#what happened to gin rummy?

[roseofhybrids]

I can't recall if I ever went on a ramble about a MD head canon I have (I feel like I have, but maybe I've just thought about it so often that I've convinced myself I've made a post about it. Either way, let us endulge in the fixation)

it's about the worker drones' simultaneous crippling fear of the disassembly drones and general indifference to death.

Here's a cut because this ended up way longer than I thought it would-

Just about every worker drone is terrified of the murder drones (reasonably so, as they can peel one of them open like a mechanical orange) and yet in spite of this, they show a blatant disregard for safety once the sky demons are out of sight.

First two times we see something like this happen is when Khan lets Uzi go outside at night to "look at the door hydraulics" and later when the WDF guard corrects N on the name gin rummy instead of running for his life. Now, maybe Khan was too excited about Uzi showing an interest in doors to think about the potential danger, and maybe worker drones are big dumb dumbs most of the time.

But then you have situations like in the promening and cabin fever where groups of drones will initially show fear before quickly relaxing around the murder machines. They go from shaking in fear after watching one of their classmates being shot to offering friendship and poking one of them in the face in mere minutes.

So, why do they go from terrified to unbothered so fast.

Well, we know the drones on Copper 9 were mostly used for mining, a dangerous job that can have deadly accidents even when human safety standards are in place. So, JCJenson has to program these drones to dig up the ore, carry it to the surface, process it, et cetera. Building and repairing robots costs money, so ideally you'd want to minimize them getting damaged in the most cost-effective way possible. Safety measures decrease production and safety equipment costs money, so what are they to do?

My head canon/theory is that they programmed the drones to avoid situations that will damage themselves. Something to stop them from walking into pits and sticking their heads between moving gears. So if a drone sees another drone get broken by something, they're programmed to avoid the thing that lead to their buddy getting killed. See another drone get crushed by a rock? Avoid loose boulders. See another drone fall into a smelter? Avoid moving along the edge of the catwalk. And so on and so forth.

But you don't want them to be too careful. After all, if you program them with too much anxiety they'll be too scared to work, which will decrease production. So they also programmed them to proceed if they see that there's no immediate danger. Sure, three drones fell into a sinkhole in this area last month, but Steve's standing over there and not falling into the ground, so it must be safe. With this, also comes an explanation for their indifference to death, even when it happens to friends or family. If a drone grieves losing a coworker, then they won't work as well. So once the initial fear of seeing another being breaking passes, they move on and get back to setting off explosions (standing a few extra feet away this time).

Going back to the scenes from The Prommening and Cabin Fever-

The crowd is initially scared of V when she drops in. But when Lizzy explains that they're friends and insists that they "forgive and forget" they go right to clapping and cheering. As soon as the known threat proves to be safe, the fear switches off.

Cabin Fever is an even better example. They've all just watched V shoot another drone. N acts very friendly, but they remain afraid. That is, until Lizzy and Thad move to stand next to the two murder drones. They see the two not die by doing this, and immediately the entire group relaxes and are soon treating N and V as though they're just your run-of-the-mill drone. The worker teens only show fear again when they do something that could threaten them. Such as at the archery range when V points the bow at them.

They show similar behavior around Uzi that episode as well. When ever her presence is brought to their attention, there's visible fear. This makes sense with her past behavior in mind. Railgun exploding in class, taking over classmate's sentience, general violence. She's proven to be a potential danger, and so they're afraid when first seeing her. When she doesn't immediately do anything to harm another drone, they soon calm down to the point that they forget she even exists. She makes herself known when the bus arrives at camp Fear till their attention is drawn to the teacher and then the murder drones She shows up at the archery range and arrow into a flesh beast Fear until she runs away, name then forgotten She rips a drone's head off and pauses for dramatic effect In those few seconds of not killing her, Lizzy switches from afraid to criticizing her

It's like once the "threat" is resolved, their brains determine she isn't worth focusing on to the point of the drones forgetting her name. (In particular, Lizzy is really unbothered by almost getting killed in that episode. Possibly because she's been spending time with V? A sort of desensitization)

After all, if another drone isn't a danger, and they aren't working alongside them (not in the same mining team, not in the same clique) it isn't worth it to have info on them and tosses it to the recycling bin.

We see the solver drones and disassembly drones break this line of behavior. Along with Khan, Thad, and Lizzy to an extent. (Which, in all fairness, could just be main character privileges)

Khan of course shows to still care about Nori's death years after the fact, as well as concern about Uzi leaving at the end of the pilot. I think it's worth noting how the other WDF members in episode 2 react to him prioritizing Uzi over building a door. Calling the idea "cringe" and displaying general annoyance and sickness at the idea. Is it just because it's Khan and Uzi, or do drones just see anyone putting family over work as strange?

Thad isn't afraid of Uzi and doesn't have a negative view of her like the other teenage drones. Has he not witnessed her "shenanigans" or is he just braver and kinder than most drones? He isn't afraid of N in episode 2, but, as he says himself, N helped save his life. He also shows some concern for other drones dying when he mentions the disappearances to Uzi in Heartbeat.

Lizzy has also shown to be braver than most drones. Little fear around Uzi, was able to hang around with V long enough to set up the prom scheme, helped Doll set up said prom scheme despite Doll doing a bunch of murdering, willingness to just walk up to J and trying to punch her. Her being around V and Doll would suggest she doesn't have the same concern about other drones dying the way Thad does. But that could just be her putting up a front. Perhaps we'll get to see a little more in episode 8.

Hope anyone who read through all this found at least some enjoyment in doing so. I thought this would be, like, 3 short paragraphs tops, but now there's a little over 1200 words.

[roseshewrites]

Honestly, my Hazbin chapter stories haven't been doing as well as my one shots, so I need validation that if I eventually finish this RadioApple (eventual Mpreg) slowburn people will actually like it. Give me courage, people, I'm begging you 🥲

This is just one chapter from the middle of my unpublished story:

~A Golden Piece of You~

Alastor didn't understand how it happened, but the little king had somehow wormed his way into his psyche and it was quite annoying. Ever since that night Lucifer got silly drunk. 

Angel Dust had somehow looped him into several games of gin rummy with Husker and Lucifer which they played well into the evening till Angel was a slightly giggling mess and Lucifer himself was headed in that direction fast. Alastor nursed a cherry martini and watched the proceedings with an increasing sense of amusement. 

"Take a shot every time Alastor says something sarcastic," Angel was wheezing. 

"Take a shot every time Angel says something sexual," Lucifer responded. 

"NO. That's every other sentence. He moans in his sleep," Husker said, scooting back to avoid a tipsy Angel who had tried to kick him and missed.

Alastor, the only one besides Husker actually still playing, laid down his perfect hand and announced his straight. 

"Gin." 

"No fair asshole, how'd you get all the fuckin hearts??" 

"I paid attention to my hand unlike you, And I can plainly see all your cards. For someone with two sets of arms you're horrible at concealing them." 

"Shot," Lucifer whispered, then chuckled, and took one.

"You could have knocked three turns ago." 

"Quit peepin' at my hand mothafuckah!"

The game went on like this till everybody, even Husk, who had a stamina for card games, tired of Alastor winning nearly every round and rose from the circular table in front of the bar to go to bed. 

All except Lucifer, who stood up and immediately knocked over a chair, then followed it to the floor himself attempting to right it. 

"Oh this is fuckin hilarious," Angel whipped his cell phone from his chest poof and snapped a photo before Husker could stop him. 

"For my personal collection," Angel said fondly. 

Alastor, who had been putting away the cards, glanced to Husker, who shrugged, going, "I've got this one," gesturing to Angel, "He's all yours." 

"Yours can actually handle his liquor," Alastor returned. "And I am not claiming responsibility for him. Thank you." 

"All seven of you are terrible," Lucifer giggled from the floor, "Why are you letting the room spinnnnn?"

 

Angel was silently counting on his fingers, "How many extra of each one of us is he referring to do yah think?" 

"Oh for heaven's sake," Alastor said irritably, tossing the envelope of cards onto the table and striding over to help Lucifer to his feet, who was snickering helplessly as Angel held up a few of his arms and said, "Hey, how many fingers am I holding up?" 

"Fuh-fifteen," Lucifer said. "Holy shit. WhyDoYouHaveSoMany?" 

"You are going to have to actually stand up, Lucifer," Alastor said impatiently, while supporting him from underneath an armpit.

"Actually he was right. I was holding up fifteen," Angel grinned, watching as Alastor struggled to hold upright a limp and giggling King of Hell. The radio demon rolled his eyes. 

"His room is on the opposite end of the hotel," Husker said, "So uh, good luck with that," and smirking, tugged off a protesting Angel to leave Alastor with.. 

This thing.

"When did you get so fuckin' sexyy?" Lucifer was saying, his chin on Alastor's lower shoulder. 

Oh, clouds above... 

"Perhaps somewhere around your tenth shot," Alastor snapped. "Come on." 

"Kay." 

Tempted to simply bodily drag him through the hotel, but wary of what Charlie would say if she happened to see him treating her father like a sack of potatoes, Alastor settled with just hauling him along while Lucifer complained, "You walk too fasttt." 

"Well then keep up. And you'd best sober up fast because Miss Mcmillan's fiance is arriving tomorrow to scope out rooms for her wedding venue. And we actually want her to choose the hotel, remember?" 

"OhFuckThat'sTomorrow." 

He sighed. "Yes, Lucifer." 

"My daughter will be....piiiiissed if I'm not there for that.." 

"Exactly." 

"I love her so much, Alastor. That's my baby girl. I'm so proud of her..." 

..."I know." 

Finally, silence. But not for long. Lucifer said, "Do you even care for her? Huh? What are your intentions with her, and her hotel anyways..... 'Cause I can't get a vibe from you and it drives me insane." 

Alastor, finally realizing Lucifer could stand on his own now without support, propped him by his bedroom door and was about to just leave him to go to his own room when a thought hit him, and he turned back around. 

"Wait a moment, will you repeat that last part for me?" 

Lucifer stood on tiptoe to get in Alastor's face, poking him on the chest, "You heard me. You. Drive me. Insane." - each stop in his sentence punctuated by another poke to the chest.

Alastor was grinning, looming over him, "Do I, now? In what way?" 

He was taking in Lucifer's appearance now, how his already flushed cheeks were casted with a deep golden, noting his body language like how he leaned into Alastor.

Leaning in, not even cringing at his closeness. 

Interesting. 

"In every way imaginable," Lucifer glared, "-You. I mean- one minute you actually have a heart, then-" 

"Then what?~" 

"You go and- do something so *evil*, and downright idiotic-" 

"Oh, do go on." 

"I just, it makes me *crazy*, it makes me want to *throat punch* you, it makes me- ah, fuck what the hell." 

Before Alastor could respond to any of this, Lucifer threw his arms around his neck and kissed him. 

When their lips connected Alastor made a noise of protest and tried to break it; but surprisingly strong, Lucifer held on to him, drawing him in by the lapels of his jacket, and Alastor, though shocked, was surprised that he found himself pinning Lucifer against the wall, kissing him back, feeling those hot soft lips against his, the small hands curling in his hair, a hint of tongue, and-

Oh, no. He couldn't do this. Absolutely not. Lucifer was drunk off his ass.

He pried Lucifer's hands away from him with some effort and broke the kiss, growling, "Now see, *that* was an idiotic move on your part." 

Lucifer's breath was hot on his cheek. "You kissed me back. So who's the idiot?" 

"You are drunk. I cannot take advantage of that." 

"Then why are you still here?"

For some reason, Lucifer's unexpected act had completely frozen him in place. He felt a bit unable to move or think. 

Finally, after staring each other down for what seemed an eternity, Alastor was able to make himself back away and turn around to leave.

"For your information," he said,

"I

intend to draw patrons in to the hotel. My intentions with Charlie are to make sure she is set up for success; which I cannot do if I stick around to listen to your drunk ramblings. Good night, Lucifer." 

And he walked off. 

~ 

What a splitting headache. 

Lucifer, his head pounding, made his way to one of the many hotel kitchens and brewed some coffee there, still buttoning his vest up and tying his bowtie, checking his reflection in a nearby metal toaster to make sure that his hair wasn't too bird nested. 

"Good morning, dad!!!!" Charlie busted into the door, making him jump and cringe. She was singing away, and remarked, "Ooh, coffee" 

Now that his daughter was around, it was time to slide into a role that didn't involve feeling like a groggy piece of shit. Lucifer forced a stupid grin, and said, "Morning, sunshine!"

Charlie hummed and did a little butt wiggle while she poured her own coffee then began scrimmaging around in the cabinets for a poptart. Someone else pushed their way into the room and opened the fridge. Jeez, was this the only stocked kitchen in the entire hotel?

Last night. ...He wasn't sure if he'd dreamed it or not. Pouring creamer into his coffee, and while Charlie's back was turned, he allowed his mind to wander and nudged through the mists of blackout that was the night before. 

He had been playing gin rummy with Husker, Angel and Alastor; yeah, that checked out. He remembered laughing a lot.

He inwardly cringed. He'd done a lot of laughing about dumb shit. After that things had gotten a bit blurry. Had someone helped him to his room? He thought he remembered that, at least. 

"Mornin', Aluhfter!" He heard Charlie say through a mouthful of poptart. 

Lucifer nearly dropped the creamer on the floor. As it was, it fell over on the counter anyway, and he ended up having to dust powder from the surface into a napkin and toss it into a nearby trash can. 

Alastor had helped him to his room. 

"Good morning, Darling. Don't speak with your mouth full. You'll get crumbs on the floor." 

"Right! Shorry! I mean" she gulped, "Sorry. Manners. You're right. You ready for this afternoon?" 

While they spoke about hotel plans, Lucifer continued cleaning up an invisible mess that had been clean several minutes prior, and oh shit, he had to escape the room somehow but could he do that without making eye contact with- 

He turned around and came face to face with Alastor. 

"Uhh" 

Dammit, upon scoping the room for an out, he realized Charlie had already left. 

The radio demon was grinning, as he always was. 

"Good morning ~," he purred, "Sleep well?" 

"Y-yeah, sure did," Lucifer was edging his way to the door, coffee in hand, reaching for his hat which he had plopped onto the counter before fixing his bowtie. Gah, the brim was covered in coffee cream powder. Shit. And his hat apple was missing. 

Alastor had helped him to his room, and that kiss - had not, in fact, been a dream. He remembered it all now. 

"So if you'll excuse me- hey, where did you get that apple?" 

"Oh this?" 

Alastor was tossing the fruit in the air, catching it, "I needed it for my breakfast. Hope you don't mind." 

Lucifer glared, "So that's where all my hat apples have been going." 

Alastor examined the fruit, holding up a hand as if to say 'excuse me', grabbed a knife from beside the sink and sliced it in half.

"On second thought, you can have this half of it back."

Lucifer was finding a whole lot of trouble getting pissed off right now as Alastor stuck the apple half back onto its place in Lucifer's hat brim. 

"Um. Alastor? Did I...?" He cringed inwardly, "Did I do anything embarrassing last night..?" 

"Hmm. No more than usual. You've got coffee creamer on your boots, by the way." 

Okay, there was no way Alastor didn't remember the kiss. The way he had kissed him back, Lucifer thought surely...

Maybe there could have been something there. 

Alastor winked, "Better get cleaned up before our guests arrive, Applesauce.~" 

The radio demon took the hat from his hands, placed it on Lucifer's head, then gave it a fond little pat, making coffee creamer snow down to the floor. 

"Tata." 

"Ugh, you can fucking have the rest of this apple, you nut case!" Lucifer yanked it off his hat and tossed it in Alastor's direction, but the radio demon was already halfway through the door, and it just hit the wood and bounced to the floor. He could hear Alastor cackling madly. 

"Fuck," Lucifer said aloud to the empty room, "God dammit."

[familyvideostevie]

ahem omw with a request for you <33

can I request a rainy day with bradley bradshaw pls? likee all their plans get cancelled and he's way more excited than he should just because he can spend the whole day with his gf playing board/card games, watching movies, cuddling, cooking or whatever he wants (aka whatever you, the amazing writer, have in mind)

oh baby you are speaking my language! i love this! he's so on the go i think he'd love a day to relax and he'd be quite good at it if given the space to. this is maybe a bit simpler than you wanted, but hope you enjoy anyway! | fluff, 0.7k

You're having a really nice dream. Bradley's voice is soft, gentle as he says your name, sings it, laughs around it. His lips trail a line of gentle kisses from your ear to your nose, over both eyes and finally down to your lips --

"Baby," he says, thick with sleep. "Wake up. It's raining."

As if on cue, thunder rumbles and Bradley's hold on you tightens. It takes great effort to open your eyes but you manage and twist in his arms until you find his face. He smiles at you and kisses your nose, his mustache tickling your skin.

"Hello," you mumble.

"Hi," he says back. You take a few moments to process what he's said before finding the words.

"Does that mean no hike?" He nods, his hand sliding beneath your sleep shirt to rest on your lower back. He's so warm.

"No hike," he says. You rub your eyes.

"You got a plan B, Lieutenant?"

Today was meant to be a date organized by Bradley. A drive through somewhere beautiful to a hike that would take you somewhere even more beautiful and then lunch. He's been excited about it all week and as your brain catches up with what's happening you're a bit disappointed on his behalf.

"Not as exciting as plan A, but I do."

Your eyes slide closed and you sandwich your knee between his legs. "Tell me more."

Bradley traces the lines of your face with one long finger as he talks. "We can play cards," he murmurs. "I need to reclaim my gin rummy title." You huff a laugh. He's a sore loser. "I'll make you breakfast or we can order from that bagel place."

"And make some poor teenager bike it over in the rain?"

"I'll tip a lot." You can't see him but you can hear his smile. It's a gorgeous smile, a soft one, one that drew you to him the very first time you met. Bradley is loud, he's good at being the center of attention, he's intense, he's magnetic. But there's a softness, a tenderness to him that takes your breath away.

"What else?"

"We can just relax. Nap on the couch, watch a whole season of a TV show. Hey, don't fall asleep again --"

"I'm not," you huff. You open your eyes and twist your body so that you're on top of him. He grunts but allows it as you straddle him lightly. "Are you suggesting we have a relaxing day?"

There's that grin again. "I guess I am." You bury your face in his neck.

"Never thought I'd see the day." He's all go go go, your boyfriend. He's always planning for something, worrying about something, spinning about ten plates in the air. But you know that given the chance he really does enjoy slowing down and letting all of that cease for even just a day.

Thunder rumbles again. He wraps his arms around you and you sink impossibly further into him. "I'm sorry we don't have days like this often," he says softly.

"The day hasn't even started yet." He squeezes your hip. "But don't apologize, Bradley. I'll take you any way I can get you."

"I know," he says. "I do want us to go on that hike sometime, by the way." You groan. "No, listen, it's because I can't die without seeing you see that view for the first time. It's really amazing."

You pull away from him and smooth the hair from his face, trace the lines at the corners of his eyes. So much hardship, so much tragedy, and he's still got smile lines. "This view is pretty amazing, too."

He flushes. Confident as he is, soft words in your bedroom seem to undo him. He's told you that he feels most himself when you're looking at him because you see him. You feel the same.

"Tell me about it." He cups the back of your neck and pulls you down for a proper kiss, slotting his lips with yours and tracing the seam with his tongue. "I love you," he says. "Thank you for dealing with me."

You huff. As if it's a hardship. "I love you back. Let's go order bagels."

He springs out of bed without another word, you in his arms, and laughs as you yelp all the way to the kitchen.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[keyforshort]

Dimension 20 Live Highlights

*Spoilers*

Cast was;

Murph - Riz/Kugrash

Emily - Ylfa (Jet cameo)

Zac- Pib (Pis)

Ally - Kristen

Siobhan - Ruby

Setting - Unsleeping City

Pib oneshotting Don Confetti by eating him and becoming the new Don

Yfla and Ruby immediately play fighting but also kinda real fighting and being unsure of what was happening

Pib: "Wait am I the adult here?"

Pib and Ylfa both thinking the Bodega was Ylfa's grandmas apartment

Ruby commanding the sweets aisle

Lemone coming to life and Gilear (who was a table) making him his bitch

Epona holding a table at gun point and Riz not reacting until remembering it was Gilear

Pib pretending hes a New York native

Riz almost getting oneshot by a disintegration ray until zac reminded him of uncanny dodge, and then getting swapped out for Kug anyway

Riz's reaction to gettting disintegrated was just "ow"

Kug and Pib going for each other almost immediately (I didnt realise Riz had left because Murph started hissing)

Ylfa trying to play Gin Rummy with everyone she meets

Ylfa beating La Gran Gata at Gin Rummy

Pib and La Gran Gata having the most instant flirty energy

Ruby asking everyone if they're Ceresian and Ylfa thinking she means lesbian

Ruby being Ylfa's lesbian awakening

Wally thinking he's in Die Hard

Ylfa holding Chunggledown Bim's ass cheeks closed like a vice

Kristen elbow dropping table Gilear because she misunderstood a plan

Pib getting shoes and renaming himself Pis (and regretting it immediately because the audience would not let it go)

Pissandra

YLFA ADOPTING AURORA NEBBINS

Kugrash kept turning people into reverse centaurs

Aguefort saying "You guys do the plan, while me and Babayaga do something else" "what?" "SOMETHING ELSE"

Chungledown Bim getting a nat 1, Siobhan getting up and spinning in a circle celebrating like 10 times before realising no one else got up at all

CDB getting another catastrophic failure, Brennan sitting on the floor in reaction to it

The cameramen struggling to get Ally in frame when they all got on tbe floor together. Finally getting them in frame and then they FUCKING MOVED AGAIN

La Gran Gata calling him Pib, the audience yelling "Pis!" And the LGG going "No, PUSS IN BED MOTHERFUCKERS"

Jet lives

Will add more if I think of them

[ohsunnyboy]

far from here (part 2) | sung hanbin ˚₊‧⁺˖

you had quite different plans for tonight, but it can't get much better than being snuggled up to sung hanbin

SERIES: a night in monaco — one, two

TAGS: sorta established relationship, gn!reader, kissing, falling in love, only one bed, overall fluff!!!

A/N: i love card games and i also love sung hanbin so here we are with a part 2 after demand. as always, purely self-indulgent and cute as usual.

WORDS: ~600, EXTRA: gin rummy rules!

"Hanbin!"

Tangled up in the sheets with Sung Hanbin is honestly what you expected after all that happened earlier. You can still taste tiramisu on his lips each time he swoops in for a kiss and it still tastes just as sweet as it did the first time.

It goes without saying that you already knew the boy was trouble wrapped in a tailored suit but were you really expecting this?

"Gin!" The excitement almost launching him tumbling off the bed as he shouts it. "Four kings, three flush spades and three flush hearts!"

Hanbin throws down his meld plus his discard card - a queen of hearts - onto the bed space between you two and looks at you with stars in his eyes. It's easy to forget your own disappointing meld - two queens, and an attempted club flush -  when Hanbin’s eye smile melts all your thoughts away.

“I still win overall though!” you argue, but he just shakes his head and adds another point to his tally.

It's been a long day... or night actually. If you look a little behind Hanbin, you could probably see the clock just hit one in the morning.

After everything at the restaurant, you two ran off into your hotel, all giggly and all the more love drunk. The kiss, turned to two, and maybe into three more, each just as enthusiastic as the last.

May I steal your night? until he's stolen a couple more kisses to boot.

What a gentleman thief, you tease. And all he does is shut you up with another peck on the lips.

It was easy to agree to stick to just kissing; you’ve seen how he looks at you. From the restaurant to now, you know there might be a future far from here, where it’s your wedding bells this time. Only fools rush in, rings true in your mind and it would be remiss to not listen.

As for how you both ended up playing cards? No one really knows. You both crashed into the dresser and the pack of cards just spilled out, asking to be played by the two most competitive people on the planet.

Shouting gin and counting scores quickly sobers up anyone's night in spite of the wine.

Instead of the sounds of shuffling cards for another round, it’s the sound of the sheets, twisting and folding, as Hanbin curls up against you. With you two piled up in this bed for one, it almost an impossible fit: both your limbs careful not to poke and prod. It’s undeniable that the heat is getting to you, the way you melt against him, and how your guard falls away bit by bit.

Maddening is the only way to put it. This sensory overload of Hanbin. From his long worn off expensive cologne, the way he hums from time to time and the fidget of his hands, tapping from here to there. It feels like you’ve found out everything about him, and him with you as well. 

Hanbin's lips press against your neck, teasing at your pulse and nosing behind your ear. "Winner gets a kiss.” It’s said so smugly you can practically hear the smirk. A heat travels up your throat as he whispers it into you.

"Says who?" when you say it, it comes out even more exhausted than you'd ever like to admit. You could never deny him, not with that easy smile and that look in his eyes.

"Says me," trouble murmurs.

Slow and relaxed, he cups your face and drags you in for a kiss. Just as sweet and mischievous as ever.

turns out i can never follow an upload schedule hehe tysm for reading <33 a like and reblog would be good if you enjoyed ! ⭒ masterlist ⭒ part one <-

[thestalwartheart]

26 for Bond and Dench!M please ❣️

Omg thank you for this one my friend!!!

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

THE FIRST HOUR

Arguing. So much arguing. M is convinced this would never have happened if she wasn’t with Bond. He’s always been disaster prone. Bond tells her she ought to have put less money into hiring paper pushers and more into building maintenance.

Fortunately, both of them are solution-minded. M presses the communication button and evicerates the person who is unfortunate enough to be on the other end of the line. (She’s more reasonable once they put Tanner on.) Meanwhile, Bond is trying to break through the ceiling of the lift until M eventually tells him to stop it, for heavens sake, he’s only giving her a headache. And in any case, if he expects her to climb on top of a lift, and crawl up a lift shaft, he’s more of an idiot than she’s ever given him credit for. No, she’ll get out of this with her dignity in tact, thank you very much.

They sit on the floor in surly silence.

THE SECOND HOUR

M takes off her shoes. She tells Bond if he’s offended by this then she should argue with god himself for ageing her. Bond takes off his jacket.

From his pocket, he produces a pack of cards and suggests a game of poker. M admits to never having played. She calls it a game for hustlers and fools.

They play five rounds of gin rummy instead. They’re very careful about it, too, since the cards were issued to him in Q Branch.

THE THIRD HOUR

They should talk about Bond’s upcoming mission, probably.

They do not.

Neither Bond nor M’s phones have signal. The PM will be beside himself, but M just smiles about that. It’ll be character building, and Christ knows he could use a bit of character.

It’s possible Bond’s already thrown his own phone down the lift shaft.

Then, warning Bond not to say a word about her habits, M produces a hip flask filled with bourbon. Bond raises an eyebrow but says nothing. He takes a swig. She takes a bigger one. Says it’s the only way to get through being stuck in a confined space with him.

They are both very mildly drunk by the end of the hour, but M draws the line at drinking more. She notes this will get both confronting and unladylike if she has to do this much longer.

Bond offers her his shoes in service of an emergency.

M reminds Bond she’s a terrible shot, so if he breathes a word to anyone about any potential unsavoury bodily functions, she’ll aim for his knees and get his balls.

THE FOURTH HOUR

[CONVERSATION REDACTED]

Four hours and forty minutes in, they are both glassy-eyed and stuck in remembrances that are full of equal amounts of humour and sadness.

And then, freedom. They school their faces into the usual masks, put their shoes on, and vow never to do this again. M’s phone makes a cacophonous racket as she exits the lift. She hands it to Bond and tells him to use it for target practice.

—

I hope you enjoyed my take on this ask! It was such a delight to write about ❤️

[edupiii]

The other night I went on a tangent to my friends about the music in Murder Drones and how it’s hard to compare the albums since they are each amazing in their own ways. Despite this, my friend insisted that I compare them, so I did. After writing everything out, she said I should post it so that’s what’s happening!

Welcome to an informal essay about the music in Murder Drones

In this essay, I will be going over the 4 albums created by A.J Dispirito and the strengths within each album. This essay is to show that the music between the albums is unable to be compared to one another as they are all astounding and work wonders for the atmosphere of the overall show.

Feel free to disagree with me and let me know your thoughts!

Murder Drones Pilot Mini-Album

The pilots album could be considered the weakest of the 4. It doesn’t have that many tracks that are reused throughout the other episodes. BUT- it is very strong as it has “Murder Brings” which is the trailer song for the pilot and it’s kind of a banger. I find it not as good as “Eternal Dream” “BITE ME” and “FOREVER” but it’s still super fucking good. In the first album we also have “Click”, “Gin Rummy”, “UZI THE DRONE KILLER” and “Goth Girl Anime Lover VS Wholesome Killer Boy” which are all very good songs that get you hyped for fight scenes. There are a few more mellow songs in the pilot’s album, making it not stand out as much. Despite that, it is also the very album that brought us the iconic Murder Drones theme music, which has been a staple in all future songs throughout the series. It’s not looked at as much as the other albums but it worked for the pilot and that’s all it really needed to do. It was good and is still good.

Murder Drones Volume 1

Next is the first official MD album. Once again, it can be overlooked like the pilots soundtrack since it doesn’t have super gut punchy, kick assy music. HOWEVER- it has a very eerie tone to it since it’s going over the second episode (with the Eldritch J monster) and it takes place in Dolls Room which is scary as fuck. It also gives us a few really good adrenaline pumping songs like “Aaaaahhh”. The song Bathtub” is in this album and it is spooky and intense which I love! Classic horror vibes. We also get “Uuugghhh” in this album which is possibly one of my favourites since it keeps going from energetic to spooky and I find that really funny for some reason (also the scenes this song was used for is hilarious). “Get Prommed” and “The Knife Dance” are INCREDIBLY ICONIC and have that addicting saxophone in it along with lots of grove. I really like “Spooky Flashback? oooooo” since it gives us a first look at the Elliot Manor and what kind of music we will be hearing in the 5th episode. Mind you, it’s not as good as the songs in the 5th episode but for foreshadowing, I think it works beautifully as it just gives us a small idea of what the manor was like for N, V and J. I think the first album is often overlooked but just like the pilot album, it has some wicked shit in it that you can’t ignore.

Murder Drones Volume 2

The second album I think might be my favourite because of the music used for the Elliot Manor flashbacks. There’s something so saddening and cold yet cheerful about them that I just cant shake and I adore them. It’s most definitely the soft piano that does it for me. Im a whore for soft piano music. We also have “Falling…For You??”, “Gentle” and “huggie wuggies” which PULL on my heart strings. The mellow music in this album is so well done and make me weep like a small child. DONT GET ME STARTED ON ETERNAL DREAM- I could write an entirely different essay just on that song alone and its relation to V’s entire character, however, I’m pretty sure that has already been done by many more qualified people than myself so you may go read those.

Then we’ve got the scary music in this album, which is a HUGE leap forward compared to the pilots album and the first album. Songs like “Solver Uzi”, “Heh, Nothing Personal Kid”, “SENTINEL 000D”, “…wow…ok THATS Pretty Dark” “literally just noise (your favourite)” and “Earth” are all phenomenal songs that give the spooks and scares. They are eerie and are drenched in anticipation for what is going to happen next. They give so much emphasis on the danger that these characters are in and can make you feel the same way. They freak you out and that is their job. Personal bias to the second album but it is phenomenal. I feel like people might not listen to the softer music in it which I totally understand, but I love it a lot.

Murder Drones Volume 3

And finally, we have the third album.

To start off, this shit goes incredibly hard with its scary stuff. They injected some sort of chemical into this album. I think it might be the chimes and whispers and church music. They added more eerie sounds in this album and I LOVE IT so much. The album starts STRONG with “When you forget to pray” which is so scary and gross and eerie, I love her. It fit the church scene so well and the song itself is disgustingly horrendous with its churchy vibes yet it makes them sound anything but holy. “Callback Ping”, “Absolute Solver” “…Hey guys, just wanted to say what’s up” and “……run” are TERRIFYING! nothing more can be said about those other than that. They scare the shit out of me and I can’t deal with that. Im pretty sure there is screaming in these ones as well, so that adds to the charm of spook. “Die Mad” is a bit spooky but it GOES SO HARD. UNREASONABLY HARD. But then it gets all soft and sad and makes me weep.

Speaking of weeping; “Hang Out?” and “Falling With You” MAKE ME WANNA KILL MYSELF. YHEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH AND I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AAGUUUUUGHHHH-

And finally, the kick ass shit in this album is probably what defines it from the others. Each album has eeriness to them or a few songs that get you pumped; but this album? We’ve got “Eternal DESTROYER” 3 different versions of “BITE ME”, “…Uzi and N: The Drone Killers”, and “YOU’RE FREAKIN’ GROUNDED” which all are such good fighting songs and get you hyped up. They are the songs that get YOU wanting to kick ass, and I love it.

Like the others, there is a few mellow songs in this album, but not a ton. “FOREVER”, “ur aight”, and “haha yea dude, that’s sick” are all very good songs since they take place during scenes of walking or talking, not really any big action. Despite that they are all chillish and are incredibly catchy, they all still carry that eerie feeling that something isn’t right and that’s perfect for the series since we continuously know that something isn’t right.

In conclusion, all 4 of the albums created for the Murder Drones series are incredible in different ways. They each have strengths as well as songs that stand out. I wouldn’t say that one is better than the other since they all have songs that fit the episodes that they premiered in. A.J Dispirito has been very consistent with the quality of their music produced throughout the shows run time, keeping a balance of action, eerie, sweet and scary. I think that music for this series may be difficult to make since there’s so many jumps from goofy to scary to cute and so on. You can definitely see Dispirito’s improvment in their work throughout the series, but every song they’ve created has been excellent.

[melissa-titanium]

dd hc organizerrrr

THIS IS A VERY LONG POST LOL .

biggest basis for their makeup is essentially. birds and cats, with a little bit of wolf wedged in. they're somewhere inbetween solitary and pack predator, not quite social enough to actively search for bigger groups to hunt with BUT not solitude enough to hunt solo. three or four is the average for squads, two being the absolute minimum. to be seperated from your squadmates is a highly traumatic and stressful experience regardless of your opinion on the squadmate you lose. the feeling can be softened by replacing the squadmate. (eg; what happened with j and uzi. the alphabet gang's squad was a three-drone squad, and with j's death, uzi 'replaced' her in n and v's coding. not the same for j, though, because that means she was booted from the squad and it really hurt!!!)

dds are predators that tend to try and stay out of plain sight if need be, but they're already strong and fast enough to catch and kill wds without any struggle. BUT, if they were facing something they needed to surprise for whatever reason, they'd hide themselves rather than try and stay quiet. dds are already naturally nearly-silent (as shown in how n beats the shit out of uzi completely silently in pilot AND the way he basically DISAPPEARS when he sneaks into the vents during gin rummy) so they have no need to try and be more quiet, BUT the issue with their design is that they are. very, very flashy. they have warning patterns plastered ALL across their bodies and are basically glowsticks, and once they're in sight, you know where they are regardless of how dark it is. tl;dr: they rely on their silence to surprise prey.

i did a huge fucking chart on n's height a while back but i literally dont think i could find it. i think, canonically, dds are like... 5'0 exactly? but imo i think they're more around 6'6. there is minor variation in wd-frame dds, so height can differ from dd to dd.

i think dds are split into two different types, those being standalone and wd-frame.

standalone are dds through and through, retaining no worker drone memories because they HAVE no worker drone memories; they were built by the solver solely for the purpose of being a dd, therefore they never were a wd.

wd-frame are dds that have been built over an existing wd (n, v, and j for example.) they can on occasion retain memories (like v, depending on whether the solver wanted them to or not,) and usually retain the 'growth???' code of worker drones, allowing them to grow and change in response to their organic insides.

a better comparison would be; first gen worker drones to second gen worker drones. first gen drones (alice, khan, yeva, nori, etc) are all built off of one frame, leaving very little variation in bodyshape outside of built-purpose (eg; i think nori and khan were built for heavy-lifting and such, meaning they're shorter and heftier, while drones like yeva and alice were built for personal use, which makes them look more. human-like. i don't klnow does that make sense>>>??)

physical traits;

they have black teeth, stained with oil.

their true eyes can be individually taken off, as can the headband (the headband acts like the cap of a lightbulb.)

standalone dds (dds not built ontop of a worker drone frame, there are no canon examples of this) do NOT have whiskers. wd-frame dds (n, v, and j,) have whiskers.

... just like wds, dd hair is just a ton of whiskers bunched up into a hairstyle. does this mean standalone dds are bald? yeah, probably.

dd tails are segmented and interlocked by bendable joints (FLESH joints, dds are half-organic after all) that can extend and flex comfortably to reach further targets. the joints click and bend with each movement.

this was a trait in my old iterations of dd designs so idk if ill keep it, but, dds have heat-regulation spines poking out of their seams. they resemble the centipede-esque limbs on materials collection holo-spooky-snake-crabs.

their wingblades are shaped like fish-hooks, meant to latch onto prey and reel them in.

in addition to this, the wings whistle VERY loudly when flying. they have gravity propulsion (?) devices under their wings arm (not forearm) that make it so they don't actually have to flap their wings (like they fucking COULD?? look at those things dude) but the wingblades themselves are also used as means of steering. the air/gravity around them can be more easily manipulated with the wingblades because each blade has individual muscle control.

HUGE barrel chests. they're used to protect the core. they're split into two parts, a very hard steel-material (that also goes to the shoulders) and a bullet-proof black glass that allows you to see the corelight. and, yes, i know, they look like boobs but i'm nice and love feminism so it's only accentuated on n's chest. yes, his boobs are naked.

drones in general have a zip lining their abdomen, but the rubber material on disassembly drones is much lighter and malleable, allowing dds more flexibility than wds, but also less protection for their insides (which makes sense, because why would they need to protect their insides when they can just regenerate anything that broke? the rubber itself holds the stomach and other organs, but can be unzipped for maintenance.

there are four "sections" of a dd's tail. for organization purposes, i'll call them a, b, c, and d. section a is the joints of the tail itself, which can extend and flex. the tail sections and joints are considered one section. section a filters nanite acid along the dd's spinal cord down into section b section b transfers the filtered nanite acid from section a into the acid tank/storage section c transfers the acid from the tank into section d, and acts as the sheathe for section d section d is the syringe, which can extend in and out of section c

like dd's eyes, their ears are interchangable/customizable. UNLIKE dd's eyes, the ears are actually meant to be customized. the external ears themselves aren't particularly useful, and are dds only means of personalization.

i can;t think of anything else to add here rn UHHH

[gracegrove]

Wounding Care

tw cursing, racism and use of a slur, past parent-child abuse, aging parent, dementia

It's present day, Neil is in his 80s. Billy is in his 50s.

Billy pulled into a slot at the Daylily Skilled Nursing facility and killed the engine. Picking at his lower lip he remained in the car, blankly staring out the windshield. God, he wished he had a cigarette right now, but he'd kicked the habit years ago. Eyeing the time on his watch, he sighed and pulled the keys from the ignition, opening the door. There was no getting around it. Going now was no better than going later.

Walking in, Billy smiled and signed in at the front desk. "Hello again Mr. Hargrove." The employee behind the desk greeted, "How've you been?" "It's Billy, remember?" he gently chided them as he rolled the title uncomfortably off his shoulders. "I'm fine. Where's the old man?" Billy asked, setting down the pen. The greeter checked their watch, "He might be in the day room. I think Cynthia was playing a few rounds of Gin Rummy with him not too long ago." Billy gave the desk a small pat and thanked them before heading off.

Walking into the large day room, Billy looked around. There were a handful of visitors. Children and grandbabies visiting. Residents were sitting with one another and having small conversations or playing cards or dominoes games. But he wasn't there. Billy sighed and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and continued off down the hallways toward the resident's rooms. 133... 135... 136. The sound of the television could be heard from the hallway and a rough voice calling out after it.

Coming to rest in the doorway, Billy breathed in, watching the scene before him. At the edge of his recliner, the old man shook his fist at the LED screened TV on the wall. "How the hell could you miss that pass! Are you blind?" The game on-screen was old, one even Billy couldn't remember, and his father had games on all the time. "Who's playing?" Billy asked with a casual, but sound wrap of his knuckles on the open door. The man looked over at Billy suspiciously before answering. "Raiders... Bengals. '74." As Billy entered further into the room, the man's expression softened. "Oh, it's you. Well c'mon..." He impatiently waved a hand at Billy, "Sit down before you miss it. Stabler's really handing it to 'em."

Billy sunk down into the overstuffed armchair next to this man. His eyes wandered over that wrinkled face, the peppered mustache waggling back and forth, the brightness still in his eyes. Neil Hargrove. Billy sat and stared. Wondered to himself how he could ever get this close to this man. How things had changed so drastically over the years between them. How really everything had changed. "What's the matter?" Neil asked in concern, catching his eyes. Billy looked away reflexively, "Nothing."

Neil looked past Billy's shoulder at the hallway, voices catching his attention. A teen boy was passing by, his grandmother on his arm as they happily chatted and disappeared from view. Neil sighed, his shoulders drooping as he sunk back into his recliner, a sour expression creeping onto his lips. "What's wrong?" Billy asked, noticing the change. Neil shrugged, "I dunno, I guess I was hoping my son would visit." His eyes flitted to the doorway, "Don't know why. He never visits. Too damn busy." A stone sank in Billy's gut as he turned his gaze back on the television.

Neil smiled fondly, patting Billy's hand, "You're a good friend Frank. No one else comes to see me. Just you."

Billy swallowed thickly, it was happening again. Neil leaned over in his chair, "Tell me, how's the wife? Your kids causing you any trouble? Hey!" He snapped his fingers happily, "Wanna smoke?" Neil reached a hand into the breast pocket of his shirt, confusion overtaking his expression as he withdrew an empty hand. He quickly patted down the sides of his chair and checked the end table before his eyes fixated on someone out in the hall.

"You see that!" He pointed feverishly. "What?" Billy asked, turning his head. Neil pointed an accusing finger at the nurse in the hall as she pulled a cigarette carton from her pocket and walked away. "You see!" He nearly cried, "That woman is always stealing from me! You can't trust anybody!" He shook his head with vigor, as he clasped Billy's hand, "I don't like the type of people that hang around here..." Billy sighed, looking at his father's hand, "They're just trying to help you." Neil snatched his hand back and crossed his arms angrily. "Yeah... help themselves."

The pair fell silent, letting the din from the football game fill the space. A knock on the door grabbed Billy's attention. "Billy?" There was a nurse at the door. "Do you have a moment to talk?" Billy looked at his father's sullen expression before nodding and rising from his chair. "I'll be right back," he promised.

Leaving the room, Billy followed them to the nurse's station at the end of the hall. "Billy how are you doing lately?" they started. He hated this question. It was all fluff and filler. Like anyone here gave a shit. "Fine. What's going on?" Billy cut to the chase. The nurse pulled a file off the desk and flipped it open, "We're renewing client treatment plans as a part of the annual continuation of care contracts, and as you are your father's legal guardian..." The nurse let the sentence hang in the air as they handed Billy the paperwork to look over.

"Does anything need to even change?" Billy asked, flipping between one page and the other. None of this hardly ever made much sense to him. He just needed everything to work. The nurse opened an iPad and logged into the patient portal. "Well, your father has been doing quite well since he joined us here last year following his stroke." They scrolled through some information, "However, over the past few months, there have been noted symptoms of vascular dementia. You've seen this too yes?"

Billy absentmindedly chewed on his thumb, eyes glancing back down the hall. There had been signs. Increasing frequencies of forgetfulness. Even more frequent outbursts (than typical) of anger. And losing memories... not remembering. Forgetting who Billy was. Forgetting that Max existed. And Susan. They had been to the neurologist, and it wasn't looking good.

"So what're you gonna change?" Billy asked quietly.

A loud crash at the opposite end of the hall put a pause on the conversation. Billy felt a sick sensation twist through him in recognition as he turned on his heel and ran toward the commotion.

At the opposite end of the hallway, in front of an exit door, Neil was being held back by a group of staff. "Get your hands off me you damn wetbacks! You can't keep me here!" He yelled. "I demand to speak to your supervisor! Si, comprende?!" He was attempting to push through them and reach the door as Billy arrived.

"Hey... hey. It's ok. Just take a breath." Billy coaxed, stepping up and trying to calm him down. Neil was fuming as he looked Billy in the eyes. "You!" He jabbed a finger at him. "You're behind this? I should've known. Billy." Neil spoke his name with distaste. "Always ruining things!"

Billy looked at his father shocked. "You know who I am?" Neil scoffed, "Course I do!" he looked around at the nursing staff, and then smacked Billy square in the chest with a semi-closed fist. Billy winced instinctively, but the blow didn't hold even a fraction of the power that it used to.

Neil's temper was rising. "You did this to me! You had me hauled in here!" Billy was taken aback, hurt. "I didn't do anything to you!" he swore in anguish. "I wanna go home. You're taking me home. Do you understand me?" Neil demanded. "Yeah..." Billy was breathing heavily, his heart racing. The face staring at him was aged, but Billy felt like he was 14 again. It was taking everything he had to keep his grasp on reality.

"But, do you know where home is?" Billy posed feebly. Neil grit his teeth, his face reddening, "Don't be stupid! California!" "We're in Columbus...," Billy corrected half-heartedly. Neil stepped in close to Billy, his nostrils flaring, "Don't tell me where I am!" The man ground out low. Billy tensed.

The situation was quickly falling out of control, and Billy could feel it slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand in an hourglass turned backwards.

"Look... Lets, let's just go home. Ok?" Billy pleaded with his father. Neil shoved him, "You are such a disappointment!" The words were biting. Each syllable ripped off the bone by sharp jagged teeth and spat back at Billy with as much force as ever. "Always have been, always will be. Worthless!"

He shoved Billy again, harder. "You're trying to put me away? Hurt me?" He questioned with malice. "I haven't seen you for years! And now you show up? Huh?" Neil continued to shove, forcing Billy with all the weight his aged body could muster. "This is how you repay me?!" Neil yelled as he brought a resounding open palm across Billy's face. "Huh? Answer me, boy!"

Neil grabbed Billy by the shirt, the staff panicking and swarming around the elderly man. Billy was finding it hard to breathe. He needed to get a grip on himself. It was awful, but it couldn't get much worse. "C-can you take..." Billy huffed, "Take him back to his room. Please."

"Come back here!" Neil screamed, as a pair of large nurses forcibly helped him back to his room. "Billy?! Billy!" His raucous voice rang in the hall.

Billy faltered, his feet tripping, until his back finally hit solid mass, sinking down the nearby wall. He finally caved. A great shattering sob wracking his body, as he collapsed to the ground. The nurses had left. The spectacle was over. The storm had passed.

Great rolling tears fell from Billy's eyes, as he attempted to calm himself, only causing the river to run deeper. It wasn't going to stop until nothing was left. Billy startled at a hand suddenly on his shoulder, a young nurse standing over him with a plastic cup of water in her hand. She withdrew with a regretful look on her face. "Shit, I'm sorry... I uh, thought you could use a glass of water." Billy wiped his hand flat along his face, hoping to stifle the torrent. He nodded weakly and reached for the cup. "Thanks," he croaked.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" the nurse asked kindly. Billy took a small sip, recentering. "Can you get me a Coke?"

When Billy felt composed, he headed back down the hallway, a heavy feeling nestling under his ribcage. Neil was seated at the small dining room table in the kitchenette area, a game of Pyramid underway with his favorite deck of playing cards.

Billy cracked the chilly can of Vanilla Coca-cola and placed it on the tabletop. His father eyeballed it in wonder, reaching out and grasping it, "my favorite!" He smiled fondly, taking a nostalgic slurp. "How'd you know?" Billy sighed, resting his hands on the back of the empty chair opposite his old man. "Lucky guess I suppose." Neil's eyes crinkled in pleasure as he raised up the can for a long drink, sighing in satisfaction as he let the can down. Billy scooted the chair out and sat down, his face serious. "Do you know where you are right now?" Neil took another slug, looking casually around the room, "Some poor bastard's... But, uh... no."

Billy took a deep calming breath, "do you remember anything about today?" Neil took his finishing drink and put the can back on the table. "Yah. Course!" he interjected, offended. "I went to work. Swung by the Deli for lunch..." Neil listed. His gaze became unfocused as he thought. "I, uh... I was looking for my wife." He looked at Billy a moment, before continuing. "She wasn't home. So, I uh... went to find her." He shrugged, "she's been staying out a lot lately." He finished the thought aloud, suspicion thick in his voice. Neil leaned back in his chair, returning to his card game.

Billy looked down, tears pricking at already reddened eyes. "You okay?" Neil asked, watching Billy carefully. Billy huffed out a small laugh, "where was this when I was a kid?" Neil leaned forward over the table. "What? You gotta speak up if you wanna be heard. Y'know you remind me of my boy?" Neil observed. "Sweet. But... soft. I tried to toughen him up." Neil emphasized his point with a clenched fist.

Billy sniffed harshly, giving his head a subtle shake, "who am I?" Neil looked at Billy perplexed. "What kinda question is that? How the hell should I know?" Billy scoffed. "Dammit, this is frustrating. I have you for 5 minutes, only to lose you again."

"Who am I?" Billy asked again. "Say my name." He begged. "Frank!" Neil provided. "That's your friend." Billy corrected, hope beginning to slip from sight. "Neil." The man guessed. "That's you." Billy pressed in frustration. "I'm Neil?" Neil asked in amazement. "Yeah," Billy replied sadly.

"Dad... Say my name."

Neil looked at Billy, struggling, searching the younger man's face for an answer. Any answer. "I... I don't. I don't know." Neil responded.

"I'm Billy. I'm your son," his voice was cracking. Billy wiped at his eyes, renewed tears threatening his resolve.

"Sorry to interrupt," a knock came at the door. "Mr. Hargrove, I have your dinner. Would you like me to set it aside for you?" the staff member asked from the doorway with a tray in their hands. Billy waved them in, "Come in, he'll have it now." Helping Neil clean up his playing cards, Billy set down the tray and thanked the employee, before returning to his seat.

Picking up the dull knife, Neil cut into his meal, but after cutting a few pieces he pulled back with a wince. Gingerly, he rubbed the length of his arm. Billy watched curiously, "Your arm hurt?" "Yeah," Neil acknowledged, he reached out with the opposite arm to pick up his fork and spear a piece of chicken. "Ever since I broke it..." Billy's eyebrows furrowed, "when did you break your arm?" He had never known this. Neil chewed thoughtfully, popping another bite of food in his mouth. "You were there, 'member?" He dabbed at his mouth with the napkin from the tray. "There were those girls... we wanted to impress. Man, those girls..." He chuckled, his frame rattling. "So you pitched and I swung, and that ball flew for miles!" Neil swallowed and coughed. "Until it hit Ma's sitting room window. And there was Dad..." Neil exhaled, his cheeks puffing. "Boy was he pissed. Remember that?" Neil skewered another piece of food. "He was a shade of red I'd never seen before." Neil paused in thought, "man, he was pissed."

"He broke your arm?" Billy asked in surprise. Neil shrugged, picking up the Coke can to see if there was any left inside it. "Eh, what're you gonna do?" He set the can down, pointing his fork at Billy, "He'd have broke yours too if he'd have seen you. Good thing you ran. Smart."

"Stupid broken arm... ruined my chances of playing ball. I could've been great." Neil complained, rubbing the old injury.

"Why did you let him hurt you?" Billy questioned in astonishment. Neil looked at him, incredulously, "What? We were like 12? What choice did I have?"

"Di-did he do it to you often?" Billy stumbled over the question as it caught in his throat. Neil waved him off with his fork, "Come on. You don't wanna relive that stuff." The word pierced him. Lighting his insides and setting ablaze a furnace he tried so hard to keep dampened.

"I relive it every day. Every day." Billy confessed.

Neil looked up at him like he was crazy. Billy gripped the table's edge until his knuckles turned white. "I tried for so long to forget about everything that you did to me. Don't you remember?" Neil shook his head. "No... that was Dad. Not me." Neil corrected him, shaking his head. Billy slammed his palm flat on the tabletop, Neil jolting in his seat. Neil stared at him.

"You are my dad!" Billy grieved.

The pair stared at each other intensely, the room falling away into insignificance around them. "You beat the crap outta me!" Billy pressed, tears escaping his eyes. Neil looked away with sudden discomfort as he set down his utensils. "No." Billy shook his head angrily. "Look at me. You look at me!" He demanded. Neil gave him a sidelong glance. "You tell me you remember!" Billy provoked. Neil shook his head heavily in disbelief. "No. You must have me confused with someone else."

Billy slumped in his seat, exhausted, surrendering. He sniffled miserably, looking at the clock on the wall. 8:47pm. Surely, this was enough hell for one day? Right?

"It's getting late..." Billy trailed off, getting up from his chair. "I need to head home. But I'll see you again next week... Dad." Neil blinked at him strangely but said his farewell, allowing Billy to leave.

Arriving home, Billy smiled softly. There was a familiar face in the driveway.

"Tough day?" Max asked, she lifted an arm with a hefty paper takeout bag as an offering. Billy laughed softly, "nothing that sleep can't fix."

"Wanna talk?" Max inquired, heading to the front porch. Billy silently nodded and sat on the stoop beside her. "Did it happen again?" she asked. Billy stayed silent, his eyes tired and unfocused. "Why do you go?" She questioned. "I'm his son. I have to." Billy answered as if it were obvious.

"It's not fair, y'know?" Billy finally spoke, looking at her. "He doesn't remember anything... anything that he did to me. To us."

"But I remember. I remember every curse, every smack, every bruise. Every scar." He fell silent again, his knee beginning to bounce.

Max put a comforting hand on his knee in reply. "Everything. I remember... all of it." Billy continued.

"You want a confession... or an apology." Max reflected. "But you can't have that with the way his memory is."

"I look at him now, and he's old. And he's sick. ...And I feel nothing. And it scares me Max... what does that say about me as a person?" Billy asked with desperation in his voice. "You're supposed to love your parents."

He rested his head in his hands, "I go because... because I need to feel something." Billy began to cry. "It looks like you do feel something," Max observed, gently wiping a tear from his chin.

"It's crazy y'know?" Billy hiccuped. "I've learned more about him now he's sick, than the entire time when he wasn't."

"Turns out the apple didn't fall far from the tree... a long line of bad apples. Y'know?" Billy smiled bitterly, as Max scooted in closer, wrapping an arm around her brother. "He was a victim too. You both were." She stated. "And with a little forgiveness, maybe you can move forward..." She coaxed. "Maybe." Billy sighed in defeat. "Not just for him, Billy. For you." Max reasoned.

[polarsirens]

if it helps, i think plenty of english-speaking people have heard of gin rummy but don't know the rules very well if at all, like how lots of people don't really understand poker, haha. it's a very much a "i think my grandma plays that?" kinda game, which is probably why emily pulled it out.

as an aside, i love how many card games have the silliest sounding names. Crazy Eights. Old Maid. Hand and Foot. Bullshit/BS. Garbage. Spoons. Nertz. Egyptian Rat Screw.

Egyptian Rat Screw (And Slapjack, Speed, Slam) are very funny in game play, because you literally have to slap the pile of drawn cards half the time when certain things happen. and yes, you will absolutely end up smacking the other player's hand many times trying to be first to slap the pile.

Mao doesn't have a silly name but it has the wackest rules, mainly because the idea is that only one person knows all the rules at the start. the others have to learn them not by talking (one of the rules is you can't talk out of turn) but by being penalized and figuring out why by watching the one person who knows the game.

rules include saying "have a nice day!" to the left-side player when you discard a Seven, and if the player after that discards a Seven too they must say "have a very nice day!", adding "very"s until people stop discarding Sevens. also, if you're given a card for breaking a rule you must say "thank you" and if you don't you keep getting penalty cards until you do, or until the knowing player intervenes.

what's the point of this? idk. i think mao would be the baba yaga's favorite game. i'd say it's pib's too but he probably prefers betting games he can scam people with.

of all the games you listed the only one i know of is BS, that’s a fun one but otherwise! wow!! didn’t know there were so many! i’m so glad you explained egyptian rat screw for me because boy that’s a wild name.

can you even win mao?? that is, when you’re not the one making the rules? what a strange fascinating game! you’re right, it feels like just the right amount of chaos for the baba. (and i can imagine pib hosting a lil mao table in a town fair or sth and make people bet money to join 😂)

[tfw-no-tennis]

one piece liveblog 807-810

yayyy

807!!

them just cutting to a feast and still not telling us what happened to sanji 👀👀 like I know what happened to sanji but its still juicy af

BROOK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ok brook legit has one of the best character designs in one piece (and that's saying a lot w/the competition), simply can't be beat

still w/the sanji remarks...the drama!!!!!!!!!!

everyone is accounted for EXCEPT sanji

HAHAHA the super foreboding 'corpse' wanda mentioned was just brook lmfao

hahahaha and the dog minks love brook, of course. and zoro is just like Tell Me Less Please.

law just fucking off to the forest lmao mood

oooohohh the offscreen explanation oooohhhh

goddd I love that nami recognizes how bad the situation is - how this is actually WORSE than if sanji had Actually been physically kidnapped

but okay pretending idk where sanji went the tension is insaaaane and The Plot Thickens when u hear sanji left a note and left on purpose HMMMM so juicy

ITS ONLY BEEN 11 DAYS.....JEEEEESUS LOL

didn't dressrosa take like 5 years irl lmfao

flashback babeyyyyy

ooooh I love big moms flagship. so creepy. I love the whole 'evil-er willy wonka/disney' schtick she has going on

omfg I forgot abt caesar, just like luffy did

yeessssss I love seeing the crew fight together sooo much I wish it happened more instead of individual fights. It should be like DND where they take turns lol

namiiiii I love her and her weather powers sm

HAHAHAHA nami acting all humble but saying 'I admit, the credit's all mine' I love her SO MUCHHHH lmao

also I LOVE the rest of the straw hats hyping them up :')

chopper getting to do Dr stuff yayayayayay

nami and wanda gay asf js

OUGHGHGHGH LAW REUNITING W/HIS CREW OUGHHHHHH

also I was CONVINCED that law was doomed to die sometime after dressrosa (for multiple reasons, one being that his power is so OP lmao) so seeing this I was like OH NO HE DOESN'T HAVE LONG LEFT...lmao

I thot he'd die in wano but now that he didn't I'm like okay he's fine actually lol

oooh it's crazy to get to see all this wano-related stuff now that wano is like. actually over lol

and we still don't see what happened to sanji yet lol

chapter 808!!!

KAYA AND THE KIDS W USOPPS POSTER WWWWWWWWWWWWWW

oh shittttt jack

wow they have a lot of themes going on huh. you have the cards thing, and the mythical/prehistoric animals thing, and the 'calamities' thing. extraaa

this man is named sheepshead....that's a fish bro

gin-rummy...more card game names lol

apparently sheepshead is also a game but idk I think everyone's first thought would be Fish (

them arguing over terminology w/samurai vs ninja lmfao not the time dudes

oh shit fuck it up minks

luffy not reading the room at all and being excited that there's a mammoth hvhbajdfvshjbfbajdsdf I love him sm did u know

I love usopp and luffy's relationship sm ooooobh

HAHAHA NOOOO LUFFY JUST BLOWING BY ALL THE SUBTLTY

classic

everyone just whaling on luffy hvbjadkfbskjdfn

inuarashi!!! I was actually so confused by the english translation names lmao

caesar just fucking things up lmao

chapter 809!!

omfg inuarashi wanting to chew on brook too bc he's a dog mink lmaoooooo

'not later either!!' LMFAOOOOOOO

luffy going CAESAAAAAAAR is giving me jojo part 2 flashbacks

omg they met shanks :D

luffys like OH SHHIT MY DAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

inuarashi falling asleep mid convo lmao

luffy like prying his jaw open while chopper tries to stop him. classic

omg fellow nocturnals<3

flashbackkkkkk!

ooooh musketeers

inuarashi badass moments

jack's the first person we hear about w/a billion+ bounty, right??

nekomamushi fuuuuck yea

i love one piece fights ngl

chapter 810!!!

ooooh we see the baratie w/sanji's new 'only alive' wanted poster!! 'lots of questions' indeed...

jack kinda looks like axe hand morgan w/that jaw hvjddhskbjlf

oomg bepo and the heart pirates fighting for zou 😭😭😭 wuv them

damnnn they fought for 5 days

luffy just sitting on inuarashi lmao

luv that luffy is Just A Little Guy and its more and more obvious as the series progresses bc everyone starts getting larger like the story is advancing along some sort of megafauna gradient

damnnnn they're out here breaking the geneva convention

nekomamushi cursing jack as he 'dies' is dope as fuck

this is starting to feel like a christian creation myth lol. 'and on the sixth day, the devil left our lands...'

inuarashi saying that doflamingo and jack 'must be bound by some deep connection' makes it sound like they're gay married lmfao

awww luffy defeating doflamingo indirectly made jack leave and stop murdering everyone on zou, nice

OH SHIT FLASHBACK!!!! sanjis there 👀

that shot w/brook chopper nami sanji momo and caesar like lmao caesar rlly thinks he's on the team....

caesar saying 'you will rue the day!'....neville icarly moment

brook's outfits are always cool as fuuuuck

nami immediately jumping into action to help the squirrel girl <333

and telling brook to fight the guy chasing her and brook is like sure thing <3333 ilove them

brook is so fucking cool I wish he got more to do in the story. I'm glad he gets to be dope in wci

oh hi pedro! everyone looks like they've seen better days huh

damn especially inuarashi and nekomamushi...I forgot the had limbs chopped off 😬 ouch

exciting flashback developments!!!!! more to come 👀

[dhampiravidi]

"You’re okay, you’re okay." (Roguey comforting Renee after a nightmare or after something scary happened ;u;)

Renée was like her Mama in a lot of ways, even if they weren't related by blood. They had very distinct accents, got defensive fairly easily, loved acoustic covers, and, most notably, they really weren't afraid of much. So if Renée Michele was sobbing and shaking like she was, especially at the age of ten (when she and her peers were hellbent on being tough X-Men) something awful had happened.

"H-he had me, he hurt me..." She was sitting in her Mama's lap, curled up and trembling like a newborn pup. Anna Marie had been the second one in the room, but she was the only one who could pick up Renée, whose skin had been crackling with electricity. Hestia had to fight to keep Stitch under, and she was almost shaking as much as her daughter. She checked the window and the closet just to make sure nothing was lurking, then assured everyone in the hall that things were being handled, all while holding back tears. Remy had taken a seat by his little girl as soon as her powers had come under control. He held her hand, and he couldn't help but remember how small it'd been when she was born. Hestia finally sat next to him. They both looked as if they'd aged ten years.

"Who did, petite?" Remy asked softly, thinking he could make whatever monster she'd dreamed up seem silly. She wasn't old enough to go on missions, and her parents had been careful not to let any strangers see her mutated eyes, for fear they might be anti-mutant.

Renée had kept her eyes shut tight ever since her parents had turned the lights on. But when her Daddy spoke to her, she opened them, red irises looking into the same.

"De vampire man."

All three adults traded glances before turning their attention back to Renée. Except for that time Wade had been left with her (long story; would not be happening again), they really were careful to restrict what she was exposed to. What could she have seen that resembled a murderous vampire?

"What--uh, what was he doing, hm?" Hestia asked. Renée shivered and tried to curl up even tighter. Her Mommy immediately regretted speaking.

"H-he put wires in me, n' he kept pokin' at me..."

"Wires, like in a robot?" She shook her head.

"Like n' a hospital." Remy's jaw clenched. He made sure he wasn't holding onto anything he could charge up.

"She's talkin' about Sinister," he hissed, only calming down when he saw that he was scaring Renée. Hestia wiped her own tears away. Sinister had had one of his minions take their daughter only two years after she was born. According to what the rest of the team found in his lab, Sinister was curious to see what the child of a symbiote's host could do. He also had a sick fascination with Remy. The three parents still felt like they had failed Renée since Sinister had escaped. He was out there somewhere. They couldn't lie and say he was dead, just for him to show up again.

It was amazing and horrible that their daughter even remembered him at all.

"We are always going to be here for you. Even if things get scary, we will never let anyone take you away," Hestia managed, holding back a sob.

"Promise?" She got nods and weak smiles in response.

"You wanna come sleep wit' us?" Renée was about to turn her daddy down, to lie and say that she wasn't really that scared--"We'll play cards firs'. I got a new game t'show ya."

"Really?" She sniffled and tried to make herself presentable in the way that only a spunky ten-year-old could, scrambling out of her mama's arms so she could stand up. "Y'sure it's new? 'Cause ya taught me gin rummy yesterday," she reminded Remy. He just chuckled, leaning in to kiss her forehead before he pulled her into a quick hug.

"Yeah! Ya t'ink I got ya' somethin. C'mon, girl." And so Remy led Renée to the big bed in the next room.

[renee-writer]

Baby Girl Chapter 71

AO3

It wasn’t that they forgot about the mastermind of the horrible child trafficking ring, it was just that other cases came in, others needed their help.

 

It helps that Sarah was delivered of a healthy lad a week after their rescue and that Robin was reunited with her daughter a few days after her birth. They will have no others, naturally. They had to take her uterus to save her life, but she was grateful. The team gets pictures of the families regularly.

 

It is something that happens on a personal level that brings the case fully back to mind.

 

“Now! We have to go, now!” Mary calls out, holding her tight baby bump, bent over under the force of her contractions. Geillis, usually the picture of stoicism, is frantic.

 

Yes, they have planned and prepared, but seeing the real thing, it freaks her out.

 

“I need to find the keys!” She is scanning the room, her partner’s hospital bag in hand.

 

“On the wall by the door.” Mary replies.

 

She grabs them and Mary’s arm and they head out. She sends a group text out to the team.

 

“Oh wow!” Jamie, laying beside her, grins.

 

“You’re quite welcome.” He stretches his naked body beside her. She grins and slaps at him.

 

“Yes absolutely that and also,” she shows him the text. ‘Mary is in labor. Heading to the hospital.’

 

Murtagh reaches for his tinging phone, wiping the sweat of his workout off his face.  He reads the text and grins.

 

John is reading some older philosophy books when the text comes in. He reads it then smiles. He closes the book and prepares to head to hospital.

 

“Well lad, were you two working out as well?”  Murtagh says with a crooked grin. They stand in the hall by the lift that heads to maternity. Jamie and Claire dressed in a hurry, doing a quick brush up. Maybe they should have taken more time. John and the other Mary join them.

 

“Ah Murtagh, let them be,” she says, “they are in love and it is glorious.”

 

They enter the lift together. Exiting, they hear the sounds of moaning  screaming women mixed with the cries of newborn babies.

 

“Crips.” Murtagh turns a tad white.

 

“The pain a woman experiences during labor is actually more then she could survive any other time.” John helpfully says. Claire and Mary both long to slap him. Geillis coming up to them spares him that fate.

 

“Maybe a bit less knowledge, eh?” Jamie whispers to him out of the side of his mouth.

 

“How is she?” Claire asks.

 

“Miserable and elated. The pain is indescribable but we are happy that it is finally time,” Mary is a week late, “thank you guys for coming.”

 

“We would be nowhere else, sincerely.” Murtagh says.

 

“We will just wait here, eh? Unless you need us to come back.” Jamie’s offer is sincere. He prays she doesn’t take him up on it.

 

“No, here is good.”

 

The waiting is the hardest part. They talk, watch a bit of infant care instructions on the telly, skim through the magazines, pace the floor, go for tea and coffee, go to the loo, get lunch and later, dinner.

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have came so early.” Claire says what they are all thinking.

 

“Aye maybe. But, we are supporting them.” Jamie shrugs.

 

Half way into a game of gin rummy, Geillis burst in. They all stand, their eyes on her.

 

“We have a son! Seven pounds and nine ounces. He looks like her, a handsome lad indeed.”

 

They gather around, offering their congratulations and asking after Mary.

 

“She is the strongest and bravest woman I know. Exhausted but exuberant with joy. Oh, you must come see him. We will make introductions.”

 

They follow her into the room where Mary and her child, rest. She sits on the bed, her fine hair pasted to her face, her eyes a light with love.

 

“Congratulations Mary. He is a bawl lad.” Murtagh offers.

 

“A beauty indeed.” Claire adds.

 

They all comment on the baby and the strength and beauty of his mam.

 

“Shall we?” Mary asks Geillis. They take each other’s hands and Mary continues, “ May we introduce, Roan Hawkins Duncan. Roan this is your mam’s family.”

 

“She will be fine and you will feel better.” Murtagh argues.

 

“I just don’t want to leave them. We know there are people out there who target children, babies. What if this unknown subject decides to take revenge by coming after Roan?”

 

He nods. “How about this Gel, I will stand guard, will not leave their side until you return. You know I won’t allow anything to happen to them.”

 

She smiles and hugs him. “I will be back in an hour or less.”

[hoebagbasicbitch]

So, it started with this girl.

Well, kind of. It started with a trip to Italy for a class. A workshop, where a group of 10 of us went out in to the boonies of Tuscany and worked on restoring some art in a small museum. So, at this workshop, I met the girl.

We spent three weeks in this small little town, living in a hotel owned by the diocese. There were lace curtains on the windows and a crucifix with a little plastic glow-in-the-dark Jesus hanging above all the beds. It was hot as all hell, and we were all getting attacked by invisible gnats which bit us rashy to the point of near insanity. Needless to say, we were broken down and got close with each other quick.

How to describe this girl? I’m not sure when we started to talk or what we started with talking about. I love a good story, and so I love the idea of a summer fling. Originally, I was sharing a bedroom with one of my classmates, but she had a family emergency and had to leave about 4 days into things, leaving me with a room to myself. It seemed like a perfect storm, and then this girl and I started to get close.

We just spent a lot of time talking. She was the only other person in the class who cared about restoration in the same way that I do. She had spent all of June doing another restoration workshop at the same school, and was back in July because she loved it so much. Our only real difference was that she didn’t know she wanted to pursue the career before this summer, and I’ve been on the crazy train for three years. Not that it makes a huge difference, honestly.

So we talked a lot. Yes, about our class and the work we were doing and conservation in general. We did all the basic getting-to-know-you stuff too, like how many siblings do you have and where are you from and what’s your favorite color. It was strange because we were always, always, always in a bigger group. Lots of us in the class hung out together. I mean, it was a town of 2,000 people in which there was one bar. All we had to do was talk.

Oh, and we played cards.

This was the only time that this girl and I were ever alone. Gin rummy. I was god awful at it, but I played hand after hand after hand just to be in a one-on-one conversation with her.

But we played lots of cards as a group, too.

I don’t know what made me realize that I liked her. I know that it was July 18th when I felt something stronger than friendship for the first time because I wrote it down in my journal, but I didn’t specify a cause.

My journal entries from this trip are fascinating. They oscillate between two different crises I was having, the first being my falling in love with this girl, which is something that had never happened to me before, and the second being my falling in love with art conservation. I’m not sure which of those is the stupider crisis, but they were both making me feel equally insane. Between those and the bug bites, I was not at my most sound of mind.

Dealing with the girl was easier and more fun than the career crisis. I got to flirt and make up inside jokes and find excuses to spend time with her. That was entertaining. The career crisis was silly. I mean, it didn’t feel silly, but putting it in words to me makes it sound trivial. But every night I would barely sleep, and I would pop out of bed in the morning early, eat breakfast (talk to the girl at breakfast, for an hour every day), and rush off to the museum as soon as I could. Even when the restoration work was hard (and believe me, it definitely had its moments), it still felt like the most fulfilling thing I had ever done. They made us take all kinds of breaks during work, and then an hour and a half lunch, and then they would wrap up a few minutes early at the end of the day. And me and this girl were impossible to get rid of. The professor and the TA would literally have to force us out so they could continue their work without having to keep track of students.

I always wanted to be working. Which is funny, because working was the only time I was not talking to this girl. I was working on murals in one room, she was on a painting on canvas in the other. And here is where things got to be really strange. While I was working on the restoration, I felt the same way that I did when the girl and I would talk. Except I didn’t want to kiss the wall, I guess, but that feeling in the pit of my stomach was the same. Thank god when I wasn’t with her, I was working, and when I wasn’t working, I was with her.

The two of us had a conversation about this, actually.

I mean, not about being in love with each other. That was one sided-I think. But about how we had both fallen in love with the restoration work.

The thing about getting into conservation is it is a crazy investment. There is so much education required, the education is expensive, and probably most significantly, you have to move around constantly wherever you can find education, and internship, or a job because opportunities are so few and far between. But to actually touch art was gives me such a high that I’m willing to do it. I don’t need a family or a girlfriend or a pet, I just need to be in a lab with my hands on history.

This girl was the only person I’ve ever met who felt just as insane about it as me, which is probably why I started to feel crazy over her.

So, my feelings began to get pretty tangled. Did I really love her, or was I just falling in love with conservation? I don’t think it’s worth separating the feelings, though. They’re too closely tied to each other.

There are a few conversations of ours that I remember most distinctly. There was the night we drank an entire bottle of vermouth straight while playing cards. That was the only time we ever hung out in my room. We talked about growing up a lot, I think. The vermouth made it hard to remember specifics. Another night we sat outside after going to the bar and watched stars for hours. There was a meteor shower happening, and I made a lot of wishes on shooting stars that still haven’t come true yet. Of course, one of our classmates who could not take a hint was with us the whole time. But we talked about the golden record and the size of the universe and the constellations above us. We put our faces right next to each other so we could point out constellations accurately.

I shared a lot of nectarines with her. The food situation wasn’t ideal. I ate a lot of fruit as meals. I would take the dull hotel butter knife and saw a nectarine in half around the pit, and then pull It apart and give her whichever side was less mangled. Whenever I did this to eat alone, the fruit would fall off the pit, but when she was watching, the thing would seem to fight back, trying to embarrass me. She still always took the fruit, though, with a smile.

 We talked about what we were going to do to touch art again after the workshop was over. We also laughed about how similar we were, and in one humiliating conversation, we decided that we would fuck our clones but not each other.

Oh god. I forgot to mention the shirts.

We spent a great deal of our time coming up with stupid t-shirt designs featuring images of saints and nonsensical phrases very loosely based on those saints. It was maybe the strangest possible reaction to falling in love, making these idiotic t-shirt designs. But it was really, really fun.

There was more. I’m certain that there was more. Breakfast was it’s own thing. I don’t know what else to say. It was a very odd summer full of big feelings, and it’s going to be difficult for me to split up my feelings for conservation and this girl. I must stay in love with conservation, but I also have to get this girl out of my head because I am never going to go to San Angelo, Texas ever in my life (God willing). All I can hope for is that we run into each other at some conservation conference in the future and hook up there. Even though my crush was unrequited, I still think I can make it work.

[fmpy2]

1 V 1 Research

The reason i am making my game a 1v1 is for multiple reasons first the 1v1 creates a balanced and truly fair environment for the fight to take place with no extra stimulus to alter the fight such as third partying, a common practice in battle royale games where a third party will get involved in a 1 (team) v 1 (team) fight and cleaning up the already injured participants catching them off guard. This creates a natural unfairness in the playing field as one team gets the edge of surprise while the others are stuck in the middle giving this strategy not much skill to accomplish. So the 1v1 environment allows for more reliance on skill and talent with the game. Another reason I chose it was because it is one of the oldest formats to date with games like boxing and chess it really allows you to breakdown an opponent.

Gladiator

In comparison to the depictions we see in fiction gladiators were always random enslaved death fighting but instead more volunteering people looking for local stardom, like a sport today. This doesn't mean gladiators didn't die, they would constantly fight with actual weaponry against fierce opponents which could range from large animals to convicted criminals, which usually resulted in a gladiatorial death every 5-10 bouts.

Additionally the thumbs down thing wasn't that well interpreted and no one knows exactly what it meant as many believe that the thumbs up could've been the sign for execution of the slave.

Spartacus was the most famous and deadly gladiator with him also leading a slave revolution after being one himself and being forced through gladiatorial school.

Smaller Examples and real-life examples

Chess

Chess is one of the oldest and most abstract strategy game with thousands of ways to play and win. The game is one of the biggest and most intellectual games regarded around the world. The game is a one on one game where you move peices in differnt directions and capturing eachothers prices by moving on to the same space as theirs. The ultimate goal is checkmate which is to trap your opponents king in an inescapable situation.

Boxing

Boxing is a physical fighting sport that has 2 opponents facing off at each other to see who can knockout (or knockdown long enough) with only using their fists covered by protective gloves with only allowing shots to the torso and head.

Card Games

Card Games are one of the most ancient forms of games with tones of variations of ways to play with a lot of the being 1v1 duels.

Gin rummy is probably the most famous card game out there with it mostly being played in a 1v1 situation. To play you shuffle the deck and deal each person 7 cards and your goal is to get groups of either 4,3 or 7 made up of sets and or runs. Sets are a collection of the same face cards so for example 4 kings and runs are cards that are in an order but of the same suit e.g 4,5,6,7 of hearts. You assemble these hands by either taking one card off the deck and swap it out with a card in your hand or do the same with the top of the discard pile.

Gulag - COD

Within warzone, Call of Duty's Battle Royale game mode, their is a minigame that let's you respawn if you die. You are given a minimalist loadout with 1 weapon an 2 pieces of ordnance to kill your enemy with, if however you take too long a juggernaut will come into kill you and you both can win by killing him.

Penalty Shootout

A football ultimatum, the penalty shootout happens if after 120 minutes of regular football and added extra time of play has still resulted in a draw they decide it with the best of 5 penalties. Each team takes 5 pens one after each other where they are not allowed to touch the ball more than once if after the 5 penalties the teams are still tied it goes to a sudden death.

Titles

Mortal Kombat

Mortal Kombat originally developed in 1992 is a multi-media fighting and martial arts franchise consisting of 3 movies, 11 main line games and 4 spin off games. The main point of the original game was a 1v1 best of 3 fighting game that had you face of against a varsity of characters with different move sets, finishers and personality. The game however is not a desirable concept to me as it is set on the 2d plane and i want my project to utilise movement a lot on the 3d plane.

Street Fighter

Street fighter, the famous Capcom franchise, initially released its first game to arcade machines in 1987 with a pretty similar premise to Mortal Kombat (it came first). Now with the 6th game in the series releasing in 2023 the name has became a gaming staple with it receiving a 1994 movie adaptation.

Smash Bros

Smash bros is a game consisting of the a lot of the characters owned by multi-media franchise Nintendo. The most recent one being the vastest one to date, "Ultimate" Released in 2018 with 76 base characters and received consistent DLCs up to 89 characters.

It is another 2d fighter however it adds an element of platforming into it with the fighting stage navigate able vertically as well allowing a lot more movement paths and tactics to happen also in comparison to the last 2 games it has a lot more attacks and moves that you can perform to knock your opponent off of the stage. Each player as three lives and their can be up to 8 players so last standing wins.

King of Fighters

A game franchise initially developed and released in 1994 the games are practically identical to other games in the genre basic sets of moves like kicks, punches and blocks with a large ability to do tons of damage. The games however released each year in similar fashion to EA sports games but they were for arcade so it didn't do it for recurring purchase but instead more like updating. In 04' they stopped their main platform being these arcade cabinets and moved to consoles like ps2 and "Atomiswave" (SNKs version of the dream cast). It then ceased yearly releases in 2010 with its 13th iteration and moved to what looks like releasing an iteration every 6 years with 14 coming in 2016 and 15 in 2022.

Nidhogg

A unique fighting game in comparison to other 2d games on this list it consist of 2 players fencing and attempting to reach the opponents side of the map when you they're killed. You kill your opponent by simply hitting them once also in the move set you can block, disarm and jump. The game is a much more simple and face paced versions of other 2d fighters and incorporates a little of platformer games (like smash bros) to add some vertical to it as well.

1v1  can be set up in a more professional manner which encourage a more intelligent fighting style instead of a more chaotic nature of a multi player free for all. This chaos is something that doesn’t align with what I want for my game. I feel it is more rewarding when you fight and win against an individual opponent, while mastering a skill set. 

[star-mum]

Good Mythical Morning to all you degenerates <33

Enjoy this meme moodboard:

Anyways let's go <3

When I opened this I literally went "what the fuck" under my breath, DUDE ?????

"the limbs and jaw are missing" just the jaw ? (ik this isn't case centered BUT still)

"Is it just cause you think I’m the gross one?” SKSKSLSK

“The body’s been sittin’ out here in the sun for three hours. I’m not doin’ it.” I feel like many a rock paper scissors battles have happened in the past over who has to touch the dead body

“God, it’s like a fucking fleshlight in here,” KSKSKSK the imagery I did not need

"Don't you mean flashlight?" oh boy 😋

SKSKKSS MORGAN JUST TRYING TO CARRY ON

OMG I COULD "UPDOG" REID !!! HE MAY BE A SUPER GENIUS BUT HE WAS A SENIOR AT 12, HE DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT UPDOG

OR LIGMA !!! And they're such different words that I'm SURE he would fall for both <33

"what a ‘blumpkin’ was" ...... what's a blumpkin ...? do I wanna google it? I don't think I do.... I'm googling it

... i didn't even consider that a thing people did... alright KSKSKSK jesus

did I just get updogged ? But a even more terrible 18+ version of it

"You had gotten a degree in mortuary science before you became a Profiler" THIS IS SUCH A COOL READER BACKSTORY/DETAIL

"L/N, please, don’t-” EVERYTIME I FORGET ABOUT THE EXTENSION AND EVERYTIME I SEE MY GOV NAME IM JUST FILLED WITH EUPHORIA (my legacy has to be getting as many ppl on the InteractiveFics Extension as possible)

"You haven’t washed your hands yet!”

“I wore a glove, Reid!”

JAIL !! JAIL FOR READER FOR A THOUSAND YEARS !!! I was legit thinking when she took the glove off like "that's not enough of a barrier" sksksks

"The two of you played Gin Rummy" new drinking game for all the cool kids out there, take a shot everytime I have to Google something today

"There were no particular statistics about this that came to mind, because it was never something he had directly read a study about" well maybe cause you're a fucking amateur, Spencer, ever consider that?

"The antithesis of a dildo" SKSKSSKS SO THEATRICAL AND DRAMATIC I LOVE THIS LINE

"Because of his inexperience, it had lasted a whopping three minutes" I mean,,, would you really wanna suck a dick soaked in chlorine for any longer than that?

"PhD in chemistry" THAT'S WHAT HIS PHD IS ON ???

'slipping into something more comfortable’ and then came back in a latex nurse’s outfit and six inch red heels" the concept of a bucket list has never interested me much until now

"he had chosen instead to simply sit at his desk and reread the same book over and over again because he had wanted to keep you company" well I hope he has an extra 3m14s to spare cause I'm sucking his dic-

"The Hollow Men by T. S. Eliot" you know what time it is ! everyone take a shot

"easy to clean" it comes with a comically oversized version of those metal straw brushes/cleaners

"What he did next nearly sent you into orbit" I HAD THAT EXACT SCENE IN MY HEAD !! I KNEW HE'D DO THAT !!

"When he dipped two of his fingertips into the opening of the toy" sick and twisted

"And when the words fully penetrated your ears" hah nice

"Spencer nodded vigorously at this. 'Of course. Yeah - yeah. You’re right'" there's very little I wouldn't let him get away with

"You held back from telling him the true title you desired" 👀 which would be? 👀

“Come where?” I HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS LINE!!!!

‘Cum’ is the fluid. As in: ‘I want your cum inside of me’.” OUTSOULD WITH THIS LINE OH MY GOD

“Will you let me?' Spencer asked nervously, sheepishly" I could never be a  strict Dom with him KSKSKS what he wants he gets, I'm sorry

“I want you to take off all your clothes. Except for your glasses and your socks” REAL

"clenching his fists by his sides because he figured that you wouldn’t like him trying to hide from you" he is so good tho, like actually such a good boy (I want him)

"you might as well slick him up beforehand" I mean sincE WE'RE HERE

"He didn’t fully fit inside of the toy" 🚨🚑🚨🚑

“I don’t? Is - is that bad?” I need him

"Again, feeling the devil rise up inside of you" a natural state for me at this point

"a few thick white spurts even dirtied his glasses when you angled his cock that way" this has forever changed me as a person

"That’ll be a lesson for next time" me, who Knows 😈

“Of course you can, baby.” I'd have SUCH a hard time NOT talking to him like this in public, he would not have a name anymore (honey, baby, angel -> those are his names now)

"Your stomach fluttered when he kissed the top of your head before you felt his body relax into the mattress" SOBBING

GOODNIGHT MY SWEET PRINCE 😩💕✨

I don't think I have to say how much of a banger this was, but I will cause I want to

I just love the BANTER !! i mean obviously I'm also an avid pwp enjoyer but... there's just ✨ something ✨ about getting to see fun banter and multi characters interactions before getting absolutely destroyed

Sub Spencer is an angel and I love him and I must kiss him

OH YEAH ! We didn't kiss him ;-; like not once ;-; (on the lips I mean) he deserves to be kissed (I'm prepared to make that sacrificed)

Also goes without saying that I really love Reader's personality, like I think it's so much fun when R has a very clear like past and personality/mannerisms even if those completely differ from me (it doesn't really break my immersion)

BUT it just so happens we have a very similar sense of humor, so I feel right at home with most (if not all) of Sunny's readers

We SHALL TALK ABOUT THE EARTH SHATTERING SMUT IN THIS FANFIC !!! LIKE HELLO ????

I really wanna take all of Spencer's firsts and that's not something I just think about in general

Everyone say "Thank you Sunny for this delicious meal" and PAY YOUR FUCKING BILL ! (aka reblog and comment)

Lessons For A Genius - Lesson One

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader

Lesson One: Slick Silicone

(aka the one with the pocket pussy)

Summary:

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

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

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

Word Count: 17,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

If you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic, go to my library blog @sundropslibrary and turn on all notifications there.

Please read my pinned post before interacting.

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your reputation for having a strong stomach preceded you. 

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, fine.” You said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked up at Reid with awe. 

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

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

Your insides tingled with glee at this realization. 

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

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

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

This caused Morgan to sigh sharply and shake his head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was something you found entirely endearing. 

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

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

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

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

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

Morgan choked on his laughter when you explained this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, ever thirsty to chase an unanswered question. 

You held back a giggle. 

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

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

“It’s a sex toy.” You told him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wore a glove, Reid!” 

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

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

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

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

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

(“Or an anus, of course.”) 

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

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

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

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

A pocket pussy. 

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

Yes, he was a virgin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course, he had plenty of experience with masturbation. 

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

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Traffic was hell.” You fired back. 

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

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

“Yes sir.” You mumbled under your breath. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You denied it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both of you knew what this meant. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled back at you fondly. 

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

These words sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine. 

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

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

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

Oh, but you did. 

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

“Spencer,” You called out his name gently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What he did next nearly sent you into orbit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.” You nodded. 

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

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

He paused for a moment, clearing his throat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Intense want flared up of you. 

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

“Spencer,” 

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

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

Spencer nodded vigorously at this. 

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

You beamed a smile at him, loving his enthusiasm. 

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

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

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

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

You decided to tackle his questions one at a time. 

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

You then continued your explanation. 

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

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

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

Spencer waited patiently, feeling curious about this. 

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

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

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

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

He easily understood what you meant. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, you went with the diplomatic answer. 

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

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

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

His cock throbbed inside of his pants at this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded. 

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

You were heavily enjoying ordering him around now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer’s face absolutely lit up at this. 

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

Your stomach jolted with intense pleasure at his declaration. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My - my belt?” He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Spencer,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had to marvel at it. 

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

Spencer caught you staring, of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was absolutely, beautifully sinful in this state. 

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

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

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

Instinctively for him, there was only one answer. 

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

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

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

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

You were excited to finally use it on Spencer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t fully fit inside of the toy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, Miss.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!” He easily replied. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh! Oh, please! I’m so close!” 

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

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

Everything was so wet. 

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

“God!” He choked out. “Please!” 

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

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

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

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

“Please!” He sobbed. 

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

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

“Anything!” He easily declared. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He only inflated your ego with his next words. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sudden, shocking overstimulation sent his body into overdrive. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved those glasses even more now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What - what about you?” He asked. 

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

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

He nodded. “Yes, please. Thank you.” 

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

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

“Of course you can, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t mind.” He told you. 

You nodded, and stepped back slightly to begin undressing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

If you would like to see a sequel to this fic, I would like to see 15 reblogs and 10 comments to know that a sequel is wanted!

(This includes anon messages - and I always have the anonymous option turned on.)

In order to make a second part, I need to have comments including feedback to know what people liked about the fic and why it is worth continuing. Even if the 15 reblogs are from the same person, showing their enthusiasm for this fic, then that counts for me. I just want to know that my work is appreciated before I post more of it!