#so i intend to mess with him lmao
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well okay ofc I have to go ask abt debugging shirahama. one time when I was trying to 100% the mysme routes I was like âoh let me set up 707âs entry route so I can start at his branch and get the bad endingsâ and then I romanced him so hard in the initial days that it was literally impossible for me to get one of the bad ends
Lmaoo YES because I would LOVE TO TALK ABOUT DEBUGGING SHIRAHAMA. Also worth noting I COMPLETELY skipped through the suggested playthrough order the first time I played mysme and went straight for 707's happy ending đ last I was working on was Jaehee and I had just gotten her first bad ending (you skip off to be in love with Zen instead lmao) and that was 3 years ago SO I'm a little Rusty⢠at the game descriptions, hence the need for refresher courses.

The first thing he noticed was that the game wasted absolutely no time in throwing him right into his objective: collecting those colored little hearts and hourglassesâthough he couldn't say he fully understood what the latter was for. When he'd asked the first time he incidentally got one, the system was silent.
âSystem, do you have a tutorial mode?â
...
âYou could at least acknowledge me,â he grumbled. He tried for at least a good 10 minutes to get the thing to answer him until it dawned on him.
âThe system will now respond to âJesus.â"
It really wasn't kidding, was it? Suddenly he felt a strong urge to bash his face into the apartment's granite kitchen counters.
âJ... Jesus,â he muttered reluctantly.
âAssistant menu open. Please choose from the following options:
1. Open story summary
2. Check hearts/hour glass balance
3. Open CG progress menu
4. Set character profileâ
âUh, âopen story summaryâ I guess.â
The story certainly was an odd premise, albeit novel for its time. The disembodied voice explained the death of the owner of the apartment and the gist of the whole âRFAâ chat, with brief descriptions of its characters. It was kind enough to offer a suggested playthrough order, but he wasn't in a state of mind to start with the male love interests, so Jaehee it was. After fumbling around with the user settings to update his name (Kyouko, for the sake of making it less jarring) and picking a preset profile picture, it was well into the afternoon when he finally opened the app. The group was activeâhe must have counted at least ten existing chats from earlier in the day.
Shirahama had always been cool and casual when it came to DMs or texts. Despite his otaku nature, he wasn't as âchronically onlineâ as some of his classmates, especially Miyano or Tashiro. His plan was to introduce himself to the chat slowly for a few daysâget to know them better and such so his sudden presence didn't seem like he was looming over their chat too much. They were always chatting every few hours, so it would be weird if he was suddenly online all day every day. It was already weird enough that he was using a dead person's phone. His non-pressuring strategy usually worked well enough to win over most NPCs, so he kept his strategy to play it cool, and it got him moderately positive responses. Everything was working just fine.
That is, until Day 5.
After four full days of carefully inserting himself into this group of friends, with seven more to go until the end of the route, Shirahama found himself unexpectedly in the worst case scenario.
#âworst case scenarioâ and it's literally one he HAS to go through to get all the endings#but he's forgotten that part#so i intend to mess with him lmao#but also getting impatient myself to insert tashiro!!!#i might send shirahama through Ray's route and insert tashiro at some point in there đ¤#hirano to kagiura#shirahama kyouji#i hope everyone appreciates that he goes by kyouko in the game lmao#debugging shirahama#ask games#wip ask game
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Sorry to disturb you but
I still find hilarious that your LN au got an person so butthurt that they're still ranting about it even till this day
The audacity of you to not include THEIR favorite characters on YOUR OWN AU, completely unforgivable.
Jokes aside, take care and keep up your awesome works!
YEAH,,,,,,, yeah,,,,,,,, I'm - it's a big wow for sur,e ...
Something that bugs me is that, they were complaining that the fandom, outside of drawing Mono and Six, only ever draws Mono and Seven and like.... WHERE!!!SHOW ME!!! that's the entire point I made the comic! There was no art of Seven and Mono!!! They're characters who never meet, so no one ever really drew them together back then, at least, not so thoroughly to explore a dynamic with them. Granted Five / Raincoat girl isn't given the same treatment, but that's because she's from the inferior mobile game! And you couldn't get a read on her personality because there was a lack of cutscenes for her!
They're complaining about a fandom making content that isn't catered towards them, and that's just ridiculous!
Anyway, thank you!!! Almost done lining the backgrounds for the next part of the AU.
#i was curious about what they said about me now#apparnetly six is like an innocent baby girl#and mono is evil for saving her from a fantasy prison that had her body so grotesquely overgrown#and that they're angry at me for obsolving Mono of Sevens death(i refuse to call him RK ;) or six's stuff cuz he was unaware#six was the one who dropped him and caused time loops 2-6 and six was the one who ate Seven despite eating mystery meat earlier in game#but then they say that six wouldnt know that mono wouldn't die when he fell so therefore its not intentional for her#legit wtf- six fully intended to kill mono??? and they think that's okay...??????? Genuinely wild and messed up thing to say like#and they say im the biased one!!!!! but yeah why does she need to be in an au that has nothing to do with her???#like fam.... six is free and alive in canon....#whats the problem#oMGGGG they photoshopped six getting stabbed and crying âhezu whyâ#LMAO WHAT IS THIS#THAT'S NOT SIX#six wouldn't cry like a baby if she were getting stabbed that girl would fight back with her teeth!!!!!!!! fake six stan!!!! FAKE!!!!! /jk
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comic planning/roughs on the clock at work đ ok. this one's still a few posts out though
#god i really do just need to get a tablet or. something#some way to draw digitally on the go bc my laptop is um#at least 200% less portable than your typical old clunky laptop. its a whole ordeal#and as u can see tradish scribbles are barely usable#though i guess it would help if i ever remembered to grab something besides a shite pen at work lmao <-hates pen forever#mad bc i think this one is kind of mid+redundant for what i'd intended it to do bc of how some of the previous ones shifted#but i still gotta draw it bc one of the later ones uses it. buh#when i said these werent chronological or connected btw i lied#though only VERY VERY LOOSELY so. enough to bother *me* if i don't do them in order#but not enough that's really going to be noticeable to anyone else. they're each still intended 99% as standalone.#the arc is very minor but its there. for me. for anyone else it probably just amounts to a couple easter egg references/ consistencies#by the by the pizzaposts before this arent part of the series.#one small quickie thing and one i would...really like to get done sooner rather than later bc i need it out of my system#former's like 70% sketched im just waffling on execution#latter is uh...theres a lot there but it's harder to work on And harder tell how close to done it is.#unrelated its funny how i Always forget brick until i start putting anything down and then its like oh god yeah i can do bg Jokes with him#funny in the sense that one of my webcomic protag oc's is a...spatially similar deal as him [little kid with a big bear companion]#and i ALWAYS forget the bear when im scripting it. until i start messing with the layout and its like fuck theres a bear.#i have to do things with this now. fortunately thus far it hasn't been too hard to adapt#much rambling tonight goodbye. i haev to go block all these damn bots
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favorite relatable sad man time
#i didnt even intend to get his events yet but gifting him an egg on his birthday was like instant two hearts lmao#anyways. i love shane. fight me idc hes my favorite#(tho im going for sebastian on this save at least at first so)#night is an absolute mess on main
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accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes
Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough đ), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired
(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)
HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â
Spencerâs never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.
His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-
Itâs you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he canât just-
âSpencer?â
He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-
âUh, yeah, just a second!â, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-
He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and â
âOkay, Iâll justâŚchill with that weird plant here.â
An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.
After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that itâs not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.
And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.
For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.
âHi.â
You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesnât know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.
Youâre not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelopeâs.
âHi to yourselfâ, you chuckle, âCan I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?â
Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.
âOnly seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.â
He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you donât hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.
Spencerâs breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his bodyâs response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is⌠a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious heâs trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isnât enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.
The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what youâre thinking.
âSpencerâ, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didnât make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. âDo you hate me?â
âWha-â, he sputters your name, âNo- no! Of course, I donât- whe- why would you think that?â
You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. âBecause youâve been acting hella weird these last few days and you wonât tell me whyyyyâ, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else heâs just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.
âI havenât been acting weird, really, I donât know what youâre talking about.â
You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-
âIs it because you saw my nudes?â
Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.
âBecause, that would actually explain so much, especially the way youâve been acting and really, thatâs probably on me because Iâve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left thatâs stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess Iâm glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-â
âWhat? No, no, I didnât- What- thatâs not- what-â, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed whatâs going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that heâs so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.
âCome on, Spencer. I said itâs fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually⌠sorry. Because, well, thatâs probably not very work-appropriate⌠I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.â
Spencer thought heâd reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadnât. What. What are you even saying?
âTherapy sessions?â
You just- ignore him.
âOh, also, please donât tell Hotch? Heâll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, yâknow-â
Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.
He says your name and, âStop, please, please, just-â
You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesnât miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.
âAre you- is this a joke?â, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you donât actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.
Your expression changes into something panicked then. âNo, no, Spencer, sorry. Iâm- sorry. Of course Iâm not joking, Iâm so sorry. Itâs just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.â You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.
âNot joking- so⌠so, you know?â, thereâs something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencerâs chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. Heâs flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, youâre going to- youâre never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-
You mustâve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. âSpencerâ, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.
âI knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasnât actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what⌠I just wanted to wait and see what youâd do, if you came to talk to me or, wellâŚâ
You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.
âI didnât handle this situation very well. Iâm really sorry. So⌠â, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because youâd laugh and try to fight him off.
âWe can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-â, you hesitate again.
Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.
âOrâŚ?â, he breathes, voice small and unsure.
You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. Thereâs something intense in them, burning, and itâs like an electric shock to Spencerâs system. Heâd give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.
âOrâ, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot heâs burning with it. âOr we can do something else.â
âSomething else?â, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and itâs difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.
You hum in agreement. âWhatever you want. You can tell m-â
âYou.â
You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-
You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he canât take it.
âSure. You can have meâ, you say simply, as if itâs the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, âTell me what exactly you want, because Iâd give you the world if you asked.â
And suddenly thereâs hot pressure behind Spencerâs eyes, at the back of his throat. Youâre just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesnât know how to handle it.
Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like âplease touch me againâ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.
âI wantâŚâ, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. Thereâs the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because itâs just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought heâd ever get to have things like that with you but youâre here. Youâre here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but itâs still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.
âYou wantâŚ?â, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And thatâs the entire problem. Spencer doesnât know if youâd do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He canât just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way heâs never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.
âI just-â, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. Heâs so bad at this. Heâs the worst. No wonder heâs never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder heâs never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.
âHey, hey, Spencerâ, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just â there. âItâs alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. Iâll wait.â
Spencerâs face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. Thatâs the frankly ridiculous nickname youâve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasnât prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.
Itâs ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because itâs adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-
âDid you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.â
Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. Itâs always like this, it always feels like a breath heâs been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, itâs unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, itâs an unstoppable force.
Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why canât he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He canât believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.
Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.
It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.
Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard thereâll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.
âWell, that fits perfectly thenâ, you say, and Spencer doesnât understand.
âWhat do you mean?â
You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencerâs chest blooming with warmth.
âIf youâre my penguin, Iâll be your penguin.â
Youryouryouryouryour-
Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours heâd gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. Thatâs not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesnât care. Heâs never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely wonât start now.
âYou- you mean- like, as, as mates?â
You scrunch your nose in disgust. âIf you want to call us that, I think Iâll take back my offer.â
It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.
âBut you- youâd like that?â Youâd like me?
You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.
âSure. Whatever.â
And Spencer canât help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because youâre so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.
You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.
âOf course, Spencer. Iâd like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etceteraâ, you say just like that, smiling just like that.
Spencer feels like heâs dreaming. He must be. Thereâs no other explanation for it. He just canât wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. Youâre so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.
âYou- you like me? Me?â, Spencer canât hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?
Thereâs no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencerâs breath away.
You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he canât look away. âSpencer. I know itâs- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. Thatâs fine. Itâs human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isnât there to like? Youâre kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. Youâre so lovable and it kills me to know that you donât see how you are so worthy of being loved.â
Oh.
Oh.
You canât just- canât just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Canât expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.
Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesnât know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.
It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesnât because itâs you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are â
A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes â when did he close them? â to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if heâs something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He canât believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.
He never knew he needed this so much.
âSorry for making you cry, penguin. I didnât think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damagingâ, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.
Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. Thatâs probably why he does what he does next. Â
âNeither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-â
Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-
Why?
Why canât Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?
Thereâre alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencerâs head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. Heâs in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?
âAfter I interrupted you while?â, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-
Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?
âNothingâ, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. Heâd be the worst actor of all time.
âSpencer.â
The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. Heâs never felt like this before.
He loves it.
âHmm?â, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.
Suddenly youâre standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesnât have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didnât just send Spencerâs mind reeling. That wasnât just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.
You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. Heâd give it to you, no questions asked.
He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-
âYou like me?â
You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.
âYesâ, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer canât help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.
âYou- You want me?â
Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and thereâs a high noise coming from somewhere and thereâs goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- itâs him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesnât care. Nope. Not at all.
âŚOkay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. Heâs blushing, okay?
âSpencerâ, the way you say his name it- god, âI want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.â
Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. Heâs hard again, so hard, because he didnât come before and now, heâs even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you havenât even touched him more than this and heâs already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-
âI want youâ, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.
He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but thatâs- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?
âI know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?â, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- âDo you want me to touch you more?â, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-
âDo you want me to fuck you, Spencer?â
Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, âPlease yes yes yesâ. Maybe not in that particular order.
âOkay, angel, anything you wantâ, you say, smiling softly at him as if heâs the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.
Before heâs even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows whatâs happening, youâre kissing him.
Youâre kissing him and itâs- everything.
Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencerâs insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-
Itâs so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. Thereâs nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. Thereâs no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencerâs life and he has no idea what he is doing. But itâs so good.
A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencerâs soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.
âSpencer, Spencerâ, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.
âHmm?â, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.
âYouâre amazing, Spencer, amazing.â
And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But itâs impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (Heâs okay with that.)
You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.
You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. Itâs really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact â the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-
It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.
âSo good, so so good for meâ, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. Thatâs the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.
He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. âYou like being good for me, donât you, angel?â
ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. âYes, yes.â
âFuckâ, he hears you breathe against him and itâs strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? âI canât believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.â
And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- heâs pretty sure he wonât survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.
âDid you like my pictures, Spencer?â, you then ask and thatâs so not fair. You canât just ask him that while heâs so utterly in your hands that heâs sure heâd tell you about every little fantasy heâs had about you ever if you asked.
Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. âYes, I- I liked them.â
At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. Thereâs an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.
You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. âWhatâs wrong, angel?â
And well. Itâs just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasnât very good of him. Actually, the opposite. Heâs been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that thereâs suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. Thatâs mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ heâs such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.
âIâm- Iâm sorryâ, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, âI shouldâve, shouldâve said something, Iâm so so sorry, Iâm the worst friend and now Iâm- Iâm crying, oh god, Iâm so sorry-â
âHey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?â
But he shakes his head. He doesnât deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-
Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and heâs so fucking stupid-
âBaby, please.â
Spencer sobs.
Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. Thatâs the best thing he has ever heard but he doesnât deserve these things.
âOf course you deserve it, silly gooseâ, you say and oh. Heâs said that out loud.
Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer canât not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because thatâs just the way it always is. Heâs drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.
âI thought weâd established that it was an accident? And if it was someoneâs fault, then mine, because no password, remember?â
Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. Heâs a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?
âSpencer, Spencer. Hey. Itâs okay, I promise you. We wouldnât be doing this, if it wasnât, okay?â, you kiss his nose. âDo you want to lay down, maybe?â
He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.
Heâs not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.
Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesnât remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.
âDo you still like me?â, he asks, and yes, itâs pathetic and stupid but. He doesnât care if you never have sex or if youâre not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.
He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. âWha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I donât care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way youâll have me.â
You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if youâd never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-
And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much heâs going to die if he doesnât-
He shuffles and turns in your arms until heâs face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-
âI want you so badâ, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.
You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.
Heâs kissing you as if heâs going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you canât live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like heâs underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.
You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and canât stop and then suddenly, youâre gone, what â
âSpencer, Spencer, waitâ, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, âSorry, sorry I just-â
You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. âIâm so sorry for making this so hard, youâre being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?â
Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. Itâs high and airy but he doesnât care. âNo, no, I havenât.â
He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.
âTell me. Do you want this, Spencer?â, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer canât believe heâs getting to see you like this.
âYesâ, he says because he canât ever want anything else, and, âPlease make me feel good.â
You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. âSpencer, youâre incredible, amazing, the best- Iâll make you feel good, okay? Iâll make you feel so good because you deserve it.â
âYesâ, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. Heâs owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? Heâll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.
âGoodâ, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he���s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy âahâ. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is⌠yet to be disproven. Heâs discovering so many things about himself today.
Pleasure radiates in waves from where youâre passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. Heâs never felt better. But-
âPlease.â
âPlease what, angel?â
âMore?â
âMore what?â
Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.
âMore touch?â
Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because heâs at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.
You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. âDoing so good, Spencer. Incredible.â
He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.
âWhere do you want touch, Spencer? Here?â, thereâs hands in his hair. He shakes his head.
âHmm⌠Here?â, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-
âHere?â, you ground your hips down and jesus-
âYes!â, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. âPlease.â
You exhale shakily, looking flush. âOkay. Because you ask so nicely.â Thereâre two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. âDo you want to take this off first? Or no?â
The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-
Itâs basic human decency, yes, but itâs also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that heâs not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.
You help him sit up because heâs currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, heâs half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity thatâve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.
The urge to cover himself is so big itâs impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.
Spencer knows heâs not ugly. Heâs not that bad looking actually. Canât be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that heâs teasing him. But his friend wouldnât be so cruel.
But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. Heâs heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things donât bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.
Your gaze on him though- heâs never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe thatâs the reason why he lowers his arms again.
âSpencer. Youâre a dreamâ, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if youâre hypnotized by him, and heâs flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.
âSo impatientâ, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks heâs waited long enough for this. But he doesnât say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.
You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. Itâs almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. Heâs never felt more alive.
You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.
You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep theyâll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that thereâs absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.
You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer wouldâve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but heâs also so turned on that the embarrassment doesnât feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.
When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but⌠well.
âItâs okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable withâ, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.
ââm justâŚâ, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything heâs ever wanted but that he just feels⌠insecure.
You kiss his stomach again. âHow about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.â
That⌠thatâs actually a good idea. So, he nods.
âWords, angel.â
âYes, yes. Thatâs- good.â
You look so proud of him. âYouâre so good, Spencer. Perfect.â
He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.
Thereâs a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.
You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.
Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. Thatâs definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.
When you look up at him again, youâre also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. âSpencer, Spencer, can I?â
âPleaseâ, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesnât know if heâll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.
Itâs not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything heâs ever felt before. Youâre either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.
Probably the first reason.
He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, heâs pretty sure, heâd come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. Itâs already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. Heâs happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.
Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer canât form a single coherent thought anymore. Itâs already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and youâre still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-
âTake it off?â
You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. âYou sure, angel?â
Spencer literally canât do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles youâre gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. Itâs kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but heâs waited for this for so long it feels like heâs suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.
Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.
Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, itâs been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother donât count.
He doesnât dare look at you. If thereâs anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). Heâs abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if itâs too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he shouldâve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-
âHoly shitâ, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he canât force his gaze to stay away from you.
You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.
Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.
âHoly shit, Spencerâ, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, âYouâre like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- youâre so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?â
Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.
Some of his despairing thoughts mustâve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing heâs ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you arenât wearing a bra and good heavens.
Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli couldâve adequately committed you to canvas.
Spencer mustâve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesnât remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.
Spencer kind of doesnât use the f-word that often but-
fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-
Youâre warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- itâs a miracle heâs still holding on. But-
âWonât last longâ, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldnât care. He canât care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he wonât ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.
âSpencer, Spencerâ, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. âAre you okay? Do you still want this?â
Itâs ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease â because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-
He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.
âWhat do you say, sweetheart?â
Thereâs really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. Thereâs no one else he could ever do this with.
âYes, I want. Please.â
You kiss him again. âSo good Spencer, youâre so fucking good to me. I canât believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.â
Spencer doesnât know how itâs anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.
âDo you have a condom?â, you ask and ah. Well.
âSuitcaseâ, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. Heâs being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).
Thereâs humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, âOh my god, Spencer you dog. Canât believe you planned this entire thing.â
Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. âN-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.â
You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. âIn case you accidentally saw your coworkerâs nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"
Oh my god, youâre the most ridiculous person heâs ever met. He canât stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-
âYes. That.â
âBut what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How wouldâve your plan worked out then, huh?â, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.
âRossi? Rossi?â
âOh my god, imagine it wouldâve been Hotch. He wouldâve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.â
Spencer laughs. Heâs still rock-hard underneath you, but heâs laughing because thatâs what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that heâs shocked to laughter.
He adores you with every fibre of his being.
âWhat the fuck?â, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, âIs my misery amusing to you?â
And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. âVery.â
You flick his nose. Grumble something like Iâll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Letâs out an embarrassingly high whine.
Ah well. It was still worth it.
âDonât moveâ, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times heâs wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. Heâs never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like youâve done this before, so many times that itâs just become something normal between you two. Heâs actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like heâs going to burst any second, but heâs calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesnât even matter that itâs the first time heâs doing this and heâs so clueless about all of this.
But he knows, if itâs with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.
âDo you have lube as well?â, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.
âHmm. No, Iâm sorry.â
âDonât be, angelâ, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. Heâs never going to be able to be normal again about that word.
âWeâll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.â
Spencer hasnât really registered more than next time next time next time-
Heâs pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.
With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.
He watches you take out the plastic ring as if heâs watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencerâs brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-
âYou ready, baby?â
He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. Heâs losing his mind. âPlease please please-â
âFuck, Spencerâ, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.
Itâs so good, itâs so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer canât stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and heâs inside you.
You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. âFuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.â
He feels like heâs one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.
âCan I move? Spencer, please?â, your voice is wrecked, youâre flushed down to your navel, and youâre the best thing heâs ever seen.
âPlease please please pleaseâ, itâs the only word he remembers how to pronounce.
âFuckâ, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.
You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He canât think, canât speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy heâs having troubles remembering who he is. Heâs so completely at your mercy heâd let you do anything to him.
That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.
âOh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.â
He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-
âYou like being good for me, right angel?â, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and heâs too far gone to even nod, âIt suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, youâre divine, Spencer, fuck.â
The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, thatâs been building all evening, all week, holy shit, itâs too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. Heâs going to die it feels so good.
âYou going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?â
Please please please please- itâs all he can think, all he can feel, because because-
You give a particularly hard thrust and-
Spencerâs coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. Heâs coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. Heâs never come so hard in his life before.
He might have blacked out a little. The next time heâs aware of something, itâs you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.
âWhat?â, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. Youâre both still naked.
âFeeling good?â, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-
âI almost diedâ, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.
You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. âThat was the plan.â
âKilling me with sex?â
âYep. Thatâs for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.â
He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond itâs a miracle youâve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a âwhat can you do faceâ. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.
âUffffâ, you press out. âYouâre smothering me, penguin.â
Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.
âHa! Didnât know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. Iâve created a monster.â
He canât entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.
Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the otherâs presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-
âWait-â, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. âDid you- did you even finish?â
Heâs kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesnât remember you coming and oh no, heâs such an asshole, who doesnât make sure the other person has come as well and-
âSpencer, Spencerâ, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.
âI made myself come right after, donât worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.â
Spencer flushes. âBut I wanted toâŚâ
You laugh softly. âYou can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. Weâll go on a date as soon as weâre back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.â
Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?
âReally?â, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.
You send him an unbelieving look. âUh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.â
âOkayâ, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.
There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isnât that bad.
--
Bonus
âSo, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?â
Spencer chokes on his coffee.
âWhat?â
âNothingâ, his âfriendâ says, smirking and leaning against his table, âYou just seem to have figured out that little problem thatâs been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.â
Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.
âOhhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?â
Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.
âShut up, Morgan.â
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â
tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a
i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)
#tinywrites#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader fanfic#criminal minds smut#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x y/n#tinywrites:accidents#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#criminal minds x reader
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Portugal Nights
Pairing: Actress! Reader x Drew Starkey
Portugal Nights-> The day was tense. Rehearsals were much more heated than the lines intended and the thin rubber band of restraint holding you both apart was bound to snap, and it finally does.
This belongs to my OBX Season 5: Payback For Maybank Series
These can be read in any order!
smut: lots of making out (they've both needed this forever lol), oral sex (f! and m! receiving) , heavy petting, hickeys, shower sex, hand holding, protected sex and unprotected :( , drew is so pussy whipped omg, just passionate sex tbh, sex everywhere?? lmao.
"Action!"
Rafe paces back and forth in the abandoned dungeon-like room with his hands on his head, plotting desperately. You're surrounded by nothing but eroding walls, stained with foreign substances. There's dried blood on the floor that adds slight resistance with every lift of his heel.
You fume silently every time you look at the tall blonde who can't seem to stand still. You reflect on how he got you both in this mess in the first place and your eyes roll reflexively.
Earlier today, a little before dawn you and the pogues had just docked in Portugal, wasting no time to try to find Finch's fortress so you could find Groff, but you were being followed.
You noticed it first around sunset but kept it to yourself not wanting to distract the pogues from the objective of the mission in case you were wrong.
You'd all set up camp a little outside the city, not wanting to catch the attention of any civilians. However, you didn't rest. Not when you knew trackers tend to get a little careless as the sun slips below the horizon. Relying on the shadows of darkness to conceal their footprints and hide their silhouettes.
"I'm gonna scope the area a bit," You said, flipping your signature steel weapon up in the air and catching it coolly as you entered the darkness of the shrubs and out of sight. "I'm goin' after her." Rafe declares, already trailing behind you as Sarah calls for him but it falls on deaf, determined ears.
He's trekking closely behind you, so you stop walking and convey your message without even turning to face him. "Another step closer Rafe and I swear to god they'll have to dislodge steel from places you can't even name." He doesn't back down, nor does he step closer.
"I don't trust you." He says, and you scoff. "I don't care, Rafe," You finally turn, "Why don't you do us both a favour and go back to the others, yeah? I got this." For a moment he goes silent, almost like he didn't know what to say.
"No comeback? No insult?-" You start, always looking for a fair fight with him.
"Shut up." Rafe snaps back, stepping closer to you and your arms crossed while you plant your feet firmly where they are, refusing to let anything about the rich boy intimidate you.
"Looks like I finally got under your skin-" It's all a blur when he suddenly cups a hand over your mouth to silence you, "Will you shut the fuck up?" His words are delivered in a harsh whisper as his eyes scan your surroundings suspiciously.
At that moment, there was no Piper and Rafe. It's you and Drew. He met yours with a wild gaze, something unhinged about the way he was looking at you. Not as sincere and admirable as the longing stares from across the room that you're used to--no, this was something much more perilous.
"You hear that?" He whispers, softer this time. There's another rustle in the bushes around you. Shit.
With your backs turned and the area being so dark, the opposers use the darkness to their advantage and strike you both in the back of the head, knocking you out cold.
Which brings you to where you are now.
"For the love of god, will you stop the back and forth? You're driving me insane." You exclaim from where you rest against the contaminated walls.
"Listen," He now stalks to you slowly, like a predator approaching its prey. "I'm a proactive type of person. I'm not just gonna sit on my ass all day and let Finch come back and kill us!"
"Us? This didn't have to involve you! Maybe if you'd just taken that stick out of your ass for once and stayed with the group you could've saved yourself the trouble." Kicking yourself off the wall, you shout as loud as you can but he doesn't flinch.
Rafe's chest heaves rapidly, trying to calm himself down. "Well we're here now, and If I'm ever gonna make it back home, I have to get out of here alive."
You stand still, silent. Analyzing his features and expression, but your silence makes him uncomfortable and it etched across his face,
"Who is she?" The question is simple, and straightforward, yet far too complicated for Rafe to understand.
"What?" He questions.
Over the last few days you'd spent near the pogues, you'd gotten to know most of them quite well. All except Rafe that is.
"Your dad is dead, your little sister and your money are under your stepmother's possession. What do you have to go back to? Who is drawing you back?" He gulps, his defences crumbling evidently as his shoulders slumped.
For once, he didn't fight you on it.
Sofia. That's the name he shares with you and a little about their recent argument.
"Jus' don't tell anyone, alright? I don't need the others knowing more than they should." You shrug, "I have no reason to tell them about your cute wittle wove story." You couldn't stop yourself from teasing him.
Rafe charges towards you in anger with a glint of jest. You try to run backwards, away from him but your shoe is bound to the floor credit to the various adhesives meant to replicate stains and puddles.
By the time Drew realizes you aren't moving, it's too late and his body is already colliding with yours. Tangling together and sending you both tumbling to the ground with Drew between your legs and his head buried in the side of your neck.
You can hear the blood pumping in your ears. Drew's body completely covering yours on set in front of the crew should have you rolling out from underneath him and returning to reality, but no. There you lay, daring to glance into the piercing blue eyes that were already staring at you.
You take into account the notes of his cologne as they intermingle with the detergent of his clothes. The combination clouds your judgement and sends you reeling into a headspace you've been avoiding for the last three months.
You're in deep. Too deep.
"Cut!" Drew gets up like a kid caught red-handed before offering you a helping hand that you take graciously meanwhile the other guides you at the waist so lightly you'd barely notice it was there had your body not been burning at a thousand degrees.
Something is off. Usually, the two of you would be in knots of laughter after something like this, instead only the crew had giggles to go around but you both stood still. Unmoving, eyes locked on each other, looking within.
Could he see you? You wonder, does he know what you're thinking?
You swallow hard, your lips parting to say something, but no words come out. Instead, your gaze flickers to his mouth, and you catch him doing the same thing, just for a split second before he looks away. His jaw tightens as he shoves his hands into his pockets, stepping back, but the tension doesnât break.
--
The day progresses into a warm summer night as the cast and crew gather at a charming Portuguese restaurant perched high in the city's hills. Lanterns nestled among lush potted plants cast a warm glow, while fairy lights drape elegantly from flowers cascading down from the ceiling, creating a dreamlike ambiance.
The long table overlooks the rolling hills below, their silhouettes dotted with the golden lights of the nearby city. Beyond, the navy-toned ocean stretches out, its gentle waves shimmering under the moonlight, completing the serene view.
The laughter is bubbly as the champagne flows between the tables. The cast looked amazing tonight, everyone had put on their best outfits for a fun night out with their castmates.
While Madelyn and Carlacia posed for a selfie together, Chase helped himself to the last bread roll left in the baskets the waiters had left earlier.
"Did you--" Drew titls the basket towards him so he can analyze the full damage of Chase's consumption. They both laugh, realizing the basket is completely void. "Maybe if we weren't waiting on JD and Y/n, we could get some real food going around."
The sole mention of your name has Drew on edge. He's recently lost the ability to control his own reactions around you as his body surrenders to the very mention of your name.
"Speak of the devil," Chase says as you and JD enter the restaurant side by side, a little embarrassed. "Fashionably late, as always." Madelyn remarks and you giggle.
"I'm sorry guys! I couldn't find my shoes and I extorted Jonathan for his kindness, so don't get mad at him." Your voice is sweet as you make your way around the table. Drew felt as though there were noise-cancelling headphones blocking out any surround sound.
His eyes fulfill their god-given purpose and stay glued to your frame--a very well-dressed frame might he add. You look stunning. He notices that you styled your hair differently. He's unsure if it's personal preference or a maintenance concern, but you rarely wore your natural curls out.
You're always opting to straighten them or put them up, but he thinks it amplifies your allure tenfold. Maybe he's just biased. That must be the case when he realizes he hasn't taken a breath since you walked in.
You situate yourself in the last empty seat between Madelyn and Chase, directly in front of Drew. Oh, this should be fun.
He clears his throat behind a closed fist, glancing up at you by chance and catching your gaze by luck. He does a double take and straightens up. "You look, just--" The words fade on him and he prays the ground would burst open at the seams and swallow him.
"Thank you, so do you." You return the half-finished compliment. However, it's for the best you don't say much about how Drew looks tonight. You're not sure you'd be able to conclude the sentence without the words 'edible', or 'sex on legs'.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the table, JD leans forward to whisper to Madison. "Remember that bet we made for Drew and Y/n, you predicted they'd get together within three months, and guess what? It'll be three months at midnight."
Madison giggles with a playful roll of her eyes. "What? Do you have this on your calendar or something?" JD does in fact proceed to show her his calendar with a marked date that says "Pay Day." Her eyes squint at him, "You are so ridiculous do you know that? I'm not backing down. The night is still young." She grins, and JD just shakes his head at the girl in clear denial.
The night flows on, filled with warmth and familiar laughter circulating the tables as everyone enjoys their conversations. You glanced down into your lap while Chase recounted a funny moment from earlier today on set.
You're anxiously considering if you should succumb to your sinful nature of greed and steal another glance at the breathtaking man sitting across the table.
You shouldnât glance upâyou know you shouldnâtâbut you do anyway, and there he is, already watching you. The corner of his mouth curls into the faintest, most maddening smirk like he knows exactly what heâs doing to you.
You hate to admit it but it intimidates you. The weight of his gaze sends an electric chill down your spine, prompting you to shift in your seat. Drew reaches for a sip of water from the crystal glass on the table while you shift in place.
You cross your legs and your left heel accidentally brushes the inside of Drew's leg and he chokes. He quickly shields it behind a cough and you look like a deer caught in headlights as his ice-blue orbs are piercing through you.
Your foot hasn't moved, but you decided not to provoke him any further and retract it back within your bounds. Your heart is racing and suddenly you're the one reaching for a glass of water to satiate your thirst, but you both know it's an impossible task since there's only one remedy and he's sitting right in front of you.
-
By midnight the cast made it back to their rooms, ready to unwind from a long day and eventful night meanwhile you're stuck. Your mind is bouncing between the walls that seem to get closer the more you pace back and forth.
You've been at it for the last 5 minutes since you made it back to your room. Any normal person would be putting the night behind them and getting ready for bed--but no.
You're not normal. You're obsessed.
Pathetically hooked on the idea of a man who's just 3 doors down the hall--completely oblivious to the trainwreck Drew was making of himself because of you.
You're chewing at your fingernails, contemplating just knocking on his door. Is that crazy? What if it's all in your head?
The latter possibility didn't weigh enough to hold you back from any impulsive decisions as you're stepping over to his door with your heels still on and all it takes is one deep breath before you're raising your hand to knock but it swings open before it makes contact.
Drew looks like he hadn't taken a seat since he got back either. He looks restless, frazzled, and maybe even frustrated. His chest halts on the incline as he holds his breath, startled to see exactly who he'd been looking for standing right in front of him.
His eyes rake over your figure frantically as if trying to decipher if you're truly standing in front of him.
"Hi," You breathe out, your head angled up to admire his perfect features while he stares down at you.
"Hey," His voice is soft, struggling to mask the undertone of sheer need.
Your mouth gapes, hesitating to say something but you decide to let your body speak for itself. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and tug him down so your lips crash against his.
The dam finally bursts and Drew's hands fly to wrap around your waist and pull you inside, swiftly closing the door behind you before he has you pinned up against it. His lips worked desperately along the expanse of your neck, trying to be mindful about his marks but he couldn't help himself. He's wanted this for so long-- Needed you for so long.
"Drew-" You gasp as he sucked particularly hard just below your ear, it sends you reeling and your eyes roll back with the little bit of your sanity that remains. "Hm?" He hums into the sweet scent of your skin, the same scent that's taunted him for months.
"Never mind." You dismiss yourself and resume the heated kisses that were paired with your desperate hands. You hastily unbuttoned his shirt while he unzipped the back of your dress, all while never breaking the kiss.
It's intense. Your hands ghost over the definition of his abs and he tenses a little as he curses under his breath. Every ounce of contact you made with his body, lit his skin on fire.
Your dress puddles around your ankles once it meets the floor and Drew wastes no time before he's slowly sinking to his knees, your head shakes repeatedly but no words escape.
You're not even sure why you're denying it, your body wasn't functioning correctly--but could you blame it? You had thee Drew Starkey on his knees for you, and he was about to put his mouth to good great use.
Your point is proved once he had your panties on the floor and one leg hooked over his shoulder. His tongue lapped over your folds, languidly at first, as if to test the passion-infested waters.
"Drew--please." That's all it takes. One airy breath from you and he's consuming you from the core. His nose brushes against your clit every so often as his warm, wet tongue slides over your cunt with an unnatural hunger.
Your hands reach out to hold on to something, anything, but you're left to scratch at the door desperately as he works you to till you're tight-roping across the edge. Drew's just as turned on as you are, the rock-solid boner he's sporting beneath his dress pants a true testament to it.
His focus finally shifts to the pearl of your pussy, and you almost wish he'd never moved to it. X would never recover if they knew Drew Starkey ate pussy with his life.
Your legs are beginning to shake and it's a telltale sign that within seconds his name will be the only word falling from your lips. Once it finally hits you, the world crumbles and you feel like an angel falling from heaven. His mouth had pulled you down into the depths of hell, right into his arms and you couldn't be happier.
You make this clear when you pull him up to meet your gaze, he towers over you but you distract yourself from the effect it has on you by taking his thumb and wiping your slick off his swollen pink lips and sucking it off, wrapping your tongue around his thumb until he snaps.
Within the same second, he moves his hands to grab at the sides of your face, kissing you deeply. It's nothing but tongue and there's spit rolling over your bottom lip by the time you're both pulling back, chests heaving, lungs filled with each other's air, but it still wasn't enough.
He's holding onto you like he can never let you go. "You've got no idea how long I've needed this, needed you." He says and it makes your heart stutter in its rhythm. "Oh please," You dismiss him but his left hand stays on your waist while the other gently cups your cheek.
His eyes scan to search for yours in the dimly lit room, the only source of light stemming from the lone lamp beside the bed. "I like you, Y/n. It wasn't a secret. How could it be? I can't help myself around you." His words put a cheesy grin on your face.
"I like you, Drew. Always have. Big fan of your work, by the way." You giggle, referring to the almost degrading acts he'd just committed between your legs, but it evokes a breathy chuckle from him.
"Yeah?" He teases, stepping towards you and you take one step back, but he surprises you and scoops you up into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he leads you to the bed, tossing you onto your back and he crawls between your legs.
There's one last soft glance between the two of you. No more yearning, no more stealing glances from across the room. Finally, you're in his arms and you fit more perfectly than he could've imagined.
"What?" You say blankly, wondering what had him warped inside his own mind for so long. A smile stretches across his lips, "Nothin', just happy to be here." It's corny, but you laugh anyway. Moaning into the sweet kiss he dropped down to your lips, holding himself up with those big strong arms of his.
The rest is a blur of strong hands and intoxicating kisses that are used to distract you from the sweet burn that engulfed your body into flames as he rolled his hips into yours, letting his cock push into you for the first time.
The gasps you both let out are innocent, shocked and full of bliss from the moment he bottoms out. "Just l-let me know if you want me to slow down at any time, okay?" The sentiment comes out through clenched teeth as he refrains from any sudden movements.
The heat of your velvet walls convulsing around him is driving him to a point beyond insanity. "Oh god, start moving--please," you whine and Drew's body shudders.
"Fuck, don't beg. I'll give you anything you want, baby." He seals his promise with an accelerated pace, his cock driving in and out of you at a steady rhythm that had you arching into him, eyes screwed shut and unable to meet his gaze."
"Hey, hey, look at me." He deepens his thrusts and it makes the requirements of his words that much harder to meet. Struggling, your eyes flutter open but you shy away under his piercing gaze.
He looked too good for a man fucking your brains out. The way his jaw worked, locked in place from concentrations. His body was coated in a thin sheet of sweat that made him glisten under the rays of the lamp.
"God, you look perfect. So gorgeous." He flatters you and it heightens your high tenfold. Your hands reach out to grab onto the sheets of his bed but he offers you his hand instead. Giving it an assuring squeeze as you tumble into a vortex of euphoria. "I'm-" Interrupted by your own orgasm you short-circuit and the sight of you unravelling underneath him is enough to make him cum.
"Y/n-- shit!" He groans, hips stuttering rapidly until he blows his load and holds his place over you. The room goes quiet, filled with nothing but the consistent attempts for you to catch your breath. When you're ready, he pulls out slowly, tying off the condom and tossing it out.
"I'm gonna head to the shower," It falls from your lips suggestively but Drew waits for you to make your intentions clear. He licks his lips as he watches you strut your way to the bathroom, stopping once you're in the frame.
There's a charming grin you flash him from over your shoulder, "You coming or what?"
He was in fact coming. Twice, in the shower, you made sure the first time you repaid the favour with your mouth that was too talented for him to handle. His palm held your hair tight in a makeshift ponytail, holding onto the glass for his life before he fucked you up against it.
Sensically, there were no condoms available in the shower and you both recognized the risk you'd be taking but anything was worth the risk if it involved you. Besides, you both swore this would be the first and last time you fuck raw.
What a lie.
The minute you felt the unfiltered length of his cock slip into you, you knew it was a done deal. This was going to be a very big problem for both of you in the near future. He's your new addiction and you'll never quit.
The following morning the cast was expected to meet each other downstairs at 11 am for brunch, but here you are, tangled up under Drew's sheets at 1 in the afternoon after waking up only 20 minutes earlier. Your excessive sexcapades from the night before had worn you both out.
The blankets are covering your bodies as Drew slides between your folds with leisure, taking his time and fucking you open intimately. "You think they noticed we're missing?" Drew breathes out and your arms go to wrap around his neck as you answer. "Definitely. I'm not sure, but I think Madison was betting on this."
"Give her whatever she's owed. She wins, and god I'm so glad."
Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,@willowpains, @riaras-everthroner, @iteuosav, @rafeycameronsgf, @moonlitunicorn, @thepopcultureaddict, @livinobx, @rafeycameronsgf.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x you#rafe cameron smut#rafe drabble#outer banks smut#rafe obx#outer banks imagines#rafe smut#rafe cameron blurb#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe blurb#rafe cameron imagine#rafe fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#bsf!rafe#rafe cameron drabble#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron fic#drew starkey smut#drew starkey#obx fic#outer banks#outerbanks rafe#obx#rafe cameron angst#light angst#obx angst
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đđĄđ đđ¨đĽđđđŤ | đŹ.đŤđđ˘đ
đŹđŽđŚđŚđđŤđ˛: you got used to running away from the consequences of your actions, but it turned out to be incredibly difficult when the consequences are your coworker and their name is spencer reid.
đđ¨đ§đđđ§đđŹ/đŠđ¨đđđ§đđ˘đđĽ đđ°: spencer reid x fem!baureader, canon typical violence and topics, season 1/2 reid, GLASSES REID, queen elle greenaway herself, gideon being a little creep (as usual), reader clearly ovulating lmao, mention of a trauma connected with drowning, mention of one night stands of the reader, inspired by taylor swift song "the bolter", dominant reader (mostly), spencer being awkwardly sweet
đ/đ§: i should be doing my history assigment now instead of writing another freaky long fic but here i am
đ°đ¨đŤđđŹ: 10k
Fuck, you thought the moment you realized youâd woken up in someoneâs arms.
Double fuck, you added as it dawned on you that this wasnât some random guy you met at a club, the kind whoâd bought you a drink, whose name you hadnât even tried to remember, and whose life you could easily disappear from without a second thought. Instead, you were lying in the bed of a coworkerâa teammate you saw almost every single day.
Triple fuck.
Maybe even quadruple, because of how much you liked it. That is, lying next to his bare skin. In a position where one of his arms was wrapped around your body, his face buried in your hair, in the curve of your neck. His breathing steady, occasionally tickling you. Pleasant. It was pleasant.
You were up to five fucks already, and you hadnât even left the bed yet.
There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to do it. By the time Spencer Reid opened his gorgeous, chocolate-brown eyes, youâd already be gone. Long gone, behind the wheel of your car, speeding at the maximum legal limit with the window cracked open, despite the icy gusts of winter air rushing in.
Youâd been perfecting this strategy for years. First, youâd lose yourself in strangersâ sheets with moans and gasps, only to slip away in the early morning, filled with a thrill even greater than what youâd felt just a few hours before. Why? A very good question. You wished you had the answer to it.
This situation shouldnât have been an exception, though theoretically, it already was. After all, youâd never even considered doing this with people you knew so well. People you couldnât just ghost without consequence. People youâleaning over to check the clock on the bedside tableâwere supposed to see again in less than an hour!
You rubbed your sleepy face with your hand, silently cursing yourself. If only youâd been drunk the night before. People dodge the consequences of far worse actions than having a sex with a coworker simply by blaming it on alcohol. But noâwhen all of this started, youâd been completely sober and fully aware. Incredibly turned on, itâs worth mentioning.
Before the memories of the previous night could start ambushing you, you scrambled out of the bed. First, of course, you had to untangle yourself from the mess of limbsâcarefully, so as not to wake him. You gently moved his arm aside and adjusted the blanket over his hips. Where this sudden care and tenderness came from was yet another very interesting question.
Tiptoeing around the bedroom, you gathered your clothes. Your panties and bra you shamelessly clutched in one hand, intending to shove them into your jacket pocket later. Before heading for it, though, you paused for a brief moment in front of the bed, in front of the still-sleeping Reid.
The blanket, pushed low, revealed the upper half of his lean bodyâhis prominent collarbones and the smooth, even tone of his delicious skin. His chest rose and fell steadily, his hand resting in the spot where youâd been lying just moments ago. As if you were still there.
What a shame it was only a one-time thing.
Some people, looking at his innocent appearance, had no idea how much he had to offer. Their loss, you thought, leaving the apartment on shaky legs, feeling soreness in most of the muscles in your body. When you finally got inside the car and the wind began to cool your flushed face and cheeks, the guilt faded away. You didnât feel as good as usual, your heart wasnât racing, and the adrenaline wasnât surging through your veins the way you craved. Strange. Did it have something to do with who your one-night lover was? You shook your head, trying not to dwell on it.
Youâd had a really great time together that one night, but that was it. You were officially leaving it behind, forgetting it.
Just like you always did.
It wasnât an exception, you told yourself, as you took a quick shower in your own apartment.
It wasnât an exception, and the fact that you worked together didnât change a thing.
It wasnât an exception, you kept affirming, crossing the threshold of the office with still-damp hair and the buttons of your fitted black shirt unevenly fastened.
âAre we not greeting each other anymore?â someoneâs question snapped you back to reality.
Lost in thought, you realized youâd passed your friend Elleâs desk without even nodding at her. She was sitting on the edge of it, arms crossed over her chest, her dark eyes seeming to pierce through your skull, sifting through your memories. She was sharpâsometimes, too sharp. With nothing more than a sly smile, she let you know she knew something was going on.
"Sorry. I'm still half asleep," you said, approaching her for a hug. You let out a chuckle. "Or maybe I'm completely asleep if I missed such a hot chick in my path."
Elle pushed you away by a fingerâs length, her eyebrows raised in a challenge.
"You think you're gonna distract me with compliments? Better start talkingâwho's the guy?"
âWhat guy?â someone asked, surprisingly not you, but Derek, who stepped into the room with a massive cup of coffee, nearly dropping it as he tried to greet both of you. You loved the laid-back atmosphere of the early mornings at work, when you had a moment to chat about whatever. âWell, good morning, ladies. From the looks on your faces, Iâm guessing you had a nice weekend?â
"From that huge cup of coffee, Iâm guessing you did too, if you need that much caffeine. Partying on a Sunday night, you should be ashamed," you replied sarcastically, eyeing your coworker.Â
His eyebrows shot up.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he whistled.
"She's just trying to change the subject," Elle informed him. "I was just interrogating our little bolter.Â
You rolled your eyes at hearing that nickname again. Theyâd started using it a while ago, as soon as they found out how you handled things with guys. There was nothing judgmental about itâthey just really liked to tease you.
It took Morgan a moment to piece together what was going on. When he did, laughter burst from his lips.
"Is that why your hair is still wet? You left in such a rush you didnât even have time to dry it?"
"She was afraid the sound of the hair dryer would wake the guy up," Elle snorted. "And, heaven forbid, theyâd actually have to talk to each other."
âOh, screw you both,â you muttered, aiming to act your ageâin this case, by flipping them off. Before you could, Derek caught your hand, stopping you from spinning on your heel and stomping back to your desk.
âYou know,â he said, suddenly a touch more serious, as if the question genuinely intrigued him, âI canât help but wonder why you actually do it. For me, personally, waking up next to a lovely lady who made the night worthwhile is kind of the best part...â
"Are you asking about the psychological aspects behind it?" You raised an eyebrow. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Elle tilt her head slightly, clearly intrigued. "I donât know. Something from childhood, probably. Everything stems from there, doesnât it? Or maybe the reason is something else," you lowered your voice to a near conspiratorial whisper, leaning in closer to their faces as if about to reveal some great secret. "I simply enjoy it. As they say, you donât pry into peopleâs bedrooms or wallets."
"That rule doesnât apply to our friendship, sweetheart."
You chuckled at the remark; sometimes, you really did share a lot with each other. In any case, your response had nothing to do with modesty or shame on those topics. You chose to answer evasively because you didnât feel like describing how addictive that feeling of escape was, how much control it seemed to give you. How your heart would race in those moments, and how all your fucking lives seemed to flash before your eyes then.Â
It was sick, many people have already told you that. Still, you couldn't stop.
"Good morning, everyone." Suddenly, JJ burst in, clutching a briefcase the size of an encyclopedia under her arm. "Hotch wants to see us all in five minutes, we have a new case. You'll find out everything in a moment, but Iâll say right away that it looks like a little trip is in store. Bring warm jackets."
"Mercy, not another case from Alaska..." Morgan started, rolling his eyes.
"Not this time. By the way, has Reid already arrived?"
Elle glanced around and shrugged.
"I donât see him. Besides, if he were here, heâd already be telling us everything about the weather conditions in Alaska."
"Strange," Derek muttered under his breath. "I canât remember the last time he was late."
You fixed your gaze on your shoes, as if there was something fascinating about them.
"Itâs not like him," JJ agreed, a little worried. "Maybe I should call him..."
"Heâs definitely stuck in traffic," you interjected quickly, forcing yourself to sound casual, though you tensed up involuntarily. The thought of confronting Spencer slightly scared you, though you wouldn't admit it to yourself. "Iâm almost 100% sure. Anyway, shouldnât we be heading out?"
You changed the subject, nodding toward the exit with your chin. And then, by accident, you made eye contact with Elle.
Elle, who knew you better than anyone.
Elle, who always, always knew when you were lying or hiding something. And whose eyes widened when she realized.
Feeling the blood rush to your ears, you subtly shook your head, silently pleading for her not to speak. But she, to your horror, opened her mouth.
"You two, go ahead," she directed at Morgan and JJ. Then she fixed her intense, demanding gaze directly on you. "Weâll join you in a minute. I need to have a word with our girl, privately."
Barely were you alone when she exclaimed:
"Did you sleep with Reid?!"
"Goddammit, Elle, could you say it any louder?" you hissed, glancing toward the door where your colleagues had just disappeared moments ago.
"Why not? So, you had sex with Dr. Spencer Reid...!"
"FOR GOD'S SAKE..."
"...our genius boy and a member of the same team?!"
"Iâm fucking sure even Strauss heard that in her office," you sighed. "But yes, I did it, I regret it, and most importantly, this has to stay between us. Not a word to Derek, JJ, or Penelope, understood?"
To your surprise, Elle burst into laughter and raised her hands in a defensive gesture.
"You know I wouldnât tell anyone without your permission. I was just playing around Anyway..." she sighed. "I find it hard to believe. You two? Honestly, thereâs always been something between youâŚâ
"No," you interrupted her sharply. The words left a ringing in your head. "There was nothing between us."
"So, you decided to sleep together just like that, out of boredom?"
"We need to go, Elle. The rest is probably waiting for us."
You moved forward, your friend trailing right behind you, like that little voice in the back of your mind urging you to order pizza at midnight.
"Oh, one more thing. You said you regret it. So, what, our genius didnât meet your expectations..."
"End of discussion..."
"Last thing, you told me not to mention it to Garcia, Morgan, or JJ. What about Hotch? Can I tell him?"
You couldnât keep up the seriousness any longer and burst into laughter, joined by Elle.
"Tell me what?" a voice called from behind you.
Fuck multiplied by twelve thousand seventy-nine.
Somehow, your boss appeared in the same hallway, probably heading to the same room where you were going to be briefed on your next case. You noticed how all the amusement disappeared from Elleâs face. You both exchanged a look, like teenagers caught smoking a cigarette by their parents.
You both turned, silently negotiating through eye contactâarguing, really, over who should speak up and save the situation. It fell to you.
"Um... we were wondering... if we should tell you... that we absolutely love your tie. It's so... red and... long..." It was only then that you noticed it was a gray tie. "Not that one. Another one. Absolutely stunning. And Iâm actually looking for a birthday gift for a friend. Heâs... a huge fan of... ties."
You tried not to look at Elle, fearing she might burst into laughter. She already seemed like she was suffocating inside. Improvisation was never your strong suit; you always had to say too much.
"So, I hope you donât mind me asking where you bought it. Thatâs exactly the kind of tie Iâm looking for. Red..." You bit your tongue before you could say long again. "Good quality. One that youâd just want to untie..."
Hotchâs completely stoic expression didnât help.
"Oh." Suddenly, you realized you hadnât even greeted him. "Good morning, boss. Are you having a good day?"
"Average," he replied, completely ignoring your whole tie spiel.
Silence fell. Elle stared at the floor, and the corners of her mouth twitched dangerously.
"Letâs get to work," Hotch suggested, clearing his throat. He extended his hand, gesturing for you to go ahead. As soon as you turned, you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. "I got it from Hailey," he spoke to you in a quieter tone, opening the door to the room where the rest of the team was already gathered. "But if you really care, I can ask her where she bought it."
Sometimes you had a hard time figuring out if the guy was serious or just messing with you.
"Iâd be greatly appreciative," you managed to say, quickly passing him and taking a seat at the long table.
You heard Elle whispering to Morgan something that started with "You wonât believe thisâŚâ and contained a combination of the words red, long, and untie.
Actually, saying that all the team members were inside wasnât entirely true. One of them was missing.
"Reidâs late?" Penelope wondered, just as your gaze fell on his empty seat.
"Letâs start without him," Hotch decided. "This canât wait. JJ?"
She handed out the case files to everyone and moved to the screen, where the most important details and photos related to the case were being displayed. Before he could even say a word, a late Spencer burst into the room.
"Sorry, really, sorry..." he said frantically. "I know this never happens, but I overslept..."
He stopped mid-sentence as soon as his eyes met yours. It felt like he might as well have shouted, Hey, you know we had sex last night? and it would have been less suggestive. Or maybe it was just your inner paranoid voice talking.
"You couldâve informed us youâd be late," Hotch said.
Reid was still desperately trying to catch your eye, even though you were determinedly focusing on everything except him. It wasnât until a moment later that he realized Hotch had said something to him, and he sighed in surprise, snapping back to reality.
"Oh... yeah, I should have. Definitely. Actually... I actually sent a message to y/n."
At that moment, all eyes turned to you. You furrowed your brow. There was no way he had written or called you â you would have heard it⌠which, of course, didnât mean you would have replied. Your hand went to your pocketâŚ
"I forgot my phone."
Only then did you look at Reid, your expression should have given him the message you intended. I left my phone at your place...
âIâll look for it for you,â he offered. He immediately panicked, probably realizing that you'd rather keep your night together a secret. âI mean, Iâll help you look for it. If you wantâŚâ
âReid, please, sit down,â Hotch stopped him from completely humiliating both of you. At that point, you had a burning desire to bang your head on the table. âAnd close the door.â
âRightâŚâ
He followed the order and took a seat next to JJ, across from you, sending a small, uncertain smile. You didnât react, your face remained unreadable, even irritated by how much he was giving away about what had happened between you.
Still, seeing his slightly wrinkled shirt, the same one he wore the previous evening when he opened the door for you, you couldnât help but let your mind wander. Those small imperfections in the fabric were, of course, from how hastily you had removed it and tossed it to the floor, where it had stayed all nightâŚ
The first time you had met outside of work, as two ordinary friends and not colleagues, was a few weeks ago. You had to drop by his place in the evening to pick up some documents you needed for the next day at work.
âThank god,â you sighed as the door opened. âElle isnât picking up at all. I have no idea what sheâs doing or where she is, and I seriously need this. If I donât bring it, I can pretty much say goodbye to BAU.â
Only then did you lift your gaze to the man standing in front of you, too absorbed in your panic over the missing papers to actually take a good look at him. One hand rested on the doorframe, dressed in a sweater vest with the collar of a shirt peeking out beneath it.
âIâm glad I could help,â he replied. Thin-framed glasses rested on his nose, which he only wore occasionally for work. It was a shame because they suited him well. âBut Iâm sure Hotch wouldnât throw you out just for being one day late.â
âIâve been putting it off for three weeks.â
âThat definitely changes things. Are you coming in? I need to... check if I have everything. âIâm really sorry, but you actually called just a moment ago and I didnât manage toâŚâ
âDonât worry about it,â you waved a hand reassuringly. âI shouldâve reached out earlier and not bothered you at this hour. But since youâre inviting me, Iâm coming in. Iâve never been to your place before.â
âYouâre not bothering me at all,â he assured you as you both walked further into the apartment. The lighting was dim, creating a cozy and relaxed atmosphere.
You stopped in the living room when a familiar sound reached your earsâa melody you knew all too well. Without a second thought, you followed it to its source.
âYouâve got to be kidding me,â you huffed in surprise, coming to a halt in front of the glowing TV screen, its bright light cutting through the dim surroundings.
âWhat?â Spencer finally noticed you had wandered off and joined you a minute later. âOh, sorry. I was watching it earlier and forgot to turn it offâŚâ
âNo!â You stopped him before he could reach for the remote. âDonât you dare. Historyâs Mysteries is my favorite show.â
Spencer looked at you as though he expected you to burst into laughter any second and admit you were joking. But no, you genuinely, wholeheartedly loved that program. Especially the episodes about extraterrestrial lifeâdeep down, youâd always been a bit of a nerd.
You crossed your arms over your chest, pretending to be annoyed.
âWhat?â you challenged, raising an eyebrow. âYou think just because Iâm hot, I canât have any intellectual interests?â
He widened his eyes, shaking his head.
"Don't put those words in my mouth. Iâd never sayâor even thinkâsomething like that."
"That Iâm hot?"
"No! What? I mean⌠I wouldnât assume you couldnât have intellectual interests just because youâreâŚ"
"Hot," you finished for him, letting out a laugh. "Relax, Reid, Iâm just messing with you. By the way, you have a really nice apartment. Honestly, I kind of expected, I donât know, a lab or something."
"Well, so far, youâve only seen the living room," he replied.
"And I'd love to see the rest of it," you announced, rocking slightly on your heels. "But I haven't seen this episode yet, and I'm very curious about what it's about."
You noticed him hesitate, clearly unsure how to respond.
"Unless, of course, you donât want me to stay. Maybe you're expecting someone. A girl or a guy?"
"No, no, Iâm not expecting anyone," he replied quickly, swallowing nervously. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouthâbarely noticeable, but it was there. "Youâre absolutely not bothering me. Actually, itâll be... itâll be nice to have you stay. But, um... the documents. I shouldâI'll go get those ready for you. Would you like something to drink?"
 "...Four bodies were retrieved from a hole in the ice of a completely frozen lake. All the victims were young girls, aged thirteen to nineteen and each of them was involved in prostitution."
You were brought back to reality by JJ's words. You felt someone's gaze on you, surprisingly not from the direction you had expected. It was Gideon, and you were sure he had noticed the strange tension between you and Spencer. That was likely the reason behind his scrutiny. You had always thought he was a solid guy, but at times, he scared you. He looked at people as if he could see their original sin, not just theirs, but also that of five generations back in their family.
You shuddered, but for another reason. The subject... frozen lake, bodies pulled out... even though so many years had passed, and you could barely remember the event, the chill still crept down your spine, and your heart raced like you were running away.
"Wait a minute," Derek said, furrowing his brow thoughtfully. "How thick could the ice be on that lake?"
"Given the current almost extreme temperatures, probably around 50 inches. That's thick enough for even cars to move safely on it," Reid explained without hesitation.
You sighed, trying to hide a fleeting smile. You just... sounded like a fetishist, but you couldn't deny that it was a little exciting when he did that. He delivered long, flawless explanations, all while looking genuinely fascinated by the topic. It didn't matter what you were talking about.
Elle raised an eyebrow. You decided to ignore her.
 âDoesnât it make you wonder how he managed to cut a hole in the lake, in such thick ice, without anyone noticing?â Morgan continued.
 âActually, he didnât have to do it personally,â Reid replied again. He took off his glasses and thoughtfully turned them in his hands. âUnder different weather conditions, we might consider that, but these were most likely holes made for other purposes. Fishing, mostly, but also to test if the ice can support vehicles, for example. The unsub could have simply shown up, discarded the body, and thatâs it.â
You all started the discussion on the topic without your input. You should have stayed focused, but you couldn't help but keep glancing back at his long fingers, holding the glasses...his touch so delicate and skilledâŚ
The door opened once again, just like every Sunday, when the two of you caught up on the weekly episode of the show. After you stayed over at his place once to watch it together, it simply became a tradition. An unspoken one.
With each meeting, you talked less and less about work. It was still kept in a purely friendly atmosphereâotherwise, you wouldn't have shown up. You weren't looking for a committed relationship, but lately, the usual physicality wasn't enough, and you needed a new conversation partner on a deeper level. The range of your topics was vast, from casual chatter to deep analyses of the content you watched (you could talk for hours about conspiracy theories), or serious yet comforting conversations about life and the world.
"Where's my pillow?" you asked, pointing to the spot on the left side of the couch where you always sat.
"I spilled coffee on it, by accident. It's in the laundry. Sorry."
"Did you really just apologize for taking your pillow from your own apartment?"
"Sorry, Itâs just my thingâ
You both burst out laughing, sitting side by side on the couch.
"I miss something to rest my head on," you complained after just a minute. "Iâve got neck pain from sleeping on the jet."
"So, you should definitely sleep on a flat surface," he teased. "See, I took the pillow out of concern for you."
"Ladies and gentlemen, Spencer Reid before you. The man who will always find a scientific reason to make your life harder. Maybe I should just sleep on a bed of nails instead of a mattress, huh?"
âI just suggested a slightly flatter surface! Where did the nails come from?â
âThatâs the same to me. I need softness.â
Spencer shook his head.
âI can bring you a pillow from my bedroom.â
âThe episode is starting.â
âIâll be back in a secondâŚâ
âOh, and then youâll complain you canât talk about the plot because you missed the first minute, and so much probably happened,â you stopped him from getting up, grabbing his wrist. âSit. Iâll survive the neck pain. Or⌠or Iâll just lie down here.â
Saying this, you simply rested your head on his lap, settling comfortably on your side.
 âWhat did the autopsy reveal?â Elle asked. âDid the victims die from drowning, or were their bodies just dumped in the water with a different cause of death?â
You should have focused on the case at hand, but you couldnât shake the discomfort this topic caused you. No wonder your thoughts kept straying to more pleasant places as you tried to distance yourself from it. Still, you read through the case files, knowing you had to stay focused to solve this. Lives depended on it.
âThey were all alive when they were thrown into the water,â JJ said with tightly pressed lips. âAnd each of them suffered a heavy blow to the head.â
âThatâs how he abducts them,â Derek summarized. âKnocks them unconscious with a strong hit. Maybe he pretends to be a client, and once they leave with him, he strikes.â
âThe question is, why specifically the lakeâs ice hole?â you mused, tapping your nails on the table in an anxious gesture. âIs it purely practical? Did he think it was the easiest place to dispose of the bodies?â
You couldnât take your eyes off the photos of the drowning victimsâit felt like self-inflicted torture. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Reid staring at you differently than before. Once, youâd told him a story about something that happened to you as a child, more like a casual anecdote than a heartfelt confession. Even so, you thought you saw some worry etched on his face.
For the first time since he walked through the door, you met his eyes directly, responding to his desperate attempts to catch your gaze. Surprised that you finally looked at him, he froze, his slightly parted lips emitting a short sound as if he wanted to say something but forgot what it was at the last second.
"No... I don't think so," he finally said, drawing out the syllables absentmindedly. The slight furrow in his brow suggested he was deep in thought. "Bathing in water symbolizes cleansing from sin in many religions, both physically and spiritually. For example, in Christianity, baptism washes away original sin. Prostitutes are often the targets of serial killers who believe theyâre purging society in some way. Since weâve ruled out a sexual motive, maybe this is where we should focus our attention."
"Thatâs a good lead," Hotch agreed, as the rest of the team considered the analysis in silence. "In that case, weâre likely dealing with a religious fanatic. Such perpetrators often believe theyâre acting in the name of God or some higher good. Worse still, they see their actions as morally justified, which means they feel no remorse."
"And that, in turn, means they wonât stop killing until theyâre caught," Gideon concluded.
"Then there will soon be another victim. We need to move now," your boss decided, quickly straightening his papers against the table before tucking them into his briefcase. "See you on the jet in fifteen minutes."
Throughout the meeting, you'd laid out the victims' photos in front of you, studying them closely. Preoccupied with gathering them up, you could hear everyone heading toward the door, convinced you'd been left alone in the room.
But when you looked up, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Reid. Your breath hitched for a moment. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but you'd worked so hard to push the thought of it awayâŚ
"Hey," he greeted with a small smile on his lips. He seemed almost excited about the conversation. "I just wantedâŚto ask how you're doing."
You shrugged, forcing indifference.
"Fine, I guess."
You finished sliding the photos back into the case file, closed it, and pressed it to your chest.
"We should get going. Hotch gave us fifteen minutes, but the sooner we leave, the better..."
"You don't even want to talk to me?" he asked unexpectedly, shaking his head slightly in genuine disbelief. He swallowed hard and added, "About last night?"
You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. You hated thisâhated it with every fiber of your being. That awful moment when you had to tell someone you'd spent the night with that it didnât mean anything to you, that you didnât want to keep seeing them, let alone get involved. And it was so much worse this time. This wasnât some random guy. This was Spencerâyour friend, someone you genuinely cared about, whose friendship you couldnât afford to lose, especially since you worked together.
Your body was conditioned to run, to escape. Waking up in someone elseâs bed always signaled an immediate sprint to the finish line. But this time, it felt like youâd tripped over an untied shoelace barely a meter in.
"Thereâs nothing to talk about," you replied. The strange tension of being in the same room with him again, just the two of you in this small spaceâso much like last nightâsettled over you. "Actually, wait. There is. I think I left my phone at your place, though it mightâve fallen somewhere in the car. Could you look for it when we get back?"
He didnât respond. You werenât sure why, but you kept your gaze fixed anywhere but on himâhis shirt, the space behind him, anything to avoid his eyes. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you should look directly at him, let your words carry the weight they were supposed to.
Spencer suddenly let out a short, sharp laugh, filled with shock and maybe even⌠sarcasm?
"Did it really mean so little to you that you can't even look at me?"
You gave in and lifted your gaze. His head tilted slightly to the side, his brow furrowed. He looked somehow hurt even though hurt seemed too strong a word.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean how you disappeared this morning. I thought maybe you were in a rush or didnât want to wake me, but when I got there, you barely even looked at me. Sorryâactually, you looked at me only onceâ
"What did you expect, that Iâd throw myself at you and kiss you?"
"No, I expected that weâd talk about it like normal people."
"But thereâs nothing to talk about. It happened, and thatâs it. I donât see any reason we should have to debate about it..."
Spencer wasnât angry, like others might have been. He was simply stunned.
"I donât understand this," he finally confessed, adjusting his glasses on his nose. It was as if they suddenly became a bother, so he adjusted them again, then, after a moment of hesitation, took them off. "Do you regret what happened?"
âNo,â you answered quickly, it was the first honest thought that came to your mind. You pinched the bridge of your nose, unable to find the right words. âWell⌠I donât regret it in the way you might think. Itâs just⌠Iâm not sure what you expect from me now. We spent one night together, it was amazing, but I donât have anything more to offer you.â
âI donât want you to offer me anything,â he said, irritation beginning to creep into his voice, though it didnât seem to be directed at you. âThe only thing I want is��� to understand where we stand now. Look, weâve been spending a lot of time together lately, I thought you liked meâŚâ
âBecause I do like you,â you interrupted him mid-sentence. "Let me be honest with you, Reid. I donât do relationships. And just so you know, I donât usually sleep with my friends either, but it happened, and I canât undo it, nor would I want to. Because I enjoyed it, I like you, and I have a great time when Iâm with you. And up until now, Iâve really enjoyed how things have been between us. I donât want anything to change."
You summed up what had been weighing on your heart, hoping with all sincerity that heâd understand. Spencer leaned his hands on the back of an empty chair, turning his body slightly toward you.
"So," he said, letting out something between a chuckle and a pained sigh. "Maybe you shouldnât have gone to bed with me."
"Listen, sex doesnât mean anything. Itâs just a physical act, it doesnât affect our friendship in any way."
 "Do you really believe that?"
âYes, I do,â you insisted stubbornly, refusing to let yourself even blink. Spencer turned his face toward you, looking for signs of a lie or uncertainty in your expression.
He wouldnât have been able to find any, even if he tried with all his might. Because you were a brilliant actress. And it wasnât that you hid your feelings so well. It was more that everything about you was so contradictory that it created a whole range of possible interpretations. And Spencer, with his deeply rooted need to hurt himself and test his own worth, chose to settle on the one that would guarantee him that.
âWell, good for you,â he finally replied, before leaving the room completely, not even turning back over his shoulder.
For a moment, you stood in silence, unable to identify what you were actually feeling. In truth, your earlier words had been honest. You cared about your friendship, the connection, the conversations, and the time spent together. But at the same time, you couldnât deny that he simply attracted you. Just yesterday, you had convinced yourself it was probably just curiosity. Sometimes people wonder what it would be like to try something with a friend, they do it, and then all those similar thoughts fade away.
But was it the same for you two?
Your head and shoulders had been resting on his lap for a while, your cheek comfortably pressed against his thigh, and the glow of the TV occasionally lit up your focused face when something brighter appeared on the screen.
Spender seemed tense about the position for just a minute, then, for the next five, he was simply surprised. Although you focused your attention on the program, you could feel his gaze falling on your figure from time to time, stopping on it for a moment. After ten minutes, you were both lying comfortably, with mutual ease, and after an unknown amount of time, one of his hands was resting on your side.
Every now and then, you spoke to each other, exchanging short, often sarcastic comments about the episode. During one of these interactions, something caught your attention.
"Where are your glasses?" you asked. You turned onto your back, resting the back of your head on his lap instead of your temple and cheek.
You could look up at him from that amusing, lower perspective, from which everyone looks particularly unflattering. You smiled at his expression when he tilted his head to look at you.
"Oh, I have them here," he replied, lifting the glasses he must have set on the couch.
"But why arenât you wearing them?" You could swear that when you started watching, they were on his nose. You had noticed because you really liked how he looked in them.
He shrugged.
"Youâre straining your eyes. Put them on," you asked.
Spencer moved his hand as if he wanted to reach for them, but at the last moment, he hesitated.
"I... I donât exactly like how I look in them," he finally confessed.
After those words, you stared at the ceiling for a moment, then pushed yourself up on your elbow, almost aggressively. His eyebrows shot up at that.
"You must be joking."
"What?"
"I said, you must be joking. You look great in them. They really suit you," you assured him, sitting up. "You know, when I was a teenager, I always wanted to wear glasses. I even envied the girls with poor eyesight."
"You know, Iâm fully aware youâre saying this just to get me to wear them?"
"True, you got me. Did it work?"
"Not really."
You bit your lower lip, thoughtfully considering a certain idea.
"Okay, give them to me for a moment," you asked, extending your hand. "Iâll tell you something that will convince you to wear them. From now on, youâll even sleep in them. Well, maybe especially sleep in them."
He tilted his head, trying for a moment to read your intentions from your face, but he couldnât. He sighed and handed you the glasses.
"Donât..."
"Donât grab them by the lenses, I know that," you finished, rolling your eyes. "Iâm not some animal."
With his glasses in hand, you changed your position on the couch, kneeling so that you were more or less facing each other.
"Iâm waiting for your arguments," he said, his voice sly, to which you raised an eyebrow.
"Well, this will be an argument combined with a little presentation," you clarified. "Have you ever heard of the glasses theory?"
"Is that an actual concept in human psychology, or something you just made up? If itâs the latter, Iâm afraid I havenâtâ
Listen, itâs very simple, but youâd better focus on me," you demanded, ignoring his previous remark.
"Iâm focused."
Indeed, he was. His gaze was fixed on you with such intensity and engagement, as if you were about to deliver a speech that could change the fate of the universe. Or maybe it just seemed that way because you were so close to each other.
"Forgive me for the unacademic language, Doctor, but I donât like to complicate things too much. This theory says that with glasses, you can only look one of two ways: smart or hot."
Spencer had already chuckled, ready to jump in with a sarcastic comment, but you pressed your finger to his lips, moving even closer.
"Donât interrupt me for now, Iâm not done yet. This theory also says that your look in glasses will always be the opposite of your usual, everyday look. So, if without them you look like the typical intellectual who knows the meaning of every word in the dictionary, then in themâŚ" You paused, tilting your head to the side. Up until now, your finger had been resting on his lips, which it had landed on by chance, but you couldnât stop yourself from trailing it along his chin and jawline. He didnât take his eyes off you, which only made it harder to stop. "In them, you look really, really attractive. Like, you know, sexually attractiveâ
You felt his chest rise. You felt it because one of your hands was resting on it as you sat on his lap, though you had no idea how you had ended up there. Spencer had been entirely focused on your face until now-on your speaking lips, not on how your bodies were positioned in relation to each other. He exhaled, loudly, far too loudly for comfort, the breath he'd been holding in. The sound escaped as you settled your full weight on his lap instead of just hovering above it.
âDo you really mean that?â
Yes, you wanted to respond briefly, right into his ear.
âThatâs the theory. And I⌠I agree with it. I even have another example. You wonât deny that Iâm hot, right? Itâs just something people think when they see me. A statement of fact. So⌠when I put on glassesâŚâ Saying this, you slid his glasses onto your own nose. Your entire field of vision blurred slightly, making it hard to see his reaction. You could only feel how his body responded..âWell? How do I look?â
He didnât answer. His breathing grew deeper, his pulse quicker. You knew this because your hand, which had been exploring every corner of his face, had already made its way to his neck and decided to stay there for a while.
âSpencer,â you prompted, âI asked how I look.â
He lowered his head, the top of it brushing against your sternum, lingering there for a moment. When he straightened again, his eyes were in constant flux, like those of someone torn by too many desires at once.
âSmart,â he replied, his voice barely audible, the word catching in his throat. âNow you look really smart.â
You shifted higher on his lap, drawn to him by the pull of his voice.
âSmart,â you repeated with a laugh, your tone edging toward a whisper, slipping between the two of you and filling the small space like liquid poured into a vessel. âThat confirms the theoââŚâ
You broke off when his lips finally surged toward yours, impatient and pushed to the very edge of restraint. His jaw pressed against yours, forcing your entire body to tilt back. You swayed on his lap, both of his hands falling tou your hips, his fingertips pressing firlmy into your skin to hold your body at the same place, right next to him, close, closer.Â
The kiss, born of desperation, quickly transformed into the release of a long-hidden hunger shared by you both. It was equal on every level, matched in intensity and force.
In the midst of it all, you lost your breath, repeatedly pulling your lips away from his to gasp for air, only to reconnect moments later. One of those brief pauses drew a wretched, urging whimper from him.
It was around then that you felt the pressure, growing stronger against your core.
An involuntary smile spread across your lips, breaking the kiss, during which you briefly took control, tilting his neck back for better access. Pulling away by barely an inch, you managed to notice that his barely open eyelids were still fixed on your lips, glistening with saliva and flushed with desire.
âSpencer? What is it? â
After asking that question you pressed yourself to his hips, pointing to the obvious hardness. His eyes widened, as if all the previous actions had taken place far beyond his body, to which he had only just returned. He inhaled sharply, his fingers gripping your body firmly and decisively as if trying to slide you off his lap. Something in the intensity of his touch and his attempt to take control only made you cling to him more.
âDidnât expect you to be that hard after a kiss, but maybe itâs my faultâ You muttered a joke under your breath, your lips briefly marking the space along his jawline, chin, and finally his lips. In the meantime, while one of your hands remained firmly on his neck, the other decisively reached its target. Then, griped it through the fabric of his pants. His lips parted, b loout no sound came out; it seemed to have been swallowed by his surprise. âDo you want me to take care of it?â
Your hand remained still, waiting for an answer. At first, he was silent, focused on his own breathing, not looking at your face, which you found quite unsettling.
"Spencer, I want you to answer me."
When he hesitated again, you gently brushed your lips against the lobe of his ear. But before you could repeat your request, he unexpectedly pulled both of you to the side, positioning you beneath him.
You gasped, surprised by the shift in dynamics.
âI want thisâ he whimpered into your ear, covering it with his mouth along with the space around it. âI really, really want this, pleaseâŚâ
But was it the same for you two?Â
You repeated the question in your mind and recalled how, arched like a bow, you placed the glasses on his face, wanting to see him wear them as he made you come.Â
You stood there in the empty room, replaying that moment in your head, well aware that you should join the rest of the team, but not so sure about the answerÂ
*
"Please donât tell me that those fifteen minutes when you were alone..."
"Disgusting, Elle, youâre just disgusting."
Your friend, sitting across from you on the jet, smiled as if youâd just given her a compliment. The rest of the team either engaged in conversation with each other or reviewed the case files once more, looking for new clues. Reid belonged to the latter group, though his absent expression didnât suggest he was deep in thought about the case. But you made an effort not to look at him, feeling a bit guilty for how things had unfolded.
"What exactly did you tell him?"
"That I donât date and Iâm not looking for anything serious."
"You just told him that?"
"What was I supposed to do, draw him a picture?"
"Itâs not about that, itâs just..." Elle hesitated, unsure of what she wanted to say. She didnât seem as cheerful as before. "I guess you didnât say it that directly, right? Donât get me wrong, but itâs kind of... cruel."
Her gaze briefly shifted toward the subject of your conversation, looking concerned.
"Would you have come to that conclusion if it were any other guy you didnât know?"
She sighed.
"Probably not, and thatâs why I think Iâm having some sort of moral crisis."
You fell into a bit of an unpleasant mood for the rest of the flight. Unsure of what else to do, you decided to think a bit about the case and the murders. You even came to a conclusion and were about to stand up to discuss it when it hit you that you wanted your conversation partner to be...Reid. You sighed and stopped halfway, not knowing if he was ready to talk to you again.
Soon enough, you arrived in the small town where the murders had taken place. Naturally, you headed straight to the site where the bodies were discovered. Bundled up in thick down jackets, the crunch of deep snow underfoot accompanied your every step. You busied yourself talking to the local police, deliberately keeping your distance from the lake. The vast expanse of frozen water seemed to glare at you, challenging and mocking, as though daring you to come and play. Every glance at the ice awakened an inexplicable urge to sprint to its center, to feel the chills coursing through your body and surrender to a reckless exhilaration.
Rain drummed against the bridge like a barrage of tiny bullets, sharp and unrelenting, as if determined to pierce straight through you. You stood huddled beneath an umbrella with Reid, but both of you were already soaked to the bone, shivering from the relentless cold.
âWhere the hell are they?â you asked through chattering teeth.
As part of your investigation, you and Reid had been sent to a nearby high school to interview the teachers of a missing teenager. The rest of the team had been assigned different tasks, and someone was supposed to pick you up at the agreed-upon spot and time so you could regroup and share your findings. But the wait was dragging on far longer than expected.
âIâd just like to remind you that you laughed at me when I took this umbrella, saying there wasnât a single cloud in the sky and it definitely wouldnât rain,â Spencer remarked, switching the umbrella from his red, cold hand to the other one he had been keeping warm in his coat pocket.
You looked at him with envy. Your jacket didnât even have pockets, and you started wondering why youâd even bought it in the first place.
âThis is not the time to point fingers at me,â you retorted. âThis is the time to make sure I donât die of hypothermia. Come closer. And donât stand so close to the railing.â
âWeâre nearly two meters away from it,â he pointed out, but still followed your request and stepped forward. You took the opportunity to shove your hands into his coat pockets for even a momentary bit of warmth. His coat smelled like rain, and your nose accidentally brushed against it. Your hands touched his in one of the pockets.
���Jesus, itâs like touching an ice cube,â he muttered.
âYou still have feeling in your hands?â
âStill do, but Iâm afraid itâs only a matter of time,â he replied.
âTheyâll freeze and have to be amputated. Weâll be the only two handless FBI agents. Hotch will never send us on an assignment together again,â you joked.
He chuckled softly and shifted the umbrella to his other hand once again. For a moment, you both stood in silenceâhim staring at the river flowing beneath the bridge, and you gazing toward the direction where you hoped your rescue would arrive.
âCan I ask you a question?â he broke the silence, looking down at you.
You were standing so close, your hands buried in his coat pockets, that you had to tilt your head back significantly to meet his gaze.
âSure, go ahead.â
âAre you afraid of water?â
You stared at his face, taken aback by the question. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead, and for some inexplicable reason, you felt a sudden urge to push it back.
âWhy do you ask?â
He shrugged.
âItâs just something I noticed todayâthough, of course, thereâs a possibility Iâm wrong. But weâve been standing on this bridge for twenty minutes, and you havenât looked down once. And you keep telling me to step away from the railing.â
âIâm just looking out for your safety, klutz,â you teased, lowering your gaze. He wasnât wrong about the water, and it surprised you that he had even picked up on it.
âWhen I was six, I almost drowned in frigid water,â you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them.
Spencerâs brows furrowed with concern.
âAt least, thatâs what Iâve been told,â you added before he could say anything. âApparently, my dad took me and my sisters to a lake to go ice skating. He used to go there as a kid with his siblings, and the ice was always thick enough that no one even considered it might break. But that was twenty years earlier. He didnât account for climate change. The ice cracked right beneath me.â
âGod,â he sighed. âYou know⌠maybe itâs for the better that you donât remember it. At least not exactly.â
 âMaybe. Apparently, I spent the next two weeks in the hospital with pneumonia, but I donât have a single memory of that. Still, it doesnât change the fact that I shudder at the mere sound of water.â
 âYour body must remember what your mind suppressed. But wait, didnât you have to pass a swimming test to get into the FBI?â
 âI did. But it was in a pool, where the water was calm and not trying to kill me. Hey, do you see that car? Isnât that for us?â
After a few hours, you began to appreciate living in a state where winters were mild. Your hands were even colder than they had been that time on the bridge, despite wearing leather gloves. The hood over your head muffled the sounds around you so much that the first time Hotch called your name, you didnât even hear him. You only approached him when you noticed him waving in your direction.
Something in his expression made you quicken your pace.
âWe have the unsubâs identity,â he said before you could open your mouth to ask what had happened.
The rest of the team had already gathered. Reidâs cheeks were red from the cold, and he wasnât wearing his glasses. He wasnât looking at you, so you avoided looking at him.
âWhat?â you blurted, surprised. âHow?â
âHe abducted another victim, but this time he wasnât as careful, and one of the cameras caught him. Using the footage, Penelope tracked down his information. She also found out that he came from a very poor family, and his sister turned to prostitution at the age of fourteen to support both of them.â
âI donât understand. Then why does he kill young girls, just like his sister, who sacrificed herself for their survival?â Elle asked, suddenly appearing behind you.
Her question echoed in your mind.
âHe thinks that by drowning them in freezing water, he cleanses them of the sin of prostitutionâa sin he believes was unjustly forced upon them because of poverty,â you said suddenly, the chill biting into your body far more sharply than before.
âThe unsub might even think heâs doing them a favor,â Reid added, animated, picking up your line of thought. âThat heâs their savior, granting them a departure free of that sin.â
His eyes met yours, a flicker of admiration glinting in them. But then, as if reminded of everything, he quickly looked away. You felt like sighing. So this is how every single one of your interactions was going to look from now on?
âWe need to catch him before he drowns another victim. We donât have much time; itâs getting dark,â Hotch issued commands quickly. âGideon, me, JJ, and Elle will head to one lake, Morgan, Y/N, andâŚâ
âI should go with you,â Reid interrupted. âElle can go with Morgan, andâŚâ
âThis is not up for discussion,â Hotch replied in a firm tone, a flicker of surprise crossing not just his face but everyoneâs. When it came to time, his decisions were final. You all knew that. "Go," He commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Before you knew it, you were in the speeding car. The tension and sense of mission always left you silent, focused, and most of all, determined.
âHeâs here. Do you see him? Heâs dragging her toward the hole in the ice!â
Throughout all of it, not once did it cross your mindâthe obvious fact that youâd have to set foot on the frozen lake. Before you even had a chance to react or fully realize it, Reid unexpectedly grabbed your sleeve, pulling you toward him. He seemed surprised by his own action, his eyes darting with adrenaline across your face.
âThe ice wonât break, do you understand?â he said, not letting go of your arm. âItâs thick enough that cars can drive on it. âItâs safe, trust me. And if you feel like you canât do it, just stay behind,âÂ
His voice was surprisingly steady, offering a sense of comfort that you hadnât expected. You listened, almost stunned, not just by the care in his advice, but also by the fact that he was even speaking to you at all.
You didnât have time to respond or even nod; the car came to a stop, and every second counted. Somewhere deep inside, though, you felt a surge of gratitude for his gesture and words. Because as soon as you set foot on the ice, it was as though your senses vanished. All that mattered was the waterâcold, sinister, and waiting for you deep beneath the blue surface.
Morgan and Reid moved ahead of you, with the latter turning his head over his shoulder. You saw it, even as the darkness quickly closed in around you.
âIf you feel like you canât do it, just stay behind,â echoed in your mind.
But you couldnât just stand there and watch while the victimâs life was hanging by a thread. Focusing entirely on his words and voice, you moved forward, gripping your weapon tightly, yet with a steady hand.
And it was your shot, fired in a moment of desperate resolve, that brought the unsub down, giving Morgan the chance to catch the unconscious victim in his arms and rush her to the shore as quickly as possible.
You stood there, breathless, still holding the gun high, completely unaware of it until someone gently touched your hands, guiding them downward.
âItâs me,â Reid said quietly as you flinched. Only then did it start to sink in that you were standing on the ice. Your imagination began to feed you the feeling of the bone-chilling cold, the water pressing against your body with all its might. After all these years, still so vivid. You grabbed onto his arms tightly, your legs suddenly slipping beneath you. Why hadnât they slipped before?
âHey, careful. The ice is thick, remember? It wonât break,â he reassured you.
He held you tightly, offering you support as you both made your way to the shore, taking small, uncertain steps. You could barely breathe, let alone speak. Yet, a question loomed in your mind, one you were desperate to ask: why was he even still with you? Why hadnât he just left you there, maybe for some internal satisfaction?Â
Finally, you were on solid ground, no longer gripped by panic. Still, your breath was rapid, every cell in your body shaking in spasms, but not in that teasing, playful way it had when you played the role of the bolter.Â
âWhy did you do it?â you asked, still holding onto him like a lifeline. âI thought you were mad at me.â
Before answering, Reid studied you in silence for a moment.
âI could be furious with you, but I wouldnât leave you there, alone and scared,â he said.
You opened your mouth, a warmth spreading across your chest, something that felt almost like a comforting embrace. But before you could say anything, the rest of the team reached you, with Elle hanging onto your shoulder, her voice full of concern as she asked how you were feeling.
In the darkness and the flood of emotions, his face blurred, along with the faces of the others. You closed your eyes for a moment, surrendering completely.
It was only then that you began to calm down, though it would take many hours before your hands stopped shaking.
*
You nervously paced around the office, two pairs of eyes watching you with clear amusement.
"Do you think he called me in because of that whole tie incident?" you asked, nervously biting one of your nails. "Shit, itâs definitely about that. It was so inappropriate, heâs probably going to fire me."
"Calm down," Derek said to you, the corner of his mouth constantly rising and falling. "First of all, if Hotch were going to fire you for every dumb thing that comes out of your mouth, you'd be gone after a week. Second of all, it probably has nothing to do with that. Knowing you, itâs probably some overdue paperwork..."
"Youâre not helping," you said, raising a warning finger.
Elleâs laugh mixed with her yawn.
"God, Iâm exhausted from this day. Iâm out of here. Call me later and let me know what this was all about," she kissed your cheek as a farewell.
You briefly hugged her with one arm.
"Keep your fingers crossed," you asked them as they walked away.
Both of them raised their hands, making the gesture.
It was evening, and you had just returned to the office after closing the case. You had hoped to head home and sleep off all the emotions from the day, but then you found out that Hotch had called for you. And you had no idea why.
Before opening the door with his name on it, you crossed yourself in your mind.
"Listen, Hotch, about that tie, it was really just some messing around," you blurted out, before even fully stepping inside.
The man sitting at his desk raised an eyebrow. He wasnât aloneâacross from him, in a chair, looking like a student called to the principalâs office for punishment, sat Spencer, looking just as confused as you felt.
"Did you want to see me now? Or did I mix up the time or the days...?"
"I wanted to see both of you," he replied, pointing to one of the two chairs next to Reid.
You exchanged a brief glance with your colleague. Since your last interaction on the frozen lake, neither of you had spoken a word, but the atmosphere wasnât as tense as before. That didnât, of course, mean that everything between you was back to normal.
"Listen, Iâm just as exhausted as you, but I need to have this conversation with you now so we can resolve it as quickly as possible."
You shook your head in confusion.
"Resolve what?" Reid asked.
"Whatever happened between you two," Hotch started seriously, his gaze moving between your faces. "Any argument, I donât care what it was about or how serious it is, it cannot affect your work or professional relationship in any way."
You couldnât help it and let out a laugh. You imagined Elleâs expression on the other end of the phone when youâd tell her the real reason behind this summonsâŚ
 "Hotch, there was no argument," you assured him, maybe not entirely honestly, but in an attempt to wrap up this somewhat, let's be honest, embarrassing conversation as quickly as possible.
 Spencer nodded enthusiastically.
 "Absolutely none. Never."
 "I'm not blind or, as youâre both well aware, stupid," Hotch continued, his gaze shifting between you both. "I can see what's going on, and Iâm telling you nowâI donât want any conflict in my team."
You let out a snort.
 "So what are you going to do?" you asked challengingly. "Force us to shake hands and make up? If we do that now, can we finally go home?"
 He met your gaze, his expression as stoic as ever, but you were certainâabsolutely certainâthat deep down, he was amused by it all. To your surprise, he suddenly stood up from his desk.
 "No, I'm going to do something more effective," he declared. "I'm leaving you two alone for ten minutes. No one leaves this office. When I come back, everything needs to be settled. Understood?"
"Isnât this some sort of elementary school method of discipline?" Spencer asked, raising his eyebrows, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw that beneath his amused expression, there was also a hint of concern.
"Exactly how it sounds," you agreed, briefly meeting his gaze before shifting it to your boss with a pleading look. "You're not our father, Hotch. We're adults, stop treating us like children..."
His hand landed on the doorknob without a momentâs hesitation.
 "Then stop acting like children and talk to each other," he said, glancing at his watch. "Iâll be back in ten minutes."
You couldâve sworn there was a subtle smile playing on his face as he left.
 You watched his figure disappear in disbelief.
 And then, you turned to Spencer, who was already staring at you.
#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds smut#spencer reid criminal minds#bau team#doctor spencer reid#criminal minds fanfiction#dr spencer reid#criminal mind#dr reid#spencer reid smut#aaron hotchner#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you
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your fic about Chishiya was so good I feel like you captured his character perfectly đŠ will you write more about him? I can barely find any good writings about him and yours is truly so perfect đđ
Patchwork Love
pairing: Chishiya Shuntaro x gn!reader
summary: after being injured in a game, Chishiya drags you off and is somehow more silent than usual. What's his problem?
tags: friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, they're both so stupid
warnings: descriptions of injuries including blood, non-sexual unwanted touch, emotional constipation, Chishiya cries lmao
a/n: hope you enjoy :) my writing is rusty lol but I love this trope
.ă . ⢠â . ° .⢠°:. *â ° . â.ă . ⢠â . ° .⢠°:. *â ° . â
Everything was going fine at first; you were on your own in a level three spades game, lightwork! It was a construction zone with many metal rails and walkways, and multiple wide pipes at the very top. The objective was simple - get to the top before the time runs out. At first it was that simple, that is until the freezing cold water began to pour in randomized sections. A game of strength and luck it seems. There were others from the Beach with you, so of course you figured you'd just team up and make sure no one slips. Wrong! To save their own asses just as the four of you were getting towards the top, they used your body as an easier to grip ladder. Not only did you feel violated, you also felt icy cold fear mixing with white hot rage. What the fuck? You pulled those three up so many times at the risk of drowning and for what?
The water pours down on you as they cheer from the top with just two minutes left, freezing and blinding you as you struggle to actually breathe. Two hands on one thin bar that's already trembling under your suspended weight. Fuck. Everything felt like a blur as you hauled your leg over another bar, using all your strength to not drown from the water rushing across you and to pull yourself onto the walkway. For a moment it seems like something had snapped, your leg overstretched and arms overexerted. You aren't built for this! Your life before consisted of studying and absolutely destroying kids on x-box! As you lay on the metal grating, water having ceased with a heaving chest, Chishiyas face flashes in your mind. Well fuck - you're realizing you like him at the worst possible time. With that motivation in mind alongside the need to deck those three in the balls, you force your aching body up the rest of those rails with ten seconds left on the clock.
The three boys are obviously shocked to see you alive and rush off, once again leaving you behind with no transportation back. Lovely.
You aren't quite sure how you managed to get back to Beach but by the time you do, the sun is beginning to rise. Damn, what if they vacated your room? The morning air is chilly and you know you have some sort of hypothermia if your chilled fingertips are anything to go by, not to mention the way your head is beginning to swim - pun intended.
As your torn up, shaking form stumbles through the gates past a few surprised militants and even more surprised party-goers, Kuina barrels towards you. She looks both put together and a mess, her eyes red rimmed and seeming to water - pun intended - as her warm hands cup your ice cold cheeks. She chokes up at this realization and ushers you inside, muttering something about Ann being a little busy with some project as she leads you two to a familiar door.
Chishiyas face, as calm as ever, cracks when Kuina barges in. He's up in an instant and wasting no time as apparently one look at you is enough to know what you need - or maybe he just knows you. A blanket is around your shoulders before you can blink and now you're on his bed, unfortunately not in the context you'd wish for now. Kuina runs off after Chishiya instructs her to get a whole load of things, but you honestly have no idea what because you're too busy staring at him. Chishiyas face is contorted in a way you've never seen before or at least haven't been the recipient of. His eyes are focused in solely on you, his brows furrowed and typical smirk gone in favor of a grimace. Most notable are his hands resting heavy on your shoulders as if you'd shrug the warm blanket off. Those hands you now realize match those in your dreams are surprisingly warm and unsurprisingly steady - Chishiya was a little less smart than you thought if he didn't know by now that you knew of his profession. The idea of him in a doctors coat distracts you as he gets up from where he was crouched in front of you, reappearing with bandages and disinfectant.
"So..how'd your game go?" You break the awkward silence and feel your cheeks warm at how scratchy your voice is. Must've been the borderline constant drowning. His sharp gaze makes you almost flinch with the weight in it, your own eyes dropping back to your lap. Of course he doesn't respond, only making some vaguely disapproving noises as those eyes scan your wounds. His silence begins to piss you off, that rage from earlier being misdirected at him. Seriously, you almost died in a frankly horrific way and this is all he has to give?
"I can patch myself up. I'm not helpless." The tension rises, twisting uncomfortably in your gut as Chishiya stays in place while you glare at him. With a huff as he refuses to speak, you get up on weak legs. This seems to snap him out of it as he grabs your hips - and just at the right time. Your legs give way as the exhaustion hits all at once to only fuel that anger, a frustrated sound coming from you as Chishiya tuts disapprovingly again.
"Stay still. You're hurt and too tired to move." His voice is rough and annoyingly calm. Is he allergic to worrying? You obey though as he unravels the bandages and uncaps the disinfectant, steeling yourself for the following pain.
The blond has the grace to look at least a little apologetic at every wince and soft cry your battered form gives, even letting you hold onto either his shoulders or jacket. The cuts, scraps, bruises, and blood staining your body worry him even if he doesn't show it. Images begin flashing in his mind of internal bleeding, broken ribs, torn muscles-
"Are you..crying?" Your soft voice breaks the less tense silence, your own tears having dried up some time ago. Chishiya pales as he becomes aware of the liquid dripping down his cheeks and hastily wipes them away, refusing to meet your gaze or lift his head.
"No." He replies shortly, heart picking up its pace as he realizes he has to patch your torn hands. You follow his gaze and readily hold both hands out, skin raw and bleeding still. He winces internally at the sight of your beautiful hands so heavily marred.
Warmth spreads through you as he takes your hand in his non-dominant one to carefully disinfect it, whispering apologies as you hold back cries of pain. Somehow you aren't too shocked by this display of care, an inner part of you having sensed something was different by the lingering looks and the way he is always there. Chishiya wraps your hand with a gentleness you weren't sure he possessed, repeating the process with your other hand until every wound is patched up. Not a word was properly shared, your eyes rarely met, and you didn't comment again on the occasional slip of tears you caught.
"Go change in the bathroom." He mutters after passing you actual clothes, aka his own sweatpants and a t shirt. Once you step back out of the bathroom - definitely not after taking a moment to admire yourself in his clothes - Chishiya does just what you definitely didn't. The admiration is well hidden yet you catch it in the way he turns his head slightly to the left and steps back, as if you're a danger.
"These are really comfy, thanks." An appreciative smile brightens your face and threatens to blind him, so he sits down where you were moments earlier. You take a seat beside him and try to hide your steadily growing flustered state when that damn white jacket is placed around your shoulders. He says nothing so neither do you, the silence now companionable even as sparks burn its edges.
"What happened." It's not a question and you know that, just as you know what happened isn't your fault. The tears, anger and irrational shame, prick your eyes anyways. He doesn't comment, he only takes your pinkie with his.
After a deep inhale and calming exhale, you speak. "It was an easy spades game and I teamed up with three guys from here, but towards the end they just.." You choke up momentarily, but with the way his hand moves to rub your forearm, you know you'll get it out.
"They knocked me down so I was hanging and used me like a fucked up bridge- their hands were everywhere and I know it was for survival only but it was so..so dehumanizing." The words come out softer and softer until you aren't even sure Chishiya can hear, but he does. He only ever listens for you. His face is as calm as ever as you cry, arm light as it wraps around your shoulder to bring you into the only safe haven you have in this fucked up place.
Time passes, you aren't sure how much but you are sure you've dozed off, yet Chishiya hasn't moved once. He holds you close and his fingers still rub circles on your shoulder, mindful of a bruise there as he's memorized your injuries. There's some snacks and another blanket on the small dresser, presumably brought by Kuina.
Chishiya knows you've slipped into that numb state, so he doesn't mind helping you eat some crackers and drink that tea you're so obsessed with. He doesn't mind keeping you right there, right where he can protect you and you can rest; where you can heal yourself. What he does mind is you deciding to break out of this numbness by pestering him.
"You cried." You whisper, poking his chest lightly as his arms tenses around you. For a moment you fear you may have misjudged the air and his actions, envy flooding - pun unintended - through you at the idea that maybe all his patients get such treatment. His answer calms your thoughts.
"Yes, you could say I was..worried. Don't do that again." His warm breath brushes across the top of your head and a faint smile tugs at your lips from the slight roughness to his typically smooth voice. Your head props up on his chest so you can see him and he can't resist looking down at you. His eyebrow raises in a silent question that has you grin, that familiar smirk returning.
"If it gets me this treatment.."
"No."
"Worth a shot."
"..You don't need to be hurt to get my attention." The one-sided banters comes to a halt as your eyes widen, staring at his ever calm face like he hand painted the stars for you. If he could, he would.
With a slight grunt you manage to sit up a little better, worry flickering over Chishiyas face at your show of pain. Damn you could get used to this. Words aren't his thing so what better communication than action? Even with bandages, your hands ever so carefully cup his jaw, moving slowly incase he doesn't want this.
Chishiya really fucking wants this. With the way you're being so gentle, so considerate, when others in his life haven't almost keels him over. But you're injured, mentally and physically, so slow and steady will win this race. The kiss is soft and unhurried, as if there isn't an invisible timer looming over your heads. Time is irrelevant when he whispers your name oh so quietly and his hand oh so carefully caresses your matching tear stained cheek. With every touch, every shared breath, the previous hands are washed away for now. They'll haunt you at night but Chishiya will be there to wipe them away, whether that be with affection or simply being there as you get a snack to soothe your brain.
You know why he cried, why he looked so worried, why it's his clothes you're wearing, and why Kuina said Ann was busy when you actually passed by her lounging in the hall. He loves and he cares, the same as you. It only took almost losing you to realize it.
As you separate slowly and lay down, drawn together as if magnets, you drift off. Chishiya waits patiently as your breath evens out before slipping away.
It's the next morning when you wake up alone in the cold bed, insecure heartbreak seeping in until Chishiya quietly walks into the room, not hesitating with the gentle squeeze to your shoulder and kiss to your head. No words are exchanged when you settle in the chair next to him by his desk, watching him build who knows what as you munch away on those snacks. His ankle his hooked with yours and that is all that matters - you can ignore the split knuckles and prideful hint to his face because he's yours, and you're his.
#chishiya alice in borderland#alice in borderland#chishiya x reader#chishiya shuntaro#aib chishiya#chishiya x you#aib fanfic#chishiya shuntaro x reader#chishiya x gn!reader
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⥠mine | tommy hewitt x reader
⥠fandoms; texas chainsaw massacre remake/ the beginning
⥠characters; thomas hewitt
⥠reader; AFAB body description, second person POV
⥠cw; graphic sexual content, implied voyeurism, breeding kink, light daddy kink (just calling him daddy? wasnât sure what to tag that )
âĄnotes; i feel the need to apologize for this one lmao. i didnât intend for this to see the light of day but i felt we needed more smut around here and this was already sittin in my personal folder
i donât know that Iâve ever posted detailed smut anywhere before? so lmk how i did, i still havenât even asked to get my friend to beta read so Iâm sure Thereâs Issues.
â˘ââ˘â˘âŚ ⤠âŚâ˘â˘ââ˘
âOh fuck, baby,â You sighed softly, letting your head roll to the side as you ground on Thomasâ thigh - the mountain of a man pushing his leg up with a huff. Luda-Mae, Monty, and Hoyt had taken a rare trip to their cousinsâ place upstate, and left Thomas and yourself in aâŚsticky situation.
It had already become a war of attrition with you living there, each of you testing the otherâs boundaries as you tried desperately not to cross the line. Thomas was allegedly a good, Bible-following boy- and you a shy little virgin . But god, something about Thomas just made you crazy. You needed him- and youâd gotten so shameless that youâd let him do just about anything to you.
Thatâs what landed you there, trying to entice Thomas and only ending up a squeaky mess as you rode his thigh. He was steadfast for a man years pent up- seeming to find great pleasure in making you unravel without cracking himself. Of course, you had no idea of the hours he spent fucking into his own hand as he imagined you around him, stealing your panties from the laundry bin and palming himself to the sight of you splayed out sunbathing in the yard. Even now you seemed too hazy to notice his cock straining against his trousers, or his fingers dug into the couch to prevent himself from touching your body. The way he trembled as he felt you making a mess on him, the only thing between your slick cunt and his leg your already soaked lacy pantiesâŚ
His laser focus was broken by something entirely unexpected. You whimpered and hid your face against his chest, mumbling âDaddy- pleaseââ
He wasnât sure if it was the phrase,the tone, or both that finally broke his resolve- but either way he pinned you against the floral sofa forcefully, snarling like an animal.
âT-tommy- what- Iâm sorryâ?â You squeaked, seeming utterly confused. Did you even know what youâd said to him?
He growled and quickly signed âAgainâ. You blinked, perplexed look quickly replaced with embarrassment. You whined and tried to hide your face but he snarled again and made you look at him. âAgain. Now.â
ââŚdaddy. Please. Please I need you. Pleaseââ You begged, panting weakly as you writhed uncomfortably and unsated.
He rutted against you quickly, moving and kissing your neck sloppily. âMine,â He rasped quietly, a rare sound even for his partner âMine. Mine. Mine.â
âOh my god Tommy- please- I need you to give it to me- I wanna feel you inside-â
He made quick work of his belt, pushing your dress up carelessly and making just as quick a job out of ripping your undies clean apart.
You yelped but replaced the complaint with a blissed out, shuddering whine as he finally rubbed against your bare pussy. âOh fuckâŚplease- put it in-â
He grunted and pushed your legs back, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours as you felt his weight pressed against you. Even in this moment, he tried his damndest to be gentle, looking your face over for the slightest bit of fear or apprehension. âTommy, please. Fuck me.â You whimpered out softly.
He pushed in carefully , having to stop only halfway in as you squeezed around him. He was huge, long and girthy and a painful stretch even with you relaxed. He gave a grunt and nuzzled you, hips twitching as he reached between you. Clumsily, roughly, he found your clit and slowly rubbed, purring in approval as you mewled out his name.
He was able to jerk his hips and finally bottomed out with a low groan, face buried in your neck. He held still, taking a ragged breath to try to regain control- but you didnât want control. You needed him to lose it completely.
âDaddy, please. I want you to fuck a baby into me,â You murmured, letting a desperate whine leak into your voice. It was a bit of a long shot- but he was so possessive. Why wouldnât he want to breed you?
Thomasâ eyes darkened at the thought and he gave a low noise you could barely classify as he pulled nearly all the way out and snapped his hips, setting a brutal pace.
âOh god-â You yelped, bracing yourself on his huge arms as he pounded into you, the entire couch creaking and slamming into the wall at the force. You lost any coherence you had as he again teased your clit, mind blank. You got exactly what you wanted, and it was too much in the best way possible.
You came first- you didnât know if it was because of his stamina or because even in a frenzy he still needed you to feel just as good. You were almost crying as he continued, overwhelmed and overstimulated - and wrapping your legs around his waist to make sure he didnât stop for a moment. âBaby please- inside- I want you to finish inside-â You mewled out in your haze- but damn if you didnât mean it.
That was all it took, unsurprisingly, for him to thrust one last time and fill you with a snarl. He peppered your face in soft kisses, giving a heaving sigh as he relaxed. You tried to move but he growled, keeping himself firmly inside of you. You blushed a bit as you saw his intense expression âYou ahâŚyou really liked when I asked you to knock me up, huh?â
He nodded, huffing at you.
ââŚyou know we have all night to try again, yeah?â
He grunted and finally relented, pulling out and smirking at the sight of his seed dripping down your thighs.
âTommy baby? I love you.â You sighed sleepily
He looked up quickly and seemed shocked. Man of few words that he ways- and never having dreamed heâd need to learn the sign, he took your hand and pressed it against his chest. Right above the heart. In your mind, there was no better way he could have said it; he loved you too.
#slashers#thomas hewitt#slashers x reader#slashers x you#tcm#thomas hewitt x reader#texas chainsaw massacre#texas chainsaw the beginning#tcm 2006#tcm 2003#tommy hewitt#thomas brown hewitt#leatherface#cw daddy kink#cw smut#cw voyeurism#cw breeding
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pairing(s): nam-gyu x reader, thanos x reader (separate)
warning(s): dubious consent, (guys, literally it's just) smut; oral fixation (receiving + giving) & fingering [minors dni], (fem anatomy, but gender-neutral), overstimulation, orgasm denial, degradation, dirty talk, power play, rough handling, choking/gagging, lowercase intended use and my best interpretation of the two characters. <3
author's note: i had to sit there for a good hour to think and just write LMAO PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED/MESSED UP ANYTHING. likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. i just want feedback. <//3
when it comes to giving oral for nam-gyu, he doesn't do things to please peopleâhe does things for his own gratification. if heâs going down on someone, itâs because he wants to, not because he feels like he should. he doesnât care about making the experience soft or romantic; heâs crude, rough, and enjoys seeing you squirm under his control.
when he pins you down, his fingers leave marksâhis rings biting into your thighs as he spreads them apart, the cold metal contrasting against the heat of his touch. he likes seeing the indents they leave behind, a reminder of how thoroughly heâs going to ruin you.
he's aggressive. his pace is unforgiving from the startâhe doesnât waste time teasing unless heâs feeling particularly cruel. heâd rather get you messy and desperate as fast as possible, just to hear the sounds you make when you canât hold back.
if he does feel particularly cruel, his fingers ghost over your inner thighs, barely skimming where you want him most. he watches with amusement as their breathing stutters, dragging his fingertips in slow, deliberate circles until you start begging.
you donât get time to adjust. you donât get a moment to breathe before heâs already working you up, dragging you towards the edge at a brutal, reckless speed.
his rings are cold against your skin, contrasting with the heat of his mouth, his fingersâ and he doesnât care if itâs too much, if your thighs twitch helplessly against his shoulders.
in fact? he likes it, it satisfies him to see you like this. to see how he could easily reduce you into such a state.
your body can barely keep up, writhing under him, squirming, pantingâ and thatâs exactly what he wants.
he pulls back for just a second, only enough to lock eyes with you, his chin glistening with slick, his fingers still buried deep in you.
âmessy already?â his tone is mocking, darkly amused, but he doesnât give you a chance to respond as he pulls his fingers out for a split second.
before his fingers slam back in, fast and rough, scissoring you open while his mouth latches back on, sucking hard, tongue flicking fast.
you cry out, body jerking, but he holds you down, forcing you to take it. "stay still."
expect zero tenderness. if he drags his tongue slowly, itâs not to be sensualâitâs to watch you twitch and whimper, just so he can pull back and smirk at you when you start begging. he gets off on knowing heâs the one reducing you to a wreck, and heâs not above mocking you for it.
he likes it messy. sloppy, wet, and borderline overwhelming. he enjoys seeing you come undone, saliva and arousal coating his lips, your thighs shaking under his grip. it feeds his egoâheâll wipe his mouth with the back of his hand afterward, looking smug as hell.
control is a huge factor for him. nam-gyu isnât the type to let you take chargeâhe'll literally fight for his life for it, even when heâs the one on his knees. heâll pin your hips down to keep them from moving or tease you until you're pleading, just to remind you that he decides when you can get what you want.
if you try to guide himâtangling your fingers in his hair, pushing him deeperâheâll purposefully slow down or pull away entirely. âgetting greedy, huh?â his tone is amused, but thereâs a warning in his eyes. he wants you to beg, not demand.
if you're close, he slows downâsmirking against your skin as he pulls back just enough to make you whine pathetically. âwhat? you were right there?â his voice is mocking, but his fingers donât stop, keeping you on the edge without letting you tip over.
when he finally does let you finish, itâs never gentle. his mouth and fingers work in sync, his fingers pressing hard against your most sensitive spots as he devours you. heâll keep his mouth on you even after you finish and feel sensitive, which pushes you past your limits, he only wants to hear you gasp and stammer. he enjoys overstimulation, making you whine and writhe from how overwhelming it is.
he leans back, grinning like a bastard, dragging his fingers over his lips to taste them before wiping them on your inner thighâa filthy, possessive mark left behind. âmessy, huh? look at you.â
he doesn't do this to be sweetâhe does it to own you, to leave you trembling and ruined so you donât forget whoâs in control.
when nam-gyu is the one receiving...he's rough, impatient, and demanding when it comes to being on the receiving end. he doesn't just sit back and let you take your sweet timeâhe expects you to handle him the way he wants.
the first thing he does? he rests his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him before he lets you start. the metal of his rings is cool against your skin, his thumb swiping over your lips before pressing in slightly, forcing you to open up for him.
he's not the type to just sit still and enjoy it. he thrives on power, and even when you're the one on your knees, he finds ways to assert dominanceâgripping your hair, muttering crude praise, thrusting his hips forward just to watch you struggle to keep up.
he loves it when you choke on him. he wonât stop, eitherâif you gag, heâll just chuckle, âtoo much for you?â before pushing deeper before it hits the back of your throat, enjoying the sight of you trying to take it.
he gets off on the control, but also on the raw desperationâhe wants you to want and feel it just as much as he does. if youâre hesitant or shy, heâll make you work for his approval, guiding you until you learn how to take him the way he likes.
he leans back, spreading his legs lazily, arrogantly, completely unbothered. one arm draped over the couch, the other resting against your jaw, thumb tracing your bottom lip, pressing against your tongueâjust enough to feel the heat of your mouth.
âyou nervous?â his voice is mocking, laced with amusement, but thereâs a challenge in his gazeâdaring you to prove him wrong.
if you hesitate? if you take too long?
he exhales sharply, shaking his head. disappointed.
âguess you donât want it that bad.â
and then he pulls away. completely.
thatâs what gets you desperate, isnât it? the way he edges you emotionally, keeps you craving his approval, keeps you chasing after what he refuses to give?
but the second you give inâthe second you grab at his thighs, lean in, take him into your mouth like you need it?
his expression shifts.
the teasing vanishes.
his jaw tightens, his fingers snap back into your hair, gripping tight, forcing you to take him deeper. his breath stutters out, sharp and ragged, his hips twitching as he groans through his teeth.
âfuckââ his head tilts back, his grip tightening just a little more, watching the way you struggle, watching the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, watching the way your lips stretch around him.
and once youâve finally learned?
once you give in, let go, take him the way he likes?
thatâs when he fucks your throat in earnest, forcing you to keep up, forcing you to take everything he gives.
because nam-gyu will only reward you when you prove you deserve it.
if you're being too slow, he takes over. his grip tightens, guiding your pace with short, sharp thrusts, his rings digging into your scalp as he fucks your mouth exactly the way he wants. he doesnât care if itâs overwhelmingâhe gets off on watching them struggle.
he loves using his fingers to make things even messier. if youâre already drooling? he brings a thumb to your chin, spreading the saliva across your lips, watching with a smirk as you take him even deeper. âlook at you,â he murmurs, voice dark. âsloppy thing, arenât you?â
nam-gyu talksâa lot. his mouth is filthy, and heâs not shy about making comments that are meant to degrade and tease. âcâmon, you can do better than that.â âthatâs it, donât stop nowâfuck, you look good like this.â
heâs not gentle when heâs closeâhis thrusts get sharper, his grip tighter. he doesnât warn you before finishing, either. he expects you to take it, and if you struggle with it, he only finds it more amusing.
if you pull away too soon or try to pull away, heâll grab your chin, tilting their face up to make you look at him. âdid I say you were done? swallow it.â his tone is low and taunting and his gaze is trained onto you, daring you to try and defy him. a command, not a request.
thanos giving oral...he already is a wildcardâhis unpredictability makes everything intense. one moment, heâs slow and teasing, dragging things out just to get a reaction; the next, heâs relentless, pushing you to your limit without hesitation.
he enjoys watchingâhe wants to see every reaction, from the way you trembles to the way your breathing hitches when he finally gives you what you want. itâs like a game to him, figuring out what makes you fall apart the fastest.
unlike nam-gyu, thanos doesnât always go straight for the kill. he enjoys taking his time, licking, nipping, savoringâbecause to him, this is just as much about control as it is about pleasure. he'll slow down just to smirk against your skin, whispering filthy things that reaches towards your ears before diving back inâhis fingers spreading you open, making you feel every stroke of his tongue.
he loves teasing. hovering his mouth over where you need him most, exhaling warm breaths against sensitive skin, barely touching you until youâre begging. he wants you to feel desperate for it, trembling under his touch before he finally gives in and gives you exactly what you want.
but once he does get serious? he doesnât stop. his pace is brutal, relentlessâheâll grip your thighs to keep you from pulling away, tongue flicking, sucking, working you over while his fingers sink deep, curling slow and deliberate. he uses his thumb to press against sensitive spots, teasing in sync with his mouth until youâre sobbing from the intensity and continuous stimulation going through you. it makes you feel like there's nowhere to escape.
occassionally, if he sees you gripping the sheets, he pulls them away, intertwining your fingers with his ownâa false sense of intimacy before he overwhelms them completely.
your fingers clench the sheets, gripping desperately, somethingâanythingâto ground yourself as he works you over, tongue flicking with calculated precision. the overwhelming pleasure leaves your body tense, trembling, on the verge of breaking.
and then?
he notices.
before you can react, his hands are on yours, prying your fingers away from the fabric, lacing them together with his own. his grip is warm, firm, intimateâdeceptively sweet. his thumbs stroke the backs of your hands, soothing, almost tender, like heâs offering comfort.
itâs a lie.
because the second your body relaxesâjust for a moment, just enough to be fooled?
he ruins you.
his tongue flicks faster, lips sealing around you as he sucks hard, dragging another wrecked sound from your throat. your back arches violently, but you canât pull awayâheâs got you locked in, hands entwined, holding you down.
itâs cruel. so, so cruel.
he watches you the entire time.
his half-lidded gaze locks onto yours, drinking in every broken expression, every helpless sob that spills past your lips. and when your fingers tighten around hisânot out of intimacy, but desperation?
he just smirks against you.
âthatâs it,â he murmurs between deep, torturous strokes of his tongue. âhold on tight.â
overstimulation is his favorite game. even after you finishes, he'll keep going, his fingers stay buried inside, moving slower as he licks up every last drop, keeping you trapped under him, driving you past your limit. he enjoys the way you whimper, the way your body tenses from how overwhelming it is, and the expressions that you make just for him only. only him.
he'll be cocky as hell afterward, too. giving you a show as he licks his fingers clean in front of you before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning down at your wrecked figure like he just won something. âwhatâs wrong? thought you could handle me. didn't think you'd break so fast.â
thanos doesn't just aim to pleaseâhe aims to make you lose your mind.
thanos was already dangerous when he's the one being taken cared ofâbecause unlike nam-gyu, who thrives on control, thanos enjoys unpredictability. his reactions shift on a dime, making it impossible to predict what heâs going to do next.
some nights, he lets you take your timeâleaning back, watching you with dark amusement, running a lazy hand through your hair as you work and set your own pace, watching through half-lidded eyes. other nights? heâs ruthless, gripping your jaw or pulling your hair, fucking your mouth like he owns it. he snaps his hips snap forward, making you choke.
you're choking? gagging? struggling to breath? he finds it hot as hell. if you start to falter, he just grins. "c'mon, don't tell me you're already tapping out."
thanos leans back against the couch, one arm slung over the backrest, the other hand resting in your hair. his fingers are light at first, barely guiding, barely pressing.
at first, you think he's going to let you do as you please. but the second you slow down?
his grip tightens.
the lazy amusement in his expression shiftsâsomething sharper, more demanding, as his fingers suddenly tangle into your hair and pull.
ânot slacking on me, are you?â
his hips push forward just slightly, his other hand tilting your chin upâforcing you to look at him.
and the moment you start moving again?
he grins.
âgood. knew you could take it.â
if you're hesitant, he gets rougher. his fingers press against the back of your head, forcing you down just a little further, making you take more than you're used to. "don't be shy now."
his thumb strokes the corner of your lips, wiping away the saliva that drips down your chin, smirking at the mess. he loves seeing you in such a messy state, being so desperate as you try to keep up with the way he moves.
but if you're experienced? he's a messâgrowling, cursing under his breath, losing himself in the sensation. he loves it when you swallow around him, when you get sloppy and desperate just to get him off faster.
when he's close? his grip tightens, his voice dropping into something low and commanding. "you're gonna take it all, yeah? being so good for me."
when he finishes, heâs unpredictableâsometimes, he pulls them up for a messy, open-mouthed kiss, tasting himself on their tongue. other times? he just tilts their chin up, smirking down at them with that wicked gleam in his eyes, like heâs already planning whatâs next.
thanos doesn't just enjoy oralâhe owns the experience. whether heâs giving or receiving, he makes sure itâs intense, overwhelming, and impossible to forget.
#I WROTE THIS IN ONE SITTING#IN ONE HOUR AND 34 MINUTES#squid game#nam gyu x reader#squid game season 2#thanos x reader#squid game x reader#thanos smut#nam gyu#nam gyu smut#player 124#player 230#nam gyu squid game#namgyu x reader#namgyu smut#thanos squid game#thanos#namgyu squid game#squid game s2#choi subong#choi su bong x reader#choi seunghyun x reader#choi su bong#choi seunghyun#roh jae won#squid game smut
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Viktors Disabilities, a Speculative Analysis
Ever since i first watched Arcane i have wanted to know (and i mean this in the nicest way possible,) what was wrong with Viktor. His disability was never explained beyond âhe was born with a malformed legâ.
And so, i was left alone in the house with my thoughts today so i took it upon myself to figure it out, (and talk about his medical issues so i can ignore my own lmao) and i am releasing my thoughts upon yall!
(disclaimer: yes i am aware that this arcane is a fantasy world that is not our world and the disorders/illnesses and treatments will not be the same but the issues he has have to be based off of something (especially with how detailed this show is and how many references are made throughout.) this is not me trying to say that he definitively has any of these conditions, iâm just comparing them to conditions that exist today and suggesting what Viktors disabilities may have been based off of.)
(disclaimer pt 2.: i have not played League of Legends, i do not intend to play League of Legends, i have only watched Arcane and i am only talking about Arcane and Arcane lore and what i have been able to figure out from watching Arcane and spinning it around in my brain like itâs in a microwave.)
Now, i think iâll just start from the beginning, and go in order of development.
1. Viktors Leg
According to the wiki (and about every other site that talks about Viktor) he is said to have been âborn with a malformed legâ, and said pretty much nothing else. Now, when Viktor is an adult, his leg appears to be very not-malformed, so, letâs start at the flashback.

Now, even in the flashback Viktors leg looks normal. Itâs pointing forward, and looks totally fine. But as the clip goes on, and he gets up and starts moving, the problem becomes apparent. Hereâs a clip:
Yall have probably already noticed what iâm talking about with this clip, but i want to illustrate it more because the clip moves so fast:


As Vikto moves faster, his foot shifts inwards! It shifts inwards pretty severely (i mean, he full on trips on it), and the only time in this entire clip where it is doing so. And that is because the other times he is around someone else. I think he is purposefully pointing his foot forward and in turn walking on the wrong part of his foot (balance issues), and more than likely causing himself pain 1. to appear less âcrippledâ and more ânormalâ to other people, and 2. because clearly, his foot is pointing inwards to a degree that is impairing his ability to walk.
Now to me, (and iâm not a doctor so if any actual doctors want to call me on incorrect information please do so!) this looks like Femoral Anteversion, or a twisting of the femur that points the knees inward (itâs typically found in both legs but it can happen with just one)

Now this isnât necessarily a terrible thing, ~10% of children are affected with Femoral Anteversion (or âpigeon toesâ), and most of the time it resolves itself, unless it is super severe, at which point it requires surgery to fix it. Which, of course, Viktor did not have access to.
Now, his leg does appear to be normal as an adult, but the femoral anteversion thought is still plausible. There are 3 reasons i can think of for this one.
1. He got to Piltover and after a little bit Heimerdinger noticed how messed up his leg was and Viktor got the surgery to correct it as much as possible (itâs implied that Viktor was in Piltover for years, based on how he acts and the fact that heâs Heimerdingers assistant) (this thought doesnât seem very plausible to me, i donât remember seeing any surgery scars on his leg in the hexcore scene, but it is a possibility.)
2. Heâs simply just still correcting his leg. The reason we wouldnât see him mess up like we did in the flashback is that heâs about 24-25 in act one, and iâd say that 14-15 years is probably enough to get used to doing that sort of thing.
3. (Honestly this one seems to be the most plausible to me) His leg has (partially) corrected itself. Most children whose femoral anteversion fixed itself had normal gaits by age 8-10, but thatâs an average age and those typically arenât perfectly accurate to everyone (i have. very personal experience with that.) and it makes the most sense to me that his leg has mostly/partially corrected itself and heâs just also continuing to self-correct to avoid appearing any more disabled than he already does (he shows quite a bit of internalized ableism throughout the season, and his line about people not listening to him because heâs âjust a poor cripple from the undercityâ really drives it home for me, honestly.)
2. Viktors Deterioration
When we first truly see Viktor in act 1, he seems lively, and unless heâs actively walking, heâs not using his cane, not really (he hangs his cane on his arm to read a book with both hands (really great rep btw, we do in fact do that!), he leans it against a desk to pace in front of a chalkboard with Jayce, he puts it down somewhere to go help Jayce with the experiment, etc.).
I mean, look at his stance, heâs not really leaning on his cane for support, more likely heâs using it for balance, and as an assist to his bad leg, rather than an attempted replacement like we saw in the flashback.
But in act 2? Hoooo boy

Look at that, beyond just looking 10x sicker, look at his posture, his shoulders specifically. He is actively leaning on his crutch (because he needs a crutch now, the cane wasnât enough), using it like a replacement. Now, over the course of the ~7 year time skip, Viktors condition has deteriorated enough that he 1. needs the braces 2. needs a crutch 3. can no longer even get up without his crutch, let alone take a single step!

i mean, even when heâs sitting down, heâs holding onto it, leaning on it. The way he uses his crutch, how skinny heâs gotten, how much more tired he seems, all of these things say some sort of newfound muscle weakness, but why?
And the braces. Letâs start with the leg brace, since itâs right there. How itâs built around the actual leg and knee looks a whole lot like a much cooler unloader knee brace, or a knee brace that redistributes weight away from the weakened knee. I have to wear one of those when my knee gets really bad in the winter, when it starts buckling randomly and just.. not working. Which makes sense for the muscle atrophy/weakness theory i have, because that leg was already weak to begin with, and his knee would have been all kinds of fucked up if he did spend basically his whole life misaligning it like iâm thinking he did. (and to support that theory even further, the way that the brace goes over his foot as well reminds me of the braces some children wear to attempt to correct their âpigeon toesâ (which have been proven not to work, btw)
Now, the back brace. Iâm gonna be honest, this part took me the longest, it truly confused me.

When you look at it, it just looks like a thoracic back brace, with some extra support on the hips (once again, pointing to muscle weakness)
But the thing that really confused me?
The screws in his back.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out what procedure this was referencing (Percutaneous Pedicle Screw Fixation (iâm like really sure that the screws arenât showing in the real life surgery but the fact that they are makes sense with Arcanes style)), and an even more embarrassing amount of time to realize that the golden screws in his brace werenât connected to him. (i am. very tired.)
But essentially, a Percutaneous Pedicle Screw Fixation is a less invasive spinal fusion procedure. Now a spinal fusion can be done for many, many reasons, but only one really fit.
Support, because of muscle weakness.
Every single thing that got added on to Viktor could be explained by muscle weakness, but thereâs never any explained reason why he was so weak all of a sudden. His terminal illness is cited as a reason but that didnât really make sense to me, all of these procedures, all of these mobility aids made perfectly to his measurements wouldâve had to have been caused by something with a much slower onset than the illness would have given him.
And after literal hours of scouring, i have a theory.
Post-Polio Syndrome.
The timeline makes sense, Viktor would have most likely gotten sick before the flashback, when he was a child (a lot of children who get Polio fight it off without even knowing they have it). Viktor is estimated to be about 32 in act 2, and the average time between the initial Polio infection and Post-Polio Syndrome onset is about 20-40 years (inconsistent numbers).
Now some of the symptoms we have no way of knowing if they affect Viktor or not, but the main ones that caught my eye were muscle atrophy, chronic fatigue, and, you guessed it, muscle weakness.
Given where Viktor lived as a child, and how heavily polluted it was (remember that Viktor was in the undercity over 10 years before we saw it in act 1 with Vi and Powders childhood), itâs not too far of a stretch to say that he could have contracted an illness very similar to Polio as a child, and only really be feeling the affects of it now.
3. The Illness
I have 2 main theories for Viktors illness, the first one seems to be the most popular among the fandom: Tuberculosis.
If youâre unaware, Tuberculosis (TB) is a sickness that mainly affects the lungs, with the main symptom being coughing up blood. Now this is a really good theory imo, it fits pretty well, with some of the other symptoms being muscle atrophy, fatigue, malaise (general feeling of discomfort/unease with no discernible reason), loss of appetite, and severe unintentional weight loss. all of this sounds like our guy, no?
TB can take weeks to be symptomatic, so we probably just caught Viktor at the worst time ever lol with this theory.
My other theory is actually one my friend suggested to me, and that theory is COPD.
Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) is a progressive disease that is basically a terrible combination of chronic bronchitis and asthma that can be caused by exposure to pollution (Viktor grew up in the Undercity before Cassandraâs vent system, i mean the river he was playing on had an oil slick on it, i think itâs safe to say he was exposed to some pretty severe pollution as a child.)
This theory makes a lot of sense to me, because itâs said in the show that his illness was probably caused by the air where he grew up, which this would have been, while TB would not. (not 15-20 years later, at least) COPD, once it reaches stage 4 is very severe, any flare up of symptoms could be life threatening at that stage, and the symptoms? Fatigue, shortness of breath, coughing, weight loss, and less frequently, coughing blood.
Anyway, i guess that concludes my analysis/comparison? Iâm gonna repeat that iâm not definitively saying that âhe has this condition and this is why!â, iâm just analyzing and speculating on what different parts of his disability is based on in real life. So, letâs just all be nice, yeah? (also PLEASE feel free to use this as a reference point for modern aus and stuff!!)
i do genuinely think that Viktors disease progression and his deterioration is one of the best examples of chronic illness that i have seen in media, in my experience (both with my own issues and what iâve seen in other people) and Viktor himself is one of the BEST representations of what itâs like to be young and disabled and the internalized ableism that comes with it (if anyone wants to hear about that i will happily yap your ear off about it!
Anyway, for real this time. Yap session over.
[edit: if you like this you should look in the reblogs thereâs a couple of really good in-depth deep dives from others that build on this!!]
#also i am 100% behind the hc that Jayce designed and built Viktors aids#viktor#viktor arcane#arcane analysis#arcane#arcane theory#media analysis#disabled representation#viktors disability isnât talked about enough :(#viktor arcane i adore you#AUGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH IM SOBBING
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summary: leto atreides x afab concubine!reader
cw: daddy kink, pregnancy, power imbalance, dark fic coded, implication that the other concubines âdisappearedâ, overstimulation, body worship, i would do anything to be in readerâs position here iâm being so real, not included but got reader pregnant in the full nelson position, the smut is in a flashback, mention of the reader having hip dips, mention of leto with others but he realizes youâre the one after lmao, probably dune world/lore inaccuracies, readerâs a member of the dukeâs breeding program, mention of choking, intended age gap but you can read it as otherwise
wc: 1k+
block & move on if uncomfortable !!!
do not repost, translate, or give ai my work
kinktober masterlist
âItâs to wake up, my love.â
Your eyes flutter open to see Duke Leto Atreides standing over your bed, one of his hands brushing back some of your hair away from your face. He smiles warmly when you tiredly meet his gaze, and holds out an open palm. You take it and let him help you sit up, though thatâs as far as heâs willing to let you go. Leto hovers his hands over your baby bump, borderline paranoid about you doing anything that could jeopardize the health of the baby.
âI thought my appointment with the doctor wasnât until next week, my lordâŚâ You yawn, resting your hands on your belly as you fight off sleep. Being heavily pregnant was no easy task, and most days it feels like you have as much energy as a corpse.
âIt is, I simply wanted to see you.â Leto answers, petting your hair and curling one arm around your lower back to support it. âWhen weâre alone, get rid of the âmy lordâ, what we have is more than the results of an obligation.â
You sigh, leaning into his touch as you consider his words. Months ago, you were just another member of the Dukeâs harem. One of many meant to produce heirs until your body shriveled up. Your family was noteworthy but not noble enough to stay afloat, you heard that the Duke was looking for breeders and you left without looking back. Though you will admit that Leto Atreides is not the worst man you couldâve taken inside you. He was gentle and the way he kissed you suggested that he felt more than just gratitude.
You pretended to not mind the sounds and stories you heard from the other concubines in the beginning. You knew perfectly well what you were signing up for, the feelings came from nowhere, you swear.
Letoâs mannerisms during sex were impossibly adoring and intimate, and he would tell you were special every time in the midst of the afterglow. You stopped hearing heart dropping noises and nauseating stories, and the day after you found out you were pregnant you heard nothing at all. The Duke took longer than usual to meet with you that night.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
âIâm sorry I kept you waiting.â Leto calls out, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you get ready for bed.
You finish tying the strings of your nightgown and turn around to face him. There are strange little flecks of red in the wrinkles on his face, but they could be a trick of the light so you brush the curiosity off.
âI am always waiting for you, my lord.â You repeat the same thing you say everyday, noting the way the corners of his smile flatten in displeasure.
He cups your face and walks the both of you backwards towards the bed, shooting his hands out to keep himself from crushing you when you inevitably fall on it.
Time passes by in a blur, every moment filled with cries of âDaddyâ and overzealous movement from him that punches the breath of your lungs. Heâs not incredibly rough, just passionate enough to have tears dot your lashes and his thumb buried in your mouth. Every kiss is a hot swirling mess of saliva and tongues colliding that gets you so wet, you really believe it could kill you.
âMm, your tongue feels amazing, clumsily chasing after mine.â Leto grunts at some point, rutting and slamming his balls against your ass with no rhyme or reason. âThe tightest cunt iâve ever had, fuck-â
You hum around his thumb, suckling on it like heâs your god and his thick fingers in your mouth are your only reason to live. He grinds his teeth together when you make eye contact, and you struggle to keep it up as you hollow out your cheeks around his coarse digits.
âWanna make you proud, Daddy, gonna be so good for you.â The words are muffled past the point of comprehension, but your eyes allow him to get the gist.
If you were not already pregnant, the flood of fresh cum in your pussy wouldâve done the trick. You clench around your lordâs fat cock and let yourself break, squirting all over yourself.
When you come to, Letoâs busying himself with latching onto your tits like a leech and bullying your battered pussy.
âThese are already so sensitive, arenât they? And to think that I made them that wayâŚâ Leto trails off, licking a broad stripe over your nipple and pinching your clit.
You jolt and throw your head back, âYes, Daddy, you did.â
He groans at the frequently used name, pinching your clit harder and digging his fingers in deeper. Youâve had more orgasms than you ever thought possible in the last hour alone, but your lord was insatiable like this. His head is too high in the clouds with visions of his future family to calm down.
Your legs shake but he takes his hand away from your clit and smooths his palm over your thigh to steady you.
âItâs alright, you know i wonât be too rough honey, you can take it. Youâve already taken my seed beautifully, growing my son in your womb.â
You know thereâs no chance of stopping until Letoâs sure that heâs kissed and lavished every inch of your delectable body in Daddyâs attention. He gives each of your buds a âGoodbye for nowâ kiss and wipes down the dips in your hips with his tongue, soothing the love bites and caressing the necklace of bruises around your neck he left when he lost control.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The bed sinks with Letoâs added weight, and your cheeks warm as you come back to the present. You look down at your joined hands to see a box clenched tightly in his free one. Like heâs scared of dropping it. You gaze up at him questioningly and he smiles once again before softly kissing the skin between your eyes.
Next thing you know, Duke Leto Atreides is kneeling before you and opening the box to reveal a large ring. Itâs magnificently crafted and all the details align with your taste perfectly.
âWill you marry me?â
#kinktober#leto atreides#leto atreides x reader#leto atreides x you#dune#dune x you#dune x reader#dune fanfiction#dune fic#dune smut#oscar isaac#oscar isaac smut#oscar isaac fic#oscar isaac fanfiction#oscar isaac x reader#oscar isaac x you#dark fic#â°ď¸.deaddove#tw daddy kink#tw pregnancy#tw overstim#tw age gap
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Something cute and smutty with either Tim Drake or Roy ?
AND: What about a one bed trope for Tim pls??
Dream a little dream of me
Tim Drake/Reader, â1.8K AN: I don't know if theres such a phrases as 'porn first, questions later' but thats what this is lmao. I'm glad theres an audience for Tim, cause as much as I love the other Robins (wink wink Dick), as a bisexual 90s kid, Tim really is my Robin, ya know? CWs: Somnophilia (but not really), dry humping, intercrural sex/thigh job, hand job, Petnames: Baby, sweetheart Tropes: One bed, friends to lovers, porn with feelings. GN!Reader
Sleeping beside you is neither new nor unusual for Tim. Youâd been close friends for years, heâd crashed in your bed after many a patrol, youâd had film or study nights at the manor which always ended with you hogging his bed sheets, and in more recent years youâd huddled together on the cramped mattress he called a bed in the lower deck of his boat on multiple occasions. It had always been so natural and innocent, so why was this hotel bed any different? Well, because his budding, inappropriate crush on you had grown in the time since youâd last shared a comforter; Tim had been having not-so-innocent dreams about you.
Dreams where he got to touch, tease, and taste every inch of your exposed skin until youâre a babbling, pleading mess. Dreams where he silenced your breathy cries and begs by telling you to âbe good babyâ, spreading your legs, and running the tip of his cock along your entrance. Where you look at him with those big, dreamy eyes of yours right up until itâs too much, until heâs bottomed out inside of you and you canât help but throw your head back, calling out his name as you dig your nails into his back.
âThat feels... so⌠good.â The sound of your voice calls out to him, but your dream self is in no position to be speaking so coherently.
Wait, dream?
His mind is fuzzy as he wakes, still heavy with sleep, part of his brain tries desperately to clutch onto the fleeting imagery in his head until he realises two very important things; Â
1. Your body is pressed against his. Youâre turned away from him, but he can still feel your warmth, the pressure of your back to his chest, your ass to his⌠crotch. 2. His âcrotchâ is rock hard.
Despite all instinct telling him to immediately pull away, he waits. Concerned his sudden movement might cause you to stir, he slows himself. Forcing his body to hold back so he can remove himself in increments. Just a little bit, and then a bit more, and more? He swears heâs doing it, swears heâs at least half a foot away from where heâd been upon waking, but youâre still pushing against him, still rolling your hips.
âTim~â
Itâs at this moment Tim has a third, pivotal realisation.
3. Youâre grinding on him.
The sound of Timâs low voice whispering your name against the shell of your ear slowly coaxs you awake. Every warm breath against your skin sends a rush of heat to your already aching sex. Youâd been having such a peaceful, steamy dream in which your best friend, and secret crush; Tim had been tenderly rocking his cock into you from behind. As you take in the hotel room and the hotness of Timâs body spooning into you, you canât tell if youâre awake or still dreaming.
âCan you feel that?â His hushed voice pierces the quietness of the room and youâre not sure what heâs talking about until he surges forward, further pressing the hardness of his clothes cock into the curve of your ass.
âYes.â You murmur, only intending to answer his question but your sleeply lust-ridden psyche keeps talking. âDonât stop, I like it.â
âYeah?â Heâs so grateful youâre not looking at him in that moment, otherwise, youâd see the undeniable redness currently rushing to his cheeks. Even in the dark of the night, heâs sure itâs glowing through. âI think weâve been humping each other in our sleep.â
âIâm sorry.â The fear of his rejection is immediately thrown out when you feel his lips on your pulse point, but you have to ask anyway. âDo you want to stop?â
âNo, no, god no.â He trails soft kisses along the side of your neck, each one growing sloppier until he finds and fixates on your jaw for far too short a time. âYou have no idea how many times Iâve fantasised about this. About you. I want you so bad.â
âI want you too, Tim.â A million and one thoughts run through his head in that moment. How much time had the two of you wasted skirting around the subject? What does this mean for your future and your friendship? The only thing he doesnât think of as he absent-mindedly ruts against you is the one you ask. âDo you have any protection?â
âI have my Red Robin suit in my case.â Itâs a dumb joke he canât help but make, you laugh anyway and he thinks he might love you for it.
âNo, but thatâs okay. We can make this work.â You hear the snap of your waistband hitting your hip before you feel it. Tim had playfully pulled it taught before letting go to pull down his boxers. Getting the point, you take his cue, shimmying out of your own underwear just in time for Tim to reattach himself to your back and press his open mouth to your shoulder. âSpread your legs baby.â
As you do, Tim slides his cock between them. You wish youâd turned the light on so you could get a better look, but no force on earth could pry you away from him now. Understanding his plan, you donât wait to be told to close your legs again, engulfing his length with the soft skin of your inner thighs and slowly beginning to rock your hips.
Tim reached over your body, grazing his deft fingers around your waist and across your stomach. A whine escapes your lips as he dips lower to rub along the length of your arousal, his cock twitches between your legs. Knowing it's so close makes you feel empty, makes you ache to feel him deep inside you, makes the tension in your core coil even more.
âOh, sweetheart, youâre dripping.â He can hear the wonderment in his own voice as he glides his thumb around you. In response you clench your thighs even harder around his cock, making him groan into your neck.
It isnât long before your grinding hard and fast around his dick, gripping his arm as you get lost in the moment. The combined sensations feels so good, and you canât get enough.
Neither can Tim. He could never have dreamed that the reality would feel so good. Heâs in awe of the way your body moves, of the pornographic noises youâre making for him. He can barely focus. He wants to hold on longer, wants to bask in your warmth and scent for as long as possible but your merciless rhythm and the feel of your thighs around his throbbing cock has him chasing his climax way too soon.
âAre you close?â He sputters. You answer with a string of incomprehensible whimpers and a weak nod. He isnât even in you, and youâre already drunk on your best friend. Youâd be ashamed if you had the capacity to care in that moment. âCome with me?â
Itâs a question, not a command. This is a partnership, he wants you to feel connected, not controlled and that has your toes curling.
Simultaneously your thrusting becomes strained, and more erratic as his pumping grows faster, and sloppier, both of you getting lost in your highs but still determined to ride out the other, filling the room with deep, ragged breaths until youâre shuddering in his arms, savouring every last remnants of pleasure. The way his strong hands cup your body has you feeling safe in your post-orgasm euphoria.
It isnât until you feel the moisture of your combined cum seeping into the fabric below you that you remember thereâs a world outside of you and him. You sit up simultaneously, Tim reaches for the bedside lamp and is stunned by the sight of your sweat-sheened skin and heavy eyes when he turns back. Completely unaware that youâre thinking the same thing about his flushed cheeks and fluffy bedhead.
You gesture to the puddle youâre currently half-sat in and joke; âThe hotel cleaners are going to hate us.â
Before you can exit the bed, Tim is on his feet and rushing to the ensuite. He returns a moment later with a roll of tissues and a damp cloth. Youâve rolled over, face down on his side of the bed in an attempt not to spread the fluids even more and he gets to work wiping the cum from your leg in slow, circular motions. It shouldnât take this long, you both know it, heâs just enjoying the moment.
âThat was reallyâŚâ Youâd wanted to fill the silence, but now youâre not sure how to finish, you donât want to scare him away with your excitement, but you want him to know how good he made you feel. âReally wow.â
âReally wow.â He repeats with a teasing snicker, dodging when you reach out to playfully smack his shoulder. âWhat? What? It was wow.â
Heâs teasing. With a 147 IQ, he knows a better word than wow, but heâs choosing to repeat yours, tone and all. Itâs not like he hasnât messed with you before, and youâve always been able to dish it back, but now feels different. Now is different.
âSo, I take it weâre not just friends anymore?â You ask as he climbs over you to work on the wet patch. Eventually, he finds a position kneeling at the bottom of the bed, and you roll over once more, now seated and positioned to watch him.
âUm, no.â He coughs, not to clear his throat but to prolong his time to think of an answer. Your gaze is making him nervous. He doesnât know what you want him to say, doesnât want to come on too strong and ruin your friendship, but he also doesnât want to seem too lax, to make you think heâs just using you or that heâs not interested in something more than friendship. âFriends definitely donât do that.â
âSo, what are we?â You push, not missing the way his adams-apple bobs as he swallows back his nerves.
âI donât know.â His chest immediately grows tight at the hurt look that spreads across your face. Fuck it, now or never. âBut whatever we are, Iâm yours.â
Your expression doesnât immediately change, and he worries heâs misread your reaction. Assumed that you want him the way he wants you.
âIf you want me that is.â He continues, trying to save face.
âOf course, I want you, Tim.â He hadnât realised how tense the conversation was making him until he heard those magic words. In seconds youâre face to face with him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close to offer your body as comfort. Youâve always been able to read and react to him so well, like you were programmed for him. âYou can be mine, if I can be yours.â
Then he feels your lips pucker against his hairline, and despite having climaxed between your legs only minutes earlier, heâs suddenly more nervous than heâs ever been. Gently, you drag your lips down his face, leaving kisses along his brow line, his cheekbones, and his jowls until you're inches from his own lips.
Your eyes dart back and forth between his own eyes and his mouth, he licks his lips in preparation for yours and then youâre on him, lips locked, tangled in each otherâs arms.
Thereâs a drying stain waiting to be cleaned, and a long day ahead of you both tomorrow, but right now none of that matters.
#gilverrwrites#dc#tim drake#red robin#tim drake/reader#tim drake x reader#red robin x reader#red robin/reader#smut#anon#divider by @anitalenia
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Stuck



Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader
Warnings: snowball fights. nonsense from charles, joris and andrea, surrendering if that even counts lmao and one kiss.
Word Count: 643
Author's Note: welcome to the holiday extravaganza 2024! I've left y'all without for quite a bit. hopefully this makes up for the lack of stuff :) happy holidays! <3
--
Prompt: âI'm stuck! White flag! I surrender!â
Northern Italy was cold, snowy and windy. Despite your best efforts, your boyfriend was determined to get everyone out of bed and on the slopes today.
You had regretted joining them on their pre season trip. You wanted to curl up by the fire, read your book and not be disturbed but your boyfriend, Charles, and his two sidekicks, Joris and Andrea, were all trouble wrapped up in snow pants.
They had decided that today would be an off day from training, that you'd all just relax. You thought you'd finally get a day in with your boyfriend instead of being dragged to multiple training sessions.
Their idea of relaxing was apparently skiing in the freezing temperature.
You trekked through the snow, Charles carrying your skis as you followed between him and Joris. You had done a few runs down the slope before giving up, sitting in the snow at the base off to the side. Joris joined you shortly after, letting Charles and Andrea make their way back up the slopes.
Watching as some other people skied down, you hear Joris yell. "Hey!" before something cold hits your arm.
"I know you did not just throw a snowball at me." You look at the man, a sheepish smile on his face. You and Joris had quickly become friends after you began dating Charles; the two of you acting like siblings.
Joris runs away as you form the snow into a ball, tossing it in his direction. The two of you chase each other, tossing snow in the direction of the other.
"Stop running, you started this!" You shouted, the snowball in your hand.
Tossing it at Joris, you missed his head but hit your boyfriend right in the face as he got to the bottom of the slope. Charles stops there, stunned and now cold. His glove on the floor as he brushes off the snow, rubbing some warmth into his face again.
You can't help but laugh, hand over your mouth as you giggle. "I'm so sorry, babe. I meant to hit Joris." You glance at his friend who was a few feet away in a fit of laughter.
"Yeah, no problem, love." Charles says, smiling at you. You smile back, turning around to get some more snow before planning to get Joris. Before you can do that, you feel something hit your back.
Charles smiles at you, snow on his glove. "Oops. I was aiming for Andrea." He tells you, the older man now coming down the slope; his lie uncovered.
"Oh, it's on!" You shout at him, throwing the snowball intended for Joris at Charles. It takes a few seconds for you to get some more snow in hand, meanwhile Andrea is throwing snowballs at Joris and indirectly forming teams; you and Joris vs Charles and Andrea.
The 4 of you are like children, fighting over who's gonna get who next and making a mess at the bottom of the slopes. It wasn't until Charles tripped over his own feet and fell face first into the fluffy white snow that you all stopped.
You look at Joris and Andrea, the three of you exchanging a look that said everything you needed to say without saying a word.
Before Charles could get up, you were all throwing snowballs at him. The Monegasque driver was barely able to turn over and throw his hands up.
âI'm stuck! White flag! I surrender!â He says between giggles, the snowballs halt and Andrea goes to pull him out of the snow.
You walk over, brushing the snow off of your boyfriend's face. You smile at him, kissing his cold cheek. Charles gives you a half pout, "that was so mean."
"Pay back for hitting me with a snowball, my love." You patted his chest, walking off.
Charles called after you, "you hit me first!"
#holiday extravaganza 24#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x y/n#f1#f1 x reader#f1 fic
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Hii !! From the smut prompts (stop rolling your eyes, I know Im predicatable!) could I request "Accidentally Sending Nudes", "Sexting" and... a secret third thing (the choice is yours, go hogwild) for Jason x Fat Fem Reader? I'm leaning more towards sub!reader but shes def a little shit about it :3
Thank you in advance if you write it !! đź
See, this is why it pays to send in a request with me, because even if I don't answer it right away, I keep requests in my inbox for months and come back to them later!!! (This is from December 2023)
(Also this request is just plain fun) (because Star knows exactly what buttons to push to get me lmao)
DC Titans Requests - OPEN
How would Jason react to you accidentally sending him a nude?
(Jason Todd x Fem!Thick!Reader)
Warnings: set specifically in the Titans!verse - set during season 3/mentions of season 3 plot points; spoilers for major plot points of Titans (including character deaths on the show); this is kind of enemies to lovers? (enemies to fwb, I guess); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; the reader is described as being fat/plus sized; passing mentions of Gar x reader (I couldn't help myself); dubious consent - because of the nature of the trope, Jason sees the reader naked without her explicit consent, and he decides to keep the picture without her consent - but it does spark a consensual sexual relationship between them; passing mention of using nudes for blackmail (that does not happen); this isn't really proofread; (generally, I consider this post to be a fucking mess because it was written in Tumblr but I was still trying to have fun with it lmao.)
...
Jason is minding his own business when it happens.
(For once in life, he is fully, completely, minding his own business.)
He's back in Gotham and he hasn't seen you in months - and if asked, he would say that he hasn't thought about you. He doesn't have time to think about you because he's been too busy with this therapy bullshit, training, trying to get back his title of Robin. Trying to get back in the cape. (And trying to get back in Bruce's good graces.)
But that's not exactly true. He's thought about you a lot.
(Most of those times have been with his hand around his cock, but again - he won't admit that.)
There is an occasional time that you cross his mind and it's because he's wondering genuinely how you're doing - wondering if you're well, how your training is going, wondering if you're doing okay under the Dickhead's reign. But he can't ever pluck up the courage to text you and simply ask. Because that would be admitting that he cares, and that would make him look like a weak little prick.
And that's why he's so damn surprised when you text him first.
He hasn't heard from you since he left the Tower (well, since he stormed away from Donna's funeral in what you called a 'toddler fit' - something that ended in a rather vicious text argument between the two of you). In fact, the last thing in the text history between the two of you is you calling him a 'giant, petty, whiny baby who can't deal with his own emotions'.
(You had no clue what had happened between him and Rose, so that did inform a lot of your opinion on the matter.) (And that was probably the reason why Rose still had all of her teeth after you had seen her at the funeral.)
But all of that was aside from the point.
The point being - Jason found himself smiling when your contact name popped up on his phone.
He has you in his phone as 'Pretty Girl' - along with a contact picture of you sticking your tongue out at him in response to having his phone shoved in your face with the knowledge that he was taking a picture of you. (That tongue always makes him think certain things, so even though you intended for it to be some rude thing to ruin the picture, it makes it so much better for him.)
(1) new photo
That instantly catches Jason's attention.
Perhaps you were sending him a picture just to flip him off, or sending him a picture of a dumpster to ask him if it reminded him of home - a common joke you used to make when he still lived at the Tower.
Jason grabbed his phone and opened the message, expecting another tired joke, and-
Holy fuck.
The last thing he was expecting - your naked body. Your gorgeous naked body.
(He likely would have expected a nuclear blast or for the Joker to clean up his act and actually become a decent, sane citizen before he expected this to happen.)
Jason brought his phone closer to his face, making the picture full screen in order to examine it better - he needed to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating, or that this wasn't some weird dream. But fuck, he definitely wouldn't be able to dream up this.
You were so perfect - so fucking perfect in a way that was so very real.
The picture was a fucking stunning side profile of your body - rolling curves, lacy underwear that could clearly barely contain your impressive hips with sweet little stretch marks jutting out from the fabric (jagged little marks across the softness of your skin that made Jason want to act up) - soft fat for him to grab onto, and the perfect teardrop shape of your breast, now bared to his eye in a way that he had only dreamt of before. Something that he had stared at through the oversized tee shirts you wore to bed without a bra, just wondering what you looked like underneath.
And fuck, this was so much better than anything he could have dreamt up.
Jason's cock began to harden almost instantly, and laying in bed, he reached over to his nightstand for some lube, ready to milk that picture for all it was worth, when-
His phone buzzed again.
Pretty Girl: 'Delete that.'
Jason hadn't even considered that you had sent it to him by mistake. He had been far too busy enjoying to even consider the intention or the psychology behind it.
So, he took his hand off the waistband of his sweats and texted back the first thing that came to mind.
'No.'
(He didn't hear your annoyed growl on the other end, frustrated at his downright typical Jason behaviour.)
'It's not my fault you made a dumbass mistake. Besides, it's the least I get after all the nagging from you.'
Then, something else came to mind as the bubbles popped up, meaning you were busy formulating a reply - an annoyed one, no doubt.
'Who did you mean to send it to anyway? Who are you fucking whose name starts with J that's not me?'
(You hesitated.)
Pretty Girl: 'I didn't type in J.'
'???'
Pretty Girl: 'I typed in G. And it turns out the first contact that popped up was Giant Baby. That's you.'
Jason felt annoyed and insulted on all levels. The fact that you were going to Tiger Boy for dick instead of him, and the fact that you had used such a mocking contact name for him. But when he realised that such a pathetic string of events had caused him to accidentally see you naked, he couldn't be too upset.
'I'm still keeping the picture đ'
Pretty Girl: 'You're such an asshole' Pretty Girl: ... Pretty Girl: 'You owe me one'
'Fine, I'll owe you one'
Jason shrugged it off, thinking he had won, until -
Pretty Girl: 'No, you owe me a cock.'
This made Jason's stomach jump. You couldn't possibly mean-?
Pretty Girl: ... Pretty Girl: 'You owe me a picture of your dick. You know - an eye for an eye type stuff.'
Jason wanted to ask questions - what did you plan to do with the picture? Should he shave his balls first? Did you want more than one?
But his cock got even harder at you asking for a picture, at you demanding to see his cock, and he couldn't properly think - he couldn't even reason that you might later blackmail him with the picture.
No, instead, he found himself ripping down his pants and turning on the bedside lamp for good lighting, pumping himself up to peak rigid hardness and grasping the base of his cock in hand. And then, without hesitation, he snapped a picture for you. He made sure to get his abs in the photo - a collection of his best assets, with his pants pulled down to mid-thigh, showing off his tight stomach, the deep V leading down to his dick, and his thick seven inch cock in hand surrounded by some well-kept dark pubic hair.
(He was proud of it - and that ego was one of the things that annoyed you most about him.)
He sent it without hesitation and then you began typing several times and stopped once again. Jason's stomach churned with nerves until -
Pretty Girl: 'Fuck you' Pretty Girl: 'I thought it would be smaller'
Jason had no clue how to respond to that, and he was busy racking his brain for some clever reply, when -
Oh. Oh fuck.
(1) new photo
You had sent him another picture. And this time it was definitely on purpose.
It was a view between the plump, beautiful thickness of your thighs - your hand was inside the pretty lace of those panties, and your fingers were visible working on your clit while your needy hole dripped wetness onto the fabric.
So you had liked what you had seen.
Pretty Girl: 'What would you do if you were here right now?'
Jason's brain short-circuited then. He thought of so many things - eating your pussy until you screamed, flipping you onto your stomach and fucking you until you begged him to stop, gripping onto those gorgeous thighs, pinning them to your chest and pounding into your cunt until you finally surrendered and said that you had liked him all along, fucking your smart little mouth to finally shut you up-
Pretty Girl: 'Come on, Jay. Don't disappoint me.'
Oh, he won't.
(Another thing Jason won't admit - he came back to the Tower just for you.)
...
DC Titans Masterlist
#star-mum#my lovely moots#requests#requested#sundrop writes#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x plus sized reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd smut#red hood x reader#red hood x you#red hood x y/n#dc titans#titans#dc titans fanfiction#titans fanfiction#titans x reader
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Jason Todd x South Asian!Reader HCs
requested | reader is fem, i tried to keep it non-specific so it applies to the whole region, not just india, hopefully i succeededđŹ
i looooved writing this it was so much fun. drop an ask with anything else you want to see!!
batboys x south asian!reader masterlist
When you show him Bollywood movies, at first heâs like âWhy are these so damn long?â But watches them anyway because youâre so excited to show him
He obviously sobs at K3G (because he has daddy AND big brother issues)
But his favorite is probably 3 Idiots or Bhaag Milkha Bhaag (he just seems like the type to looove an underdog story am I right)
Since Jason likes cooking, heâs learning how to make all your favorite foods. Heâs eaten a lot of Indian food before (duh, itâs New Jersey), so heâs familiar with the flavors and spices, but some dishes are easier than others. He tries to make dosa after you mentioned liking it but it does not go well
Heâs trying so hard to impress you but they all keep breakingđ and the ones that donât break come out burnt. When he finally relents and lets you help him, you hold his hand and guide him to make the proper movements; pouring the batter, spreading it into a circle, and gently flipping it so it doesnât break
He loves chai, and is always experimenting with different recipes and flavors and asking you to test them
You're taking him to the Indian market so often, by the end of the month he knows the names for all the vegetables and spices in your language and where to find them
He thinks you with mehendi/henna is the most attractive thing ever
Your friendâs getting married? Of course heâll feed you while your mehendiâs drying, you don't even have to ask
When it's still fresh and at its darkest color he's actually going batshit insane (pun intended); he loves interlacing your fingers together and seeing the contrast of your dark, decorated fingers against his large, strong ones. His phone background is a selfie of you guys where your faces are squished side-by-side and one of your mehendi'd hands is cupping his cheek
And when you're on top of him, the sight of your adorned hands pressed flat against his bare chest, flushed and heaving...he thinks it belongs in a museum
He just loves doing little acts of service; one day youâre complaining offhandedly to him about how the price of eyebrow threading keeps going up, a week later youâve forgotten all about it but heâs like âI learned how to thread your eyebrowsâ
He figured it would be easy enough, and as someone whoâs life often depends on steady, surgical aim and precision, it is
Royâs walking around looking messed up as fuck for a couple weeks but thatâs beside the point because heâs got the hang of it nowÂ
When it comes to putting on a sari, he'll put the pins in the hard to reach places if you ask, but for the most part he just loves watching you put it on. he thinks it's so cute the way you scrunch your face in focus as you make the folds and tuck in the fabric with such concentration (Jason Todd domesticity agenda)
One night you're getting dressed up for some party, but no matter what you do and how many times you take it off and try to re-drape it, it just won't come out good and you get so frustrated and teary-eyed that he has to intervene
He makes you take a break, brings you a snack, and kisses you until you feel better, and then he pulls up a youtube video to do it for youâ but he can't do it eitherđ
So you both decide to give up and you wear a lehenga instead
Itâs a fairly modest one, and even though he's seen you wearing more-revealing clothes (and none at all), he's going crazy over that one inch sliver of exposed skin on your midriff
He already loves seeing you dressed up in traditional wear but if you put jasmine flowers in your hair with it??? The fragrance coming from you makes him feral. It lingers in your hair for a couple days and he canât stop following you around and sniffing you LMAO
The first time you get a kurta for him, itâs actually impossible to find one that fits because heâs so big and buff (drool) so you just end up buying the fabric and getting it custom stitched
There's only a few scraps of the fabric left and you get the wonderful idea of braiding the scraps into a bracelet so you have something to match with him and it makes him go crazy
Early on in your relationship, youâre a little afraid to have oil in your hair in front of him because youâre worried heâll think the smell is too strong
Jason is probably familiar with the practice of hair oiling from his time with Talia (but you donât know that yet)
He actually LOVES when you oil your hair around him. Just something about him being the only one who gets to see you when youâre comfy and unready is so intimate to him and makes him feel so special and trusted and lovedđĽš
Time for some of my physical touch x touch starved!Jason propaganda
After a particularly difficult night of patrolling, he comes to you stressed and anxious and unsure what to do with himself. So you make him sit on the floor in front of your bed, warm up some of the oil, and seat yourself on the edge of the mattress. He leans back against your legs and you massage the warm oil into his scalp. It feels heavenly. Youâre using the perfect amount of pressure, hitting all the right spots, and it feels so good he wants to cry. Later, when you pull him into the shower to shampoo it out, he actually does cry, hoping the water falling from the shower head hides the tears (it doesnât, and it breaks your heart)
(If you were raised Hindu) I think he'd be very interested in the belief in reincarnation, past & future lives, oneness with the universe, etc...it might help him make some sense of his coming back
You bring mediation into his life, and that also really helps him
You wear Kajal/kohl/surma on your eyes, and whenever heâs looking especially good, or before he goes out as red hood, you smudge some onto your finger and put a mark behind his ear, just to be safe (itâs believed to deflect jealousy/bad intentions from others) (yes Iâm superstitious sue me)
Or you just tie a black thread around his ankle
When you first explain to him that you want him to wear a black thread around his ankle because of a superstition, he thinks youâre joking. He canât believe you actually believe in thatÂ
But he canât say no to you and he secretly likes that you also have one so it feels like youâre matchingÂ
He considers it a good luck charm, not because he believes the superstition but because itâs from you
#nightwing#batman#red hood#jason todd#dick grayson#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#batfamily#dc universe#dc comics#dcu#damian wayne#dc robin#robin#bruce wayne#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x y/n
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