn hot, made your cunt ache between your thighs. 

You knew that you wouldn’t be able to end the day without cumming - whether it be with his help or simply having him watch and beg to touch you.

You had so many plans for him. And you couldn’t wait to see them all play out before your eyes.  

You felt his erection against your leg, throbbing with just as much need, and you felt that devilish urge rise up inside of you again. 

You pulled away from his lips with a wet smack, the realization hitting you once again that - yes, technically, you were in a public setting. The thought sent a thrill through you, but you had to be at least somewhat careful, lest you get caught. 

“You like touching me, baby?” You cooed against his cheek. 

“Yes, Miss.” He breathed out. 

When you opened your eyes partially, you had to contain a gasp. 

His glasses were fogged up. 

Just like something out of your fantasies, his glasses were clouded with steam from the heated exchange. But he didn’t seem to notice or care. From what you could see through the layer of dew, his eyes were screwed shut and he was far too focused on his lust. He was concentrating more on groping your breast with one hand and your ass with the other, giving small, aborted humps against your hip, clearly trying not to cum in his pants. 

Oh god. You wanted to see him cum in his pants. Badly. 

And it was rare that you didn’t get what you wanted. 

“You want me to touch you?” You asked, nosing along his long, beautiful neck. 

“Should - should we go home first?” He asked quietly. 

Clearly, he was still afraid of getting caught. 

“Hey, shh.” You breathed against his skin, causing him to shudder. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. You let me do all the thinking, baby. Just answer the question,” 

“Yes.” He moaned quietly. “I want-” 

You didn’t let him finish, and cut him off with another heated kiss. 

You distracted him with this, and he whimpered sharply against your lips the moment your hand was on him. 

You groped his cock harshly through his pants, your hand skilled in a direct contrast to the way his touch was clumsy and only fueled by need. You knew exactly what you were doing, knew exactly how to drive him where he needed to go. 

Your demanding touch closed the pink lace of the panties roughly around the sensitive skin of his cock. The feeling of it - being reminded of his little filthy secret, the thing that the two of you shared. That, on top of the fact that he had already been so close from the thrill of getting to touch you and grope you freely for the first time - that set him off so damn easily. 

He didn’t have a moment to warn you that he was cumming or ask for permission. The only warning you got was a pathetic choked off moan that came from the back of his throat before his hips jolted into your hand, and the stuttering movement of his legs was a sure sign to you that he had cum inside his pants. 

You pulled away from his lips to admire your work. 

His face was nicely flushed, continuing to add to the fog clouding up the lenses of his glasses. His hair was entirely messy and tousled, giving an absolutely sex crazed look to him even though he still had all his clothes on - clothes that were wrinkled and messy, adding even more to the look. His pants with a slight damp spot forming on the crotch as his load soaked through the thin fabric of the panties and began to soak into his pants as well. You couldn’t help but to give his sensitive cock an extra little squeeze through his pants, causing him to whimper harshly and shake at the touch. 

You loved seeing him so fucked out and pathetic. 

“I - I’m sorry!” He immediately began to apologize, reaching to pull down his vest in an effort to cover his crotch, as though wanting to hide the evidence of his orgasm that was rapidly soaking into his clothes. “I’m sorry, Miss!” 

Of course, he thought he had made some grievous misstep but breaking the rule - by not asking permission before he had cum. When it was something you had been gunning for, wanting him to cum for you. 

“Hey, shh, shh, it’s okay baby.” You murmured against his skin. “It’s okay.” 

Before he could think too hard about it or get too swept up in his emotions (and frankly, before the two of you could get caught in such a state) - you grabbed one of his hands and then dragged him out of the museum completely. You barely slowed from a brisk walk until the two of you got back to the car. Even with Spencer holding his vest down over his crotch out of embarrassment, if anyone took a second look at his wrecked hair, dewey glasses and kiss-swollen lips, they absolutely would have known what had happened to him, and you loved the thought of it. 

… 

You spent the entire ride home assuring him that he had done nothing wrong. 

It took a lot of soothing from your voice and a few well placed gropes to his crotch over the car’s console with your other hand on the wheel. This got him hard again, made him distracted from beating himself up for not being able to follow the rules explicitly. Instead, now he was focused on the way his throbbing cock felt swimming around in his own cum-soaked underwear. 

He didn’t need to feel guilty for not following the rules. You didn’t intend to punish him for breaking that rule, because he had just been too pretty while breaking it. Besides - you couldn’t imagine spanking someone so soft and new. 

You couldn’t imagine saying no to him. 

In all honesty, you kind of hated yourself for going soft. This would be the first time since you had become a dom that you hadn’t punished a sub for breaking a rule. But this wasn’t just any sub, this was Spencer. You couldn’t explain why, but he was just allowed to get away with things. He deserved to be spoiled. 

By the time you did get home, Spencer was breathless and filled to the brim with need once again. If his tears had been from self punishment and guilt at first, they were now from sheer need. He was desperately wringing his hands in his lap to keep from pawing at you because he felt that he had not been given permission to do so during the car ride. 

When you pulled into your parking spot, he looked over at you through his now clearer glasses lenses with big, wanting eyes. 

“You’re sure that you’re not mad, Miss?” He asked quietly, giving an adorably dramatic sniffle. 

“I am absolutely not mad, baby.” You told him. “It’s difficult to ever be mad at you when you’re so damn pretty.” You ‘booped’ his nose at this, and the smile he gave was so genuine that it made your insides glow with pride. “Now, what do you say we get you out of those soiled clothes and into something more comfortable?” 

“I - I didn’t bring a bag.” He said, looking over to his car across the lot longingly. 

“You didn’t bring a bag to the sleepover?” You cooed. “How silly, baby.” Spencer looked entirely downtrodden, as though all of his plans for the day were ruined. “I’m sure that I can find something for you to wear.” 

This conjured up a delightful image in your mind of him wearing more lingerie. But no, you needed to find him something comfortable instead. He had been good, and he deserved to be rewarded for it. You were sure that despite the size difference, he would be able to fit into some of your pajama pants with the waist tie knotted up a few times. Hopefully the waistband wouldn’t absolutely fall off him. 

He seemed more upbeat at this, and the two of you got out of the car and went up to your apartment, Spencer easily following your lead, as always. He carried your purse loyally, something you found to be a covert turn-on. You liked seeing the subtle ways he could serve you. 

When you got up to your apartment, you tossed your keys into the bowl where you normally kept them, and Spencer made a point of hanging the long strap of your bag on the coat rack - something you found so entirely cute. 

You then took Spencer to the kitchen to get him a glass of water to help him calm down. The entire time he drank it, you gently stroked his hair and told him what a good boy he was. This seemed to relax him entirely, which satisfied you on a deep level. 

Then, you grabbed his hand and steered him in the direction of the bathroom to help him clean up. With his shoes already ditched near the front door, you peeled off his blazer and threw it over the back of the couch along the way, not giving him a moment to speak about hanging it up ‘properly’ or whatever else was gonna come out of his mouth before you bustled him along to the next room. 

In your quaint apartment, the bathroom was at the end of the hallway, and he caught a small glimpse into your bedroom before you continued shoving him down the hall. He saw twinkling lights and pink silken sheets and felt his stomach tingle - it was nothing like he had imagined it, but he kind of loved that. 

Your bathroom was just as entracing. 

The tiles were pearlescent blue - obviously vintage, along with a clawfoot tub to match, and you had decorated everything with quite a beautiful sense of style to match. A floral blue shower curtain, a fuzzy blue bath mat, and a small golden cart in the corner holding all of your different products. Spencer had the urge to pick up the bottles and start smelling them, wondering if he could get more of your amazing scent right from the source, or if it was the unique, distinct combination of those products along with your natural skin oils that made you so intoxicating. 

You shut the door gently behind the two of you when you got him into the small room. He found himself pressed right up against the counter of the small bathroom vanity, his back to the ornate mirror and your back to the door. This left only a few inches of space between your two bodies as you looked up at him with a gentle, sweet expression. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” You told him. 

Spencer smiled at you. 

“And then, after you’re all nice and clean, I think you can have your reward.” You told him, your voice low and dripping with decadent promise. “You were a very good boy today.” 

“I was?” He said eagerly. 

Then, after a moment, he realized that he shouldn’t be questioning it. Because it was against the rules to question your judgment, and because you had just told him that he was deserving of a reward. 

“I mean - yeah, I was.” He quickly corrected himself, trying to sound confident in this statement. 

You let out a soft chuckle at this. Then, you gently grabbed his chin and pulled him into a soft, sweet kiss. 

“You were, baby.” You told him confidently. “You were a very good boy today.” 

You absolutely adored the look on his face as you said this. His features became so soft and hazy, almost as if he was drunk. Clearly he was so high on the praise, loving knowing that he had behaved well for you, that you were giving him your stamp of approval and that he was about to be well rewarded for it. 

“Do you know what you want as your reward?” You asked, curiosity bubbling up inside of you. 

Spencer’s eyes filled with equal parts glee and contemplation. This was such a mighty question. 

As the question hung in the air, you reached up and gently took off his glasses, placing them on the counter beside the sink. As good as he looked in them, you didn’t want to accidentally knock them off his face and break them while you were stripping him out of his clothes. You then reached for the bottom of his sweater vest, still reeking with curiosity as to how he would answer the question. 

He imagined all kinds of things - one of the obvious ones was of course, sex. Full blown intercourse. But something deep inside of him told him that he wasn’t sure if he was quite ready for that. Part of him feared ‘messing up’ and still felt self conscious - like he should perform well and impress you, even though you quite clearly took the lead and hadn’t been unimpressed with anything from him so far. 

Deep down, he did know that his first time would be comfortable, safe, and beautiful if it was with you. And truthfully, he didn’t want it to be with anyone else. He couldn’t picture his first time having intercourse if it wasn’t with you in his ear, cooing about what a good boy he was. 

But still, he wasn’t quite ready for that yet. 

You got the vest off over his head, humming a calming tune quietly under your breath - a sign showing him that you were okay with the quiet, giving him time to contemplate his answer. As much time as he needed. You got to work on the buttons of his shirt, slowly and delicately undressing him as though he were a precious doll. It was something that caused goosebumps to form across his skin. 

He thought more about it. 

So - he didn’t want to ask for intercourse. 

He definitely wanted to touch you more. He liked touching you - he loved touching you. He definitely wanted permission to touch you under your clothes, to explore your naked body. He thought it might be silly to simply ask for his reward to be ‘touch naked breasts please’. You might find that silly. 

No, he could do better than that. 

When you began to peel the sleeves of the shirt off his shoulders and it caused a quiet shiver through him, that’s when it struck him. 

“I know.” He said quietly. “I know now.” 

“You know what you want your reward to be, baby?” You prodded gently, gathering the fabric of the shirt in your hands and tossing it into the laundry basket behind you. 

Perhaps you would get up early the next morning and do a load of laundry to wash his clothes so he could have something to wear home. You were struck with the vision of him wearing a pair of your sweatpants and one of your big comfortable tee-shirts walking back to his apartment from your car. You wondered - if the two of you were going to continue having these ‘sleepovers’ if you should clear a drawer for him to keep some clothes at your place and vice versa. That seemed far too domestic in your mind, but it just made good sense, didn’t it? 

You were snapped out those thoughts when Spencer finally gave you his answer. 

“I want to give you pleasure.” He breathed out quietly. “You’ve given me pleasure. I want to pleasure you.” 

His choice of words was somehow utterly adorable and spine-tingling at the same time. He sounded like a dreamy paperback smut novel come to life. But as you reached for the buckle of his belt to continue undressing him, you had to ask for clarification, just to be sure. 

“What do you mean by that, Spence?” You asked, punctuating the sentence with the click of the belt buckle. 

“I -” 

He let out a hot breath as you pulled his belt completely from the loops and let it fall to the bathroom floor with a quiet ‘clunk’. His next words were paired with the sound of the zipper teeth on his trousers coming down. 

“I want to give you an orgasm.” He let out a quiet whimper when your hand grazed his dick as you worked the fly of the pants apart. “I want you to teach me.” He said quietly, his voice a lot weaker as he became dizzy with pleasure once again. 

“You want me to teach you, huh?” You purred. 

You became temporarily distracted from this thought when you peeled his pants down further and the most delicious sight was revealed to you. His cock, half hard and still trapped inside the pink lace - which was now stuck to his shaft completely with his own cum. Just as you had imagined in your fantasies, it was absolutely wet. Slick like a pretty pink floral second skin as it sat below his waistline, making his sticky pubes and his sensitive cock look even more sinful while he sat marinating in his own load. 

You couldn’t help yourself - you reached forward and greedily groped his cock through the lace. You went so far as to trap the sensitive pink cockhead between your fingers and wring the roughness of the fabric around it, knowing that it would get a reaction out of him. Spencer sobbed with overwhelming pleasure and bucked his hips forward, such a beautifully broken sound. When you continued the motion, he surged a hand up to grab your wrist as he twisted his body slightly away from you - clearly overstimulated. 

You stopped the roughness in exchange for a gentle petting of your fingertips, and you leaned in to nose across the skin of his neck once again. 

You surprised yourself when your next words flew out of your mouth, almost without restraint. 

“Hey, shh. It’s okay, Mommy’s just looking.” You told him in a hushed tone. 

The moment that the word escaped your lips - Mommy - your gut dropped with crippling fear. You thought that he would hate it or become disgusted by it. But he let out another whimper, and when you looked into his eyes, you were met with nothing but a sharp burning and a reckoning that he had absolutely no clue he would have liked to call you that up until then. 

You left the air blank for a moment, giving him time to adjust - time to back down from it if he wanted to. Or time to rise to it if he wanted it just as badly as you did. 

“M-?” He squeaked out, and you gave him patience. “Mommy?” He said quietly, testing the waters. 

He found that a warmth washed over him, and he liked it far more than he thought he would have. 

Your breath caught in your throat and you held back a moan. Your muscles shook slightly as you resisted the urge to jump him - to make him say it again, with more desperation, with more lust. There would be plenty of time for that, you told yourself. 

“Yes, baby?” You answered quietly. 

“Can I take them off now?” He asked, referring to the panties feeling damp and cold and uncomfortable on his skin at this point. “You said you had some pajamas for me?” 

You smiled at him. “I’ll take these off and clean you up a bit and then I’ll get you some pjs. Okay, baby?” 

He nodded. 

“Yes, M-Mommy.” He stuttered slightly, still wearing in the nickname - but he loved it. 

He loved how it was warm and comfortable and familiar, and much less formal than calling you ‘Miss’. 

‘Miss’ was a nice teacher, someone good at making rules, but ‘Mommy’ was someone he could make a home out of. At least he hoped that’s what the two of you were doing. ‘Mommy’ didn’t seem too strict about the rules, and honestly, Spencer liked that. 

You helped him peel out of his slightly wet pants and completely ruined, soaked underwear. (You would definitely be washing those for a future use.) You tossed both items into the hamper, and then peeled off his cute (once again mismatched) socks and tossed those aside too before you grabbed a washcloth and soaked it with warm water to clean him off with. 

The entire time you wiped down his cock, he let out sweet whimpers and gently bumped into your touch. By the end, it was almost difficult to keep him clean, because his cock was fully hard and leaking precum slightly as you smoothed the warm cloth over his lower tummy and made sure to gently clean off his balls. It was oddly adorable, him making a mess faster than you could clean it up. 

When you were satisfied with this, you tossed the cloth into the sink and gave him a kiss on the cheek, telling him that you would be back shortly with a change of clothes for him. 

It was only when he was standing alone in the bathroom that he felt exposed - only then realizing how truly well… naked he actually was. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to be embarrassed by it as he awaited your return. 

After what felt like far too many minutes for his taste, you returned with something pink and soft looking in your hands. 

The panties had been surprising, and while itchy, had made him feel… oddly pretty. He would be hesitant to admit it aloud, but you were already making him grow to like the color pink and how it made him feel. 

You unfolded the piece of clothing and held it up for him to look at. It was a pair of long pajama pants that obviously belonged to you. (Spencer worried that the waistband would be too large for him, even with the tie that was available). They were made of a silken, soft material that seemed like it would be very light and comfortable to wear. They were a rosy pink color, very girly and feminine. Very pretty. He also noticed that you hadn’t brought a shirt for him, but he supposed that he didn’t have to worry too much about that. You had already seen him naked. Twice now. 

“Good?” You posed. 

Spencer nodded. “Thank you.” He said, giving you a small smile. 

He felt that warmth coming over him once again when you helped him step into the pants and even pulled the fabric up over his body, going so far as to secure the tie around his waist, making sure the loose fabric wouldn’t fall off his hips. The thin, very unforgiving fabric easily showed every single detail of his cock through it - his hardness now perfectly outlined in pink, which only made the heat growing under your skin swell to a dangerous level. 

Lastly, you grabbed his glasses off the counter and put them back on his face, making sure that he would be able to see fully and pay attention during his next ‘lesson’. 

“There.” You said, giving him another sweet kiss on the lips. “Mommy’s good boy is all clean.” Spencer preened at these words. “And pretty as a picture.” 

You delighted in the obvious blush that this last comment drew from him. You couldn’t help it - you loved praising him so sweetly, especially if it drew those kinds of reactions from him. 

“Now, baby, I want you to go sit on the couch and wait for me.” You told him gently. “I have to go and put on something a little more comfortable for myself.” 

You held back a devilish smirk. Of course, he had to think that this would mean you were going to put on some casual cotton pajamas - something genuinely comfortable and not at all a fulfillment to the male fantasy. And sure, you felt comfortable in lingerie. It made you feel beautiful. 

That was part of the reason you were going to do it. 

That, and you felt the need to make everything special for Spencer. This was going to be the first time he saw you in such a state of undress. Of course, you could argue that him seeing you in your panties and camisole a few nights ago had been pretty much the same, and he had looked upon you like you were a goddess then. But it had been practically dark then and you wanted this to be well lit and truly a fantasy come to life for him. 

“Yes, Mommy.” He said, giving a small nod. 

He left and walked out to the living room, going to sit on the couch as you had instructed, and you felt a delightful mischievous streak as you went into your bedroom and picked out what you would wear. 

As you got dressed, you thought more about what he had said. 

He wanted to give you an orgasm. 

It would be very nice to have him inside of you. He had one of the nicest cocks you had ever seen - he was so long and beautiful, and seeing him inside of the fleshlight had caused you to imagine what he would feel like inside of you. 

But you knew that if you let him fuck you, he would be clumsy. He didn’t have the technique or experience. Or the stamina. That was definitely something you wanted to work on first. And with how he had reacted from cumming in his pants earlier that day - something you had wanted, he likely would have a crash and be terribly anxious if he came while fucking you and you didn’t get to cum first. 

Making you cum seemed to be his primary goal. 

That brought you to the thought of putting him on his back - riding him, essentially using him like a human dildo. It would be intensely hot - having him below you, completely at your mercy. Getting to listen to his moans and whines and getting to see him completely fucked out underneath you while his perfect cock throbbed deep inside of your pussy. It would be perfect. 

But - he wouldn’t learn anything that way. If he wanted to learn how to make you cum, it certainly wouldn’t happen like that. He would be fucked stupid and you would cum, and you would certainly enjoy yourself. But he would be brain dead and cum drunk. He certainly wouldn’t learn or retain anything from the experience. 

No - if he wanted to learn how to make you cum, and if he wanted to put his genius to good use, then there was one certain way to do it. 

You were fully satisfied with your plan. You took one last look in the mirror, and you were fully satisfied with your look, too. 

You had put on a push-up bra with a black and red lace pattern, something that displayed your breasts well. With the padding and the ‘push-up’ effect, it definitely gave the cartoonish, fantasy effect that you were going for. You had on the matching garter belt, which had a few lacy roses adoring it. You didn’t have it attached to anything, though you had considered wearing stockings, you didn’t think Spencer would like the texture of them. You thought he would much prefer to feel your naked skin against him. You simply liked the look of the garter belt hanging around your waist, accenting the plushness of your stomach. 

You also put on a pair of the matching lacy black and red floral panties - they were fairly cheeky, letting half of your ass hang out, and fairly sheer so that your trimmed pubic hair could be seen through the fabric in the front. And lastly, you had thrown on a sheer, long black robe over the whole thing, giving a very ‘Moulin Rouge’ look to the whole thing. Along with a pair of six black heels - the kind that hurt your feet and you would only use to, well - go to bed and keep your legs above your head while wearing. 

You looked like a sex dream, if you did say so yourself. 

Rather than walking into the other room to get Spencer, you went over to your bed and propped yourself up on some pillows in the middle of it, making sure the fabric of your robe was billowing and appealing around you before you called out to him. 

“Spencer, honey, I’m ready!” You called out. “You can come in now!” 

You heard him coming down the hallway and you swelled with eagerness, almost too excited to see what his reaction would be. 

When he pushed the door open, he immediately froze when his eyes were met with the sight of you. 

Standing in the doorway put him right at the foot of your bed, and he thought for sure - at some point between here and the museum, he must have died and gone to heaven. Framed by the twinkling lights that were wrapped around the head of your bed, propped up on a variety of fluffy pillows - you were an image of perfection. 

Your breasts were pushed up to your chin, especially with the angle you were laying at, so perfectly framed by the floral lace of your bra. There was so much for his eye to greedily consume, and he didn’t think he should be allowed to consume it all so shamelessly. The curved planes of your body, the beautiful, soft zig-zags of your stretch marks, like guides laid out for his tongue. The fabric showing just enough skin, showing off every curve of your womanly body, so thick and ready to dominate him at a moment’s notice. 

There was a gentle power in the way you were lounging back, framed by the black, soft fabric of your billowing robe - your whole body relaxed as you waited for him. It made him want to press his forehead to the floor in a bow to you, made him want to beg just for the precious permission to touch you. 

“Is - that-? Your-? Paja-mas-?” He squeaked out, every single word becoming a pitch higher, making his shock all the more apparent. 

“Kind of.” You told him with a giggle. “This is what I wanted to wear for my good boy.” 

“You - you wore this for me?” He swallowed thickly around these words, clearly in disbelief. 

If you weren’t mistaken, you saw his cock twitch inside those silken pink pants. You loved how even though the fabric covered him, the outline of his cock was so entirely visible. The band of the pants being loose had caused them to slip so low on his hips, even causing the top bit of his pubic hair to be visible as he stood there, entirely uncaring (and likely unaware) of it. 

“Yes, baby.” You told him. “Now, come sit on the bed.” 

Spencer rushed to follow your instruction, almost tripping over your bedroom rug in the process. That caused you to bite your lip, holding back a grin - you wouldn’t want him to think you were laughing at him, after all. 

Spencer gently sat on the edge of the bed with his feet still on the floor, his bum just barely grazing against your thigh. You found it adorable that he was still being so timid about making contact. 

You spread your legs wide, and gestured between them. 

“Come sit here.” You told him. 

“Oh.” He said quietly. 

He stood up then and looked at the space between your legs. His expression was very comparable to a man afraid of heights looking like he was about to take a dive off a cliff into deep water. 

“It’s okay, Spencer.” You assured him. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, remember?” 

“I know.” He said quietly. “It’s just - it’s all so new.” He whispered. “I - I want to be good.” 

You wondered if the last part was about his ability to behave and follow the rules, or… if it was about something else. 

“Spencer, baby, are you worried about impressing me?” You wondered aloud. 

The expression on his face at this was very telling - a flicker of embarrassment, his hands twitching as he ached to play with his fingers, wanting to distract himself from the conversation. 

“Look, I know you’re new to all this. I’m not expecting you to be some sex expert, or a porn star or something.” You assured him. “That’s why I’m here to teach you, baby.” 

“What if I do it wrong?” He asked, his voice still so timid, so small. 

“Then I’ll show you how to do it right.” You told him. “That’s why I’m here. I’m not gonna laugh at you, or yell at you. I’m just gonna show you what I like and how to do it right.” 

It should have been obvious. Someone of his talent, his caliber, someone who had everything come so naturally to him his entire life, someone who had accomplished so much at such a young age - he was terrified of tackling something unknown, something he was afraid to mess up. He was afraid of being a bad student. 

He had just enough time in the living room to sit and stew in those insecurities, and now you had to lovingly battle them. 

“Come sit with me, baby.” You urged, leaning forward to pat the space on the bed between your thighs. 

You scrunched up the fabric of your robe so he wouldn’t sit on it, and finally, he moved to crawl between your legs - kneeling on the bed with his feet tucked underneath his bum and his hands fidgeting in his lap. His knees were slightly brushing against your inner thighs, but he wasn’t sitting terribly close to you. That was something you left alone for now. 

You sat up slightly, leveling your body with his, and ran your hand along his arm, trying to soothe him. 

“So, you said you wanted to learn how to give me an orgasm, right?” You posed. 

Spencer nodded. 

“Come on, use your words.” You told him. 

“Yes, Mommy.” He said quietly, clearly still feeling insecure and hesitant. “I want that.” 

He could only imagine how beautiful it would be so see you writhing in pleasure - to hear you calling out his name as you orgasmed, breathless. To see your body arching up off the bed as he brought you to climax. He could only imagine the headrush it would cause him to know that he had caused it for you. 

“Well, I think the best way for you to do that is by using your hands.” You explained. “Stimulating me with your fingers.” 

“My hands?” He questioned, looking from you down to his hands in his lap. 

Honestly, it was never something he had thought about. Yes - he used his hands to make himself orgasm, but that was only because he was alone. The act of masturbation was more like a mind-clearing chore for him than anything. (Before you came into his life and turned all of his ideas about sex upside-down.) 

He did have to consider that you used your hands to stimulate yourself, to masturbate - but he had no clue how. 

But he guessed that would be part of the learning process. 

“Yes, baby.” You smiled eagerly. “And I know you’re gonna be good with your hands. You’re very skilled because you do all that sleight of hand and close up magic.” 

Spencer felt a rush of confidence at the praise, and couldn’t stop the grin that formed over his face at your words. 

“Well, you see, sleight of hand doesn’t actually require that much dexterity or skill, like playing a sport does, because it’s more so about practicing the same movement over and over again until it becomes ingrained muscle memory.” He explained, easily sounding in his element. 

You couldn’t believe how easily he had set you up for your next words. It was almost like he had walked into a trap. 

“Well, what I’m going to teach you is also about repetitive movements.” You explained. “And it will definitely become muscle memory for you over time.” 

Spencer smiled fondly hearing this. He was now more confident that he would be good at what you were going to teach him. 

“So… where do we start?” He asked, becoming that eager student once again. 

“Here, let me look at your hands.” You told him. 

He was slightly confused by this, but didn’t have time to question it because you snaked your hands under his palms where they were sitting in his lap. His dick had wilted slightly from the anxiety, so he was only half hard in his pants. But he let out a small whimper when you accidentally crazed against it as you took his hands in yours and lifted them up to get a good look at them. 

“It’s important that your nails are trimmed.” You told him, lifting his hands up close to your face to get a good look. “You don’t want your nails to be too long, or you might accidentally hurt me. And that’s just a general rule whenever you’re putting your fingers inside someone.” 

He became slightly intimidated at the idea of putting his fingers inside you, but he tried not to let it show. 

“I trimmed my nails last night.” He said, proud that he had done something good. “It’s a good grooming habit.” 

He didn’t want to bring up the fact that - per his germophobia, he always kept his nails trimmed because he was afraid of too much build up getting under his nails and making him sick (even though he washed his hands multiple times a day). But he was just glad he could do something to please you. 

You couldn’t stop staring at his hands. It was something you had noticed before in passing - but they were gorgeous. He had such strong, prominent muscles here. Long, thick fingers - he was going to do very well at this. Once he was well trained up, you knew you weren’t going to be able to go for very long without having those fingers inside of you. 

“Very good, baby.” You said, finally snapping out of your lustful revere. 

You raised one of his hands up and kissed the back of it. And then, continued on, kissing a path along his hand to his knuckles until you reached the tip of his middle finger. As natural as ever, you gently sucked his middle and ring finger into your mouth. Of course, you were just playing around, admiring. His hands were so nice that you couldn’t help but to have one in your mouth. 

“Oh,” Spencer moaned quietly. 

When you looked over at him, he was staring you down with lustful eyes. His lips slightly parted as his gaze locked onto the place where your lips drew his fingers in, taking him down to the second knuckle. You gently swirled your tongue around the digits as you enjoyed the thickness in your mouth. You could lightly taste floral soap on his skin and knew that he had washed his hands in the kitchen sink when you had sent him out to wait for you. 

After a moment of this, you pulled back, your lips separating from his skin with a wet ‘smack’. (Though you wanted it to be longer - you loved those fingers, you could have easily held them in your mouth for a long time). 

“Yeah, these are good fingers.” You assured him, giving him a deliberate wink. “You’re gonna be good at this, Spence.” 

Spencer shuddered with pleasure at this. 

You leaned back onto your pillows, making yourself comfortable while he watched in awe. 

“I’m gonna take off my underwear now. Is that okay?” You asked gently. 

“Yes.” He said, nodding eagerly. “Yes, Mommy.” 

You lifted your hips to wiggle out of them. When the fabric was at your knees, he naturally met you halfway, taking the panties down your calves and very delicately untangling them from around your high heels. He concentrated on the task in a way that told you he wasn’t even trying to take a premature glimpse at your naked cunt. It was entirely endearing. 

Once he had the fabric completely untangled from your shoes, you naturally moved your legs to bracket them around his body once again. This completely exposed your wet pussy to the cool air, and he stared at the underwear in his hands, clearly perplexed about what to do with it now. 

“Just toss it on the floor, baby.” You told him. 

He did so, and then, with nowhere else to look, his eyes locked onto your naked pussy for the first time. 

Paintings and pictures had shown him the scientific side or even the objective beauty of the female anatomy. But seeing you laid bare before him, adorned in lacy accoutrements - this was truly sexy. 

His blood ran hot, and his cock throbbed to full hardness in a dizzying record time as he laid eyes on the glistening lips of your pussy. Seeing how real you were - the way your skin tone faded from the shade that matched the rest of your body to the more raw, wet skin of your inner folds, clearly swollen with need. Your pubic hair, slightly trimmed and glossy with your wetness - everything about you was so real and it made Spencer’s cock ache. 

“Scoot a bit closer, baby.” You told him, hitch your knees apart further, spreading yourself open for him. “Can you see okay?” 

Your pussy made a wet sound as it spread open for him, and he let out a quiet gasp in awe as more of you was bared to his eyes. You were so beautiful, so raw, so perfect, so hot - he almost couldn’t handle it. 

You knew he was likely becoming too entranced to answer the question. With the way his eyes were so tightly locked onto your cunt, you guessed that - yes, he could see just fine. Just seeing the utterly entranced expression on his face caused a throbbing heat through you, you were sure that if he paid enough attention, he would be able to see the wetness actively dripping out of you. 

“Spencer, look at me.” You ordered sharply. “Look at Mommy.” 

Spencer forced his eyes up to your face, and you smiled at him when he managed to follow the order. 

“How much do you know about the female anatomy?” You asked him. 

“I - I’ve read books.” He answered quietly. 

“Good.” You told him, trying to be encouraging. “Do you know where the clitoris is?��� 

“I - um-” Spencer looked down at your pussy and found himself suddenly nervous again, not knowing if he should touch you, or if he should point, or-

“You can put your hands on me.” You told him. “I’m here to teach you, baby. Let me be your… in-person diagram.” 

Spencer nodded. 

Then, as naturally as he possibly could, he reached down and put a gentle hand on the top of your mound. He was so feather-light that you had to forcefully hold back a laugh, feeling ticklish at the touch. With his palm mostly spread out mostly over your pelvis, he used a thumb to pull your pussy lips back. 

Then, he saw that very obvious swollen button staring at him. With the pointer finger on his other hand, he sought it out like a guided missile, entirely confident in his answer. Before he could truly think about it - he poked your clit with that singular finger, pointing to it as his answer. 

“There.” He mumbled quietly. 

“Oh-!” You breathed out sharply, your hips surging toward his touch. 

His touch had been so abrupt (especially after so much anticipation on your part) that it sent an unexpected shockwave through your body. 

Spencer immediately recoiled, believing that he had hurt you. 

“I’m sorry.” He quickly apologized. “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?” 

He drew back both his hands instantly, curling them up to his chest as if he had done something terribly wrong. 

“No, no you didn’t hurt me!” You quickly assured him, putting your hands up in a surrendering motion to drive the point home. “Everything is fine, baby.” 

“Then what-?” He asked, his voice very meek and small. “What was that?” 

“I’m sensitive, baby. My body is sensitive. And I wasn’t expecting you to do that.” You chuckled. 

Spencer gave a small frown, clearly believing he had done something wrong. 

“The clitoris has a lot of nerve endings.” You explained, giving a chuckle to try and lighten the mood. “That’s kind of the point. That makes things more pleasurable.” 

“Oh.” He said. 

After a moment, his body began to relax as he chugged with thought, his eyebrows knitting tight like they always did when he was pondering something. 

“Oh… so that was… that was a good stimulation?” He posed. 

“Yes.” You told him. “I want you to touch my clitoris because it feels good. It’s one of the easiest ways to make a woman feel good.” 

He nodded, and then he moved his hands to touch you again. But you had a thought first. You caught his hands halfway, and held them in your own as you spoke. 

“Listen first.” You told him. 

He looked at your face obediently as you explained it to him. 

“Typically, for women, there are two types of orgasms,” You put on your ‘teacher’ voice once again, and he relaxed and put his hands back in his lap, clearly eager and ready to listen, wanting to absorb the information to the fullest. “A clitoral orgasm or a vaginal orgasm. Can you guess what that means?” 

Spencer thought about it for a moment. 

“An orgasm achieved by clitoral stimulation versus an orgasm achieved by vaginal stimulation?” He posed. 

You grinned. “Very good. Good boy.” 

He grinned back, easily soaking up the praise. 

“So, it depends on the person you’re with, but generally, most women achieve orgasm through a combination of both clitorial and vaginal stimulation. And a good rule of thumb is to always ask someone what they enjoy,” You told him. He nodded at this. “And also, looking at someone’s facial expressions and body language can tell you if you’re doing well at stimulating them. It’s like profiling.” 

“Well… what kind of facial expressions and body language should I be looking for?” He asked. 

You found this oddly amusing. To you, it was obvious that a back arching and lots of moaning and an ‘O’ face meant good sex, but Spencer was truly just that fresh. He simply didn’t know. 

“Well…” You took a moment to gather a mental list for him. “Typically, someone makes a lot of involuntary body movements if the stimulation is good. Good sex stimulates your nerve endings, so it makes your muscles twitch, and it can even make your limbs flail around or make your back arch off the bed.” 

Spencer nodded, his face still very intense and thoughtful as he took this in. 

“And when people are enjoying sex, they usually make a lot of sounds. Gasps, moans. They might swear or call out your name. And most people do just tell you that they’re enjoying it,” You giggled. 

Spencer nodded again. Then he posed a thoughtful question. 

“What about facial expressions?” He asked. 

“I know it might sound strange… but, you’ll know an expression of someone lost in pleasure when you see it.” You told him. 

These words made his whole body tingle. And naturally, made him wonder what your face would look like when you were lost in pleasure. 

“What do you prefer?” He asked. “Do you prefer clitoral stimulation or vaginal stimulation?” 

“I prefer a combination of both.” You told him. “That’s usually what makes me cum the hardest.” 

“You mean ‘cum’ as in orgasming?” Spencer said, repeating back this vocabulary to you with pride. 

“Yes, baby.” You told him with a nod. 

He beamed at getting the answer correct. 

“I thought we could start with clitoral stimulation and then move on to vaginal stimulation.” You explained. “Usually it’s easy to… warm up with clitorial stimulation. It makes the vaginal muscles more relaxed before penetration.” 

You found it odd to be using such clinical terms - the words were so stiff in your mouth, but you supposed that it was the healthiest way to explain everything to him. 

Spencer nodded eagerly at this. 

“You should wet your fingers first. Maybe spit on them?” You posed - this was a selfish request, wanting the delight of seeing him suck on his own fingertips. 

“That doesn’t sound the most sanitary…” He said quietly, cringing. 

Hearing him say this presented a new goal in your mind - getting him so fucked out and pliant that mister ‘it’s actually more sanitary to kiss’ would let you spit directly into his mouth. 

You chuckled at his words, though. 

“Okay, well… there’s lube in the drawer instead.” You said, motioning toward your nightstand. “Like I said last time, there’s no such thing as ‘too wet’.” 

Spencer nodded eagerly and sat higher up on his knees to reach for the drawer. When he pulled it open, his eyes immediately grew wide at the array of… objects you had in there. Thick, veiny things, some round things he couldn’t even begin to propose the purpose of, something with small dots on it that looked like a cartoon tentacle-? 

Knowing that he would become too distracted by these things and want to start asking questions, you reached over and grabbed the bottle of lube and snapped the drawer shut while his mind was still racing. 

“Focus, baby.” You told him, putting a hand on his cheek and forcefully prodding his attention back in your direction. 

He definitely had a lot of questions about those things. But he would ask you those questions later. (Because he certainly wasn’t going to forget about anything he had just seen.) 

You handed the bottle of lube to Spencer. It was almost exactly the same as the one you had given to him and used with the fleshlight, except it was strawberry scented and the liquid was lighted tinted tinted pink as an association with the scent. It was your favorite to use with toys because the scent was absolutely delicious as a perfume in their air (and at this point, it was something you knew that you unconsciously associated with an orgasm). 

You were naturally wet. You were throbbing and needy for him. But you knew that it would be nice to be extra slicked up to help him along. 

After a moment of struggling (in which you pondered if you should interfere) he popped the cap, and then he looked from the opened bottle of lube to his hands. 

“Right, so-” He mumbled quietly. 

He poured a dollop on his extended fingertips that easily got carried away and dripped into his lap, and he gasped and began looking around for something to wipe it off his borrowed pants with. 

“You can clean it up later, baby.” You told him. “Things are gonna get a little messy right now.” 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Right. Yeah-” 

Then, he looked back to the bottle in his hand, and before putting it aside, he poured a dribble of the pink liquid (likely more than he had intended) onto the top of your mound, causing you to gasp quietly as the coolness dripped down over your hot, needy pussy. 

“Is that good, Mommy?” He asked quietly, moving to put the bottle aside. 

“That’s very good, baby.” You encouraged him gently. 

“Okay - I - I’m going to - touch you now.” Spencer told you, announcing his movements in an entirely adorable way. 

You nodded. “I’m ready for you, sweet boy.” 

Spencer put his non-lubed hand gently on your inner thigh, and then angled two of his fingers back toward your clit again. This time when he made contact, he was much gentler, and you let out a sharp breath through your nose, warm tingles spreading through your pelvis at the feeling of him touching your swollen clit with such intention. 

With his middle and pointer finger, he began a strange sort of spearing motion, rocking his hand into your pelvis. He touched your clit as though it were a literal button he was trying to push over and over again in order to make you cum. The movement didn’t do much for you - except draw a slight stinging from the area. 

“Baby,” You caught his attention, drawing his eyes up from where he was intensely focused, staring hard at the place where he was touching your pussy. 

“Spence, it’s - it’s more like this,” 

You motioned with two of your fingers in the air, drawing small circles, demonstrating to him what he should be doing. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled quietly. 

“It’s okay, baby.” You assured him, reaching out and petting a hand through his hair. “It’s okay. You’re learning, right?” 

He nodded. “I’m learning. I’m gonna do better.” 

“I know you will, baby. You’re Mommy’s good boy.” 

This bit of encouragement and praise seemed to fuel him, and he took this new instruction with vigor. 

He went back to work using the motion you had just demonstrated and immediately, the difference affected you. His thick, cautious fingertips circling tentatively around your needy clit sent tingles up your spine, causing a warming glow to spread through your body that was slowly, but surely building up your orgasm. The beautiful artificial smell of the lube wafted through the air, and with the sight of Spencer in front of you, his forearm flexing slightly as he worked, it was all too perfect. 

You let out a gentle moan, and Spencer smiled. 

“That’s good?” He asked, looking from the spot where his fingers worked on your pussy up to your face. 

“That’s good, baby.” You told him, the stimulation causing you to become slightly breathless already. “You’re doing so good for me.” 

Spencer continued like this, running his other hand along your thigh, clearly feeling needy to touch and enjoy the softness of your skin now that it was freely available under his hands. His touch spread a warmth throughout your body that had you squirming under him, letting out more gentle moans under your breath. 

Spencer watched you in awe, so entirely pleased with the results. 

“You - you can go a bit faster, baby.” You told him, finding your throat slightly dry as your breathing sped up, more blood pooling in your needy cunt as his touch demanded it. “Speed up your fingers.” 

“Yes, Mommy.” He easily obeyed. 

Hearing those words in his sweet voice in addition to his touch, his fingers now moving in fast, delicate circles on your throbbing clit - it brought sparks through your body and caused slight tremors through your thighs. 

It wasn’t going to be the most earth shattering orgasm you had ever experienced, but it was going to be a good one, mostly because it was Spencer. Because you had him in your bed, calling you Mommy, wearing a pair of your silky pink pajama pants that his hard cock was now leaking a stain into. All while he concentrated on learning how to please you like it was the most important book he had ever read in his life. 

“Oh, Spencer!” You called out, arching your hips toward him. “Doing so good for me, baby! So good-” 

Spencer stopped his movements suddenly, and your voice caught in your throat as you looked at him with tense confusion knit over your brows. 

“What - what about the vaginal stimulation?” He asked. “You said you wanted me to do both, right?” 

You couldn’t hold back the breathy chuckle in your throat. 

If it had been anybody else, you would have immediately thought that they were edging you intentionally. But no - that wasn’t even a thought in Spencer’s head. He was simply eager to learn more, wanting to do the most to give you the best orgasm possible. He wasn’t content with mediocre. When he learned something, he wanted to be the best at it. And that thought caused any disappointment about your fading orgasm to be replaced by pride - you had somehow captured the best, sweetest boy, and you were going to use that to your full advantage. 

“Right, baby.” You said, still catching your breath. You swallowed to gather some spit in your mouth to talk properly before you continued. “Okay, you’re going to continue what you were doing with this hand, but first,” You said this pointedly, motioning to the hand that was unmoving near your clit, not wanting him to continue and impair your ability to properly explain. “You’re going to work your fingers inside me.” 

“What if I hurt you?” He asked, clearly timid at the idea that he might hurt you in any way. 

“You won’t.” You told him. “You start with one finger, because that’s smaller, so you won’t hurt me. And then once my body has adjusted to that, you can add another. So it won’t hurt.” You assured him. 

“So, I just need to use two fingers?” He asked. “Also, how do I know when to put the next finger?” 

“You can add three fingers.” You told him. “And I’ll tell you when to add the next one. And you’ll know because you’ll feel the muscles relax around you.” 

Spencer nodded. 

“So… what’s the best… kind of… movement?” He asked, awkwardly gesturing with his free hand in a way that made you giggle. 

He blushed with embarrassment at this, and you rushed to speak in the hopes that he wouldn’t feel awkward. 

“You’re going to move your fingers in and out. Like simulating intercourse. The repeated penetration feels good.” You told him. “Be gentle at first, and I’ll tell you if you should go harder or faster.” 

Spencer nodded. 

He began slow, gentle circles on your clit again, and you let out a small moan at this. And then he moved his other hand down, skimming the fingertip of his pointer finger along your folds until he felt it - that pulsing entrance waiting for him, needy. He thought he imagined it, but it almost felt like your body was trying to suck him in. 

“It’s okay, baby.” You told him, your voice gentle and encouraging, slightly hazy with pleasure. “You’re doing so good for Mommy.” 

These words caused his cock to throb inside of the borrowed pants, and feeling a pulse of confidence because of it, he pushed the thickness of his finger forward and breached your entrance with his touch for the first time. 

It was such a brand new feeling - having your wetness surrounding his digit, feeling your muscles clamping down on him. Feeling how hot your body was, especially compared to the lifeless coolness of a silicone fleshlight. It made him moan louder than the sound you easily trapped in your chest. You found yourself dizzied with a wave of pleasure at seeing his face so fucked out and hearing him moan like that because he was touching you. 

“You like it, baby?” You asked breathlessly, angling your hips into his clumsy, unmoving hands. 

Clearly he was so pleasure drunk and hazy that he had forgotten that he was supposed to be fingerfucking you. He was simply exploring, enjoying the feeling. You didn’t fault him for it, and you didn’t want to rush him, even with a filthy, needy ache growing deep inside of you. 

“You’re so warm.” He replied, his quiet voice edging between awe and another moan of his own. 

His eyes flickered between the place where he was touching your pussy and your breasts, heaving slightly with your labored breathing, and your face. Your lips dropped open slightly with pleasure, your eyes becoming glassy. He loved it so much. He loved you. He couldn’t get enough of this. 

“Your body is so hot.” 

You grinned widely at this. 

Maybe a huge part of the endearment came from the fact that you knew he meant temperature, and not the typical slang meaning your appearance. It was something that clearly surprised him, feeling how hot your pussy was while being in direct contact with it. 

“Thank you.” You told him. “Can you fuck me now, Doctor Reid?” 

“I - Right.” 

Spencer resisted the urge to apologize again, knowing you probably wouldn’t like it. And he tried to ignore how much it turned him on to hear you call him ‘Doctor Reid’ in this context. Instead - he set his attention on pleasing you. 

He concentrated on picking up a good rhythm - moving his fingers on your clit in circles while he gently drew back the other hand and began moving it slowly in and out, trying to penetrate you in a pleasing way. He instantly became entranced by the natural wetness dripping out of your pussy, covering his finger, his knuckles, spreading to his palm the more he moved his finger. He was fascinated by the way your muscles did seem to give way to him, your body opening up as if you wanted more. 

“Add another one, baby.” You moaned quietly. “Another finger.” 

So his instincts served him right. At least somewhat. He hoped that he could remember this for next time, and please you better with less of your instructions, working more off of knowledge and instinct like this. 

When he drew back his hand to do as you instructed, you added on some further advice. 

“It also works better if your palm is facing up.” You told him. “The curve of your fingers is working with my body, not fighting against it.”

Spencer had been prodding into your entrance, poking his finger into you in a more exploratory way - but he definitely understood this. 

“Yes, Mommy.” He said. 

He flipped his hand so that his palm was facing the ceiling, immediately fascinated by how sticky his wet finger was. Then he gently prodded forward again, his middle finger joining the first. He continued to draw circles on your clit - a rhythm that became clumsy and unfocused at times, because he was easily distracted by the feeling of your tight pussy clamping down on his fingers, trying to figure out how hard he should go. 

He was being incredibly tame, almost sloth-like in his movements, clearly afraid to hurt you. And he left you burning up, aching for release. The thickness of his fingers felt so amazing inside of you, better than you could have imagined - but he was so timid, and you hoped that you could draw more out of him. 

“Spencer,” You moaned lightly. “Go faster. Come on, be a good boy for Mommy.” 

You reached out and got a hand in his hair once again, gently cupping the back of his head and scratching your nails along his scalp. 

“Yes,” He hissed out, leaning his head into your touch. “Yes, Mommy. I’ll be a good boy. I’ll be so good for you.” 

He kept his eyes locked on you then, and, entirely fueled by the intense feeling pumping through his body, the pure need to serve you - he began pumping his fingers faster. Though it was clumsy at first, after a few moments, both of his hands fell into a natural rhythm with each other. His fingers circling your swollen clit became well timed with the thickness of his fingers pumping in and out of you, and in a few minutes - it became perfect. 

You went from letting out a few solitary sounds to every other one of your breaths becoming a moan, your lips perfectly parted, showing him how well he was doing. 

When he saw your heated eyes and your lips wrapped around those moans so perfectly, that was when he knew it - that was a face of desire. The one he would spend the rest of his days trying to recreate in you. 

“So good, baby.” You moaned out, your words becoming less durable as he stole them away with pleasure. “Go harder.” 

“Harder?” He warbled back. 

His wrist was beginning to shake, not used to this kind of repeated effort. (Truthfully, he wasn’t used to any more effort than hefting around a thick book for a while.) But he would keep it up for as long as it took to make you cum. He would do it until his arm fell off if he got to see you fall apart beneath him. 

“Yes, harder!” You confirmed, giving a firm tug on his hair to encourage him. 

Spencer let out a sharp whimper at this, and angled his elbow further between your thighs, trying to put less strain on the muscles of his wrist so he could do as you instructed. 

He began rubbing your clit with more urgency, and fucked his fingers into you even harder. He let out a moan as the sound then got to his ears - the wet slapping of his knuckles smacking up against the edges of your cunt, so rough and careless. He really was fucking you, he was taking over your body at your command, his touch was being used for your pleasure, and you were definitely being pleasured by him. 

“Spencer!” You howled, a sound that would stick in his mind forevermore. 

It was something that caught his entire body on fire in seconds and made his dick ache with red hot pin-pricks. He was surprised that he didn’t cum in his pants from that alone. But he was far too concentrated on keeping up the pace, fascinated by the way your pussy spasmed around his fingers, the way your thighs jolted and shook in a similar fashion that his legs had a few nights ago. 

“Oh, Spence! Good boy! Good boy, oh-!” 

You let out a sharp gasp and your head tilted back, and you seemed to gulp for air for a few moments while he continued to brutally fuck his fingers into you and rock his fingertips against your clit, angling your hips into the touches as though you were trying to get more from him. 

Though it seemed impossible, his knuckles were flooded with an even further wetness. And though he almost couldn’t bear to look away from your face, he did chance a glance down to your beautifully raw, fluttering pussy and saw that there was a distinct puddle of wetness on the sheets below you. You were the most gorgeous fountain he had ever seen. 

If he didn’t think it was out of place, he would have leaned down to lick you, curious about what your natural wetness tasted like. 

“Oh, Spence!” You squealed, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it almost seemed like you were trying to squirm away from his touch. “Oh - oh, baby! You can s-slow down now! You did - did s-so good!” 

Spencer slowed down, as instructed. And then - when he put it together in his mind, he gently eased off touching you entirely, feeling your pussy spasming and throbbing harshly under his touch. It was fascinating really, the way your body responded to him. He badly wanted to explore it more - explore it for hours uninterrupted. But for now, he had a simple question. 

“Was that the orgasm?” He wondered aloud. 

The unadulterated curiosity bleeding through his voice when he said this had you clenching hard around his unmoving fingers, so entirely turned on by the fact that he was just as awed by you as he was fine art or any thousand page encyclopedia. 

You couldn’t hold back the bright, breathless chuckle that escaped your lungs in response. 

“Yes, baby, that was the orgasm.” You told him. “What did you think?” 

“That was… spectacular.” Spencer told you, sounding almost as breathless himself. 

“You can pull your fingers out of me now.” You instructed, feeling slightly sensitive, unconsciously clenching around the digits and accidentally overstimulating your raw pussy in the process. 

“Oh. Right.” Spencer mumbled. 

He moaned quietly as he did so - loving the purely wet sound it made, like pulling away from a good kiss. He found himself in awe of the string of wetness that followed his fingers from your opening, like a thick string of salvia. He began rubbing his fingers together, studying it with utter fascination as you watched him with that concentrated look on his face again. You wondered how you had stumbled upon such a treasure of a man. 

Your eyes fell from his face to the prominent bulge of his cock still pressing into the front of those thin pink pants, the wet spot his precum made now even wider, and you immediately came up with a new idea. 

“Why don’t you touch yourself for me, baby?” You posed. “Your hand is already so nice and wet.” 

“Oh - I - I - should-?” Spencer stuttered out, looking from his glistening hands to the tent in his borrowed pants, a million thoughts flying through his very vast mind. 

“Hey, shh, it’s okay.” You soothed him gently. “Just tell me if that’s something you want. Yes or no.” 

“Yes.” He said, a desperate whisper on his lips. “Can - can you untie my pants for me?” 

You hummed in agreement and reached over, untying the well secured knot on the pants and then pulling the loose waistband down over his thick, excited cock, letting it spring out to hit his pelvis. He moaned quietly at this. 

“Make yourself cum for me, baby.” You encouraged him. “You were so good for me, you made me cum so good. Such a good boy. You deserve this.”

You began running your fingers through his hair again, something he seemed to heavily enjoy. Spencer - now wildly chasing his instincts, working on need alone and trying to push back all those doubts, reached out with those glistening fingers and gently dipped into your pussy again. The contact on your beating folds caused you to gasp, and Spencer shuddered slightly at this, mumbling out at an excuse. 

“I wanted-” He muttered quietly. “I just… wanted it to be wetter.” 

“Good boy.” You moaned out. You definitely didn’t want to discourage him from doing things like this. 

You wanted to mention the fact that there was a bottle of lube sitting less than a foot away. But clearly he had developed a fascination for your wetness, and you didn’t want to stifle that fascination in him or embarrass him. 

Spencer then took those slicked up fingers and stroked them across his cock. Just the knowledge that it was your wetness, the essence of your pussy touching his cock - that had dizzying waves fluttering through him that almost had him crumbling to fall on top of you. 

It took all of his remaining composure to stay upright. He was so furiously turned on that his cock was leaking precum like a sputtering faucet. He easily took advantage of that, cupping his hand into a well-known grip around his shaft and spreading that natural lubrication down from the sensitive, leaking cockhead to the rest of his dick. This caused his neglected, needy cock to easily light up and unconsciously buck into his own hand. 

“‘s too fast,” He whined out. 

His face took on a desperate frown as he continued to pump his hand over his cock almost mildly, almost as if he were afraid to go harder. 

He looked so beautifully wrecked - with his brows creased downward and his lip caught between his teeth, with that messy hand pumping his own leaking cock. 

“Too fast?” You asked, unsure what he meant. 

“It’s - it’s not-” He stuttered out, his brain becoming scattered and wordless to describe the feeling rushing through him. 

“Hey, shh,” You scratched your nails against his scalp again, grounding him. “Use your words, baby. Come on, be a good boy.” 

“Mommy!” He whined, his hips bucking forward desperately into his own hand, wetly smearing precum to the point where it became noisy. Your pussy throbbed at this and you resisted the urge to reach down and touch yourself, not wanting to distract him. 

“Baby, come on. Tell Mommy.” You ordered firmly. 

He sniffled loudly before he attempted more words. 

“Gonna end too fast.” He whined sharply. 

He sounded entirely petulant - as though he were truly upset that he was going to cum too soon and the night’s activities would be over. As though the two of you didn’t have plenty more nights to play. 

“It’s okay, baby.” You told him, reaching a hand over to thumb across his cheek, wiping away some of the frustrated tears that had escaped. “You did so good for me. You’re so good.” 

“I want more.” He whined out, clearly frustrated. 

“Mommy will always give you more.” You assured him. “But right now, you’re gonna cum for me.” 

He let out a wounded noise, some kind of protest, but his hips jolted as he continued to fuck his own hand. You had him right there. 

“Cum for me.” You demanded, your voice dark and demanding. 

It was a command he absolutely couldn’t ignore if he tried. 

“Mommy! Oh! Oh!” 

He let out a sharp cry as he came, and pumped himself through it. 

Neither of you had considered where he was going to cum. On his knees in front of you like that, he ended up in the perfect position to spill his load right onto your exposed cunt. Just like the last time you had played, he exploded with a massive power. Though he didn’t seem to have any care for where he was angling his cock or what he was cumming on, simply continuing to chant ‘oh, oh, oh’ under his breath with his eyes beautifully screwed shut and his mouth wide open, delicately pumping his hand on his cock to ride his orgasm all the way through. 

Thick, white waves of his cum landed on your pussy - startlingly warm, almost blazen hot compared to the cool air of the room. Something that easily made you moan, especially when paired with the beautiful sight of his orgasmic face in front of you and the way he so carelessly fucked himself, clearly only wanting to achieve his own pleasure and not caring if it was a good show or not - which was what made him so damn beautiful. 

When Spencer had milked himself dry, his cock starting to go soft in his own hand and the pleasant tingles becoming more like harsh pin-pricks of overstimulation, he put a hand on the wideness of your thigh for support, his muscles shaking. And then he finally opened his eyes. 

He felt even dizzier when he saw the sight before him - your gorgeously lingerie clad body and naked pussy now covered in the thick white of his spend. A small voice in the back of his head wondered if you could get pregnant from this, and another told him that - yes, it would be good if you did. You would look so good pregnant with his child. A child the two of you made together would be smart, beautiful, charismatic, brilliant and perfect in every aspect. 

He hadn’t even fully acknowledged that he was in love with you yet, but that was the moment he knew for certain that he wanted you to be the mother of his children. There was no other woman in the world who would be comparable to you - no other woman as perfect for the task. 

(He didn’t know that you were on oral birth control, so it didn’t matter if he had cum inside you - you weren’t going to get pregnant. Not without intending to.) 

“Oh, did I-?” He motioned toward the mess, seeming worried. 

Before he could apologize for it, you reached your fingers down and began lightly padding through it, and Spencer let out a wrecked moan at the sight. 

“You did such a good job, baby.” You told him, still entirely certain. 

Before he could comprehend it, you brought a finger up to your mouth - one covered in the combined essence of yourself and Spencer, and curled your tongue around it, moaning at the taste. Spencer could do nothing more than make unintelligible noises, and you giggled as you released the finger. 

“Good boy.” 

Spencer was dizzy and hazy from all the pleasure, and there was only one thing on his mind. 

“Can I have a hug now?” He asked, his voice still sweet and soft. 

“Yes, baby. Come here.” You spread your arms wide and Spencer practically launched himself at you. 

He laid completely on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him, stroking up and down his back lazily as you enjoyed the peaceful calm of his breathing. 

After only a few moments, you felt him start to fall asleep like that. His muscles turned to jelly, and his breathing came out in long, soft puffs. He looked so adorable nuzzled into your breasts that you didn’t want to wake him up, even if the drying mess between your thighs was becoming uncomfortable, and you knew that he definitely wouldn’t want to sleep in it for too long. 

You continued petting your fingers through his hair gently. You would wake him up in a little while and get cleaned up, you assured yourself. 

You definitely weren’t falling for him, feeling things that extended far outside of sexual attraction. 

Nope. Definitely not.

...

If this series is going to get a third part, I would love to see more than 30 comments and more than 60 reblogs, and I would love to know what you guys would like to see from a third part in the series.

I will be honest, I am kind of starting to lose steam on this series already - the reason I have titled is as a Capsule Series on my masterlist is because I want each individual part to be able to be read as a oneshot with no particular big arcs in the story, and no need for a big dramatic ending. Also, if I do come back to this series in a few months or years and want to write more for it, I can.

If you have any ideas for this series - kinks/concepts/moments you want to see happen with these characters, please let me know. Even if those moments don't make it into a full-length third part, I might write your idea into a short spin-off like I did with Loverboy. I always leave the anon option turned on so people can send me messages if they feel shy or they don't want to reblog a fic onto their blog.

[luvlunajpg]

Insecurities

♡ pairing: johnnie x Plus size female reader

♡ summary: You caught johnnie doing something unexpected which ends up in losing your virginity

♡ classification: fluff and smut

♥︎ anon note: hey guys! Luna here ( ^ω^ )

This fanfic was requested by a fellow reader from my previous fanfic. This was a challenge for me as insecurities comes in many forms and i fear that i would trigger any of my beautiful johnnie girlies out there :( . I sincerely apologise if there is any part of the story triggered you or made you feel like its not accurate to what body insecurities actually feels like. Some people go through insecurities differently and i really want you to know that no matter how different we are, everyone is beautiful periodt. I love you guys so much! Thank you for the love and support on my previous fanfic.

XOXO Luna ♥︎

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆.✧˚ ༘˚⋆ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆

You and Johnnie have been dating for awhile and today just happens to be your anniversary with him. Since Johnnie is busy streaming, you suggest that the both of you to stay at home to watch movies and cuddle the whole night. You and johnnie were never the kind of couple to celebrate publicly. Both of you prefer to just spend time with eachother at home where you and johnnie can have more privacy.

You prepare the blankets, pillows and picked up the delivered food at your doorstep. After preparing for the night you giggled at the set up and took a picture to post it on social media. After admiring your efforts, you head over to Johnnie’s office to peek on his progress on the livestream. As you were few steps closer to his office, your heart immediately sank hearing your boyfriends moans and groans through the door. Your brain was flooded with all kinds of scenarios. Was he lying? What is he doing? Is he facetiming another girl? Why is he moaning like that? Why would he do that during a livestream?

You spare no time and immediately slammed the door open. Johnnie gasped and threw his phone across the room and tries his best to hide his boner. You were in tears, your heart broke into a million pieces, you couldn’t stop sobbing and soon enough you fell to your knees in front of him.

“Noo.. baby please.. i’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ johnnie got cut off by sharp slap across his face

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WOULD CHEAT ON ME ON OUR ANNIVERSARY JOHNNIE HOW COULD YOU!” You cried to your hands feeling your heart crumble even more hearing him apologise. Johnnie sigh and grab his phone to show you a picture of yourself in a skirt and heart garter suspenders. That picture was posted this morning as you just put that outfit together for an upcoming concert next week.

“I was masturbating ok… Im sorry Y/N you look so hot in that outfit i couldn’t help myself. I know how you feel towards sex and i respect that but i just can’t help myself. I’m- i’m so sorry Y/N..” johnnie sighs in disappointment.

He cups your face before breaking down into tears, leaving you more heartbroken than before. You’ve always told Johnnie how insecure you are with your body which made you never want to lose your virginity anytime soon. You have always been on the plus size side ever since High school, you have never had a boyfriend and Johnnie just so happens to love you just the way you are. But you were not ready because you were afraid of the way Johnnie would see you afterwards. You have zero experience in sex and you’re also insecure on how you would look like during sex. After seeing your boyfriend sob on your thighs, you start to realise how Johnnie is more than perfect to be the one to be your first. He has been accepting your flaws since day one and still continue to accept it until now.

“Johnnie.. i’m ready.” You lift johnnie’s head to meet his teary blue eyes.

“No baby please, i don’t want to force you. I want you to be sincerely ready.” Johnnie shook his head and holds your hand tight.

“I would never want to lose it to anyone else Johnnie Guilbert. I want you to be my first.” You smiled at him to assure him that you really wanted this. Johnnie pecks your forehead and tells you to get yourself ready so that you are more comfortable. You nodded in response before heading out to shave, shower and wear an outfit that was meant for Johnnie only. A black bra and the same miniskirt and garter suspenders that was in the post. After looking at yourself in the mirror for one last time you head to you and Johnnie’s shared bedroom only to see the room being dim and a few rose petals sprinkled on the bed.

“You like it..? I want it to be more romantic for us.” Johnnie asks as he wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you from the back. You turned around and kissed Johnnie on the lips feeling his lip ring brushing against your lips

“Its perfect my love” you stroke Johnnie’s cheeks as he admires your outfit. He bit his lips admiring you from head to toe as he lightly pushes you on the bed. He strips himself leaving him with only his boxers and continue to kiss you passionately. Your tongues are wrestling in eachothers mouth as Johnnie unclasp your bra exposing your nipple piercing

“Holy fuck Y/N…” johnnie groans as that is his first time seeing them. You immediately got embarrassed and covered your boobs, feeling your face heat up every second. “Hey baby.. its okay. They’re so beautiful. Can’t wait to feel them against my tongue” Johnnie assures as he slowly removes your hands pinning them above your head as he licks the tip of your nipples gently before swirling them around in his mouth. You were a moaning mess, it felt so good you threw your head back on the bed. Johnnie moves on from your nipples and leaves a trail of kisses from your chest all the way to your belly. He removes every last bit of your clothing leaving you naked infront of him, johnnie steps back abit to see his beautiful naked girlfriend laying down infront of him. You felt your insecurities rising from the tip of your toes to the roots of your hair, you immediately sit up and covered your body as your face turns red again.

Johnnie smiles in awe as he removes your hands from your body kissing every part he touches.

“Baby you’re so beautiful… don’t cover up. I love you so so much, the wait was so worth it my love” johnnie says as he leaves kisses from your face all the way to your entrance.

He licks his lips before dragging his tongue on your entrance causing you to moan and grip onto his hair. Johnnie smoothly licks your folds as his thumb massages your clit leaving you a moaning mess under his touch. As you grew wetter, johnnie removes his boxers pressing his hard length against your wetness. He gives you a peck on the nose before pushing himself slowly into you causing you to groan as you feel your walls stretch around his dick. Johnnie gives you time to adjust as he never stops giving you kisses on your neck and face, he holds your hand tight to give you more support. You nodded to assure him to continue, johnnie nods back in response thrusting slowly in and out of you leaving him a groaning mess.

“Fuck! Y/n you’re so tight” Johnnie moaned out as his thrusts are getting faster and harder, but not hard enough for you to feel pain. You were moaning against johnnie’s chest as you feel yourself coming close.

“Fuck johnnie! I’m going to-“ your sentence got cut off as you squeal and cum all over Johnnie’s big length. Seconds later Johnnie pulls out and cum all over the bedsheet as he rolls his eyes to the back before plopping himself down onto the empty spot beside you. After the both of you catch your breaths you wrap your arms around johnnie’s chest cuddling into his skin.

“happy anniversary my beautiful queen” johnnie says as he kisses your head before heading to sleep with you.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆.✧˚ ༘˚⋆ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

[bleedinqdove]

May i req a Rocky Rickaby x fem or gn reader whose relationship is like Jessica and Roger Rabbit? Or Morticia and Gomez Addams? Everybody’s stunned as to how Rocky, the fucking CRAZY MAN OF THE CENTURY, managed to bag the only cat whose looks are beyond his level. And their personalities are like the textbook definition of opposites attract. Reader doesn’t care though, they’ll still be devoted and loving to Rocky ‘till the day they die.

(Bonus points if the reader is an artist like him, and is also touch starved as him)

You can do this req later or delete it if u wanna, no pressure! I really love your writing ❤️❤️

Rocky x fem reader with a relationship like Jessica and Roger Rabbit

A/n: Sorry this took so long! Was busier than expected ;-;, but anyways this was a really fun request to do as well! You guys send such great requests.

SFW but a bit suggestive towards the end.

-Anon you are absolutely on to something here let me say.

-Compared to Rocky’s more chaotic personality, you are more elegant and poised, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less passionate. You both share that fiery desire for one another even if you two couldn’t be any more different at first glance.

-You’re mainly known around the block for your fashion and self expression, not being afraid to experiment and be bold with your styles. So no doubt that’s how you first caught Rocky’s eyes.

- And Rocky quickly caught yours with the beautiful way he played the violin and his bizarre yet impenitent personality.

-What can I say, tormented artists that were made for eachother.

-You have Rocky wrapped around your finger, and he’s hopelessesly devoted to you. Any time he’s near you he just can’t help but smile and admire you…sometimes you can even catch his tail wagging-

-Your touch has him over the moon, and even the simplest scratch of the chin causes him to get all giddy with delight.

-He’s your number one supporter and defender. He takes great delight in seeing all the different outfits you make and the clothes you design, and if anyone has a problem with what you’re wearing he’ll make sure to deal with them accordingly.

-He’s very protective of you and has no issue of dealing with tomcats who are a bit too flirty with you. Just walks right up with that sharp-toothed smile of his and barely veiled threats of violence.

Right as the intermission starts Rocky hops off the stage and makes a beeline for you. A soft smile crosses your face as you greet him, beckoning him to sit next to you. However a passing tomcat gives you a suggestive comment and wink before walking away.

Rocky’s immediate reaction is to get up and follow that bastard, but he is stopped by you hooking a finger around his suspenders and pulling him back. You didn’t want him to waste his time talking to some greaseball when he should be talking to you. Plus he couldn’t be getting into fights this early into the night.

“Sit down Rocky.” You say looking him in the eyes.

“Yes Ma’am!”

-Make no mistake you’re just as protective as well. No one gets away with disrespecting your man.

-If someone is talking particularly loud during one of his performances, you shoot them a dirty look that shuts them up real quick.

-And if anyone dares to flirt or insult him in your presence, they’re in for a treat. While not as publicly confrontational as Rocky, you’re just as disturbing, if not more, with your confrontations.

-You wait until they are decently away from the crowd, or alone until you walk up to them with a sickly sweet smile painted on your face. The way your face and tone seem so calm, yet your words are vile and not to mention your eyes piercing right through them.

-Needless to say you consider your job done once they’re scared shitless.

-Rocky sometimes spots you doing this and it makes his heart swell with gratitude and pride. You truly care about him!

-Yeah you two are insane for eachother.

-While you dont mind PDA, Rocky appears to be the more clingy one in public. Which you don’t mind either you enjoy his touch. You even give him the occasional kiss here and there.

-But in private it’s a whole different story.

-It’s hard to tell if you’re stuck in Rocky’s grip or he’s stuck in yours. You find it hard to keep your hands off him!

-Rocky no doubt enjoys all this attention you give him, most days when you two come home after a long night he finds himself covered in lipstick stains from your kisses. His least favorite part of the day is washing it all off, he’d like to wear them proudly.

-You hate when he’s away all night doing bootlegging runs. It’s on lonely nights like those that your touchstarvedness truly shows.

-But Rocky is quick to make up for all that lost time.

You watch as Rocky passes the last of the stolen booze to Freckle, who walks out of the garage leaving you and Rocky alone. At first Rocky did not notice you were there as he closed the trunk. In fact he almost bumped straight into you as he turned to follow Freckle.

“Oh! Well what brought you down here dear?” He asks, his eyes widening in surprise and excitement. Rocky was more confused if anything, you usually never go into the garage. However you knew why you were in here, you didn’t know if you could last another hour without Rocky! You let out a dramatic sigh as you lean against him and he immediately wraps his arms around you.

“I just missed you, that's all honey…though I do have a certain request I’d like to make if you don’t mind…?” You asked as his ears perked up in interest, he seemed even more inclined after you started to play with his tie.

“I know after these little runs you like to stay at the speakeasy a bit longer…but I’m oh so tired and just want to wind down…would you like to come home with me Mr Rickaby?”

Your smirk grew wider as you tugged on his tie bringing his face closer to yours. “You think you can help me relax…?”

Rocky’s tail shot straight up as he looked at you, a wide grin on his face as he nodded his head. It didn’t take a lot of convincing with him.

“Yes Ma’am!”

[megamindsecretlair]

Thinkin' 'Bout You, Part 3

Pairing: Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Infidelity. TOXIC FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) teasing/mocking, cum play, spanking, dirty talk, degradation kink, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Use of n-word. Referring to female anatomy as "she".

Summary: As a sneaky link, Stunna is highly demanding of your time. He doesn't care if you get caught; when he wants you, he wants you. Your man takes you to a neighborhood block party that you're determined to have fun. That is, until you're introduced to Stunna and his wife.

Word Count: 8,379k

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: I'm sorry!!! I didn't intend for this to be so long. Let's all say thank you to @planetblaque who always helps me achieve greatness with these ideas. I had a really suck ass day and this healed me. LOL Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot

You haven’t seen Stunna in a little over two weeks. Lyin’ ass nigga. You were irritable and ornery. Your friends and your man noticed the difference in you and you blamed it on the planets. You blamed it on PMS. You blamed it on anything but that bum ass nigga who was just supposed to be a good time.

This nigga really had you checking your phone multiple times a day. Things between Malcolm and Stunna were ramping up. Both were on high alert and had been making moves on each side. You only knew this because your man was plugged into all that shit. He wasn’t a top dog but he wasn’t a corner boy either. 

He never mentioned Stunna by name but you knew that once you heard about Malcolm, Stunna was likely doing shit too. And fuck him, you missed him. 

You sucked your teeth for the hundredth time as you got ready for this funky ass block party. You were not in the mood to be around others nor were you into being shown around like a pony. It was the one area where you and your man did argue. It was like he was with you just to show his boys that he could get with you. Which was wild, because he wasn’t ugly. Not by a long shot. 

You finished with your hair and makeup and looked at your stank face in the mirror. This was such bullshit. Stunna was not your man. He had an entire wife that he was likely dicking down, cooking for, and showering with presents. The more you thought about it, the more you got mad irrationally. There was no way you were catching feelings for this nigga.

You were just addicted to his dick. Addicted to the way he held you like he loved you but fucked you like he hated you. Your man was too gentle for that and it was why you loved him. But why was it so hard to get fucked? 

Your pussy was mad. That’s what it was. Your pussy was calling the shots. “Guess what bitch, you belong to me,” you said. You took a deep breath and looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You are that bitch!” You told yourself. It sounded silly the first few times you tried this, but you found that the more you practiced, the more your brain listened and you truly felt like that bitch. You had two niggas sprung off of you. Not many could say that and not get caught up. 

You looked at your outfit on the bed. Some silly jeans and tank combo that would have looked great on you. You didn’t want to look great. You wanted to look fuckable. You had been telling yourself that time with Stunna was limited anyway. Stunna going silent on you was the best thing that could have happened. 

The trash took itself out and now you could focus on your man. Focus on getting him so hot and bothered that you cut out of the stupid ass block party early. You wanted him to be desperate to rip your clothes off. To push past that little hint of shyness he clung to in the bedroom. 

You flipped through your closet as your man came into the room. “Is you ready yet?” He asked.

“Not yet. Changed my mind on my outfit,” you said.

“Gah damn! You been getting ready all day!” He said. He sucked his teeth and went back to his phone. Always on his damn phone. If he wasn’t so shy, you’d swear that he was cheating. He had the better morals of you two. And you would not pick an imaginary fight just because you were missing dick that was never yours to begin with. 

You walked over to him in your dark silky panties and pressed your chest against his clothed one. “We could always stay home and have some fun,” you said. You rubbed his arms and he let out a slow breath.

“Fuck, don’t do this to me,” he said. He kissed your cheek. “I would love to take care of that. But if I don’t show my face, I ain’t family. And you do not wanna know how these niggas treat you when you ain’t family,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and peeled yourself off of him. “Come on, babe, don’t do that,” he pleaded. 

He stepped forward but you lifted a hand. “Bye nigga, let me finish getting ready,” you said. You wouldn’t look at him until he sucked his teeth and went back out into the living room. You closed the door behind him with a sigh. 

Was there a way to combine your man and Stunna? Stunna’s desperate neediness and your man’s quiet consideration? You liked cuddles and shit, being wrapped up in your man’s arms. But you also liked getting the coins knocked out of you. 

Decisions, decisions. Maybe it was time to move on from your man. You hated to have to kick him out. You couldn’t afford this place on your own and you doubted that you’d find a new man willing to pay all your bills and not wanna move in. You loved Nandi but you could not have her as a roommate. Shit. 

Now you were back in a funk as you searched through your clothes. Hanger after hanger and none of the shit felt right. Looked right. If your man didn’t want to suck the jelly out of your pussy, then you would make that nigga jealous. Make sure everyone else at the block party was thirsting after you whether they had someone or not. 

Your hand stopped on a bodycon dress. Army green and ribbed. Halter neckline. Ouuu. You stared at it. You were supposed to wear this around Stunna. You used the money he gave you to buy yourself a number of dresses, sexy panties, and a few pairs of shoes. Things that you could take pictures of yourself in or have him appreciate for half a second before he was lowering you on his dick. 

Well, the nigga ain’t come around. And was your life supposed to stop simply because he couldn’t be bothered to text? All that “miss you so much baby, can’t wait to get in that pussy baby” shit was all a fucking lie. 

Your phone chimed from your dresser. You lifted the dress out of your closet and brought it over to the mirror. You placed it in front of you to see how your body was looking and if you wanted to wear it. You peeped your phone.

Satan: where you at, babygirl? 💦

You: 

You stared at the screen debating if you should answer or not. This was your big chance to end it for good. He couldn’t have possibly thought that you were going to come running whenever he snapped his fingers. Or in this case, hit you up like everything was fine. 

He had you out here acting out of character for dick. It was good dick, mind you. Phenomenal dick. But not enough to make you forget who the fuck you were. 

You: out.

The three dots on your screen started up immediately and you muted his conversation. The nigga could be mad. At the end of the day, he didn’t know where you were and he wasn’t going to show up while your man was here. Stunna was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. 

You grinned as you threw on the dress, feeling immediately sexy in it. You bought it with money that wasn’t yours and you looked incredible in it. Your ass was fat and you played with your butt, looking back at yourself in the mirror to watch it jiggle. All you were missing was Megan Thee Stallion pumping through your speaker. 

However, your man nixed that while you were getting ready. You typically wouldn’t let a man tell you what to do, but he did make sense. When the queen was on, it added at least one more hour to you getting ready. 

You bent over in your closet to find some all white sneakers you could throw on. You had an anklet that you got on a girl’s trip to New Orleans and you wrapped the shiny green beads around your right ankle. 

You found a shredded jean jacket in your closet and tossed it on. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked good and felt good. Your hair was in an updo and doing what it do nicely. Your makeup was flawless. You felt so pretty. Fuck all these niggas.

Weak as you were though, you couldn’t help flipping your phone back over to see the dozens of texts from Stunna.

Satan: out where?

Satan: baby?

Satan: You see me texting yo ass.

Satan: I know I been gone, but cmon

Satan: really? This what we doin’?

Satan: out where? 

He began to call you by your name in the thread, getting more and more agitated the longer he didn’t receive a response. Good. Let the brat know how it feels to be ignored. Let’s not forget, he was not your man. 

You left the room, putting your phone in your pocket. “Okay, ready,” you said. Your man got off of the couch and that damn phone. He whistled as he looked at your outfit. 

“Damn, you look good!” He said.

“Yeah, I know,” you said. You opened the front door and descended the steps. It was a nice, breezy night for once. The heat from earlier didn’t want to lose its grip, so it was a welcome change to the unseasonable chill. 

“C’mon girl, you gon’ be mad at me all night?” He asked.

“Maybe,” you said. You folded your arms across your chest and waited for him to lock up behind you. You weren’t really that upset that he didn’t want to stay home instead. It was that at the end of the day, he was always going to run behind his friends than cater to you.

Women were always expected to drop everything for their man. To fall on the proverbial sword time and time again to lift him up to greatness. Where were the niggas that…liked women? 

Niggas fuck with women, tough. It’s some type of rite of passage to get a girlfriend, treat her nice, get some loving. But it was always an argument outside of that. Where to eat, what to do. And when you made a fuss that you actually had interests that did not involve watching niggas play 2k with their boys on the mic, suddenly you were nagging too much and needed to go sit down.

The system was fucking broken. Niggas got their freedom and acted the fuck up. You knew it wasn’t all niggas. But you were damn tired of searching through the haystack for a good needle.

Finished, he moved beside you and grabbed your hand. You snatched it back and took off down the street. The block party wasn’t too far so you didn’t have to worry about sweating out your hair and makeup. But it was a brisk walk that you set. Maybe the exercise would burn off this lingering pressure.

Pressure that felt like you were going to combust from not getting some dick. Not even your man touched you. Because you were in such a pouty mood over Stunna’s dumb ass. 

The further you walked, you heard music and laughter. Seasoned aromas from the grill made your mouth water as you thought of what you would get. Some ribs? Chicken? You couldn’t decide as your stomach rumbled letting you know that it was past time to eat. 

Your man put his arm around you, pretending to his boys that all was fine and that you were the love of his life. Sometimes you don't feel like it. You let him though. It was easier than listening to him bitch and complain later that night. 

The party seemed to ramp up as true night made everyone relax and hang out. The music was thumping and people were greeting each other, playing spades in the corner, or talkin’ shit. You spotted Nandi and Brooke over by the drinks and you kissed your man’s cheek and told him where you were going. 

“Girl, what’s wrong with you now?” Brooke asked.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. You grabbed some Hennessy off of the table and poured a generous amount. You took a sip, letting the sweet cognac burn your throat. 

“Yo ass always got a damn attitude now, snapping at people and shit.” Nandi held her hand out for the Henny and you handed it to her. 

“I just be going through shit!” You said. You sipped more and the alcohol slowly worked through your system. Your shoulders loosened up and you swayed to the music. You may have drunk it a little too fast, but that was okay. You’ll get something to eat and it'll balance itself out. 

“Shit like what?” Nandi asked. 

You felt cornered by your girls and you eyed them both. The urge to spill everything was strong. Strong enough that you even opened your mouth but you resisted at the last moment. You sipped your drink and looked around for the food. 

“Just shit,” you sighed.

Brooke looped her arm through yours and you walked as a trio towards the food. Heavenly aromas of chicken and ribs made your mouth water. The mac n cheese was almost gone so you knew it must’ve been fire. 

“You gotta stop keeping stuff bottled up inside. That’s why ya ass mad all the time,” Nandi said.

“Mhm, that’s right. You know we got you!” Brooke said and shook you. You giggled even though you weren’t truly up to it. You didn’t want them to worry about you. 

“I’m fine, I promise. I’m just sick of my man sometimes,” you confessed. There, they could chew on that. 

“You know he treat you good, which is rare these days,” Brooke said.

“Preach on it!” Nandi raised her hand as if she was in church and agreed. You giggled and shook your heads at them. It was hard to be in a pissy mood when they were around. 

You had managed to avoid checking your phone all night. You were sure Stunna sent all kinds of nasty messages calling you out of your name. Not knowing what he said was giving you a power trip. He could have gone radio silent. He could be fuming. The world would never know.

For the first time in two weeks, that boulder on your back felt lighter. You grinned at your friends, letting the alcohol give you a bit of “fuck it” attitude. Your man dragged you to this bullshit but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have fun.

“Uh oh, we in trouble,” Brooke said. 

Nandi called you by your nickname, the one that meant no responsibilities. Or a fake name you gave to dusty niggas who were only entertaining for an hour. You grabbed a plate of food, the steam reaching through the styrofoam plate. 

You sat and chit-chatted with your girls, cleaning your plate clean. Then you grabbed another drink and headed to the middle of the street, singing and rapping along to the current song. 

You had drawn a small crowd, people following your lead to dance. A circle formed with people taking turns showing off their moves. Choruses of “ayes” and “okays” were chanted in unison, turning it into a giant communal experience. 

Someone tapped on your shoulder and you turned to see your boyfriend. “Hey baby!” You said. You threw your hands around his neck and kissed him sloppily. He kissed you back, chuckling at your changing attitude. 

“Feelin’ good off that drink, huh?” He asked. 

“Real good,” you slurred slightly. Your eyes were half mast and you were swaying to the music. You were glad you wore sneakers. Trying to be cute while gone on the drink was not a sexy combination. 

“Come on, I want you to meet some of my peoples,” he said. 

You sighed and stomped your foot. “But I’m having fun!” You said. 

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s real quick, I promise,” he said. He kissed your cheek and you groaned. 

“Fine,” you said. You told your girls that you’d be right back and they better hold your spot. They giggled and agreed, telling you to hurry back.

Your man held your hand as you walked onto the sidewalk. You walked towards a couple. There was a plump woman with beautiful curly hair, a dark pink shirt and leggings. The man wore a gray Henley with the top two buttons undone. The sleeves were pulled up on his forearms. A gold chain sparkled every so often as the street lamps hit it.

“Baby, this is LaTrice and her husband Big Stunna,” your man said.

Your breath seized in your chest. You would have coughed if you had any air in your lungs. Your lips stretched into a smile as you shook hands with LaTrice. “Nice to meet you,” you said. 

It was only by experience and repetition that made you recite the words automatically. She smiled at you. “I love your hair,” you said and grinned. 

“Thank you! I love yours!” She said. 

Stunna’s hand was warm in yours. Even smack in the middle of your significant others, he held on a second too long. “Nice to meet you too,” you said. You kept eye contact with him to a minimum.

The alcohol in your gut turned sour as you ran your tongue across your teeth. Your heart beat thundered in your chest. Your man pulled you into his side and you wrapped your arm around his middle and damn near leaned your head on his shoulder.

“We know each other from way back on the block. LaTrice didn’t play that shit. You weren’t gonna bully her,” your man was saying.

“Damn right. Fuck anyone who try,” she said. She fist-bumped your man and you smiled. 

“You must have embarrassing stories about him from way back when,” you said. As long as you focused on LaTrice, you were okay. You were vibrating with energy. There was unrestrained anger, irrational jealousy, and outright longing. You just wanted to sink into Stunna’s arms and breath in his delicious cologne. 

He looked damn, fucking good too. That Henley and chain combo was doing wonders on your body. Hearing him laugh was making your pussy throb and thighs clench. You crossed your legs and then immediately uncrossed them. You didn’t want Stunna to get the wrong impression. 

LaTrice pulled a few stories out about your man and you teased him, throwing extras on it. You poked at his cheek and hip bumped him. You squeezed his cheeks and planted a little kiss there at all the stories LaTrice told you.

You weren’t doing it to make Stunna mad. Okay, you weren’t only doing it to make Stunna mad. You were a little too gone, tipsy on its way to drunk, and you couldn’t help feeling up on him. You damn sure couldn’t do it to Stunna. 

“So what do you do?” Stunna asked you.

You were forced to look at him. The venom in his eyes could fell a horse. You swallowed a painful lump in your throat and you cleared it by drinking more. Stunna brought his own cup to his face. 

He threw his arm around LaTrice and hugged her close. You explained your shit job and downplayed the description. It wasn’t a glamorous job and it didn’t really matter because he already knew this shit. 

Fucking bastard. You licked your lips and tangled your hand with your mans. “Baby, I need another drink,” you said. 

Your man looked like he wanted to die. As if you were committing some kind of grievous sin by asking for a drink around Stunna. Yeah, yeah, you knew the mu’fucka was important. Didn’t mean shit. Your other personality was out tonight and she was still in “fuck it” mode. 

“Ya’ll have a good evening,” Stunna said. His eyes were for you though. He was not smiling. You smiled sweetly. 

“It was great meeting you both!” You said. You turned away with your man and walked down the street toward the drink table.

“Yo, what the fuck?” Your man asked, as soon as you were out of earshot of Stunna and his wife. 

“What?” You asked. 

You poured yourself some more drink. As you did, your traitorous eyes went in search of Stunna. He was already facing you. He had positioned himself to stand facing the street. His boys were talking to him, but he was drinking from his red cup and eyeing you.

You turned away to look at your man, already sipping your own drink. Maybe you could drink enough to bypass the horny. You were already planning to ambush your man after this was over and finally get some dick. But after seeing Stunna…

“You know what! I’m trynna introduce you to my world and you off being rude and shit. Those people are important! You can’t just worry ‘bout yourself when they around!” 

You waved your hand at him. “Back up, nigga and quit talkin’ to me like that,” you said. “I don’t give a fuck who it is!” 

“You need to. Because all that money you like spending? Come from him,” he said.

Your face split open and you started to snicker. Stunna was paying for your lifestyle twice. It really shouldn’t be funny. You did really feel bad about stepping out on your man. There was no excuse for it. 

But your man just had no fucking idea. You looked back towards Stunna who was still watching you like a hawk. You leaned closer to your man. “You know I appreciate everything you do for me, baby,” you said.

You tried to kiss his cheek to put on a good show for Stunna. Your man moved his cheek at the last moment. “I fuckin’ hate when you get drunk,” he said. 

“I just fuckin’ hate you. You bummy ass nigga,” you said. 

“You just get mean. You can’t handle that shit. You need to figure out why you chasin’ that shit so hard,” he said.

“Say another fuckin’ word,” you said. Your words were slow and measured. 

“You’re a mean ass drunk!” He said. 

You laughed and got closer to him. “Don’t bring yo ass home tonight,” you said. You walked away, walking back over to your girls and the music. You were out of Stunna’s eyesight. You were burning.

Fire danced just beneath your skin. The Henny made a dangerous cocktail in your gut. You were horny as hell, pussy throbbing and aching just from looking at Stunna. But you were also mad as hell. Why were you trying so hard to make this shit work with your man?

You were clearly total opposites. Wanting different things. Hell, he looked dead at yo ass in your panties and no bra and thought, “Time to go be with my niggas.” What? All this ass and…nothing? 

You told your friends what happened and a chorus of, “Fuck that nigga” rang out. You agreed. But it did nothing to put out the fire inside you. 

You just needed relief! You needed that sweet relief that came from a thorough claiming. You were sweating as if you ran a marathon but you refused to take off your jacket. You didn’t want Stunna walking by to stare at what wasn’t his.

You sighed as you pulled out your phone.

Satan: OH, like that?

Satan: You gon’ wear the dress I got you for that nigga? Kissin’ on him all in my fucki’n face??

Satan: Just ain’t gon’ answer me, now? That’s what we doin’? 

You put the phone away and focused on your girls. You were going to have fun and that was all there was to it. The music turned up louder, the circle still going. You hopped in the middle and began to twerk, shaking your ass and putting the bodycon to good use. You knew your ass was jiggling in all of the right ways. 

When you left the circle, your eyes immediately found Stunna. He was standing with LaTrice with his arm around her and sipping out of his red cup. You wiped the sweat from your brow and rolled your eyes.

Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. 

You cheered your girls on as they danced but you were starting to get woozy from the drink. You stumbled over to the drink table, grabbing some water. 

“Say what’s up shawty.” You looked up and scrunched up your face. A dusty mu’fucka dared to talk to you. His teeth were yellow and stained brown, crooked, and his nose went in the opposite direction of where it should be. His outfit was a size too big, hanging off of his thin frame. 

“The sky, nigga,” you said and sucked down the water. 

He sucked his teeth and called you a bitch. Whatever. You stumbled closer to the nearest house so you could lean against it. Your eyes were crossing. The ground was spinning beneath you. You put the cool water bottle against your forehead. 

“Shit,” you groaned. You did drink too much. Henny always made you act the fuck up. And you always regretted it. And yet, when you went out to a function again, Henny was the first thing you reached for. 

You took deep breaths until the lights stopped spinning in front of you. You lost track of Stunna. Wherever he was, you knew he was wrapped around LaTrice. You had no right to be jealous but you were. You wanted to be tucked under his arm. Shown around by him.

It was corny when your man did it but if Stunna did it, you’d preen and giggle like a schoolgirl. 

You stood up, ready to head back to your girls when something gripped your hand and yanked. You took a deep breath, ready to scream. 

“Shhhh,” Stunna said. His other hand covered your mouth to prevent you from screaming and giving yourself away. 

He pulled you in between houses, past the gated fence, and into a random neighbor’s backyard. There was a tiny shed back there with a door already propped open. You struggled against Stunna’s hold but he held firm. 

He tossed you inside the shed and you stumbled over boxes and knick knacks on the ground. There was a table in the back filled with various tools. Stunna closed the door, shrouding you in total darkness. 

“Turn on the light,” you said.

“No. Fuck you think you doin’?” He asked. 

You could only rely on your intuition and the scent of his cologne as he crowded your space. “Move nigga!” You screamed, pushing against his chest. He barrelled forward until your ass pressed against the table.

“You don’t answer my fuckin’ text messages and then you show up here with that nigga?” He asked.

“That nigga is my man! You are not!” You pushed against him again, but your mind was back to swirling. Tipping. It was somehow worse in the dark. Robbed of sight to keep your equilibrium, the ground felt shakier than ever. 

“Fuck that and you know it!” He yelled. 

“Fuck you, Stunna! You’re here with your whole ass wife! What, you was gon’ fuck me on your way to the block party? Make LaTrice sit out in the car while I suck your dick?” 

You placed your hands behind you, to steady yourself on the table. It was still in use so it wasn’t overly dusty, but it was still gross. You hated this. You hated being so near him and couldn’t claim him. Couldn’t name these feelings inside.

“And if I did? Your little ass belong to me,” he said. His hand found your throat and you hated how you responded. Hated that your eyes crossed and thighs clenched. 

“I don’t belong to shit,” you said. 

“Mhm, bet you if I lift this dress, that pussy gon’ be singing for me,” he said. He brought his lips close to yours but didn’t kiss you. He smelled like he drank just as much as you did tonight. 

Your hands gripped his wrist. His smooth skin was hot to the touch. “Stunna, this is fucked up,” you said.

“You sayin’ I’m lying?” His lips moved against yours as he spoke. He was so damn close. He breathed out and you breathed in. It made it dirtier and naughtier that you couldn’t see him. 

“Tell me I’m lyin’ and I’ll leave this mu’fucka right now. Tell me you ain’t fuckin’ dripping under that sexy ass dress. Shaking that ass that’s meant for me. You know I’on like that shit,” he whispered. 

“This is my dress, Stunna.” You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t even lie. “Where’s LaTrice?” 

“Answer my fuckin’ questions!” He slammed the table behind you and you flinched away. He still held you by the throat so you couldn’t escape him. Lord above help you, but you were even wetter. 

“I’m not answering shit, nigga!” You yelled. 

He chuckled and a fan of sweet alcohol fell across your face. He finally kissed you roughly, pressing his lips to yours enough to bend your head back painfully. You melted instantly, moaning and leaning into the kiss.

He pulled away just as roughly and sneered. “Tell me you want me to rock that shit,” he said. He placed his forehead against yours and breathed for a few moments.

You wished you could see his face. You wished you could see him in the light of day. But it would always be sneaking around with him.

“Fuck you, Stunna,” you said. You reached down to feel his chest. Lowered your hand until you were cupping him. He groaned from the contact. He was already so long and thick. His erection was straining against his jeans and you moaned. 

He began to kiss you again, moving his hand from your throat. He gripped and squeezed your booty, molding his big hands to the globe of your ass. You moaned, finally feeling some kind of comfort. Some kind of proof that you meant something to somebody. 

His tongue was thick against yours, exploring every corner of your mouth. You heated up for entirely different reasons. He moaned into the kiss, stepping closer. His erection pressed against your belly and you moaned.

Your pussy already clenched, thinking of that dick sliding inside of you. 

As he kissed you, his hands slid your dress up. You helped him and moaned when cold air hit your legs. He moved his hands beneath your panties, growling at finding it wet. “Knew yo ass was fuckin’ soaked.” 

“You know Henny makes me horny,” you said.

“I make you fuckin’ horny. Quit playin’ with me,” he said.

“Know your lane,” you said. He chuckled and kissed you again, sweet this time. You didn’t want sweet. You bit his lip and he hissed, jerking back from you.

He was right back to kissing you with more force. He lifted you and helped you sit on the table. You dangled off of the edge. He scooted in between your legs. “My lane is between these thighs. My lane is making you scream my name while I’m in that shit,” he whispered against your lips. He trailed kisses down your neck. He unzipped his pants and lowered them, scooting you closer to the edge.

He placed his mouth over your titty through the fabric and he bit down enough to tug on your nipple. “Oh fuck!” 

He pulled your panties to the side and then you were gasping at the fullness of him. The sheer magnitude of being filled with him. This was also a new position for you. He had bent you in so many ways before, but it was never this intimate. This close. Pressed chest to chest and breathing each other in. 

He began to rock inside of you, pulling all the way out and then slamming back in. “Daddy’s sorry,” he said. 

“Fuck!” You cried out. Your thighs tingled as you locked them around his waist. He pressed sweet kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and lips. You held on to his shoulders because right now, that was the only solid thing for you. In the darkness, you didn’t know which way was up or down. There was just him. 

“I know this little attitude is because you’re mad at me. Because I promised to deliver and I dipped. I had to take care of some business but I won’t be gone that long no more,” he said. 

As he spoke, he rammed inside of you, sliding with ease aided by your horniness and the alcohol. 

“You can’t promise that,” you said. “Ouue, shit.”

How did he make every glide seem different? Every hip thrust a different word, every groan a different tune? You felt weightless, gone off of the Henny as you were, but you were also attuned to everything he was doing. Moving. Saying.

“I can. And I’m sayin’ I’m sorry. That Daddy gon’ stick around and take care of his princess,” he said. 

You moved your hands down to press against his chest. He knew he was swinging too much dick to be going at this type of pace. He moved your hand and placed it behind you, using force to keep your hand where he wanted it. 

“Fuck you, I got a man,” you said. Stunna switched up his strokes so that he seemed to hit deeper and you cried out, throwing your head back.

“Yeah, me,” he said. He pressed his lips against yours and you were both fighting for control. Fighting with wet, sloppy kisses to see who would win out on top. Mama ain’t raise a quitter, so even as he tried his hardest to make you fold, you wouldn’t.

Not until he gave up control of your hands and brought those long fingers to your clit. You were already coasting close to your orgasm but you were holding it at bay. Too focused on making him see that you didn’t belong to each other. 

He hissed and moaned when he made contact and you were gone, clutching to him and screaming out your orgasm.

“Say my name, baby. I’m the one making you feel this,” he said. He continued to flick your clit as you convulsed and broke. Shattered. 

“Fuck! Stunna!” You finally relented. Let him have this fucking victory. Let him have it all. If only he could keep doing this. Keep bringing you to the edge over and over again and letting you fall over it safely into his arms. 

“Sound so pretty when you cum. Daddy gon’ make it up to you. Can you get away tonight?” 

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. But your other persona was still out, still riding the drink, so you nodded. “I’ll have the house to myself,” you said. 

He continued to ram into you chasing his own pleasure while you were still trying to recover from yours. He kissed you, sloppy again until he was moaning and releasing inside of you. He pumped a few more times as if he wanted to keep it all in there with just the power of his dick.

You giggled a bit and stilled, dick convulsing. “What’s so funny?” 

You goofily told him and he chuckled, kissing your forehead. “Goofy ass. I’ll see you in an hour,” he said. He kissed you as he slipped out of you. He kissed you while he zipped himself back up. He kissed you while he moved your panties and helped you off of the table. 

He cupped your face in his warm hands and kissed you, tongue licking your lips. “An hour,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, hurry up,” you said. 

He left first, slipping out of the shed and back into the thunderous noise of the party. You stayed behind, five minutes and then ten minutes. You were still trying to catch your breath. Still trying to piece yourself back together after finally getting what you wanted. 

At what cost though?

When you were sure that you could walk without falling, you left the shed and closed the door behind you. The party was starting to wind down anyway. Your friends were dancing on random men so you didn’t bother saying bye. You didn’t see your man either. Good fucking riddance. Asshole.

You walked home in a dreamy haze, the alcohol still buzzing through your veins. You overindulged, that was on you. But you were also finally getting a night with Stunna. An entire night where you could find and lose each other’s bodies over and over again. 

Making it home, you entered the house and locked it behind you. You had some time before Stunna showed up, so you stripped down to your bra and panties, threw on some good R&B music, and dipped into your personal stash of Hennessy.

You were swaying to the music when you heard the soft knock on your back door. You crept to it and peeked behind the curtain. Stunna stood there in all his glory, that Henley was still doing wonders on you even though you already got your orgasm. 

As soon as you let him in, he grabbed the drink from your hand and shot it back. “I could have poured you one,” you said. 

“What’s yours is mine,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. He was still trying to push that he was your man. Despite showing his wife all around the block. But you weren’t here to argue. You weren’t here to lie. 

You walked into his arms and tilted your head up. He grinned, wrapping his hands around your waist, fingers sliding down to grip your ass. “You forgive me?” He asked.

“Nope. I’m trynna see what apology dick feel like,” you said. He laughed, throwing his head back. You cherished the sight. 

He swayed to the music, dancing with you. You put your head on his chest and rocked with him. The music filled you up like water pouring from a cup. But there was a deep urge, a yearning to consume him. 

You pulled him by the hand towards the back bedroom. You had kept all the lights off in the house. Not that you were trying to hide what was going on in here, by much. But you had found something in the darkness with him and you wanted to know if it was still there. 

In the bedroom, moonlight slanted through your blinds illuminating part of the bed. Stunna was mostly in shadow as he stood beside you. Part of his face was brightened by the moonlight and you took a moment to breathe him in. Take your time. If one night was all you had like this, then you wanted to make it last.

“Apology dick huh?” He asked.

You nodded. “I kinda like you sayin’ sorry for once,” you said. 

He laughed and pulled you closer, wrapping his hands around you once more. He kissed you and nibbled on your lips. “I am very, truly, deeply sorry,” he said. He slowly pronounced each word so there was no confusion.

He cupped your cheeks and kissed both sides, both of your eyes, across your forehead, and finished on your lips. He kissed both of your hands, bringing it to his lips with a quiet sigh. He dropped down to his knees and kissed your bare tummy, lips tickling you as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for making you worry.” 

He pulled your panties down and helped you step out of them. He kissed your thighs and then gently pushed you onto the bed. You sat down and he grabbed your feet, fiddled with your anklet with a smile and then planted soft kisses there and then rubbed them.

You moaned and closed your eyes. You didn’t think that your feet hurt all that much. You wore comfortable sneakers. But his thumb pressed into your arch and your back curved, thrusting your titties out. 

He spread your legs and then set to work taking off his shirt. He kneeled closer, breathing deeply. His tongue darted out and began to lick and tease your entrance. He used his hands to spread you open, bare yourself in the most primal of ways.

He glanced up at you and you grinned at him. He then got to work eating you out like it was his entire reason for breathing. His lips teased your clit. His tongue darted in and out of your entrance. You were a moaning, crooning, sloppy mess under his masterful tongue. 

Your fingers slid into his hair and tugged and pulled as you licked your dry lips and caved to the unrelenting pleasure. He made out with your pussy. So much so, you half thought you were intruding on a private moment. 

You sat up a little to look at him at work. It was like he was praying between your thighs. On his knees, devoted to your pleasure. He worshiped at your altar, moaned hymns into your pussy, and gave offerings with his tongue.

One of his hands left you and you heard his zipper get pulled down. He moaned and the vibrations tickled your clit. His arm jerked as he pleasured himself while he made out with your pussy.

Your pussy fluttered and a moment later, you were clinging to his head as you smashed your pussy into his face, cumming without abandon. You screamed and cried out, shaking and trembling with pleasure.

Stunna stood up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. His chain looked damn good around his throat. He stepped out of his shoes, pants, and briefs. He made you sit up so he could take your bra off.

“Forgive me?” He asked.

“I ain’t heard no apology,” you mumbled. 

“Like that?” He asked. “Yo little bratty ass get on my fuckin’ nerves.” He smiled but you knew that you really did get on his fuckin’ nerves. It should make you want to behave. He was really good when you behaved. 

Before you could respond, he grabbed your ankles and yanked you further down the bed. You yelped and giggled as his gaze turned feral. His eyes were drooping, smiling out the corner of his mouth. 

He pulled your legs up higher to rest on his shoulders. Your toes barely reached behind his neck. He lined himself up dipping into your pussy once, twice, and then slammed in on the third one.

“Shit!” You yelled. You dug your elbows into the mattress to try and get up. He held firm to your thighs. 

Then he pushed forward, your knees grazing your chest. You heaved but couldn’t find enough air. “St-Stu-” 

“I missed you too, baby. Now accept my goddamn apology,” he said. He rammed inside you. 

Your eyes crossed and your body drooped down onto the bed, all the fight leaving you. He smacked your face, a tiny sting bringing you back to the present. “You gon’ accept my apology?”

“Nuh,” you moaned. He couldn’t expect you to speak while he had you in this position. He already fit snug as a bug, but now he felt even tighter. Your pussy sucked him in and didn’t let go. Didn’t want to let him go. 

He had to feel the quake in your thighs. See the desperation on your face. The way you gasped and wailed for air. 

“Grippin’ the fuck outta this dick. Fuck! Missed this fuckin’ pussy. Daddy missed the fuck outta this pussy,” he moaned. 

Tears sprang to your eyes as you needed air but needed to cum even more. He pushed forward still, rutting inside of you. His chain bounced on his chest with the force of his thrusts. Your legs had no choice but to bend and open wide to accommodate him. He pushed your thighs as far back as they could go. Damn near touching the bed.

Stunna moved his face towards your titties, suckling them into his mouth and pulling.

“Stunna! Stunna! Fuck, that shit hurt!” You yelled. Hurt and felt so good, so magical. The bite of pain was its own shot of alcohol. He lifted his head and watched your eyes get watery. 

“Accept my fuckin’ apology,” he said.

“No-o,” you moaned. 

He increased the pressure of his thrusts, slamming into you with force. You scooted up the bed with each intense stroke. Pressure built up in your hips. Your hearing went out one ear. A tinny ring fought for dominance in your mind but you could only focus on that elusive feeling. 

That whisper of an orgasm. The calm before the storm. 

His balls slapped your ass. Your essence pooled out of you and soaked your thighs. Made a mess on the sheets. His grunting joined the fray. The moonlight caught glimpses of his sweat pouring down his face.

“You ain’t gettin’ this nut till you accept my goddamn apology,” he said. He started to slow down, slowing his strokes but they were no less powerful. That whisper was starting to drift on the wind.

“Wait!” You said. 

“Yo hungry ass want this nut, don’t you?” He asked.

“Yes!” 

“Been needin’ this nut so you can act right, huh?” His hips dipped with his stroke and you moaned.

“Yes! Fuck!” You cried and bounced on his dick, needing him to go faster. He was already impossibly deep, the Henny making him last longer like a little demon. 

“You gon’ answer my texts?” He asked.

“Stunna, please, baby. Please! I’ll be good,” you whined. You didn’t know how the balance of power shifted. You didn’t know where you lost him. Perhaps he was just out of apologies to dole out, not used to the word falling from his lips. 

He slipped out of you and you cried out, reaching for his hands to pull him back towards you. He grinned evilly and stroked himself a few times before joining you on the bed. 

He laid down on his side and then pulled your right leg up. His right arm came around to keep it up. Satisfied that you would keep your leg in the air, he grabbed his dick and slapped it against your pussy.

The wet smacks and hint of pain made you moan and bite your lip. “You gon’ answer my texts,” he said, his voice raspy and low. He slid inside you and you groaned. 

His arm came up to pinch your nipples, tugging on them as he started to move faster, slide in deeper. He pulled a little too hard and you cried. “Yes! Daddy, fuck! Yes, I’ll answer your texts!” 

“All of my texts. Don’t you ever leave me on read again,” his pants blew across your ears as he slammed inside of you. He moaned and groaned, couldn’t help his dick from burrowing inside you and carving a space with his name on it. 

“I won’t!” You moaned.

He moved his hand to your mouth, pushing three fingers inside. You happily sucked on his fingers, your head growing fuzzier. 

“Shh, Daddy’s talkin’,” he said. 

Your wet gulps and moans quieted down as he kept going. “You’re my fuckin’ bitch. And when I wanna get in this pussy, ain’t shit you can do to stop me. If I wanna fuck you before a party and got LaTrice outside in the whip, the fuck you gon’ do?” 

Oh god. You were on that precipice again. Your lower belly ached. Pussy throbbed. Talk of his wife waiting outside while he fucked you stupid should not turn you on. And yet you were leaping off of the cliff.

Your body was soaring, flying, so high in the sky that you couldn’t see the bottom anymore. He moved his fingers away so he could hear your cursing, moaning, and screaming as you flooded his dick with your essence. Your whole body shook and convulsed. 

Stunna wrapped his hand around your throat and thrust in earnest. You thought he was already hitting your shit, but he got up on his elbow and thrust as if there was no end in sight. As if you could consume him. Gobble him up. 

“Accept my fuckin’ apology,” he screamed in your ear.

“I forgive you!” You managed to say around the hand on your throat. 

Like it was the starting whistle, Stunna moaned and pushed inside, climaxing. His eyes rolled back, mouth open wide, as a shiver overtook him. Like he had been tense these past two weeks, bottled up, and found heaven as he came.

“Sheeit,” you whined as you felt his dick pulse and stuff you to the brim. 

Stunna shook himself and slipped out, lifting up higher so he could watch his cum slip out. “Goddamn, babygirl,” he said. His cum continued to leak out and he groaned, pushing himself back in.

“St-Stunna!” You cried.

“I know baby, I can’t help it,” he said. He kissed your cheek and moved down to your neck, sucking on the tender meat.

Stunna eventually stilled, slipping back out and laying back against the sheets. The moonlight hit him just so and you sighed, both at the picture and the intense moment. 

You couldn’t move. You were blissfully fucked out, pleasantly sore, and so deliriously happy you had no words. 

Stunna stared at the ceiling with you, too busy gasping for air to say much of anything as well.

The moment didn’t need words. It transcended them. You always thought it was bullshit that you shared energy when you had sex. The shit just always felt good. But with Stunna, it was incredible. Mind-blowing. There was definitely a give and take of energies. You just weren’t sure what you would gain from him or what he took from you.

Stunna snaked his hand down towards you to tangle his hand with yours. You smiled as sleep tugged at you. Your blinks slowed until your eyelids were practically stuck together. You fell asleep to the soothing snores of Stunna.

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 1 | Part 2

[shapelytimber]

Look, social media aus are very dumb but fun to do fklxkdk Illya would make short videos (mostly) about fashion, and Napoleon would be very unsubtle about being a Spy

I am formally apologizing to the uncle fandom for tiktoker Illya Kuryakin, I have no regrets (also @quijicroix is part responsible, being my evil advisor)

Here are the posts in details, and the profile pics :)

[COMMISSIONS]

No process this time, just me yapping for way to long about every choice and refs that went into this dumb au below vvv

Illya is younger than Napoleon (I usualy headcanon him at around 25 and Napoleon 35ish), so I think their use of social media would be quite different : hence Illya on Tiktok and Napoleon on Instagram. Also it's not the 60s so Illya can be like 10% less reppressed :)) but as a debuff Napoleon now has the technology to call him a nerd

Illya's page started as a cover for some affair, but he ended up kinda enjoying doing it in his free time. It's like a hobby for him, a way to experiment with fashion ! It's what made him want to pursue fashion design as a career after his curent spy job. And also I think he gets more and more nervous the more followers he gets, because as a spy having a chance to get recognise in the street is really bad dkdldlos Napoleon teases him endlessly that he became a tiktoker (as he should)-

Did I, at one point in the project, had to scrap the thirst trap idea to keep the fashion nerd vibes ? Yes I did, but just know he uses the "twink" tag :)

• The first post is a ref to the discotheque affair, not the best episode and a great miss for not including a disco Illya outfit, so I made him one to match the other :D

• The second is to the Hot number, but he gets to wear the thrush pattern !

• The third one is what made me do all of this ! Because, if you're not french, you might not know about one of my favorite yearly twitter threads : Met Gala outfits as INSEE graphs by Clara Dealberto ! Don't care about the met gala, but this is very funny :) and such a Illya Kuryakin thing to do kdkdkd

• fourth one isn't fashion related, it's a ref to popart and the "he has Dostoïevski eyes" line that made us laught a lot

• A little Fiddlesticks for the dog post, because it's a banger episode. Plus a nod to he dog expert from it, with whom Illya had palpable sexual tension fkfkfkl I like to think they kept contact ;) (shoutout to this fic (Intensity by AconitumNapellus) who absolutely get the vision, 10/10 guy to "cheat" on your boyfriend with)

• and the final one is a make over because of course it is

As for Napoleon, being older and less invested in this, an instagram made sense. But crutialy, I get such strong modern oss117 vibes from Napoleon (the way he shoots his gun, the goofy faces, the awkward stance everytime he enters a place, the inexplicable in universe rizz...) dkfkldls modern oss117 was a parody of both 60s james bond and older oss117 movies, but I'm now convinced they also whatched some uncle while doing these, it's just so obvious- anyway all this to say, in the second movie oss117 has to pose as a photographer and gets way too invested in his cover (it's his thing don't question it), and at the end of the movie we get to see all the photography he took during his mission..... Let me tell you how hard it was to resist him having an instagram full of blurry women on the street (canon 60s napoleon would have done it I'm sorry)- but what I kept was the pretty "badly" shot pics of random things, tho you sometimes get the odd decent pic taken by Illya. And he gets to be in a duck floatie as a treat and nod to oss <3

• Pinned post is because it became frustrating for him having to respond to people asking him if it was his real name or if he was a far right french man simping for Bonaparte

• first post is not a ref, but if my very sexy flat car was burning in the desert I would take a pic (ft Illya despairing) kdkdkd

• Duck floatie is a oss117 ref

• selfie with a beautiful woman (ft his finger), no ref I just love drawing women

• also Fiddlesticks for the cute Napoleon fox !! And to kinda link the two profiles :)

• and finaly Spy with my face ! He tried taking a picture of his date (I'll let you decide who it was), but oops front facing camera kdkdkdk

Can you tell I had a lot of fun doing this ? I love this show way to much omfg

PS : if you've never seen the recent oss117 movies, you should they funny ! But oh god some jokes are terrible- the first one is the best, minus one gay joke frankly not great. They nail the gay joke in the second one but oh god... They do not always win the 'is our character a piece of shit or is the movie problematic' gamble so be aware of that. And the 3rd one is shit don't bother

PPS : I don't use Tiktok, I tried my best to emulate the feeling of it but be aware I have no idea what I'm doing dkkdld

[hoeforalbedo]

ᗪEᗩᒪ ᗯITᕼ TᕼE ᗪEᐯIᒪ ✟

Chapter 1

———————— ♱ ————————

WARNING: PLEASE READ

Sensitive topics including vague details of SA. Reader will display many mental health such as depression, PTSD, and anxiety. I will also discuss after effects of said trauma such as hyper sexuality, over-sexualizing oneself, over trusting, and many more. (Many cope in different ways however I am more familiar with this side of the spectrum as I have taken this information from my experience.) Suicidal topics. Horror. Manipulation. Blasphemy. Religious horror and possibly hints of religious trauma. Demons. Paganism. Witchcraft (I try to depict witchcraft as accurate as I can however if I make it too accurate, it will seem boring so I did add magical abilities. I write it based off of how I practice it). Possession. Death. Murder. Exorcism. Sex. Ritualistic sex. Female reader. A bit of crack (reader doesn’t take things seriously. Humor is the way of coping 😭)

If any of these themes trigger you, please do not read. You have already been warned.

Writing criticism is appreciated since I want to get better in writing.

SUMMARY: Everything is normal. I mean it. I swear.

———————— ♱ ————————

You went home feeling at ease and as you laid on your bed, you realized that maybe you should have invested in therapy. Hongjoong isn’t really qualified to be a therapist but he works just fine, plus he’s free.

Hongjoong is an interesting man. A hypocrite. A man so corrupted feels so tantalizing, like the fruit Eve was warned not to eat. The devil, these thoughts, they whisper at you, feeding you delusions of this man. You feel. . . Loved. Is that the right word? Love is a strong word and you just met the man but you just felt a strong connection. Maybe it’s because he gave you that ounce of validation you craved.

“You shouldn’t be going out on your own. Especially not with these serial killings going around,” Hongjoong joined you at the pew. You stare at the huge crucifix above the altar with contempt. You may have really come back at the wrong time. The small quiet town has been experiencing some serial killings. Many say it’s the devil. Others blame you, although it ultimately leads to the devil. Seriously, why can’t they just admit that some fucked up person did it?

You shrug nonchalantly. “We both know, nobody gives a shit about the murders. Plus, I didn’t want to be in that house. All I hear is their constant yapping of God.” You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. “It’s always God this and God that. God can suck my dick.”

“Do you resent God?” He asks curiously.

“Yes. Very much,” You scoff. “Isn’t it obvious? You know, after the talk we had at the confessional booth, I did something bad. I prayed to the devil,” You smile.

The man raised a brow, almost leaning towards you. “Did you now?” He asks with amusement laced in his voice.

“I did. I prayed that he would kill that motherfucker.”

“And?” He asks almost excitedly. Why is he feeling this way? He should be scolding you.

“I was watching the news and found out that he died. He was murdered. They also found that he was a predator. I think his other victims may feel some sort of relief that he’s dead,” You chuckle, as if the man’s death was the bare minimum.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.” A comfortable silence falls between you for a moment before you speak up. “Although there’s gotta be a catch right? Maybe he wants my soul? Is my soul even that yummy?” Your brows furrow and your lips fall into a pout as you think deeply.

“Now why would you think that?” He chuckles.

“I’ve sinned,” You shrug.

“Sweetheart, I doubt those sins are enough. Hell is full of evil, and I promise they’ve done more than steal a pack of bubblegum,” He jokes.

You look at him offended, “Hey I’ve done stuff! And you’re a weird priest. Shouldn’t you be like ‘demon bad’ instead of indulging me?”

“Well you’re weird for admitting to a priest, but if you ever need an exorcist, you can always call me,” He smirks.

“Y’know, you look much cooler in this outfit,” she hums, admiring how handsome he looks in the typical black outfits priests wear with the white in the middle of his collar. “The robe thing you wore on Sunday made you look short.”

Hongjoong gives a playful glare at you. “Give me five Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers.”

———————————————————————

“Where did you go? Do you not realize how dangerous it is right now? Especially for a woman? Your father’s been throwing a fit, asking where you are.” Your mother drags you in and closes the door.

Despite it being modern times, your mother, along with other women in the town, played into this 1950s wife role. She wears a typical red plaid dress and despite being in the house all day, her hair is done along with wearing heavy makeup. Your mother prided in having red lipstick.

You recalled how comforting she was, humming as she cooked the meals. She never let you go to school without breakfast, saying how “It’s the most important meal of the day.” You’d force yourself to finish the whole plate then went to school despite your parent’s lack of dreams for you.

“I’m a grown adult and I have a scalpel. I’ll be fine,” You groan, tired of always hearing her lectures. “And I was at the church,” You add in hopes that it would shut her up. Satisfied, your mother let go of your arm and you went up the stairs to your room.

The room remained the same after all those years. There’s a desk in the corner and multiple bookshelves, from textbooks and just books of God. You weren’t allowed typical books such as Harry Potter as it apparently promoted witchcraft.

Your queen size bed is against the wall with your nightstand beside it. Across from your bed hangs a silver cross that somehow never rusted along those years. You also have drawers against the other side of the wall. It looks exactly the same way you left it.

You lay down on your bed. You’re tired. Tired of everything. The true punishment is being dragged back into this town. You hate it. It’s the literal epitome of hell. This holy town is hell. It’s embarrassing failing a suicide attempt. You had a letter and everything. It’s just pure humiliation when you’re brought back to the very town you tried to escape.

Thud!

You didn’t realize when you had fallen asleep but the loud sound immediately had you bolting up your bed. The sun has gone down. “Oh fuck!” You hiss, tapping your phone to check the time only to be blinded by it. Dark mode isn’t meant to blind people. It’s 2 am.

You reached over your bedside and turned the lamp on, being blinded once more, as your eyes strain to adjust to the light. When has the room gotten so cold? When your feet touch the floor, you almost didn’t want to stand up as it just felt too icy compared to your warm skin. Every step felt like pricks of ice.

It was the crucifix. The nail that had kept it up had rusted and weakened. You bend over to pick it up then walk back to your bed. The crucifix is placed on the nightstand. Now you can’t sleep. Isn’t this what happens at the start of every horror movie?

———————————————————————

“How unfortunate! Absolutely vile,” Your mother exclaims as she reads the newspaper. Who reads the newspaper these days? Your father answers with a grunt.

“Remember Betty? The sweet lady who taught Bible study back in the days? She had been murdered last night! That poor woman,” Your mother sighs, shaking her head then folding the newspaper.

“This is why you have to keep praying or else the devil will take you next,” Your mother lectures.

“That will be the day,” You groan, despising the sound of her squealing voice.

“That’s not how you talk in my house,” Your father yells.

“Then I’ll gladly see myself out,” You smile and get up from your seat, not wanting to finish your breakfast anymore. You hurriedly put your shoes on then ran out the door without lending an ear to the berating screams of your parents.

A walk. You needed a walk. You allowed your feet to take you wherever it wanted and suddenly you found yourself in the woods, where you used to run to, when you were younger. In the middle of the forest, there would be a huge tree, bigger than the rest. The forest seems to be circling it.

“What is a young lady like you doing here?” A woman asks, making your heart skip a beat. Her hair is gray and her skin is wrinkled. Her body is hunched over but despite all that, you can make out her beauty peeking through her age.

“Where did you come from?” You freak out.

“You know, this tree held special meaning,” She absolutely ignores your question.

“That’s nice,” You mumble, not really wanting to hear a history lesson.

“This was where the witches of the town were burnt. This area harbors a lot of pain and turmoil, begging to be avenged,” She smiles wistfully.

“Witches?” You perk up. That’s new. You know about witches after leaving the town. The topic always piqued your interest.

“Oh yes. Oakheart used to be a coven of witches, that is until the Evangelist came and forced us to turn to their God. Others who refused were burned here. My family were ones who played along with the Evangelist but we never forgot,” The woman tells her story.

“Interesting, so like we worshiped Satan?” You asked, not meaning to sound ignorant at all.

The woman chuckles but doesn’t take offense to your words. “The town worshiped more than just Satan. Lilith, Lucifer, The Princes of Hell, Hekate, Athena, Thor, Loki, and so many more deities. It was a coven where people worshiped who they wanted and nobody judged,” The lady explains. “It seems that a deity may have taken interest in you. You have to help them!”

“Huh?” You’re taken aback.

“Help them! Help them! You have to help them!” The woman starts screaming all of a sudden, grabbing onto your arms.

“What is wrong with you!” You wince, pulling away and running off, her screams becoming distant. You kept running and running, occasionally stumbling on rocks. “Stupid rocks,” you curse under your breath.

You didn’t know where you were going. It was all the same looking trees. When you started questioning your location, you eventually found a clearing.

“Thank god!” You let out a sigh of relief. Before you is the church. You never knew the forest was behind the church, only because the forest is so big.

“Y/N,” A voice suddenly makes you jump. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

You clutch your chest to catch your breath. You look up and it’s none other than Pastor Hongjoong. “Yeah I’m fine. I’m fine,” You breathe heavily.

“What were you doing in there?” He looks at the vast forest.

“It’s my favorite place,” You manage to catch your breath.

“You need water?” He offers.

“Yes. Please.”

You follow Hongjoong into the church, going through hallways that the usual parishioners never go into. You could definitely get lost, the place looking like a maze. The walls are the same off-white with occasional paintings of either Mary or Jesus. The overall lighting is dingy and just shabby. There are a few lightbulbs that would blink on and off. It’s almost as if the church doesn’t have enough funding for a proper electrician. With the amount of donation they receive, they should.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong calls.

“Yes?” You turn 90 degrees to come face to face with the statue of Holy Mary.

“Over here,” He calls from the room right next to you.

“Coming,” You answer but you can’t seem to stop looking at the statue. Something feels off, and as you look closely, you realize why. It’s crying. You wipe the tears or water or whatever liquid it was on the statue's face before following Hongjoong in.

“Welcome to my office,” He smiles, handing you a water bottle and telling you to sit on the small couch. “I promise you it’s not usually this messy.”

You look around. His desk is clean however the counter next to his fridge is littered with empty bottles of water, food wrappings, containers, and many more. There are also crumbs of food in front of the fridge. Besides that, it’s pretty clean.

“Oh what’s with that box over there?” You ask curiously, looking at the box with crucifixes, statues, and holy books.

“Well you know how I just started here. I was going to put that around and decorate the place but I never had the chance. You’d never expect that priest could get so busy,” He chuckles. “So? How have you been?” He asks, leaning against his desk.

You shrug, “Same old. I really can’t handle my parents and I really hate this town. Maybe once I get myself sorted out, I’m going back to New York and invest in some therapy.”

“That would be good, but hey I don’t mind being your unofficial therapist,” He gives a lopsided smile.

“I need some professional help too, Pastor Hongjoong,” You chuckle.

“Hongjoong. Please just call me Hongjoong.”

“Got it.”

“So, from what I heard you are a neurosurgeon. A good one?” He asks.

“A very good one. I have very skilled hands,” You smirk, realizing how sexual it came out to be. Curse you and your dirty mind. You’re almost like a teenager, except you gained free access to the internet in your 20s.

“Oh really?” He raised a brow and crossed his arms in amusement.

“Yup. Many would personally ask for me since my hands work amazingly,” You play along. “But seriously I love my job a lot. I want to go back.” You sigh, feeling a sense of sadness. Your parents never really care how successful you are. You have a nice high rise apartment, your name is known, and yet not a single ounce of ‘I’m proud of you.’ “Anyways, what about you? What are you doing here in Oakheart? You could have gone anywhere else so why here- And be honest! I spilled my whole trauma to you!”

Hongjoong laughs, “Okay, okay. I was an exorcist. Well an exorcist in training. Not anymore!” He sighs, sitting next to you.

“What happened?”

“We had to exorcize a demon from a child. The poor child. He was a victim of child trafficking. Of course the Vatican had to determine if it was just mental health problems, but you can’t really blame mental health when the kid is literally flying. Well he was just too weak and well he died during the exorcism,” He rubs his face with his hands.

You put a hand on his back, offering him some sympathy.

“Well in a way I think the demon gave him the justice he deserved. The demon gave him the strength to, uh, to have the power to kill the people responsible for the crime ring. And I believe he never wanted to be saved. When the demon wasn’t speaking, he would beg to die, to give him the permission to commit suicide. I felt his pain. It was very painful,” His voice broke.

You rub circles on his back.

“So yeah, I was traumatized,” He chuckles. “Maybe I should also invest in therapy, too. The Vatican doesn’t really offer those. I know that demons are meant to be all bad but it angers me that the demon did what God couldn’t. Isn’t that weird? A priest questioning God?”

“Want me to be honest?” You ask in which you earn a nod. “That is so fucking weird.”

Hongjoong chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s kinda too late to change careers. I’m already a fucking priest, excuse my language. You need a degree for that. You need a degree to talk about God,” He laughs. “But I agree. This town sucks. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave.”

“Well now I feel guilty leaving you here,” You huff.

“You got space for me?” He jokes.

“Oh honey, I got plenty, and money ain’t a problem either,” You smirk.

“Oh, we’re skipping to pet names now, huh?” He teases.

“Oh I didn’t mean-“ Your cheeks flush pink.

“I'm just messing with you. It’s cute.”

“Omg stop flirting!” You whine.

“Sorry, baby,” He chuckles.

“I'm leaving,” You stand up.

“Oh, I’m sorry. . .” He looks at you guiltily.

“No no, you’re all good. I'm just playing with you. I just get flustered easily. You know, being raised like a holy child of Jesus and all.” You trail off, admiring his perfectly sculpted face.

Hongjoong stands up and takes heavy steps towards you until he’s towering over you. “Well aren’t you a bad girl, playing with a priest like that,” His voice low and seducing.

“I tend to play dangerously. It’s more thrilling that way,” She shrugs.

“You know, Jesus was quite the ladies man,” He hums, lips curling into a devious smirk.

“Where are you getting at?”

“It means,” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear then lifts your chin with his hand. “Even holy men can’t take their eyes off of pretty women, and I’m no exception. May I?” He asks your permission to kiss like a gentleman.

“Yes,” Your stomach flutters as your lips press against another. You kissed with need and desperation, pressing against him. You’ve kissed before. You’ve kissed many, but this kiss tastes sweet and satisfying, perhaps because of how wrong and sinful it is.

Your breathing is ragged as you part from him, yet it seems like depriving him of your kiss would kill him. He captures your lips once more, like a hungry predator, and as he does so, he steps back until he feels his heel backing into the sofa. He sits down, his lips staying on yours like a magnet, and you eagerly climb onto his lap. Your hands ran up his solid chest slowly before wrapping your arms around his neck.

Hongjoong’s burning from the sweltering heat, although unsure if it’s from the kiss or from the sin he’s about to commit. He now understands how Eve was so easy to convince.

“So pretty,” He mumbles as left warm kisses against your jaw and down your neck.

“Joong,” You whisper, tilting your head back. He hums and bit down the side of your neck, not too hard but just enough to leave a mark.

“You taste so good,” He practically moans, indulging in the taste of sin. You reek of sin and it’s all the more sweeter and fulfilling. Hongjoong’s drunk off of it as he’s grinding his hard cock up against your clothed pussy. He’s a desperate man. “You’re so good to me, Y/N,” He whines.

“Oh God, Joong!” You moan profanities.

“He’s not here, darling,” He chuckles. “Can I have you? Please, I need you.”

You nod, “Please Joong.”

He shifts you both so that you’re laying below him. “You look so pretty below me,” He says, admiring how vulnerable and hot you look underneath him. “Can I?” He asks, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“Yes,” You answer. You wanted it. You want it this time.

You arch your back to help him pull your shirt over your head.

“Cute,” He chuckles, looking at your cute pink bra.

“Don’t judge me,” You huff.

“Not at all,” He smiles as he fumbles with the hooks of your bra to reveal your perfect tits. “Fuck,” He groans, feeling his cock constrict from his boxers. He kisses down your sternum as he squeezes your breasts. His fingers brush against your budding nipples.

“Hongjoong,” You hiss, needing to feel his touch.

He clicks his tongue and frowns in disapprovement. “Don’t rush a starving man.”

You complain, “And don’t tease me- fuck!” Your back arches up as his lips wrap around your bud. He is quick to shut you up with a harsh suck. “Hongjoong,” You gasp, tugging on his hair. Your eyes flutter close as you revel in the way his tongue circles your nipple.

It feels so good when suddenly it doesn't. You try to push away that foreboding feeling, images flashing through your mind. Why is it that whenever you start feeling so good, your mind seems to be punishing you. You open your eyes in hopes you don’t vividly see the scene in your head but right over Hongjoong’s shoulder is a cross nailed to the wall. That’s when it hits you that you’re about to fuck a man of God.

Honjoong notices how stiff you got so suddenly and looks up at you with worry. “Hey are you okay?” He asks, immediately getting off of you.

“Yeah, uh, it’s just, sorry,” You wince as you notice how you’re half naked. You immediately sat up, grabbed your bra, and put it on. “Sorry it’s just I suddenly remembered-“

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault,” He says, taking your shirt and putting it over your head. “If you’re uncomfortable with it, I’m not gonna force you.

“It’s just, I do want it. But that stupid man,” you kick the couch in frustration.

“No, I get it. Maybe it’s still too soon and you’re not ready for anything yet.”

“Thank you Hongjoong. Thanks for understanding,” You smile softly.

“No need to thank me. It’s the bare minimum.”

“I typically don’t try to fuck priests,” You crack a joke.

“Well I don’t typically try to fuck parishioners either,” He chuckles. “I get we just met but you’re a really sweet woman and I was hoping maybe I can get to know you more. Perhaps a date?”

“I would say yes Hongjoong but I don’t plan on staying in this town,” You say apologetically. “I might go insane here. Sorry, I just don’t want to get your hopes up,” You force a smile.

“I get it. This town is hell but at least indulge me?” He asks. “Just a date, nothing else.”

You sigh in defeat, falling into temptation so quickly. You do want this date. “Fine. Just one date.”

“Got it. I’ll make it worthwhile,” He smiles.

“Stop being so cute. It’s tempting me to go on more,” You joke.

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t know what you mean.”

You chuckle as you fiddle your fingers. “So uh, I think I should go home. It’s gonna get dark soon and I don’t want to be on the murder list.”

“Ah yes, do you need anything before you go?” He asks.

“No, I'm good.”

“Actually let me drive you home. It's dangerous walking alone and for my sake, I’d rather see with my own eyes that you get home safe.”

You wanted to refuse but he’s right. The murderer hasn’t been caught and there wouldn’t be a date at all if you were to be dead. “Fine.”

“Oh- and,” He shuffles through a box that’s placed in the corner of his office. He takes out a black shawl and wraps it around your neck to act as a scarf. “As much as I want you to show off my marks, I don’t think you’d want anyone to see that.”

“Oh my god you’re actually so sweet. Take me home already or I might cry. Wait a damn second, you can drive?!”

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Hi, I discovered your writing today and I loved it. So I wanted to request the frist years with a partner who is gender fluid.

First Years With a Genderfluid Partner

Characters; Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, Epel Felmier, Sebek Zigvolt

Content; Genderfluid reader (I don't use pronouns though, since everyone's experience is different), fluff, crack, romance, some implications that strangers are rude but not in detail

Word Count; 600+

Author's Note; Sorry that these are pretty short anon (brain is being mean), but I hope that you enjoy!

Ace Trappola

He’s still a little imp, regardless of everything else. But he’s perceptive. He notices the small things; and he’ll reaffirm you as well.

“Huh, they’re not all that bright if they can’t see that you’re obviously the coolest person around,” he’d scoff. “I mean, my dad only allows me one gender- OW WHY DID YOU HIT ME?!”

But he would say things like that, but he does in fact think you are the coolest person around. 

He does take mental notes; of what terms make you happy (pronouns and pet names), what clothing makes you comfortable, and more. No, he doesn’t keep a little notebook, but he has it memorized. 

Deuce Spade

Always checks in to make sure that you’re comfortable; he doesn’t want to screw up, even if it’s something you may consider small. He’s just trying his best and wants you to be happy.

“Wait, do I call you my boyfriend, girlfriend, joyfriend, partner? I want to make sure that you’re okay with it.” He asks that question pretty often, since he wants to make sure that you’re okay with it; you always come first.

He learns more about your identity, only because he’s curious and feels that he needs to do so. Please tell him to put the books down and just come and hang out.

Well-meaning but a little too gung-ho. He just doesn’t want to mess up, but he also wants you to be happy. 

Jack Howl

The most normal of the group; he likes you for you and nothing changes really. He’ll touch in though, making sure that you’re comfortable.

He would let you (within reason) try out some hairstyles or makeup that you want to try out on him. He doesn’t really mind, plus sometimes it takes looking at someone else to realize that that look is indeed a look and a great one at that.

Jack is a pretty large guy, so if you’re smaller than him he raises a brow at you stealing his clothes. But if you’re larger than him? He might wear one of your outfits (he likes lowkey matching outfits couples do).

Super understanding if you have ‘blah’ days, and will let you vent to him. He may not have much to say, but he’s there when you need him.

Scary dog privilege #1

Epel Felmier

He would come to learn more about your identity throughout your friendship before the two of you started dating. May have messed up here and there at the start, but not anymore.

The accent will be coming out if someone is being rude towards you, and Epel doesn’t care if he gets scolded or not; no one treats you rudely and gets away with it.

Pomefiore also helps him understand that gender is a spectrum; nothing is wholey masculine or feminine, that they blur, and that blurring is beautiful. 

“Pardner” is one of his go-to endearments; you’re his partner (in both the romantic, but also if either of you feel like committing felonies).

Scary dog privilege #1.5 (scary like a very yappy pomeranian way)

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek definitely knows a few people who are genderfluid back in Briar Valley; fae live for a long time, so playing with gender is pretty normal. He commends you for being honest with yourself.

Now, he is putty in your hands, absolutely WHIPPED for you. You thought the praise he was singing for Malleus was bad? Well, multiply that by fifty.

But it’s quiet, not shouted. Yes, it is still obvious for anyone to see; the way he holds your hand and looks at you. You are the royal of his heart; his Monarch, King, and Queen.

Would be semi-awkward if the two of you went to a pride event; he just doesn’t know what to really do. He's having fun, just awkward.

Scary Dog Privilege #2

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Tag List; @afunkyfreshblog @bloomstruck @eynnwwyjth @ithseem @krenenbaker @leonistic @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @syrenkitsune @the-v-lociraptor @xxoomiii

[mimicdive]

Proof of Concept?

Summary: Bi!Reader feels insecure in their sexuality and Spencer offers validation. Word Count: 933 Content Warnings: referenced/implied biphobia, no pronouns are used but reader is AFAB, mostly dialogue Author's Note: written for @imagining-in-the-margins's Pride Challenge! written as a combination of the bisexual prompts :)

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As pride merch began to weave its way back into mass-consumer culture, large chains preparing for Pride Month, you couldn’t help the niggling of doubt in the back of your mind. Growing up, sexuality wasn’t an open topic of discussion in your family, and though you’d eventually been able to figure it out on your own with the help of the internet, social media, and several very attractive celebrities, it wasn’t uncommon for you to feel insecure in your sexuality. Bisexuality, despite its status as one of the most common sexualities in the queer community, was often overshadowed, both in your life and in the larger community.

Of course, it was easy to fall into stereotypes–bi with a preference for women, yet still dating a man. Not that you could complain about Spencer, he was everything you’d ever wanted and more. Yet, that doubting of your sexuality still bothered you from time to time. Were you really bisexual if you’d never been romantically involved with a woman? If the only kisses you’d ever shared with a woman were fleeting and meaningless? When the only romantic interests you’d pursued had been male?

It was difficult to articulate, even more difficult to say aloud. Many of your close friends were straight and were unable to offer more than comfort. And your boyfriend…well. You weren’t unhappy in your relationship with Spencer, far from it. Part of you was worried that a discussion about your sexuality would cause him to feel insecure in your relationship, and that was the last thing you wanted. Another more irrational part of you, built out of feelings of shame and doubt, feared that he would confirm your worries and invalidate your sexuality.

Logically, you knew Spencer wasn’t that kind of person. Armed with this knowledge, you brought it up after dinner one night as you were perched together on the couch, watching an old foreign film with a name you wouldn’t even attempt to pronounce.

“Do you think that it’s weird?” you blurted out.

Spencer furrowed his brow and paused the movie. “Do I think that what is weird?”

“That I say I’m bi even if I’ve never been in a relationship with a woman? Or even pursued one?”

Inhaling sharply, Spencer frowned. “Is this your way of telling me you want to pursue a relationship outside of ours?”

You shook your head vigorously. “No, no, not at all. It’s just…you know, Pride is rolling around soon, and it caused a thought spiral, seeing the merchandise resurfacing in stores. I mean, am I really valid in my identity if there seems to be nothing indicating that I am truly attracted to women?”

Spencer visibly relaxed when you clarified that this was nothing about your relationship. He moved closer to you, taking your hand in his and interlacing your fingers.

“Love, there’s nothing wrong with being queer in a straight-passing relationship. And not having previous involvement in romantic relationships with someone of the other gender doesn’t mean that you’re not bi. Sexuality isn’t defined in concrete terms. It’s fluid, and it’s a different experience for many people. Plus, you don’t need to prove it to anyone. You can be attracted to women and never have been in a relationship with one. How you feel is how you feel.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Plus, I’ve seen how you look at the women in your favorite shows.”

Your face heated, and you groaned. 

“And in public, for that matter,” he added with a chuckle. 

You buried your head in your hands. “I was just admiring their outfits…”

“It’s understandable for you to feel the way you do,” Spencer stated, voice taking on a more serious tone. “Society places a lot of pressure on labels and certain boxes you have to conform to if you identify with any label. We’re told how we can and can’t present ourselves. But really, all that matters is that you’re true to yourself. And at the end of the day, you don’t need to have a label if it’s causing undue stress.”

“It feels like I had everything figured out about my sexuality when I was younger. I knew I liked men, and I knew I liked women, and everyone and anyone in between. I didn’t care what other people thought. But now that I’m older, it just feels like I’ve adopted a label that doesn’t matter. All people see is that I’m dating a man, and they make assumptions based on that,” you sighed.

Spencer brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Like I said, it’s about what’s true to you, not anyone else. You’re no less valid for being in a relationship with a man than a bisexual woman would be for being in a relationship with a woman. Bisexual erasure is unfortunately common, even in the LGBTQ+ community, with people preferring absolutes–you’re either ‘gay’ or ‘straight’ or it’s too complicated. You don’t have to ‘pick a side’.”

You felt tears welling up as the burden you’d learned to ignore seemed to dissolve, lifting an immense weight from your shoulders. It’d been eons since you’d allowed yourself to open up and discuss your anxieties about your sexuality in this manner, and to find yourself supported and seen by one of the most important people in your life was ultimately reassuring.

“I love you, you know that?” Spencer whispered. “Your sexuality isn’t going to change that.”

“I love you too.” You paused, squeezing his hand. “Thank you.” 

He kissed your forehead as you settled back in, starting the film from where you’d left off.

[samkerrworshipper]

Begging for you to write something involving Sammy concealing a strap plsss 😘🫶

based off of her most recent pics from the esquire cover….

i know we all want another chapter of 2s a company, 3s a crowd and i promise it’s on the way just taking longer than planned !

warnings: insinuations of smut

———————————————————————

Sam looked utterly delectable.

It wasn’t often that you were able to sit in on her photoshoots, or interviews, scheduling conflicts always seemed to arise.

It was a sacred opportunity, a little special sweet moment that you were more than happy to experience from the sidelines. It was rare that you got to sit on the sidelines, got to appreciate Sam in this kind of way, so you were more than happy to be someone in the background as they got her dolled up.

You could hardly contain yourself when she walked out of the dressing rooms in the first suit, a classic black suit with a crisp white shirt. You almost choked on the air, blinking rapidly as you took it all in.

“You likey chick?”

You weren’t even sure what to say to that, did dogs bark? Was the sky blue?

“Feeling cocky are we Ms Kerr?”

Sam smirked at your, a big fat grin covering her flawlessly makeup covered face, it was rare to see Sam so made up, you loved her in all of her forms, sweaty after games, bed hair in the mornings, but this made you feel things, things you weren’t exactly proud of.

She walked towards you, extending the sleeves of her shirt and two cufflinks. You took the two pieces of cold metal in your palms, before gently taking her hand in yours and beginning to secure the cufflinks.

“Cocky, baby? You wound me, good looking, beautiful and stunning yes, but definitely not cocky.”

You rolled your eyes at Sam, smiling lightly as you continued to work on the starched sleeve.

“Add humble to the list.”

Sam snickered a little bit, your banter was her favourite part of your relationship, you both knew how to have fun, but you also knew where the line was between jokes and going too far.

“Soo, do you like the outfit?”

Sam sounded almost bashful, the previous confidence had faded from her voice, she sounded more raw and hopeful.

You looked up from Sam’s sleeve, again taken aback at just how breathtakingly good she looked.

“Sammy, baby, you look absolutely perfect, the picture of beauty.”

She preened a little bit with your praise, whether she wanted to admit it or not, nobody's opinion mattered to hers beside yours, you were the only person in the world that’s thoughts of her she truly valued.

“Good, now sit here like my good little wag and I’ll give you a reward once we’re done, I’ve got a surprise for you waiting.”

Your whole body shivered as Sam leant down to your ear to whisper the words directly into your ear. You could hardly think with her in that suit, but her in that suit plus the insinuation that she had something planned for once you were done was enough to send off fireworks from your core to your spine.

She pressed a little peck to your jaw before standing herself up, righting her clothes and then walking towards the photographers, leaving you ultimately high and dry.

Sam had done enough photoshoots to know exactly what she was doing, how to pose, how to act, how to smile. It was magical watching her at work, a different kind of work that you were used to.

Dating Sam Kerr ultimately included a lot of pitch-side watching, it was extremely rare that you were ever able to see her engage in this kind of work, you valued all kinds of her work, but this was especially perfect.

It didn’t take her long to get it done, she was well versed in the media and the photographers were extremely happy to let her take the lead and do whatever she was comfortable with.

You just sat on the side, she looked ethereal in your eyes, a figure of perfection.

When she was all wrapped up you were more than happy to follow her into her changeroom to enjoy some peace before you were dragged off to whatever else she had planned for the day.

Sam sat down on the couch in the corner of the room, already beginning to unbutton her shirt loosen the bun that her hair was in.

“Come over here honey.”

Sam pointed to her lap, you were more than happy to oblige her request and walk towards her, setting yourself down across her lap.

“M’ so proud of you, that was incredible.”

Sam smiled at you, pressing a little nudge of a kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you baby, I think it’s time I give you your surprise hmm? You’ve waited long enough.”

Sam’s hands came down to your hips, tugging you further down her lap.

It took you a few seconds to adjust to the new feeling, and once you did your jaw dropped slightly.

You nudged yourself around just a little bit, making sure that your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you, but from further investigation your jaw only dropped further, your mind going dangerous places as the cogs ticked in your brain.

“D-Did-were you wearing that the whole time?”

Sam’s sardonic smile was enough of an answer for you.

“Mm, your favourite one.”

You struggled to contain a moan, as your ass relaxed against the feeling of the hard silicone pressing directly against your muscles.

“Samantha May.”

Sam nudged her hips up against yours, half thrusting the appendage further into your clothed ass cheeks.

“What?”

You bit down on your lip.

“You seriously wore a fucking strap during a serious shoot, what if you’d gotten caught?”

Sam just chuckled, her hands snaking their way around your waist and gently resting on your hip bones.

“Twitter probably would have gone crazy.”

You rolled your eyes at Sam’s effortless excuse, the humour coming to her tongue concerningly easily.

“You're teasing me Samantha.”

Your voice is matter of fact, calm, cool, collected, it’s nothing like what your body is feeling with a dildo pressed directly into you.

Sam leant up to your ear, her breath tickling against your neck.

“Well then, how about I get changed then and we head home, hmm? Or you could just save the horse now and ride your favourite cowgirl.”

It took every part of your self control to not hike your skirt up in that moment and reach down for Sam’s fly, but you had some self preservation, and enough common sense to know that it was not a smart decision to start something here that you couldn’t finish.

“Hurry up and get changed then, before I change my mind.”

Sam practically shoved you beside her on the couch, springing out of her seat and beginning to quickly remove all of her clothes.

You averted eye contact on purpose, you knew that if your eyes came into contact with the strap then you were a complete goner, self preservation or not.

Once Sam was changed and stripped of all the makeup you were more than happy to have her lead you out to the car, with a promise of a good time when you finally made it back to your apartment.