#old people will ask you what a slang word means

[sundrop-writes]

Lessons For A Genius - Lesson One

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader

Lesson One: Slick Silicone

(aka the one with the pocket pussy)

Summary:

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

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

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

Word Count: 17,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

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

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your reputation for having a strong stomach preceded you. 

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, fine.” You said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked up at Reid with awe. 

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

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

Your insides tingled with glee at this realization. 

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

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

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

This caused Morgan to sigh sharply and shake his head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was something you found entirely endearing. 

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

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

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

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

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

Morgan choked on his laughter when you explained this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, ever thirsty to chase an unanswered question. 

You held back a giggle. 

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

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

“It’s a sex toy.” You told him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wore a glove, Reid!” 

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

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

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

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

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

(“Or an anus, of course.”) 

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

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

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

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

A pocket pussy. 

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

Yes, he was a virgin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course, he had plenty of experience with masturbation. 

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

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Traffic was hell.” You fired back. 

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

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

“Yes sir.” You mumbled under your breath. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You denied it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both of you knew what this meant. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled back at you fondly. 

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

These words sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine. 

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

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

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

Oh, but you did. 

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

“Spencer,” You called out his name gently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What he did next nearly sent you into orbit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.” You nodded. 

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

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

He paused for a moment, clearing his throat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Intense want flared up of you. 

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

“Spencer,” 

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

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

Spencer nodded vigorously at this. 

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

You beamed a smile at him, loving his enthusiasm. 

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

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

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

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

You decided to tackle his questions one at a time. 

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

You then continued your explanation. 

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

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

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

Spencer waited patiently, feeling curious about this. 

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

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

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

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

He easily understood what you meant. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, you went with the diplomatic answer. 

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

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

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

His cock throbbed inside of his pants at this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded. 

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

You were heavily enjoying ordering him around now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer’s face absolutely lit up at this. 

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

Your stomach jolted with intense pleasure at his declaration. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My - my belt?” He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Spencer,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had to marvel at it. 

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

Spencer caught you staring, of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was absolutely, beautifully sinful in this state. 

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

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

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

Instinctively for him, there was only one answer. 

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

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

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

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

You were excited to finally use it on Spencer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t fully fit inside of the toy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, Miss.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!” He easily replied. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh! Oh, please! I’m so close!” 

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

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

Everything was so wet. 

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

“God!” He choked out. “Please!” 

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

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

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

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

“Please!” He sobbed. 

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

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

“Anything!” He easily declared. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He only inflated your ego with his next words. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sudden, shocking overstimulation sent his body into overdrive. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved those glasses even more now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What - what about you?” He asked. 

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

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

He nodded. “Yes, please. Thank you.” 

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

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

“Of course you can, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t mind.” He told you. 

You nodded, and stepped back slightly to begin undressing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

Keep Reading Here - Lesson Two: Magic Metacarpals

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

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction

[a-pop-of-korean]

One-Page Masterlist

안녕하세요! Hey everyone! I recently got an ask about my old masterlist, which is the same as my broken-down masterlist except it has all of my lessons on one page, rather than on multiple separate posts. Some may find this expanded version easier to navigate, so I’ll keep this up for y’all! My broken-up masterlist, of course, will still be available for those who find that more helpful :)

Hangul Lessons

Consonants

Vowels

Writing/Reading Korean Syllables

Some 받침 Rules

Diphthongs

Stroke Order

Some More 받침 Rules

Irregular Verbs

The Basics

Common Phrases

Numbers

Sino-Korean vs. Native Korean Numbers (Instagram Post)

Sentence Structure and Particles

Present-Tense Conjugations and Formal Language

Adjectives

Questions

Honorifics and Casual Language

Beginner

Negative Sentences

잘 and 못

Past Tense

Future Tense (-ㄹ / 을 것이다)

-ㄹ / 을 까요? (Shall we…? / I wonder…?)

-(으)세요 (Giving Commands / Asking Questions)

Telling Time

-고 싶다 (I want to…)

How to Say “And”

-지만 (However)

아/어/여서 (So…)

Negative Commands

Spacing (띄어쓰기)

Adverbs

ㅂ Irregular

Comparatives and Superlatives

난, 날, & 내가

Upper-Beginner

 -(으)면 (If…)

아/어/여도 (Even though…/Even if…)

(으)면 되다 / 아/어/여도 되다 (I can…/You may…)

-아/어도 되다: Asking for and Giving Permission (Instagram post)

-(으)면 되다 & -(으)면 안 되다 (Instagram post)

아/어/여야 되다 and 아/어/여야 하다(Have to / Should)

Present Progressive (-고 있다)

How to Say “Or”

-아/어/여하다

All About 중

How to Use -(으)로

Before & After

-ㄴ/은 채로

Intermediate

Describing Nouns with Verbs (-는 것)

Describing Nouns with Verbs - Past & Future Tense (-ㄴ/은 / -ㄹ/을 것)

Nominalization

것 같다 (I think… / It seems…)

-러 가다 / -러 오다

-(으)려고 (In order to…)

-기로 하다 (to Decide to do Smth)

척하다 (To Pretend)

-게 되다 

-군요 / -구나

아/어/여 보다 (to try…)

-은/ㄴ 적 있다 / 없다 (I have / have not)

-ㄹ/을 게요 (Future Tense)

겠다 

-ㄹ/을 수 있다/없다 (I can / cannot)

-ㄹ/을 때 (When…)

-ㄴ/는다면 (If)

-(으)면서 and -(으)며

-(으)니까 (Because / So)

-아/어/여주다

-(ㄴ/는)다 (Narrative Form)

Quoting

Let’s…

Quoting continued

(으)ㄹ래요? (Wanna…?)

-죠

-대로

More Quoting - 대 & 래

잘하다 & 못하다 vs. 잘 하다 & 못 하다 

-아/어 가지고

-(으)려면

-는 길에 & -는 길이다

-(으)면 vs. -ㄴ/는다면 (Instagram Post)

-았/었을 것이다

-느라고

-는 데(에)

-ㄹ/을 뻔하다

Upper-Intermediate

-ㄴ/는데

-(으)ㄴ/는지 (Whether or not)

-(이)라는…

All About 아무리

-잖아요

Expressing Surprise

-시 (Honorific)

Making Comparisons

-아/어/여지다

I might…

So that…/To the point where…

Causative Verbs

시키다

Passive Verbs (part 1)

Passive Verbs (part 2)

-ㄴ/은가 보다 & -나 보다 (I guess…)

-ㄹ/을수록

Other Meanings of 싶다

-자마자 & -는 대로(As soon as…)

-긴 하다

-치고

-김에

차라리 (Rather)

-(으)ㅁ Nominalization

-기는 무슨 & -기는 개뿔

-고 보니까

-듯(이)

버리다

-(으)면 좋겠다 & -(으)면 하다

-길 바라다

Advanced

-거든(요)

-줄 알다/모르다

-ㄹ/을 테니까 and -ㄹ/을 텐데

-았/었던

아니라 and 대신에

-ㄹ/을 리가 없다

편이다, 별로, and More

-지 그렇다 (Why don’t you…?)

-ㄹ/을 걸

-ㄹ/을 까 보다

-다면서요

-다니 part 1 

-다니 part 2

뜻이다 & 말이다

-다가

-더라고(요)

-더니

Some colloquialisms: 아니시에이팅 and 뭐 이렇게

-(으)ㅁ Sentence Ending

 -다 보니까

What does 따위 mean?

-ㄴ/는데도

Korean Idioms

Vocabulary

Must-Know People

Must-Know Places

Must-Know Things

Must-Know Verbs

Must-Know Adjectives

Countries

Months, Days of the Week, and More

Clothing (옷)

School (학교)

Autumn (가을)

Autumn (w/Pictures!)

More Questions

House / Apartment (집 / 아파트)

Emotions / Feelings ( 감정)

Animals (동물)

Loan / Konglish Words

Food and Drink (먹을 것과 마실 것)

Parts of the Body (몸)

Counters

Modes of Transportation (교통 수단)

Colors (색깔)

Colors (with Pictures!)

Weather (날씨)

Winter (겨울)

Music & Instruments (음악과 악기)

Baking Gingerbread Cookies

Emergency (비상)

Hygiene & Bathroom (위생 & 화장실)

Indefinite Pronouns

Work / Office (일 / 사무실)

Spring (봄)

Coronavirus Prevention (코로나바이러스 방역)

How to Wash Your Hands (손을 씻기)

Time (시간)

Korean Cuisine (한식)

Summer (여름)

Summer (여름) w/Pictures!

Graduation (졸업)

Identity (독자성)

Korean Text Slang

Similar Words

Makeup w/Pictures! (화장품)

Family (with Pictures!)

Pronouns

How to Say “Still” and “Already” in Korean

Tastes & Textures (맛과 질감)

K-Pop Audition

K-Pop Fandom Terminology

Different Ways to Say “Change”

Flower Names

What Does 원래 Mean?

What does 오히려 Mean?

College

Hanja Lessons

최

수

악

식

급

동

부 & 불

애

출

퇴

예

음

중

학

습

연

생

대

입

인

문

감

과 

원

특 

만

후 

무

Charts

Present, Past, and Future Tense

Question Words

잘 vs. 못 and Negative Conjugations 

Future Tenses 

-았/었던 vs. -던 (at end of lesson)

Particles

Some 받침 Rules

Gifving Commands

Conjunctions and -아/어/여서 vs. -(으)니까

-(으)면 vs. -다/라면 and Different Ways to Say “And”

How to Say “Or” (at end of lesson)

Telling Time (at end of lesson)

Comparatives and Superlatives

잘하다 & 못하다 vs. 잘 하다 & 못 하다 (at end of lesson)

Comparing 잘하다/못하다, 잘 하다/못 하다, & 수 있다/수 없다

Irregular Verbs

Pop Quizzes

Level 1

K-Pop Breakdowns

TXT - “Cat & Dog”

Twice - “Feel Special”

Enhypen - “Fever”

2NE1 - “Go Away”

Lee Hi - “Only”

“기억을 걷는 시간 (Time Spent Walking Through Memories)”

KCM - “An Old Love Story (흑백사진)”

Taeyeon - “Can’t Control Myself”

Epik High - “Lost One”

Colde - “A Song Nobody Knows”

IU - “My Sea”

Enhypen - “Polaroid Love”

유라 (youra) - “하양 (RAL 9002)″

BTS - “Ddaeng”

Stray Kids - “For You”

Woozie - “어떤 미래 (What Kind of Future)

TXT - “Eternally”

LOONA - “Heart Attack”

Stray Kids - “Muddy Water”

LOONA - “Girl Front”

Pentagon - “Daisy”

BTS - “Sea”

Semester in SK

Nami Island (남이섬)

Things to Buy at Daiso

Shopping Phrases

Ordering Coffee

Signs in Korea

Ordering at a Restaurant

Riding the Seoul Subway

Things at the 편의점

Korean Curse Words

Etiquette in South Korea

Drinking Culture

Hanja in Real Life

Holidays in South Korea

Korean Cuisine

Concert Ticketing in South Korea

K-pop Comebacks in Korea

Summer in South Korea

What I Learned

#korean #korean language #hangul #korean grammar #korean vocab #korean vocabulary #learn korean #learning korean #langblr #Korean langblr #masterlist #apok #apopofkorean #study korean #studying korean #kpop #kpop lyrics #basic korean #beginner korean #intermediate korean #advanced korean #hanja #한국어 #한글 #한자 #한국어 공부하기 #한국어 배우기 #한국어 문법 #한국어 어휘 #초급 한국어

[treysimp]

"I'm not sure how else to say this, do you want to make out on my couch?"

Part 7/7

GN!Reader x Diasomnia (Malleus, Sebek, Lilia, Silver)

Tags: Smooching, implied mutual pining and suggestive themes, but nothing explicit. Reader is not physically described.

Other works in this series:

Savannahclaw | Scarabia | Octinavielle | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Heartslabyul | Diasomnia

Want more TWST? Here's my Masterlist!

“Oh? I’m not sure I am familiar with that term. Do explain, child of man.”

Malleus’ green eyes glitter mischievously as he places his hand on his chin. He cut a handsome figure in the moonlight. The gloss of his horns shined and his chiseled face was gracefully shadowed by his softly-curled hair. He stood eerily still, his composure hinting at his not quite human heritage. 

Malleus was the most beautiful thing you had seen in your life. You swallowed audibly before you responded.

“That is… um…” he was messing with you right? You weren’t entirely sure how old he was, but you were certain he was older than you. But he was fae, you supposed. Did they use the same slang? Did they ‘make out’? You had no idea.

Malleus walked closer to you, his white teeth peeking from behind his lips. It was hard not to think about how sharp those fangs looked.

“Proceed, prefect.” He said with a smile, clearly getting a kick out of your hesitation.

“Do… Do you want to kiss me?” You said, voice shaking, all of the confidence you had at the beginning of this interaction evaporating.

Well, it was a bit more than kissing that you were asking him for, but you weren’t sure if you had the courage to spell it out just yet. 

“Oh?” Malleus further closed the distance between your two bodies, causing you to step backwards into the door you had been unlocking prior with an audible bump. “A kiss? Where would you like this kiss?” 

You could feel his breath on your cheek, his expression coyly hidden from you due to the close proximity of his face.

Finally, Malleus chuckled and kissed the cheek that he had purposely ducked near.

“Here?” He said, clearly holding back a full laugh.

“No.” You shook your head. 

You’re glad he wasn’t mad at you, but you weren’t sure what him playing games meant either. 

God, why didn’t you crush on a nice human boy? You kind of understood those in comparison. Well... okay you also didn't understand those all that well either.

“I see. Then…” Malleus moved his mouth to your earlobe and lightly pecked along the side of your ear. 

You couldn’t contain the shiver that went through your body as your breath sped up from the sensation. It felt mean. He knew exactly what you wanted, you were sure of it.

“Not where I…” You trailed off. Whatever this game meant to him, you were certainly enjoying it.

“Ah, I see, I see…” Malleus moved painfully slow to lightly scrape his teeth across the juncture of your neck. 

You felt like you might die happily if you were smited on the spot. 

“Here?” He whispered, moist breath causing you to break out in goosebumps.

“My… my lips, Malleus, please…” You shuddered. It was almost painful having him be so close and touch you so gently. You wanted more.

“Oh? My, my, Prefect. Do you care for me so?” He had long stopped hiding his grin. This ass. 

Malleus’ hand drifted to the back of your head as he knotted his fingers in your hair. Slowly, so painfully slow, he pulled you towards him. Raising your chin with his thumb, you stared at the way his feline eyes were blown out into almost perfect circles. 

Eyes almost completely black, Malleus descended upon you, softly pressing his lips to yours.

It was achingly tender, it felt like more than a kiss. 

It felt like words left unsaid, something far larger and more meaningful than a quick peck shared between two awkward young people. 

You’d never felt anything like it.

Pulling apart just as slowly as you had come together, Malleus stares into your eyes meaningfully. Stroking your face with his thumb, you are met with an expression so loving that you briefly think of crying from the emotion of it all.

“Is that all, my dear?” Malleus questions.

You shake your head so aggressively you might have cracked your neck if you did so just a smidgen harder.

“No! I want more of you! As much as you’ll give me!” You almost yelled, courage swelling in your chest for a brief moment.

“I’m not sure you understand what you are asking, human.” Malleus says with a cocked brow, “You might want to think twice between asking for something as open-ended as that from a fae.”

“You would never intentionally hurt me.” You state with confidence. 

If he really wanted to harm you, he had every opportunity. Instead he helped you, saved you from danger and spent almost every night walking with you and talking about your highs and lows. 

If this was just a long con, if he had intended to hurt you this whole time… maybe you deserved it at this point.

Malleus’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was trying to tease you of course, but he was only half-kidding.

The problem was that if he started, he wasn’t sure if he could stop. But it looks like you had already made that decision for him. 

It was for exactly that reason he loved you so.

“…I accept.” 

“…Accept?” What? What was he accepting?

“Your affection.” It felt like his smile could stop your heart. “However…”

Your back straightened as you steeled yourself for his request. What did he want?

“You must accept mine as well.” He stated with a nod, as if agreeing with himself. “And…” 

He leaned forward again, lips a millimeter from your own as you swore you saw the smallest amount of smoke escape from between his teeth.

“You must know that my affection comes with a price.” He said, kissing you gently on your forehead.

“I want all of you in return. Immediately.”

Your face burned hotly at the implication. 

While you had just been inviting Malleus inside in the hopes of feeling him up a bit, this offer was far better than expected. 

You inhaled through your nose and tried to keep your voice as even as you could manage.

“If you’ll have me.”

Grinning, Malleus pushes the door behind you open and ushers you inside the lounge.

“Oh my dear, I will.”

Sebek’s piercing green eyes narrow at you. You find yourself involuntarily shrinking back in intimidation. 

Well now you’ve done it, huh?

His right hand firmly grasps your shoulder and you find yourself gulping for fresh air. You would have never described him as scary before now but…

A strand of his perfectly coiffed hair falls onto his forehead as Sebek leans nearer, unblinkingly getting closer and closer to your face. 

He murmured your name quietly, and you felt how you imagine prey does in their last precious moments. Thinking of how many loud predators are at their most quiet before unhinging their jaws.

Within the blink of an eye, you were pulled forward by the tie into a stiff, yet gentle kiss. 

Sebeks eyes slid back open as he slowly pulled away from you, his gloved hand drifting to cup your cheek. 

“It seems I am in quite the predicament!” He huffs, reeling back to his full height as yet another strand of lime hair gently floats to his face. 

“You are?” You ask quietly, eyes open wide in anticipation. What kind of mixed signals bull is this?

“Yes. The young master is away on family business, and I am finding myself in need of a place to stay while Master Lilia repairs-“ He coughs and begins his sentence again, “I mean… remodels my room.” 

Sebek can’t will himself to make eye contact with you in the slightest, the color on his pale cheeks morphing into a rose-pink blush.

“I see.” You say, playing along with whatever-the-hell-this-is. You dramatically turned your head to the side, putting on a slight theatrical accent to intensify the ren-faire mood of it all.

“Well, you are of course welcome to stay here. I could always use a guard to help me, a poor magic-less human in a big scary haunted house.”

Sebek snaps his gaze back to you and his cat-like pupils widen, shoulders visibly loosening at your agreement. It seems he was more nervous about your reaction than you thought.

“Since… since I am here…” he pauses, clearly thinking on how best to respond. 

“I may as well keep you safe!” He finishes smugly, puffing out his chest. Sebek was clearly proud of how he was able to ask to stay at your dorm so gracefully. “A knight would do no less.”

You nodded and tugged him inside, slowly leading him to the couch that you so desperately wanted to touch him on. 

Sebek seemed to be scanning his surroundings, but for what, you weren’t sure. Maybe the comment about ghosts really did worry him.

Finding a comfortable seat on the well-worn couch, you pat a spot across from you to beckon him to join. 

Sebek takes a seat much in the way you picture a robot might. Well, if you didn’t already know a real one. A robot from the shows of your childhood, specifically.

You hoped that Sebek taking the initiative earlier would help him loosen up, but his back was as stiff as a board as he looked at everything but your face, hands folded politely in his lap and skin shining with a hint of nervous sweat.

“Sebek?” You called quietly, willing him to look at you again. 

You noticed that each time he interacted responded he would slightly loosen, as evidenced by his back curving slightly when he leaned forward to peer curiously at you. 

Well, you took the initiative to ask him in the first place, so…

Taking one last large breath through your nose, you crawled onto Sebeks lap. Your hands begun getting to work on his fashionably-impractical collar. 

It felt like you were undressing a highly realistic statue for a moment, but his eyes gazed up at you as if awestruck, waiting to see what you would do next.

He mumbled your name softly and you couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh, so I’m not ‘human’ anymore, gorgeous?” 

Face visibly darkening at your question, Sebek shook his head fervently. 

“Not… not when you look like this.” He muttered, unable to will himself to blink. Missing even a second of this moment seemed unthinkable.

You finally finished undoing his complicated jacket and pushed it to the side. His skin seems to almost glimmer under the evening light. 

You dropped your head to nibble right under his chin, restraining yourself from laughing when he slapped his hand over his mouth with a gasp.

“Ah… that’s very…” He was writhing slightly, his eyes sliding shut.

“Sebek?” You asked again, teasingly. You were lying if you said that you weren’t tempted to tease him for as long as the night allows.

His gaze turned up at you as he gave the most breathtaking expression of adoration, breath uneven, smile bright yet sheepish. 

At this point, his hair had completely fallen on his face, the apples of his cheeks had simmered to a stunning rose, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. 

“Yes?” 

“What do you want me to do?”

“Ah…” he paused, clearly having not thought that far ahead. After a beat, Sebek pressed his mouth into a firm line and looked once more at you like he was making a declaration of war.

“I’m… I’m willing to take responsibility so… even if I… if you want me, you can have me. Any of me.” 

You froze in shock. His words had felt so serious that it scared you a little. It really wasn’t like him to be so quiet and thoughtful.

“Even if Malleus said no? Because you had to protect him instead?” You mused out loud.

Sebek’s gaze guiltily shot out to the side, clearly surprised. He did seem to be genuinely trying to contemplate your question though. 

It was something that you had said impulsively, but you couldn’t help but be curious. What would he say? You knew that Malleus' wellbeing was his calling in life.

“If Malleus needed me to be by his side… then I guess I would need to take you with me.” He said with a cheeky grin, looking very proud of himself. 

You were charmed that he had thought that far ahead, to tell the truth.

Sebek raised his hand to your cheek once more and ushered you forward, placing the other hand on your waist. 

“I won’t let my love life-! Ah!” Sebek gasped and sputtered, “My, um, passions…” he corrected himself quickly but clumsily, and you pretended that you didn’t hear the word ‘love’ just now (you did though, and this was going to be burned into your brain for a while).

“...it won’t get in the way of my duty.” Sebek finished firmly, speaking a bit louder than strictly necessary. It seems that he was not yet done with that thought, though.

“While I am fae, I…” He swallowed audibly, bracing himself for what he was about to say.

“I am also just a man and… that part of me right now… wants…” He paused yet again, searching your face for something. 

You weren’t even sure if he knew what he was trying to say, but you understood that whatever it was, it was a vulnerable moment for him.

It seemed that he had settled on a different approach as he began his speech again.

“You, out of anyone, knows how much I value loyalty.” He said, tapping his fingertip on your chin. You felt your ears burning at the action, dragging your eyes away from him in a pleasant embarrassment.

“If you are in danger, I will come find you. If you ask me for anything, I will give it.” Sebek’s voice was getting louder as he gained confidence. 

“My leige and country will always be a priority but…” His breath was shaky. 

You tried to figure out what emotion he was feeling right now, but it was unclear. 

“If you’ll have me, if you would be mine tonight…”

“…I hope you are ready for a commitment, my dear human.” He murmured, eyes sliding shut as he moved to shakily kiss you once more.

You were.

“Oh? A cute young thing like you coming onto an old man like me? What will people think, hmm?”

Lilia seemed to be positively tickled by your question. If his age was any indication, you would think he would be very experienced in these interactions. As always, he was very committed to being coy.

“You don't seem to be someone that cares much for what people think, Lilia.” You shot back playfully. 

His mischievous nature was a part of him that you were quite fond of. If he wanted you to play along, you were more than willing to do so. 

Lilia’s shoulders shook with quiet giggles, “I want to make sure to give you a fair warning, lovely Prefect.” He shrugged and let out a dramatic sigh. 

“I suppose my boyish good looks can sometimes distract from the fact I am a father of three, you know.”

Calling himself a father of three when the trio in-question looked older than he did made you want to laugh, but you knew that he meant that statement sincerely.

“I like to think I’m good with kids,” You said, raising an eyebrow. “And I’m into DILFS.”

Now Lilia’s chuckles had turned into full on shaking laughter, tears of joy brimming in the corner of his eyes.

“I’ll never stop being impressed by the new slang of the times. You are aware that I do know what that stands for, yes? Are you broadcasting your true intentions, my little Prefect?” Lilia seemed to know that while you had already spilled your overall wants to him, this was probably a bit more forward than you had intended at the moment. 

“And if it is?” You replied stiffly. Why does he keep answering questions with questions? It was infuriating. 

“Hmm…” Lilia tapped his chin with his finger in thought, “I’m a little too old for one-offs at my age.” He trailed off.  

“So, if you are serious… I will oblige.” 

His smile split his face and his fangs peeked enticingly over his lips. You audibly gulped, suddenly being hit with the embarrassment and nervousness that you had been desperately trying to choke down. 

You were positive that you wanted him. You had thought of every single perk and drawback and decided that no matter what they were, you were absolutely smitten with the mysterious and playful man. 

Now, faced with that romantic reality being a possibility, you felt like fainting. Your dreamy fantasies always cut themselves off after you confessed, as it all felt too absurd to keep dwelling on them.

Those doubts sure didn’t stop you from shooting your shot, though.

Lilia moved closer to you slowly, carefully, in a way that felt almost too graceful to be natural. Somehow he seemed to be just the barest bit taller than he had been just a moment ago. You pushed that odd thought away from the forefront of your mind. Maybe it was just your imagination. 

Sparing a moment to briefly glance at Lilia’s feet to check that he wasn’t floating again, you found yourself about to scream when your eyes had flicked back up and Lilia was directly in front of you. Behaving like a horror movie jump scare was a hobby of Lilia’s that you didn’t know if you could ever quite get used to. Your flinch made Lilia look as amused as ever. You thought that pranking you would get old, but apparently not. 

It’s rude to play with your food, you thought. Wait… why did that of all phrases come to mind?

Gingerly reaching your shaking hand forward, you combed the ends of your fingers into Lilia’s unnaturally-colored bob. Eyes sliding closed, the boy looked like a pleased cat before it got too overstimulated and bit you on the hand. 

Your movements briefly froze at the thought of how soft his hair felt, and yet how his cold skin contrasted with the sensation. 

He looked the most inhuman you had ever seen him. Lilia’s bright pupils were constricted into thin slits and his skin almost seemed to be glowing in the evening light. 

It felt dangerous, it felt thrilling. It felt both like you should both be afraid and that you had been waiting your whole life for this moment. 

It was like you would be safe from any danger, but not because of anything that you controlled. You were safe only due to the fact that the greatest danger of all was almost purring into your hand in affection.

Lilia seemed to be waiting for you as he held his serene smile and continued his ever-so-slight nuzzling into your touch. You supposed his patience was because time meant something a little different to him than it did to you. 

Steeling yourself, you placed a soft peck on his lips, chastely pulling away to see his reaction. Lilia’s hand stopped you from getting too far, and you were pulled back to his cool and smooth mouth. 

Keeping your whimpers at bay as your lower lip caught on his fangs with a soft scrape. There was a spicy-sweet sting on your tender skin, it was the first bit of heat that his body had allowed. 

“I need a little more than that, love.” He murmured against your lips, pushing and pulling you back and forth like the ocean playing with the sand before a large wave came up to swallow a few feet more of the coast. 

He was a good kisser, you thought. Any other ideas swiftly melted away when met with Lilia’s experienced ministrations. 

Slowly, carefully, you both separated from each other. Lilia looked incredibly pleased, trailing his hands down your back to pull you ever closer. 

You shivered, both from the coolness of his body and from the warmth spreading through your own.

“Is this really what you want?” Lilia asked, his eyes meeting yours with a meaningful gaze. 

As hazy with lust as your mind was, something was bugging you again. Did he look just a bit taller? Was his hair just slightly longer?

It felt like something was changing, but that passing thought made you feel a bit crazy. 

Were you imagining things because you knew that magic and fae were real? It wasn’t impossible.

After that long trail of distraction, you finally reply.

“It is.” You said, leaning closer to him in the hopes of feeling his skin on yours again.

Lilia’s eyes flickered with a new emotion, and he nodded firmly as he stared into your eyes. 

“I hope you know what agreements like that mean to a fae.” He whispered, pushing you inside of your humble abode. 

You were going to learn a lot about this topic tonight, Lilia would make sure of it.

Silver’s auroreal eyes were wide, he looked like you had hit him up the side of his head with one of his training swords.

“Make out? With me? On your couch?” 

He was perhaps more awake than he had felt in years, his ears aflame and his usual serious demeanor slipping into something much more socially awkward and bewildered. 

“Yes.” There was no backing out now. You had been desperately dropping hints to Silver that you were interested in him for months, and this was your final hope that he was just being oblivious this whole time. 

You had attended his knight training when he invited you (which gave you a great view of how toned his lean arms were) you asked him to let you ride along on his broom during PE (since he was soooo good as horseback riding and all) and you had spent a ton of time learning how to make sweets and treats to try and earn his favor (you figured that he had enough of Lilia’s ‘healthy’ recipies). 

You made physical contact whenever you could, taking great joy in the first time that the beautiful boy had fallen asleep on your shoulder. You had to hold back the giggles that wanted to spill out of you when you spotted the squirrels and deer that tentatively walked closer to watch Silver sleeping soundly. It was so sweet, you would never get tired of seeing how much animals loved him. 

Even Grim was especially attached to Silver, toddling after him whenever you three spent time together. Whenever you asked Grim why he was so obsessed with Silver, he would either fervently deny it, or say something along the lines of ‘observing him’ and then insult you. It was cute regardless.

As much as your little not-tanuki bestie talked smack, he really did have some things in common with all the cute deer that shyly watched you two sitting on an outdoor bench. Silver's body sleepily swaying in the breeze just like the willows in the distance. 

All of those quiet moments were what did it for you. 

One time you both sat in the library and Silver was barely keeping his head up while he added his own notes to your sloppily-kept handwritten potion instructions. You couldn’t help but be charmed by how hard he was working to stay awake to help you. 

Once he was done adding his notes and corrections, Silver had softly patted you on the shoulder to tell you that he was done. He was sleepily smiling down at you, and while he was always a bit quiet, you could hear his next murmur crystal clear.

“…proud of you.”

You were fucked. How could you not love him?

In this moment, unlike the heavy and unfocused smiles he had awarded you in the library, Silver’s eyes were sharply narrowed and quizzical.

He seemed to be analyzing you. It was the same look you saw on his face when you had a shared history class and he was concentrating on an particularly in-depth essay. 

Even scarier than that, it was the look he made right before he won a practice duel.

It made you slightly uneasy, to tell the truth. 

“You like me?” He asked finally. 

“Silver... I don’t know how I could make it more obvious than I have.” You said with clear exasperation and tiredness. “I ask you out every week, I spend all the time I can spare with you, and I told you I loved you last Thursday.” You snapped.

You weren’t angry, you could never be angry at him, but you were exhausted.

“Ah…” Silver’s face was slowly heating up. You felt like your jaw could hit the floor. He really hadn’t noticed, apparently. 

“...I thought you meant like… f-friends or family…” He muttered, seeming to be mid-crisis at how oblivious he had been. You sighed.  

“Look. To be completely straightforward: I like you. It’s probably more than that at this point.” You inhaled shakily, “It’s okay if you need time but…” 

You bit your lip, idly wondering just how much pressure you could put on your skin before it bled.

Maybe this would be easier if he rejected you at this point. Maybe you could get him out of your head and stop convincing yourself that this was a possibility. Maybe you could talk yourself out of loving him.

“You don’t have to answer now. You can take your time, I just…” you trailed off in dejection, “I just wanted to make sure you knew”.

You began opening the front door to go inside. You didn’t want to run away, but you also weren’t sure how long you could have this conversation without crying. 

If he didn’t like you ,that was one thing. But you don’t know if you’d ever been more frustrated in your life. What else were you supposed to do?

You felt something warm circling your wrist.

Silver held your forearm calmly, staring at you in silence. His gaze was intense, a look you had never quite seen before written across his face.

“Don’t go.” He said firmly, slightly squeezing his hand to emphasize the point. You couldn’t look away from that small touch that connected you both. 

“Okay.” 

You stopped turning away and just waited, looking at him. Taking in his halo of soft hair, the way his jaw tightened. You wanted to reach forward and gently trace every fleck of the evening light that graced his elegant face. You would wait forever for him if he needed it. 

“Please let me… please let me take you up on that offer.” 

You felt like you could both throw up and win a Spelldrive Tournament by yourself at the same time.

“…really?”

And that concludes part 1 of The Couch Series! Did it live up to your expectations? Are there other sorts of series you would like to see with everyone? Just the first years, just the Housewardens, the staff?

Let me know! Thank you all for your support and look forward to more to come (including continuations of these, as well).

Thank you reader, love you!

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst reader insert #twst x reader #twst #couch series #reader insert #disney twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #lilia vanrouge #silver twst #malleus x reader #sebek x reader #lilia x reader #silver x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagine #twst fanfic

[artistmarchalius]

British Terms of Endearment ❤️🤍💙

Here’s another one for all the Spider-Verse and Hobie fanfic writers!

Terms of endearment are handed out fairly liberally in the UK and aren’t restricted to people you actually love. You can hear them from all sorts of people, from your very best friend to the person delivering the post. There’s a lot of words to use to be friendly or show someone you care for them.

So here’s an assortment of British terms of endearment! Let’s get started:

Terms of endearment:

Love/Luv - It’s fairly common to use this term of endearment with strangers, it’s not strictly reserved for loved ones. An employee at the garage might ask you “What tires do you need, luv?” or the person working the checkout might say “That’ll be £23.95, love.”

Because of how common it is in everyday conversation, it’s easy to keep using it with the people you do love.

E.g. “Anything for you, love.” Or “Hey there, luv. How was your day?”

Lovely - Used similarly to “Love/Luv”. It’s very common to put “my” in front of it.

E.g. “You alright, my lovely?”

Duck/Ducky - this term is used more commonly around the Midlands of England. I’m adding this to the list because I love it. It’s common to put “me” in front of “duck”.

E.g. “Ducky, come look at this!” Or “Alright there, me duck?” Or “I’ll get that for you, duck.”

Pet - this term is more common around the North East of England. Using this term doesn’t mean you think of the recipient as a pet, it’s just cutesy.

E.g. “That’s okay, pet.”

Sunshine - although it is an affectionate word, I’ve personally seen it used more sarcastically or threateningly. Imagine, you’re watching TV and an East End gangster has come to intimidate someone who grassed them up. It’s dark, they walk menacingly through the door and greet them in a low, gravelly voice: “Hello sunshine.”

It is still used affectionately though. E.g. “Nice to see you, sunshine!”

Treacle - from the Cockney rhyming slang “treacle tart” meaning sweetheart.

E.g. “You alright there, treacle?”

Sweetheart - for those that don’t want to use/don’t know about “treacle”.

E.g. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Princess/beautiful/treasure - these are some East End/Cockeny terms of endearment used typically by the working class and usually towards women. It can feel a bit condescending to be called this, but it’s meant in an inoffensive, friendly way.

E.g. “Thanks for the help, princess!” Or “Nice chatting with you, treasure!”

Dear - Used more by older people. This is another term you might hear from a stranger, especially an older one. Younger people tend to use it more when they want to sound a bit more old timey or posh, often in a comical way. E.g. “Yes, dear.”

It’s more common to hear it used in regards to saying that someone “is a dear”, either in response to being kind or asking them to do something kind. E.g. “You’re such a dear!” Or “Would you be a dear and fetch me my slippers?”

Darling - This is more of an upper class term of endearment, however it can also be abbreviated to “darlin’”, which you might hear more often, especially if you’ve ever been in a London taxi. Like “lovely”, it’s common to put a “my” in front of it.

E.g. “Darling, I read the most ghastly thing in the newspaper this morning.” Or “Alright then, my darlin’, where are we off to?”

Baby/Babe - these are used commonly around the world and we use them here too! In Essex (just east of London) you’ll more commonly hear the other alternative “Babes”. This would be in reference to one person rather than being a pluralisation of “Babe”.

E.g. “Love ya, babes!”

Poppet - often used in reference to a young child or a girl. Can also be in reference to someone sweet.

E.g. “Here you go, poppet.” Or “Don’t fret, poppet, it’ll be alright.”

Mate - interchangeable with “friend”. You can use the term with strangers and friends alike.

E.g. “You doin’ okay, mate?” Or “Shove off, mate!”

Insults: as it most likely is in many parts of the world, it is quite common to jokingly use insults as terms of endearment. I’m talking swear words, creative insults and normal/silly words used in the tone of rude words (an example for the last one: “Stop throwing socks at me, you gammy sausage!” Or “Leave it out, you splunky wimble!” used affectionately. Although you can preface with a swear to make it more spicy). This is probably really obvious but I still wanted to point it out since a lot of the other items on this list can be used with strangers, but this is only done with people you’re close with. I shan’t write any of the rude words here, I aim to be family friendly, but if anyone wants to double check if an insult can be used affectionately or if you want to create a British sounding non-rude/normal word/silly word insult but you don’t know how, don’t be shy, you can send me an ask or a message! I’m happy to proofread!

Words relating to love/romance/feeling amorous:

Fancy - to have a crush or to like someone.

E.g. “I fancy him!” Or “She fancies Justine’s older sister.”

Chat up - to flirt.

E.g. “He was chatting up some girl at the bar.”

Fit - attractive.

E.g. “She’s well fit!”

Peng - attractive/appealing. It’s more frequently applied to people but things like food or clothes can be peng too.

E.g. “He’s well peng!” Or “Those shoes are peng!”

Lush - attractive.

E.g. “He’s so lush!”

Bang tidy - someone who is extremely attractive/sexy. It can also be used to describe something that is of very good quality or beauty.

E.g. “She’s bang tidy!”

So there we go, an assortment of terms of endearment used in Britain! I’ve primarily stuck with terms used in and around London, the South and the South East of England since that’s the area that Hobie would probably be most familiar with. A lot of these terms are also used in America and other parts of the world, so if you’ve seen something here that you already use (and aren’t a member of the UK) then just use this as confirmation that we use the word here too. I’m not trying to say that these words are UK exclusives.

I also want to point out that when you or someone you don’t know uses overly familiar language, it can sometimes feel condescending or uncomfortable. Just because it’s common here, doesn’t always mean it’s appreciated. I don’t want to give the impression that every Brit says they love each other and every other Brit is happy to hear about it. Everyone has their own preferences.

I hope you have found this helpful or at the very least somewhat entertaining. Once again, I’m not an expert, I just want to share the information I have in the hopes that it will help or entertain someone. If you want more British slang info, check out my Cockney rhyming slang post here and my British police slang post here! Let me know if there are other areas of British slang you’d like to hear about!

#hobie brown #spider punk #atsv hobie #atsv spiderpunk #atsv fanart #fanfic help #hobie brown atsv #across the spiderverse #hobie brown fanart #hobie spiderverse #across the spider verse fanart #hobie fanart #british slang #terms of endearment #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #atsv fic #hobie brown fanfiction #atsv fanfiction #spiderverse fanfic #spider verse fanfic #click for better image quality

[delaware-lemme-smash]

Could we have some hcs of reader referring to some of the older MHA men (coughAizawacough) as "beekeeping age" and then they make her explain it? LMAO.

For those who don’t spend all their time on TikTok like I do, ‘beekeeping age’ refers to an attractive older man, usually in 40s/50s. Some of these guys technically don’t apply but we’re putting them in anyway!

Characters: Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead, Yagi Toshinori/All Might, Maijima Higari/Power Loader, Sasaki Mirai/Sir Nighteye

Contents: The existential struggle of trying to explain a meme to people who aren't chronically online.

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

Age: 31

Yes, he’s only in his thirties, but Aizawa has the vibe of a retiree. He looks like someone who should be muttering “I’m too old for this shit” at any minor inconvenience. In fact, he often does. He’s said it several times today. 

Most especially when you looked over at him and told him that he looks like he’s ‘beekeeping age’. Now, as a teacher, Aizawa isn’t as out of step with popular culture as he might like you to think he is. Even if he doesn’t really bother with social media himself, he has twenty students who are all hooked to their phones like it’s a dialysis machine. He picks stuff up just by proximity, and it’s not the first time he’s heard the phrase ‘beekeeping age’. And while he might have a vague idea of what it means, he’s not just going to let you get away with calling him that. 

He looks straight at you, lifts an eyebrow and asks, “What does that mean?”

Which leaves you floundering a little, because you have to explain to Aizawa that it means you think of him as an attractive ‘older’ man. 

While he’s the furthest thing from vain, he finds himself a little bit offended.

“What the hell do you mean ‘older’? I’m thirty-one.”

“You have to admit, Shouta, you do give off the vibe of a grizzled older man.”

“I’m too old for this shit.”

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

Age: 55+

Toshinori’s the only one who really qualifies for this trope, and naturally, he has absolutely no idea what you’re referring to when you tell him that he’s beekeeping age. He grins uncertainly at you.

“I’m…not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but I’ve always thought that beekeeping looks like a relaxing hobby! As long as you’re not allergic!”

Of course, you take a little pity on him and explain that it means he’s a hot older guy. 

“Oh, are you referring to a DILF?”

Once you’re done spraying your coffee or whatever you were drinking everywhere, you demand to know where Toshinori heard that word and if he knows what it means. Let’s be real, Toshinori doesn’t run his own social media and doesn’t know squat about memes.

“Oh, a charming young lady walked up to me at a signing once and informed me I am what the young people call a DILF. Still can’t get anyone to tell me what it means! Slang these days! Ha!”

I dare you to try and get Toshinori to refer to himself as a DILF in front of Aizawa. Just for the hell of it. 

Maijima Higari/Power Loader

Age: 41

Higari can’t catch a break. Not only is he very short and look a couple decades younger than he actually is, leading to a lot of unfortunate misunderstandings, now he has some whippersnapper calling telling him to go start a beehive. 

He’s probably the only one on this list that actually knows what it means. I feel like because he’s so in line with cutting edge technology that he’s pretty on top of social media as well? He doesn’t seem like the type to lose step with the rest of the world when it comes to these things. So you don’t even have to explain what you mean when you tell him he’s beekeeping age. 

“Buzz off.” 

Sasaki Mirai/Sir Nighteye

Age: 38 

At first Sir Nighteye thinks you’re making some kind of joke. He stares you down, looking rather menacing even while his mind is turning over the phrase ‘beekeeping age’, looking for the pun or the play on words. When he can’t find it, he finally has to admit defeat and ask you gravely: 

“What does that mean?”

Sir Nighteye’s a little put out when you tell him it’s about good looking older men, because he doesn’t consider himself particularly old. Pacify him by telling him that he just gives off the dignified air of a mature man. He might scoff, but he’ll be somewhat more mollified. 

“I suppose I can accept that as a compliment. Although I think you ought to come up with better jokes. That one didn’t even contain a pun.”

#delaware lemme smash #bnha #bnha headcanons #bnha imagines #Aizawa Shouta #Eraserhead #All Might #Yagi Toshinori #Maijima Higari #Power Loader #Sasaki Mirai #Sir Nighteye #bnha x reader #Aizawa x Reader #All Might x reader #Power Loader x reader #Sir Nighteye x reader #Mod Rig

[ylskquevmxv]

British insight for those military men fics

Coming from a British person

Use this for your angsty british backstory

Will include:

-insight to healthcare and low income situations

- opinions on the royal family (all negative)

- british food

- talks about home life and low income

• none of them would care for the queens death. They would not be mourning, they would not be sad, they're not tories. If anything theyd be glad and wishing death upon the rest of them. The monarchy sucks the only downside is that we have Charles and camilla now. Diana rest in peace

• to add on to this they wouldnt care for the coronation they would most likely insult it, they probably hate the entire royal family like almost all of the entire uk does. I am repeating this again but they are NOT tories 🚫nuh uh🚫 stop painting, price, gaz and ghost as people who love the royals while soap hates them 💀💀 they all hate the monarchy

• they most likely wouldnt drink fancy tea Pg, Yorkshire, tetley etc are their go to because that's what most of the uk drink especially low income houses as it's the cheapest. Taste of home I guess.

• also they're not out here eating beans on toast whenever they get the chance💀 they're probably eating an entire meal because they're giant men??? Like beans on toast is what parents give to their kids because it's cheap and fills them up, the only time they're having beans is with:

1) breakfast

2) jacket potatoes

3) sasauge and mash

4) Gregg's bean and sausage pasties

• also soap probably eats beans too?? I've seen fics where hes wholeheartedly against beans like??? Hes Scottish?? I know he ate beans as a kid, no one grows up and decides to have a mohawk otherwise

• they're all meat and potatoes type of men (like all british men) that's it. That's the facts

• fries =/= chips

• also british people are like really lazy when they speak

"would you like a cup of tea?"= "fancy a cuppa?"

"I'm just not in the mood to do that" = "cant be arsed"

"How are you?" = "ya alright?"

"Should we get some Chinese/Indian/Italian/etc food?" = "you want a chinese/Indian/italian/etc?"

• we tend to just drop words off In sentences because the person were talking to probably already understands what we mean and because like I said we're lazy

• British accents also vary so much!!! Even if you're from the same street you'll probably have a different accent and we also swear a lot, we also use a bunch of mixed slang as thete are people from everywhere over here (poland, Bulgaria, Romania, Lithuania, india named from just my class)

• Irish travellers are also really common so their would probably be a few in recruitment  idk why people dont add Irish people to their fics ?? maybe they fear putting Scotts and irish people together (watch big fat gypsy wedding for more insight I used to love that show)

• Aussies understand us pretty well (shout out to my uncle Andy) a lot of our language dialects are pretty similar and our humour is both pretty dry and blunt

• also British people dont care for like anything?? Even tho we have free healthcare most of us just slap a wet paper towel on it and call it a day. The most reaction you'll get is a room temperature ice pack

• british teeth are also something that Americans dont really understand since we have free healthcare but I'll they to simplify it. our Healthcare is free and so is dental care but only if you're younger than 16 except for check ups etc and unfortunately alot of us are born into low income households whose parents are a)mentally unwell b) physically unwell c) involved with drugs or are just simply neglectful so that means a lot of us arent taken to the dentist and by the time we are old enough to take ourselves we would have to pay for it and some of us just dont have the money for things like braces

• also I really want to see someone include chavs/roadmen in their stories because i think it would be funny plus some of them are really nice and genuinely curious when asking

• there are things called council houses/ council estates and they arent the nicest places to live and are usually not in the best shape but it's a place to sleep, most of the people who live there are usually people who live on benefits and are really lovely (might be biased I used to live in one tho), you usually have to top up on gas and electric every so often via a card (gas) and a key (for electric) usually able to get these topped up from you local corner shop

• alot of the nosies we make are as if we're cave men

*throws paper ball into trash*

Anyone in a 5mile radius: WOOOOO

• we also make up chants alot?? Idk why but we're just a musical country usually has something about your mum, your nan, a nonce, or one of the many other british wonders *nonce = pedo

• our beauty standards are a lot less extreme like theres obviously beauty standards but there are a lot more regular looking people on tv over here rather than supermodels ?? I've been to America and some of the people on tv you'd swear they were made in a factory for hot people only. Let people be regular

• British tv has a commercial every 15 minutes or so and our commercials dont offer lawyers or medication, some our commercials have songs, silly gags in them or are terrifying (check out: money supermarket, the antibiotic song, the meerkat adverts just to name a few)

• our eggs are orange not yellow

•our sandwiches have butter on them (not all but most) + brits arent much of foodies we just eat to survive really especially during the cost of living

• our drinking culture is a big thing over here, a lot of us start drinking around 13

• we have stores like asda, tesco, lidl, aldi, iceland, sainsburys and big Tesco, corner shops are really common depending on if they're owned by a large company or not some of them arent in perfect shape and are run my people from other countries but they have good stuff so who cares about how they look

• you have to be 16 to buy an energy drink and 18 to buy alcohol/ cigarettes

• outside cats are a thing, they're not homeless they just come as they go

• for some reason people are really classist?? Because how dare the poor be alive, and I'm not talking about just rich people being bad to the poor if you have bad living conditions expect to be made fun of by other low income people 💀 you'll be lucky if yoire funny because otherwise you will just be getting bullied.

•our weather is pretty much grey, our grass is almost never fully green and usually patchy, our summers are so hot they cause wild fires because we have no humidity and no air con, our winters are a hit or miss either too cold or a regular day

• tv shows that most of us call soaps: eastenders, coronation street, emmadale and hollyoaks

• some uk shows, naked attraction, snog marry avoid, friday night dinner, bad education, plebs, come dine with me, him & her, some girls, the Keith lemon show, gavin and stacey, not british but Derry girls, inbetweeners, anything with philomena cunk in it, the great british bake off

• Some documentaries (ish) for those who love information: old people homes for four year old, emergency, educating greater Manchester, educating Cardiff, poor kids, anything with stacey Dooley or louis theroux in

• it's kinda hard to describe the uk to someone whose never witnessed or experienced it.

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #big beefy british military men #call of duty x reader #cod x reader

[elen-benfelen]

welsh remus guide pt.1

As a casual marauders fan (if such a thing exists lmao), I’ve noticed a growing love/interest towards Remus being Welsh and exploring what this means regarding accent, mannerisms and language. Seeing Welsh being butchered by the use of google translate, whilst understandable that people would turn to it, is actually physically painful at times. And so!! I’ve decided to start collecting some language tips and bits of info to help anyone who wants to Welshify their Remus. The source? My upbringing as a first language Welsh speaker in South-West Wales.

The most popular head canons I’ve seen, some based on scraps of info from canon, is that Remus is either South Walian (specifically South-East Wales - aka the Cardiff area) or North Walian. I’ve only lived in North Wales for just under a month so I have a rough idea of NW slang but I’m no expert. I have lived in Cardiff for about 3 years so I have a stronger grasp on broad South Walian slang.

This is to say - I will try and give words and bits of info I think would be useful to know but my ask box is always open to more specific questions. I’m also a nerd towards the Welsh language so this is going to be an unnecessarily deep dive into it.

First Lesson

Gogs - North Walians

Hwntws - South Walians

Gogs (short for Gogledd meaning North) and Hwntws have an age old rivalry. Our accents are very different and even our Welsh can have a huge variety of slang and accents.

Examples:

Milk - Llaeth (Hwntw) Llefrith (Gog)

Now - Nawr (H) Rwan (G)

Whilst plenty of Welsh folks have very English sounding accents, if someone has a distinctly Welsh accent you can usually tell pretty quickly where they’re from. Accents within the Welsh language itself tend to be rather strong and distinctive for most people. It is extremely common for someone to ask you where you’re from once they find out you speak Welsh. Probably cause Wales isn’t that big and only like 20% ish of us speak Welsh??? Idk. It just is a thing. So like:

“O, da chi’n siarad Cymraeg?” (Oh, you speak Welsh?)

“Ydw! Wyt ti o’r Gogledd?” (I do! Are you from the North?)

“Yndw, dwi o Gaernarfon. Ble yda chi’n byw?” (I do, I’m from Caernarfon. Where do you live?)

“Fi o Rhydaman.” (I’m from Ammanford.)

Hopefully that dialogue feels human and not like two robots talking but you get the gist of it lmao. So, for those of you who want to make another of the characters, such as Lily, Welsh as well, it wouldn’t be out of place for them to try and establish where the other is from when first meeting. But also be aware that their slang and language would be different if they’re not from the same area (as with any language or country).

Conclusion: You cannot slap the blanket label of Welsh on Remus and then have him speak any old welsh and use any slang and such. So either choose somewhere specific or throw a dart and stick with where it lands.

Note: I am not the collective consciousness of every Welsh person. My experience is not universal - especially when it comes to North Walian things. This is just meant to serve as a general guide. Hope this helps and good luck with your writing!

pt.2

#welsh #marauders #welsh remus #remus lupin #lily evans #sirius black #remus x sirius #james potter #harry potter #cymraeg #wales #welsh language #welsh remus lupin #marauders era #the marauders #wolfstar #i have so many thoughts on this topic so buckle up lads

[saintsenara]

you said “the eleven-year-old riddle, for example, is written in a way which suggests he has an accent and uses words and expression which would be understood as working class”. Can you elaborate on what you mean? I love your meta btw. You are brilliant

thank you for two tmr-related follow-up questions to the slughorn/snape bonanza meta, anons!

[and thank you for calling me "brilliant", anon no. 1. picture me kicking my little feet in the air and chirping like a cat which has just seen a bird outside.]

how is the eleven-year-old riddle shown to be common as muck?

besides the fact he lives in an orphanage.

it's things like this:

“You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course — well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!”

while none of this is in a demonstrably non-standard dialect of british english [i.e. riddle doesn't use contractions like "ain't" or "innit", or say "i never did nothing to little amy benson..."] it's definitely a way of phrasing his speech - especially when coupled with the fact that this quote reads like he's speaking really quickly, and he's described as looking "furious" - which would be considered uncouth, especially in the 1930s. [not big fans of emotional volatility, the posh].

his refusal to speak deferentially to dumbledore - and the fact that when he's eventually induced to call him sir he is described as being "unrecognisably polite" - is a similar indication that he doesn't exist as a child in the sort of context where he's forced to perform more refined manners in order to get what he wants.

[the sixteen-year-old riddle is considerably more obsequious, because he recognises that the way to get things out of e.g. slughorn is to comport himself like his upper-class peers.]

and he also - which is iconic of him - calls mrs cole a bitch here. "cat" is a slang term for a gossipy or meddling woman - and while it doesn't quite have the full heft of "bitch" [you find it used with impunity by middle-class women in pretty much every piece of literature written pre-1950...], it's incredibly rude for a child to say it to a stranger who he assumes is a doctor.

riddle does also use non-standard english - for example, when he says of dumbledore's wand:

“Where can I get one of them?”

[the correct form would be "one of those".]

it's this which really hammers home - beyond the ways in which it can be inferred from the context of the setting and the scansion of his [and mrs cole's, they speak fairly similarly] speech - that he has a london accent which would be understood, especially when combined with his second-hand possessions and his general rowdiness, as working-class by the sort of people who otherwise seem to end up in slytherin.

exactly what accent this would be depends on where we think the orphanage is. the closest we come to locating it in canon is that riddle buys [or, let's be real, steals] his diary from a shop on "vauxhall road". this isn't a real place, but vauxhall is an area of south london.

but most people - including me - usually place it in east london [i like, as i've said elsewhere, to put it on dorset street in spitalfields, which is the site of one of jack the ripper's most brutal murders]. this would have him born within the sound of bow bells, meaning he'd have every right to call himself a cockney and would undoubtedly speak with a cockney accent.

the south london and east london accents are recognisably distinct from one another [and from north and west london accents], but they would both be understood as common in the time period, when both anyone born into an upper-class or upper-middle-class background and anyone who aspired to be thought of as having done so would speak with [something as close as they could to] received pronunciation.

why do i think slughorn remains chill until after riddle refuses his job offers?

riddle's conversation with slughorn about horcruxes happens at some point in his sixth year - the academic year 1943-1944. we know this because he's a prefect - but not yet head boy, because he's killed his father [his second victim - the riddles are killed in the summer of 1943, after myrtle is killed at the end of the 1942-1943 school year], and because it just makes sense from a narrative standpoint for this pivotal moment in his life to take place at the same time harry's own life is transforming.

my presumption is that the chat happens during the first term, and that riddle doesn't actually create the diary horcrux until afterwards - so let's say the conversation happens c. november 1943 [when riddle would still be sixteen - the age the diary tells us he is]. slughorn then spends a full eighteen months continuing to support and favour him - advocating for him to be head boy, attempting to set him up in prestigious jobs, presumably being willing to support his application to teach defence against the dark arts - after he's aware that he's not opposed to a bit of splitting the soul.

i don't imagine for a second slughorn would ever have turned him in - he is, after all, fundamentally a coward, and he's clearly worried that he'd get in trouble himself for discussing horcruxes with a pupil - but if he were properly troubled by the discussion i think his behaviour would resemble how he treats harry while he's trying to collect the memory: unfailingly polite and unflappably jolly, but still mysteriously unable to be cornered alone.

and - actually - i think this is the specific source of slughorn's shame over the incident, and it's why i really don't like the memory acquisition scene - "you have no idea how frightening he was" - in the half-blood prince film. slughorn is clearly rattled by the conversation, but he then seems to manage to convince himself that everything's fine and riddle was just being a teen show-off with a morbid streak.

[and the adult voldemort - for his part - evidently has no suspicion at all that slughorn took the conversation seriously enough to waver in his cowardice and admit what he'd told him.]

but riddle refusing to accept his help in securing a job - and, therefore, refusing to enter into the sort of patron-client relationship slughorn canonically establishes with pupils from non-elite backgrounds - is riddle indicating that he refuses to be restrained by the norms of wizarding society.

it's a big "fuck you" to slughorn from the perspective of social convention notwithstanding the other context - a presumed-to-be-muggleborn orphan asserting that he can make it in the world on his own terms without tugging his forelock to the pureblood elite - but it's also evidence that he has no intention of finding himself in a situation where slughorn can control him personally.

it means that slughorn finds himself in a position in which he can't dangle the threat of reporting him to the aurors for [conspiracy to commit] murder/taking an interest in dark magic we can presume is illegal unless riddle does something he wants. and it makes it impossible for slughorn to continue convincing himself their conversation was purely macabre curiosity.

slughorn can convince himself that the eighteen-year-old riddle - the polite and brilliant head boy who undoubtedly continued to attend slug club meetings without incident in the period 1943-1945 [since him being barred from such occasions would have tipped him off that slughorn was worried] - can still be treated in a way which has served him well since he started teaching, and can have his... odder aspects constrained by the pressure of wizarding social convention.

the twenty-year-old riddle - on his own in his knockturn alley shop, with its dark reputation, and apparently uninterested in settling down nicely under the thumb of a respectable patron - cannot be.

and slughorn is terrified of this - and the repercussions it has the potential to bring upon him - but he's also going to be offended by it -and i think it's really interesting to skewer his canonical dislike of being associated with death eaters a little by playing with that offence: i.e. that he's not only unimpressed because lucius malfoy's in azkaban, but because of the whole bending-and-scraping-and-saying-my-lord act.

#asks answered #asenora meta #tom riddle #lord voldemort #surprise! it's the class system!

[meraki-yao]

Ok I got four asks in my inbox about the new Nick interview and I'm actually mad. I'm actually livid and exasperated because I've been getting and answering similar asks over and over again, and yet people still come to me with the same statement and the same conviction EVEN AFTER I POINTED OUT EVERY FUCKING FACT THAT CONTRADICTS IT.

Do you really need a 19-year-old to teach you reading comprehension and media literacy?

Ok, fine.

Statement One: Nick doesn't appreciate RWRB, he's brushing it aside, which is why it wasn't mentioned in the New York Times

One: Editorials don't always portray the actual thoughts or agenda of the interviewee.

Unlike a video interview or a podcast interview where we can hear the whole conversation directly from Nick with his voice, and even if there are cuts and edits we can pick it up via visual or audio continuity, in a written editorial the only thing we can rely on is the writer's words, or in other words, the writer's paraphrase or quotation of what Nick said to him. This gives much bigger room for any changes or manipulation in content because we have nothing else to reference.

It is clear that in the past three editorials, the writer or the magazine itself has deliberately demeaning and devaluing RWRB. In NY Magazine, it was only mentioned in one line and degraded to "a queer take on a common straight trope" (see the choice of word "president's daughter"), with the implication being at its core, it's a straight story/ reliant on past straight stories to be interesting; Hunger Magazine calls it fujoshi-pleasing (fujoshi: Japanese slang, denoting how a straight woman who enjoys fictional gay content is "rotten", too ruined to be married, an insult to both the audience/fans and the movie itself ); and this time New York Magazine didn't even mention RWRB, when let's be honest, it's Nick's biggest breakout role.

"Once Is Chance, Twice is Coincidence, Third Time's A Pattern" this is deliberate. I can't say what the agenda is, my guess is some extent of latent homophobia, but it's clear that this is a fucking pattern. In fact, besides the hidden agenda of devaluing RWRB, these editorials show another hidden agenda, but that's something for a later day. PM me id you want to now, I won't discuss that one on my public platform yet.

Again, there is so much more room for twisting and hiding words in a written editorial. In all the video interviews Nick did, especially in the UK, when has he ever avoided a question about RWRB? When has he ever not shown gratitude towards the project?

Two: In all video evidence that can't be manipulated, that clearly shows Nick's own thoughts which not influenced by any other party, he has made it clear that he adores RWRB.

Why else would he sign books during the M&G London premiere, going as far as to stay behind after the event just to sign books? Same with the LA M&G premiere and TIOY premiere: those were promotions for other projects, he had a valid reason to refuse to sign the RWRB books and posters, but he didn't, always signing with a big smile on his face, even playfully signing on Taylor's face. He said it himself in his Instagram post, and I quote: "The love that Henry has received has been one of the most heartwarming things to watch. It's been difficult to not talk about him. So thank you for seeing him for all he is. He was a joy to bring to life." There's your proof, directly from the man himself.

Statement Two: Nick's not interested in doing a sequel, he said he's done playing princes and he's done playing romantic leads

One: "Done playing princes" doesn't mean literally done playing princes, it means he wants to try more roles and not be stuck with only being known as the "prince" guy. (even though he's literally a prince lol)

Plus, he said that after Robert, but then Henry came along and he was attracted to Henry as a character with his scared but loving heart. He doesn't just view Henry as a prince, he views Henry as a complex, delicate person who so happens to be a prince. Him saying he's done playing princes means in the future, he doesn't really want another royal on his filmography, but this doesn't mean he doesn't want to continue Henry's story. With the given context, namely asking him about future projects he wants to take up, "he's done playing princes" and "he doesn't want to play Henry anymore" are not mutually inclusive.

Two: "Done playing romantic leads" means he wants to try new things and take up new projects that aren't romance films.

This doesn't include the continuation of already established characters i.e. sequels, this just means if he were to take up brand new projects, he wants to try something else. Sequels are inherently different from new projects because again, sequels are based on already established characters.

Three: He said several times ON VIDEO that he'd be in for a sequel

In this one, when asked if he'd be up for a sequel, he said, and I quote "Look, I think with any opportunity of doing a sequel, I think, you know, the script has to be right. But obviously, it was so lovely to see how many people it touched and having that resonance is incredibly important to me, so, yeah. Of course."

In this one, when asked if they have had conservation on a potential sequel, he said, and again I quote: "Yeah, I mean definitely had conversations. I think we're all on the same page in the sense that, you know, the script needs to be right, and sort of all the different components need to be right because we made something that has such a positive effect and I think the last thing you'd wanna do is ruin that or take that in a way, so, you know, the conversations are definitely being had."

And there are more videos from red carpet interviews that I can't be bothered to find right now but he says more or less the same thing.

(look I even transcribed it)

Not only is he on board with a sequel, he's also being careful about it to make sure once they do get to making it, it's something good. He's on board, and he values it. And again, that's directly from him.

We have a phrase in Chinese: 斷章取義, meaning "breaking off a small part of an article and deriving the meaning from that single part" That's what so many of you, in particular, the people who come to my inbox with the sentiments of the above-mentioned statement are doing. Please, use critical thinking and look at the whole picture. Stop making judgments from the surface of one source.

Tagging my friends @alittlefrenchtree and @myteavsricochet because it looks like they've been getting the same things I got

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #nicholas galitzine #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #rwrb thoughts #meraki essay #i'm not someone who gets mad easily but I've had enough of this #nick galitzine

[hiskillingjar]

hi there! love your blog! have you ever shared voice hcs for strade, ren, and law? hope youre having a good day! <3

AAA THANK YOU AND YEAH DOG I WAS MANIFESTING THIS ASK!!!!!!!!!!

ren 🦊

i think he has a young-sounding voice, like even as he gets older his voice doesn't really give away how old he is

raspy? kind of like he's always talking out the back of his throat

A LOT of vocal fry. idk how to explain it

he'll, like, use a lot of, um, filler words? and, ya know, sort of just speak in a way that, like, really makes you question if he knows what the fuck he's saying.

the only point of comparison i can think of is ira glass, though his tone is a little more fox leaning

real talk, he sounds kind of faggy lol

he's kind of self-conscious of his voice, so when he does become fox, he makes a lot of changes to the way he speaks so that it's more practiced and considered. obviously slips up when he has the chance to though <3

law 🥀

they got the playstation cut scene autism. the twin peaks autism.

like, they've got the low, quiet, kind of monotone autism drawl

very breathy sounding, which goes with slow quiet of it

they have to...um, really annunciate to put...tone and meaning behind their voiceee, otherwise they kind of just...sound...a little detached...a little spacy...yeah...okay...

they sound like they're not listening to anything anyone is saying, and the fact they look so out of it most of the time (even without the drugs, their gaze is super spacy) doesn't help either

like almost the gentle, offputting kind of quiet of paul dano in prisoners but. lower.

they um and er a lot too, like, um, yeah...okay, uh, for sure...

there's a lot of power behind their voice though. like, they make themselves seem gentler and smaller most of the time, but in the case of being angry, it can really climb up in volume and intention

so you better listen to them when they're being nice and quiet...

strade 🔨

hehehehehe i've thought about this one sooooo much

obviously has a noticeable german accent, albeit not a super thick one. it's there.

doesn't have the best grip on english slang and does the bilingual thing where he'll be like "ah...what is the word for-" when he's having a scatterbrained moment

doesn't um or er that much though, he'll confidently say the wrong thing and get corrected on it (or not)

he'll talk in a way that is really really direct, but, ahm, kind of lilt towards the end, making everything sound like a question? and then, ah, spreche-SPEAK very knowingly, right?

a pretty medium-range voice, not super low or that demanding of attention in his regular tone. people want to listen to him because he's a friendly guy!

kind of like the original singer of oomph! hehehehe, pretty regular tone, definitely a fast talker too

laughs a lot <3 has a nice warm chuckle when he's in polite company, and he's like the best person to laugh at bad jokes

very good at keeping up appearances <333 he's a manipulative faker who looks and sounds totally normal in his rich neighborhood

and obviously can push his voice down to a growled threat or a shout, which makes his accent sound a lot thicker <3

#i LOVED ANSWERING THIS HEHEHE #strade btd #ren hana #ren btd #lawrence oleander #lawrence btd #qs #see my vision boy. #see it. #headcanons

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Gorgeous -Pedri González

Guess who's back with more Vzlan! Reader fics?! Ajá, yo🤭😌 Also... Influencer!Reader

Warnings: High content of Venezuelan slang, curse words, some jokes (?) or mentions of them because I can't joke to save my life, lots of Spanish.

Please, feedback is highly appreciated!

Summary: The guys made him know you but your warm aura and way of being was the one to make him fall for you

You. Y/N Y/L/N. A pretty much famous Latina influencer. You kinda went all in, a lot of people followed you because, you liked sports and health, often gave outfit and makeup tips, travelled and the one you loved to do the most was photographic art, also you didn't had the need of being another persona in front of the cameras. You were exactly the same in and out.

And you guess the realistic side of you, the natural, humble but still strong and pretty girl you are, was the thing that attracted people the most to you.

Including, the football player Ansu Fati.

The young man had started following you back in 2020, when you moved to Barcelona and it was for a simple mistake he turned being your fan, he had bumped into one of your posts about this healthy recipe and asked his mom to try it out for him. When he grabbed a bite he fell in love with it and started following you for more recipes but at the end of the day, he fell into your "fandom" because of your natural personality.

You never tried, you were just you.

So when one day he was wheezing, laughing and crying when training was done, his teammates were a bit concerned about what had possesed him.

"Hostias, ¿Y a ti qué te pasa, tio?" Pedri had asked as Ansu kept on laughing, when Balde went behind him and saw his phone, the image of you in a podcast with your other three friends laughing your asses off, made sense to the other guy who nodded letting out a simple 'Ah!'

"What's up with him?" Ferran asked

"He's watching another video of Y/N Y/L/N" Balde joined him "When did she posted this one?" Balde, along with Pablo Torre, Eric and Ansu were big fans of yours thanks to the last one influence

"It's not hers" He managed to say "It's from these guys who she hangs around with always"

"You mean "Los Bichos"?" Pablo Torre asked getting behind them to see the content as well "I gotta go and see that one"

"What's the big thing about her?" Pedri suddenly asked. He had heard your name before and knew you were an influencer but never really saw one of your videos or really followed you on Instagram or any other social media. The guys looked at him as if he was crazy, not really believing what their friend had just said.

"She's amazing" Ansu answered "She gives good tips on health, fashion, she also does travelling and photography and she likes sports. Her carisma is what attracts people in"

"Not to mention the looks" Torre murmured "Hermosa" He blew a kiss towards Ansu's phone

"Aurora is basically in love with her, always having one of her lives, videos, podcasts or anything"

"Sira's the same" Ferran nodded "I have seen her, she's quite the jokester too"

Suddenly all of them were watching Ansu's phone

"Well, she indeed is really pretty" Gavi agreeded

"Sad that she may not be like we see her on real life tho" Pedri shrugged his shoulders

"No, she is" Torre nodded "One of my girl friends has met her and she says she's the sweetest"

Pedri could only see your smile and the way you threw your head back in laughter, amazed, you were beautiful. He wasn't going to deny it, he had eyes, big ones in fact, and he could see the beauty of women.

"How old is she?" Gavi asked

"She just turned twenty" Eric said

"What did you say her name was?"

"Y/N Y/L/N" He nodded pretending not to be interested

That very same night, Pedri was fighting himself to watch some of your content on Instagram and Youtube, he didn't know what was he afraid of, he was just going to see what's the fuss of the guys, nothing else.

But oh boy...

One video, turned into two, then three, four, five, six and by the time he realized it was 2:30 am, his battery that used to be on 87% was now in 4% and thirty videos he had watched

"Hostia, mae'mia" The Canarian murmured "It's really late" He considered plugging his phone and stop seeing your videos but the longer he kept thinking of it, the less he wanted to let go of his phone, he wanted to see your smile one more time, your laugh and your pretty big eyes, you indeed were really sweet in and out of cameras.

He had now seen the thing the guys had seen in you too. He decided to push the Follow button on your Instagram account and also decided to see the last Live you have done recently which was three days ago.

"¿Por qué no hablas español?" (Why don't you talk Spanish?) You had read confused "¿Y es que yo hablo chino?" (And do I speak Chinese?) You laughed lightly "I think I get what you mean, it's the accent, right?" You stopped for a second to drink some water "Well, déjame decirte chama que mi acento venezolano es demasiado bello pa' yo cambiarlo. I don't mean to say the Spanish accent isn't pretty, because it really is, I like it. It's just not my style because I'm obviously not a Spaniard" (let me tell you, girl, that my Venezuelan accent is too beautiful for me to change it) You paused a little

"Sí, que se me puede salir un poquillo el vosotros y algunas cosillas que hacéis" (Yes, I can get out a little about and some things that you guys do) You did a perfect Spanish accent laughing "Pero, no" You spoke naturally shaking your head (But no)

He smiled watching you and your Latina roots, defending and wearing them proudly.

That was only the start of Pedri crushing on you. The next following weeks, he had not missed a single Live, Vlog or post that you did. Soon the guys knew Pedri had developed a crush on you when Gavi spied on his phone and saw him looking a post about a photoshoot you had done for Vogue España

"You like her?" Eric asked

"She's really nice" He had nodded blushing

"But you like her?"

"She is nice" Pedri repeated "She probably doesn't know me"

"C'mon, the girl loves sports, she's actually a Barca fan!!" Ansu replied as Pedri smiled shaking his head

"It's just a mere crush, it'll go away in a while" He said and everyone dropped the subject.

"¡Hola mis amores lindos!" (Hello my beautiful loves!) You smiled at the camera "Yo estoy bien y espero que ustedes se encuentren muy bien también y si no pues espero que este mensaje les anime un poquito... Les hablo para notificarles que como cosa rara" (I'm fine and I hope you're feeling very well too and if not, then I hope this message encourages you a little... I'm speaking to notify you that as a strange thing) You laughed lightly "Mis chicos de "Los Bichos" me han invitado nuevamente a ser parte de uno de sus magnificos episodios de su podcast, el episodio va a ser en vivo, podremos contestarles algunas de sus preguntas, mandar saludos, revelaré unas pocas cosas que se vienen en grande y bueno, las demás vainas que los chicos hacen, ustedes ya saben como es la cuestión así que sin más nada que decir los espero este jueves a las 21hrs de España. Les mando un besote bien grande y un abrazo muy cálido. Take care!" (My boys from "Los Bichos" have invited me again to be part of one of their magnificent episodes of their podcast, the episode will be live, we will be able to answer some of your questions, send greetings, I will reveal a few things that are coming Big and good, the rest of the things that the boys do, you already know what the matter is, so without further ado, I'll wait for you this Thursday at 9:00 p.m. in Spain. I send you a big kiss and a very warm hug)

It was set. He cleared up his whole agenda, just to have Thursday night free all to himself... And well, to Fer as well.

"Why are you so suddenly obsessed with that girl?" Fer asked as Pedri got ready to watch your Live, he had connected his laptop to his TV and his phone besides him "You've been a month and something suddenly Y/N this and Y/N that"

"She's good" Pedri shrugged his shoulders

"You like her?"

"Puff, no" When Pedri turned around to see his brothers face he knew he couldn't lie "Maybe a little?" Fer raised his eyebrows

"I'm not gonna make fun of you" Pedri sighed

"Okay, she's gorgeous and I like her" Pedri admitted

"She seems really nice"

"Torre says he has a friend that has met her and that she's the sweetest" Pedri replied "I kinda want to meet her"

"Slide into her DM's and say: Hey, big fan. Wanna go out?" Pedri laughed

"Sure, she will say yes quickly" Both brothers laughed as the Podcast started.

"Welcome to another episode of Los Bichos, today we'll be talking a bit of everything but mostly about our love humiliations or just humiliating thing that has happened to us in general"

"And who's better to say that than Y/N Y/L/N?" Other guy said presenting you

"My life isn't that bad, Adrián" You replied smiling "Worse than Miguel's can't be, that's for sure" You point with your lips to the guy sitting in front of you as he shocked points at himself and laughs in disbelief

"Well, she's got a point" The first guy talked

"Nelson talks as if he has the greatest life ever" Miguel said pointing to the first guy with his head

"I don't actually but everyone's life is better than yours, pendejo" You all laughed out loud "Ve, ¿Y tú aquí haciendo algún tipo de propaganda?" (Look, are you here doing some kind of propaganda?) You shook your head

"¿Por qué dices eso?" (Why you say that?) You ask

"The big Barcelona jersey you have on" You look down and smile

"Mano, no; I'm not doing anything. Si supieras que el Barcelona me había enviado un email hace como tres semanas y yo nunca les respondí" (If you know, the Barcelona sent me an email three weeks ago and I never answered them)They laughed "Saben que yo soy fan del club y me hicieron una camisa con mi nombre y el número de mi jugador favorito" (They know I'm fan of the club and they made me this Jersey with my name and the number of my favorite player) You casually replied not thinking too much of it

"Which is?"

"Un jugador" You smirked playing with your golden bracelete, they started yelling a few "A"'s "B, C y D" They laughed "¿Tú creíste que yo iba a ser mongola para caer en esa vaina? No, señor" (Did you thought I was going to be a fool and fell into the trap? No, sir) You shook your head smiling "¡Maldición! I forgot this is live!" (Shit) You yelled "How are you guys doing?" You ask winning a round of laughter with the guys

"We're starting here... Y/N, care to tell us something humiliant that has happened to you?"

"My whole life" You replied as they laughed "No, kidding. Once I had something going on with this guy, it was December and..."

If Pedri liked you, by the end of that live he was most likely in love with you. You were simple and very funny, your sense of humour was the thing that ended up pulling him into you.

He honestly felt like a fan of his but with you. It was terrifying as hell.

"Ad, ¿Si vas a hacer por fin el stand up comedy show?" You asked

"Yes, I will be doing it" Adrián nodded "Why?"

"I wanna go" You pout a bit

"You're invited, don't worry"

"Remember everyone when is it" Nelson said

"This Sunday at 20hrs in the Batuar Hotel Cotton House, make sure to get the tickets as soon as possible they're almost sold out"

"We need those" Pedri said immediately grabbing his phone and getting on the app "¡Hostias, joder! It's too slow"

"Calm down, we'll get one"

After fifteen painful minutes when Pedri was about to finish the purchase, his screen filled out with the No Availabe words

"This event is sold out"

"¡Puta que le parió!" Pedri exclaimed feeling sad

"It's okay bro. She's here in Barcelona, we can see her any other day" Pedri sighed

"I really wanted to see her this Sunday"

"Maybe not this Sunday, but eventually you will" Pedri sighed in annoyance

"Anyway, let's finish watching this" He murmured his eyes on the screen.

His eyes fixated on the Barca home jersey you were wearing and the words my favorite player's number, he wondered... It could be his? Also... You looked incredibly good with the club of his dreams, he couldn't help but imagine you on the stands cheering on for him when suddenly he got himself out of that dreamland. He was really starting to seem like his fans who daydreamed about him.

His mood was down a bit Friday and Saturday when they were at training and Ansu came up to them

"I hope all of you are free tomorrow"

"Why?" Gavi asked as Ansu pulled out six tickets

"We're going to see Adrián Jiménez's live show were Y/N will be present"

Pedri quickly ran and grabbed a ticket, his mood lifted up completely, he grabbed Ansu's head and kissed him

"Thanks, amigo"

"Thanks, nothing. I will be your best man at the wedding"

...

Sunday rolled in and Pedri was nervous and excited, he would be in the same place as you, hopefully met you and make himself fall in love with you once again. You just had a thing that drew him into you and he liked it. Your Latina beauty keeping him on his feet everytime, you way of expressing yourself, your carisma, everything he saw from you, he liked it.

Thanks to Eric, they were a bit late, fifteen minutes late, the show had already started as they were looking for their table, thanfully everyone was into Adrián, they didn't recognized the six football players coming in, everyone but you.

You were surprised seeing them here, you didn't know they were fans of Adrián or the rest of the guys, but you were even more surprised when three of them sat in your table, you greeted them with a little "Buenas noches" and a warm smile, Pedri who was besides you smiled widely at hearing your voice

"Ferran Torres"

"Pablo Torre"

"Pedri"

You smile lightly "Y/N Y/L/N"

"Chica, deja de estar chanceando" (Girl, stop joking around) Pedri saw you lift your hands a bit surprised being scolded by your friend

"¡Pero no estoy chanceando!" (I'm not joking around!) You exclaimed a little

"¿Ah no?" He shook his head "What are you doing?"

"Greeting my tablemates" The place laughed at your face "¡Y si lo estuviese no es tú peo, mano!" (And if I were, it's not your deal, man!)

"Oye, mira tú-"

"¡'Tas en medio de un show, sigue hablando de como dejaste caer el telefono en el baño de la estación del metro!" (You're in the middle of a show, keep talking about how you dropped the phone in the subway station bathroom!)

"Verga y lo más arrecho es que lo tenía que usar urgente" (Fuck and the most awful thing is that I had to use it urgently) His words made the whole place laugh "You were with me that day"

"I definitely wasn't"

"¿Cómo que no estabas pero sabes lo que pasó?" (How come you weren't there but do you know what happened?)

"You texted it in the groupchat, tonto"

"Shit, I always do that, I eat and I pass pics, I shit and I pass pics, I walk and I pass pics, I play FIFA and I pass pics... I need to stop doing that"

"Please don't" You asked laughing "Me acuerdo aquel día que estabamos todos haciendo una videollamada, tú fuiste a hacerte una merienda y te ha salido una tarántula en uno de los empaques" (I remember that day we were all making a video call, you went to make yourself a snack and a tarantula came out in one of the packages)

"MOVING ON!" Laughter filled the room.

Besides your greeting and you apologising for your friend's craziness, you never spoke with any other of the guys just small smiles when the even was done you said your goodbyes to them and went to Adrián, Pedri sighed having lost his chance to talk to you

"C'mon, man. You let her go"

"I just couldn't do it... I don't know what happened"

"You'll have another chance, bro" Gavi patted Pedri's back smiling tightly at him "She was watching you too" The youngster smirked making Pedri shake his head

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom, guys. Ya vuelvo" (I'll be back) And with that Pedri left them.

He splashed water on his face and cleaned his hands, slightly disappointed in the fact he didn't do anything else to talk to you. He shook his head

"Quizás no es hora" (Maybe it's not time) He murmured looking at his mirror reflection before leaving the bathroom.

It was like a destiny thing.

You were in front of him and seemed a bit lost, looking around with a confused face.

"¿Todo bien?" (Everything alright?) A male's voice pulled you out of your thoughts, turning around to meet the owner's voice

"Sí, todo bien. Sólo que, no tengo ni la menor idea de dónde puede estar la salida de este lugar" (Yes, everything's good. It's just, I don't have a single clue on where the exit of this place can be) You admitted "El muy..." You moved your moth but no sound came out "puto de Adrián me dejó por un chance que le salió, se fue así sin decir nada y..." (The... fucker of Adrián left me for a date he got, he left without saying anything and...) You sighed "I'm kinda lost in this big place" You smiled shyly "What about you?"

"Bathroom" You nod letting out a little 'Oh!' "Want me to help you?" Your eyebrows went up for a bit "I'm not an incredibly knowner of the place, I've come here twice... Maybe walk you to your car?" You smile shaking your head

"I would take up on your offer but I also don't have anyone to take me home, my car broke down yesterday, Adrián offered me the ride and you are probably busy or just want to have the rest of the night off, so I wouldn't like for you to ditch your plans to spend it glued to me because I was left alone" You smiled as he shook his head

"It wouldn't be a problem for me" Pedri said "I would love to help you, I can give you a ride if you like" He smiled softly "Venga, vamos" He offered your his arm "Maybe you can tell me about more of those healthy recipes? Or talk to me in Venezuelan slang?" You both laughed

"There are too many recipes I can share with my Venezuelan accent but we would need more time for that than a single ride" You accepted his arm watching him smirk

You looked at him smiling lightly "Then how about we can go for a coffee next time?"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld

#M. is writing #fc barca #fc barcelona #writing #pedri gonzalez #pedri #pedri x reader #pedri icons #pedri gonzalez fluff #pedri fluff #pedri blurb #pedri one shot #pedri x you #pedri x y/n #pedri fanfic #pedri gonzalez icons #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez x y/n #pedri smut #pedri gonzalez smut #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri gonzalez blurb #pedri gonzalez fanfic #pedri gonzález icons #barca #barca fc

[cerealboxlore]

do you think that captain marvel plays off his using kids slang as part of him being omnilingual? better yet, imagine that he thinks that it doesn’t count but it actually does and he only finds out years later

i dont really have much to add to this but yeah

Oh I 1000% believe knowing slang/kids slang counts as part of his omnilingualism.

I see the reasoning behind this being that with omnilingualism comes the ultimate understanding of all languages and the ability to decipher them. With language comes formal and casual conversations and alternative versions of words that generations have created due to changes in society, environment and the eras/time. Slang and kids slang are all a part of the art of languages, so i see that it makes perfect sense for Captain Marvel to be able to understand them.

Adding onto that, if Captain Marvel's omnilingualism didn't include understanding of slang terms, then I believe Billy's influence as the vessel included those additional parts in the power. It's a little headcanon of mine that the mortal behind the power of the "Mightiest Mortal" is able to influence the powers they gain with their personality flare/unique identity. Since Billy is a homeless street kid, that left him more susceptible to hearing slang words from other people on the streets, mainly teens and kids from skateparks and parks (where he hangs out sometimes because no one will question him for being homeless there among other kids).

As for the slang words expansion pack not belonging at all to his omnilingualism and is in fact just Billy being a kid, then that would also be a barrel of fun to see! I can easily see members of the Justice League asking Captain Marvel what certain words their sidekicks/children text them, asking him to translate for them.

Green Latern (Hal): Hey, Cap, you're pretty immature right? By any chance do you know what "rizz" and "finstas" mean? We're trying to tell what this text means.

Captain Marvel (Billy, a little offended): First of all, harsh, didn't have to shade me like the dark side of the moon like that, but okay, go off, Salt Lantern. Second of all, bet, fam, say less.

Green Arrow (Oliver, feeling old): Oh God, did anyone even understand that?

Captain Marvel: Chillax, dude! Don't go crying in spanish.

Everyone else:

#this was a lovely ask #tysm for the ask! #I got distracted and ended up writing more than I intended #But this was such a good ask to reply to! #I love going deep diving and analyzing Captain Marvel's power sets and skills and how they function with Billy #It's so much fun! #dc captain marvel #shazam #billy batson #justice league #Omnilingualism #More powerful than you think! #Your asks are always so fun to respond to! #ask me anything! #Sorry for the ramble #Sorry for any spelling errors

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 4

ANOTHER CHAPTER IN LESS THAN A WEEK. BRING ON THE GRINDDDDDD. I will warn that my motiviation for each of my fics comes in waves, so you'll probably get chapters in random chunks ngl. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 4590

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Mentions of murder. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 >

PART 1: Chapter 4

Unconditional Violence.

Bambsquabbled (Definition): A 19th Century American slang word essentially meaning stupefied or confounded. (Adjective)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 18th December, 1929.

You had expected the additional Tuesday Mr LeBlanc had given you off to prepare yourself for the radio company to consist of you sleeping in until 11am. But dreams are short lived when you have an aunt who insists the ass-crack of dawn is prime time for everything.

You guessed it was fun to climb onto the roof of your relative’s vast home to collect the crystals you had both put out under the full moon, before the energy given to them was whisked away by the rays of the early golden hour. But when nerves settle in like the green spirals of nausea the night before, sleep takes the hand of another, leaving you to lay there with your over-active mind as it drags you through every possibility and event that could end up with you looking like an idiot in front of your new colleagues, or worse. Can’t think of much worse. But the universe will find a way.

It always does.

When Wednesday finally rolled around, it was barely 6am and you already couldn’t wait for it to be over. Your cousins had found you curled up on the bench swing, having dragged your duvet outside as you balled yourself up like a worm, sipping on the iced tea Agnes had bought you the day before in an attempt to settle your nerves. It did. A little.

And now here you were, the first half of your new workday having gone as smoothly as your awkward self could do.

Ethel, who’s desk was closest to yours, had dubbed you the quiet one after spending an hour running her mouth at you with barely a break for you to chime in. You had also already created quite a commotion on the third floor, a few people intrigued by the new ‘foreigner’. Well – as foreign as you can get when you’re from another English-speaking country, in the biggest cultural melting pot of a city had ever seen in your rural life. But they found you interesting enough.

The oddest thing you had experienced that day, however, was a strange request from your new boss – Mr Durham himself.

“I don’t suppose you know how to pull off a local accent?” he had asked when showing you the phone on your desk.

All you could do was blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

He gestured to the phone. “Since you’re my assistant, you’re gonna be filtering through the calls I get before passing them onto me. Now, there might be an issue if someone calls expecting to hear me, but instead find themselves speaking to a British girl on the other end. Some can be impatient and might end up putting the phone down before you explain.”

Memories of that one very unpleasant phone call flooded your mind. “Even if I answer: ‘Hello W.A.D Radio, this is Mr Durham’s assistant speaking’??” you replied monotonously.

“You’d be surprised.” He sighed. “But do you know how to anyway?”

Frowning, you recalled your time in the cities further in the North. “I guess..? A girl I rented a room from in New York insisted on teaching me for when we went into town, but I struggle to see how it’s important?”

The man put his hands together, pointing them at you in a prayer motion. “Just.. try it out? Talk like your colleagues when you see them, to see if you can get a hang of it – I’m sure they’ll be happy to help. Please?”

You gave him a wavering look, but sighed, finally giving in. “Fine, but they can’t make fun of me.”

He beamed, patting you on the back in satisfaction. “I’m sure they won’t! I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

And with that, you sat in your new chair, trying to pointedly ignore the sign at the other end of the room that pointed you to the fifth floor, and began your attempt to settle in.

--

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 8th January, 1930.

There wasn’t much to celebrate when the new decade rolled around. Gone were the so-called ‘Roaring Twenties’, when you would join your parents at the parties and balls they were invited to – when it was acceptable, of course; those higher up in the class hierarchy still grasped to the dwindling standard that children should be seen, not heard. The year you turned eighteen ended up being quite interesting, when the older women who had turned snooty at the sight of your teenage self wandering around their stately homes, tried to attempt a 180°, as they congratulated you reaching adulthood with strained smiles. But you paid them no mind, too busy staring at the paintings or statues that lined their corridors – a stark contrast to the more barren and plain wallpaper that coated the walls you grew up in.

But now that was far behind you, the English garden parties in the spring and summer that you adored so much were now a mere echo in the distances of your mind. The noises of tiny forks clinking on fine china as the little birds twittered in the trees now replaced by the sputtering and groaning of automobiles as you gripped the pole of the tram, your arms tight against your chest as you tried your best to not let the swaying of the vehicle toss you about into the crowd of packed bodies around you.

Making sure the scarf was tucked safely around your neck, you grasped the small briefcase in your hand – mentally preparing yourself for you first day back at the radio station after the new year. Unfortunately for Mr Durham, a small hurricane had passed over during the holiday, and radio stations across the city were temporarily silenced as their mechanics desperately attempted to repair the damaged towers. And also unfortunately for you, only the hosts were offered a couple days off as things got back up and running, though some still showed to prepare for their shows; you, on the other hand, were still expected to show up like any other day.

So here you were, pushing open the (now familiar) double doors, giving a small wave to the receptionist, who’s name turned out to be Diana, and the woman barely raised her hand in response as she continued to tiredly shift through the concerningly large stack of papers on her desk.

You were just about to climb the wide staircase when you heard her call your name (something you were very surprised she knew, considering her tendency to ‘accidentally’ throw paperwork in the bin on the daily), and your wedge heels clacked against the tile flooring as you stumbled slightly, turning to face her as her nasally voice echoed around the large lobby.

“It’s best you stay in the shadows today.” She warned cryptically. “Trouble’s in, and the mechanic’s not happy about the damages – Durham’s getting the brunt of it, but you’ll end up in the crossfire unless you hide out during breaktimes.”

All you could do for a moment was stand and stare, a million thoughts running through your mind. Mostly about who ‘Trouble’ was, and why Diana thought you couldn’t handle the guy and the other mechanic. You did handle the radio man at the repair shop after all, and speaking of the radio, you were quite proud to say you had finished the it in time for Christmas, and had shipped it off with a very passive-aggressive note that hinted for the man to basically never return. Luckily, Mr Boudreaux hadn’t replied to any of your letters since you had begrudgingly accepted the object, but you had suspected he had called the shop once or twice, and you had left Mr LeBlanc to deal with it, mostly because he was quite terrified you would call another customer every name under the sun the second they tried to give you trouble.

Glancing back and forth between Diana and the stairs, you mumbled a slow “Oookay…” before nodding your head and turning on your heel to hurry up the steps. Reaching the third floor, you didn’t stop in your path as you neared your desk, instead dropping your briefcase onto the wooden surface as you dashed by, striding towards the door that had the golden plaque engraved with ‘Mr B. Durham’ onto it. Grasping the handle, you turned the knob, swinging the door open, only to stop in your tracks as you were met with a very empty office.

You frowned. It must be really bad if your boss was no where to be seen. Whipping around, you scanned the main room for him, but only saw a few of your colleagues, the rest still yet to arrive – you were normally expected to be in early to handle Durham’s work as soon as he began.

Throwing your coat and scarf on your chair, you strode back towards the stairs, readjusting the suspenders of your wide-legged trousers as you practically jogged up the steps, and ended up rolling the sleeves of your loose blouse to your elbows as you tried to catch your breath.

On the fourth floor, you spent a couple minutes checking all of your boss’s usual haunts or hiding places, even going as far as interrogating a couple of the workers there for his whereabouts. It wasn’t until some blonde guy that came wandering down the steps from the fifth floor that you got your answer, the man looking up to take in your slightly dishevelled and feral appearance with wide eyes as he stammered out that he was in one of the radio booths. To his further horror, you patted him on the cheek with a thanks as you rounded him, ready to take another flight of stairs to reach your – apparently – floundering boss.

Ignoring the embarrassed sputtering of the man behind you, you eye the sign nailed to the wall, the painted hand pointing upwards with a very bold ‘FIFTH FLOOR’ next to it.

“Don’t go up there until I say you’re ready, okay?” Mr Durham’s words echoed through your mind.

Buuuuut, he did say he wanted to discuss the stuff you brought in your briefcase ASAP.

Yea that’ll be your excuse. You can deal with his complaining later.

Reaching your heel-clad foot out, you took the first step, almost like you were expecting an axe to come swing down and impale your forehead. But when nothing happened, you shrugged, and simply continued up.

Recalling the path your boss had taken you on during the initial tour, you managed to find the dreaded corridor that supposedly housed your greatest nightmare.

Extroverted people.

Yeesh.

At that thought, you did consider turning around, but your urge to drag your boss’s arse back downstairs drowned that thought out, and you carried on.

Surprisingly, it was quiet, but at the same time not so much when you remembered that most of them were plating their somewhat wealthy behinds on their armchairs at home as the rest tried to fix the issues of the storm.

Reaching one of the lit rooms, you heard raised voices.

“–really expect me to know? –” “– supposed to be on in an hour! How is that –”

Cautiously, you peeked around the corner to try and witness the potential fiasco. And what a fiasco it was.

Wires, cables, and any other random parts that were used for radio technology were strewn across desks, tables and even the floor. Amongst these were two men, and there was only one you recognised.

Just like you had seen him every day for the past month, Mr Durham was stood in his washed-out blue suit and concerningly shiny shoes, and at this point one hand was on his hip, whilst the other rubbed tiredly at his face as whom you assume was the mechanic, was blabbering the poor man’s ear off as he ranted on and on about random parts and problems and he gestured frantically at said random parts and problems. Wait – nevermind, you recognised one and a half.

The man from across the street was here, with his back to you. Again. For fuck’s sake.

This time he was back in the seat you first saw him in, this time with a few strands of dark-brown hair out of place, curling slightly as if to rebel against the intense styling he had put it through. Peeking your head out slightly further, you managed to get a good look at him.

Well for one, he was a triangle. Stupidly broad shoulders that narrowed into a stupidly small waist (triangle), with lanky legs long enough that you could probably chop them off and fashion them into skis. Despite his face not revealed, you could see the semi-light tan on his hands, that were busy turning knobs and dials as he listened in to whatever was coming through the headphones on his head. He was dressed to impress, to say the least, in smart, dark-grey trousers, who’s ironed out edges looked as if they could slice through skin. His high collared cream shirt was tucked away under a relatively tight looking reddish-tan waistcoat, and to top it all off, you could see the back of the black ribbon that was most likely tied in a stupidly even bow.

You didn’t want this guy to sense your staring, so you opted to look back at the other two men who were still chuntering on about god knows what. Stepping into the light that flooded through the glass, you wave slightly to try and get your boss’s attention. A couple seconds passed, and you watched as the mechanic kept glancing at you and Mr Durham, until eventually he nudged the other man on the shoulder, pointing you out.

Turning his head, Mr Durham’s eyes met with yours, and you raised your hand with a questionable thumbs up to see if all was good, only to watch in slight confusion as his eyes widened, and he whipped his head rapidly between you and the faceless man sat at his desk, before marching over to the door and pulling it open a crack, sticking his head out.

“Hey uh,” he half-whispered, surprisingly nervous at your presence. “what’re you doing here?”

You lowered your voice to match his. “You said to come find you as soon as possible this morning, you know, to go over those statistics from that other station?”

Realisation dawned on the man’s face, and he reached up to drag his hand down the side of it. “Shit I forgot,” he cursed, and glanced over his shoulder before facing you again. “I’ll – uh… I’ll be down as soon as I get this sorted. Marty’s givin’ me a run for his money right now and the second Al takes his headphones off I’m gonna feel like I’m entering an early grave.”

Surprised, you eyed the man sat at the desk, who looked far too calm to be threatening anyone right now. “Ok… I guess it can wait. I’ll bring you some coffee up!” you chirped, and Durham went to call out that it wasn’t necessary, but faltered with a frown as he realised you were already halfway down the corridor.

--

Balancing the tray of cups and steaming jug the best you could, you reached the final step, retracing your route to the radio booth that your boss was probably getting murdered in. Walking up, you waited patiently until Mr Durham noticed you, and watched as he reluctantly trudged over to open the door.

Taking your first step in, you were hit with the very potent smell of strong black coffee, as if someone had some brewing every day, and you figured you had made the right call of fetching the same beverage as you placed the tray down on one of the tables.

The mechanic was still going off on one, and you watched out of the corner of your eye as you slowly began pouring the coffee into the cups, listening to the greasy-looking man speak.

“– there’s literally no reason that I can find that’s causing the local outage!” he spouted at your frowning boss. “The boys have already fixed the aerial, and David’s currently on-air and that’s working perfectly fine, so it has to be something in this room!”

During the man’s tirade, you noticed the rustling of papers, and looked over to see the faceless man again, still at his desk, but his hands were fiddling with no purpose, and his head was turned to the left slightly, showing his high cheekbone and the edge of his thin circular glasses.

Looked like someone else was listening in too.

Biting your smile down, you turned back towards the cups in your hand, only to have a glint of light pierce the corner of your eye, and you looked in the opposite direction to a large wooden box, with one of the panels removed, displaying the endless wires and springs that coiled and wound in every direction. But you weren’t looking at that, you were instead looking at the screwdriver that was very prominently glinting in the shine of the ceiling light. This must be the painstakingly obvious problem that the mechanic had painstakingly missed.

Giving a quick glance over at the men, you waited until they faced away, scrapping about the wire pile on the floor, and you reached for the wooden teaspoon on your tray, and inched towards the box. Knowing wood doesn’t normally conduct electricity, you raised your hand, testing it anyway against the hanging wires to see if they were live. Seemingly not, you stuck your hand further in, and began nudging at the tool, slowly loosening the wires around it as you dragged it along the bottom of the box.

When they had deemed your silence as suspicious, the mechanic and Durham turned round, only to see you elbow deep in some very expensive equipment.

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA!” the mechanic cried as he rushed over. “The hell are you doin’??”

Instead of jerking your arm back out and apologising to the man who was slowly turning purple, you gave the screwdriver one last flick, and the three of you watched as it dropped over the edge and fell to the floor with a clatter. Moments of silence passed as you all stared at it, until you decided to explain.

“It was tangled in the wires, which would’ve prevented the electricity flow,” you said plainly. “Plus, if you had tried to power it all up, it could’ve set the place on fire.”

All the mechanic could do was stare down at the tool, but Mr Durham had decided to approach, and bent down to pick up the tool.

“Nice one.” He complimented, turning the object in his hands. Though the warm smile he had put on for you quickly vanished, as his eyes set upon the name engraved on the wooden handle. He pointed at it. “This has your name on it Marty.” He said lowly, his blue eyes turning dark as he regarded the paling man with a look of thunder.

Seeing the outcome, you gestured nervously to the beverages on the table. “Coffee’s there, Mr Durham, I’ll see you downstairs.”

Just as you walked around him, he called your name. “Take ten minutes to yourself and grab some tea, whilst I deal with Marty here.”

Nodding, you curtly took your leave, swinging the door open as you power-walked out, failing to see the sharp pair of eyes following you from where they were sat at the desk.

--

You found the break room housed several curiosities that you were yet to explore in America. Apart from the atrocious fact that the tea station lacked the Yorkshire brand, you found yourself poking at what they called a teabag. Yes, surprise, surprise, the Americans invented something tea related before England or even China did, but you had to admit it was rather useful in helping you not gag at the slimy tea leaves that sat at the bottom of most of your beloved brews.

With the table to your right, you leant your hip against it, your back against the door as you rather noisily mixed the spoon around your large mug, making sure the sugar was dissolved properly before you went to strain the teabag. Lifting it carefully out of the boiling water, you gingerly held your other hand out below it to catch any stray drips from hitting the floor, scanning the room in front of you for a bin that you could chuck it into.

What you foolishly had failed to do however, was hear the footsteps that grew in volume from behind, and you hadn’t realised anything until a very uncomfortable prickle hit the side of your neck, as a very unwanted presence loomed over you. Though, that didn’t last long, as the presence decided to deafen you instead.

“So YOU’RE the new assistant!”

A banshee screech raised from your throat, the teabag flying through the air and onto the floor by your feet as you basically jumped three feet up. Instinctively, however, you didn’t realise what was happening until one elbow flew upwards, slamming into the nose of the man behind you, the other flying round to collide with his ribs. Teaspoon armed in hand, you spun around to face your assailant, only to step on the soggy teabag that was still on the floor, and you cried out again as you slipped and slammed into a very firm chest. Eyes screwed shut, you felt the two of you fall, though quickly broken by the table behind you.

Relieved that you were no longer falling, you swiftly blinked your eyes open, your dark brown ones meeting a pair of equally matching brown. Moments passed as you took in the scene in front of you, and you realised you finally had a face to put to the lanky man from earlier.

Said man was groaning as he rubbed at his nose, his lips twisted into a grimace as he checked for blood. What you noticed however, was the several poignant glances the man took to your right, and you followed, only to see you hand raised, teaspoon in hand, pointing down at him as if you had a machete, ready to stab the lights out of him.

A small gasp left your throat at the realisation, and you quickly pushed yourself off, pointedly ignoring the grunt the man let out as you knocked at his ribs. Taking several steps back, you distanced yourself from him. He had gotten close before, he wasn’t about to do so again.

You watched as he pushed himself up on his elbows, using the table as a support as he stood. To a disturbingly tall height might you add. Looks like you did just reach his nose after all.

“I’m uh,” you started as you eyed him, teaspoon machete still in hand, strangely, you instinctively used the southern accent you learnt – it was the one you used with strangers. “Sorry. I didn’t expect you to sneak up on me like that.” Reaching over, you snatched up a napkin, offering it to him. “Y’haven’t got anything…?”

Dark eyes flitting between you and the outstretched napkin offering, you watched as something seemed to switch in his demeanour, and a natural smile fell across his tan face as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“No, no, don’t worry, it’s quite alright.” He assured, and you blinked at his prominent transatlantic accent. “I figured that wasn’t the best way to say hello to a stranger!” he laughed as he smoothed down his crumpled waistcoat. Reaching his lanky arm out whilst tucking the other behind him, he offered his hand out in greeting. “The name’s Alastor, my dear. And who do I have the most entertaining pleasure to be speaking to?”

You stared at his hand, then flicked your eyes up to him, scanning his grinning face with vigour.

Where, oh where, had you heard that voice before?

Your silence seemed to confuse this Alastor guy, however, and his eyes darted around in confusion as you continued to stare. From what you could see, he had come to a very wrong conclusion about your silence, and leaned over at you slightly, bringing his face level with yours.

“Cat got your tongue, my darling?” His growing cheshire grin reminding you of two very similar people. “You clearly must find me that dashing if your this speechless, haha!” he chortled, the condescension rolling off him in waves.

Oh, you knew exactly where this guy was from.

Narrowing your eyes, you scrutinised him as you quietly muttered out a single word.

“Boudreaux.”

Alastor blinked, eyes darting around your face, before raising a hand to cup at his ear. “I hate to say but I didn’t quite catch that!” he exclaimed rather loudly.

You felt your brows begin to furrow, so you raise your voice slightly. “I said, Boudreaux.”

Oh you did it now. Sparkles seemed to glitter behind his chocolate eyes as he perked up with glee, straightening up to his full height. “So you do know me after all! I was starting to think you simply had nothing going on in that head of yours!”  he simpered as he tilted his head to look down at you.

Despite his clear mocking, you remained quiet for a moment longer, until you couldn’t hold it anymore.

“…You work in a radio station.” You stated flatly.

Alastor looked around, acting as if he had just realised as such. “Yes I am quite aware!” he affirmed in an obvious tone. “Did you want an award for that observation?”

You had to refrain from gaping at this man’s audacity. “… Couldn’t you have just fixed it yourself?”

The man blinked at you. “Fixed what now?”

Oh, this was it. Stepping forward, you didn’t stop until you face was a hand-lengths away from his, and you watched with satisfaction as he shifted at your invasion of his space – talk about a hypocrite as someone who clearly loved to invade the space of others. Staring at the man dead in the eye, you fully dropped the southern accent, your Yorkshire one coming back through full force.

“Your mum’s radio.” You stated simply, raising your brows to regard him with a condescending look that matched his.

You had expected him to brush it off, laughing when he realised who you were. What you hadn’t expected for his pupils to blow wide, his eyes darkening as they narrowed, scrutinising your gaze with his own, and you suddenly felt a little uneasy.

“Oh,” he said lowly. “It’s you.”

Keeping your gaze levelled, you gripped the spoon harder in your hands. That is, until your name was called.

The two of you straightened up, you leaning to look around Alastor as he spun on the spot, the both of you facing Mr Durham, who was looking between the two of you rather nervously. He called your name again.

“C’mon.” he said, refusing to take his eyes off Alastor. “Let’s go over those papers you brought.”

Without a second thought, you darted for your mug of tea, grabbing it along with an almost empty bottle of milk to put in it as you strode around Alastor, feeling the hand of your boss as he put his arm around your shoulder as he quickly led you away, and the back of your head prickled, definitely feeling the sharp eyes on your retreating back this time around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ALASTOR'S HERE RAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Watch me disappear from the face of the earth for a week cuz of my executive dysfunction lmao (Blame my adhd not me she's a seperate entity at this point.)

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, see you soon for Chapter 5!!

Please let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist!

< Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 >

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#are you proud that i'm bringing on the grind for everything except my uni work? #they gave me 5 assignments again :/ #also having a crisis that high school musical is turning 20 in the next two years #making me feel ancient #but not as ancient as lucifer #he's giving prehistoric #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor x you #alastor x oc

[fatuismooches]

Hold! Let me cook!

So, realistically, well not even that, it's a fact - language evolves and dramatically changes over the years, compare how we talk in this age to the letters of the past for example! The way we word things, how we formulate our sentences and the meaning behind them evolves with the context of current events, as in the use of modern slang compared to let's say, 1920s slang where they called alcohol "giggle water."

Now what am I on about? Well, I thought that hey: being comatosed for almost 500 years would surely mess up your communication, your words would be dated after all.

So here's the dish: Fragile!reader wakes up after 500 years, and can't understand a single lick of what anyone is saying.

A century passing = new slang and terms

Two centuries passing = grammar would have changed, but you could still hold a conversation

Anything past that? That's a new language! (See ye olden English from the medieval period, old English doesn't sound like our English!)

Poor fragile!reader spouting a dead language (old Sumerian) and the only one that understands is Dottore—

And, since their grammar would be different, the length they would speak would be different too! A bit hard to explain so:

[Reader: *Is speaking for a good thirty seconds*

*Confused cicin mage nodding along.*

Dottore, translating: "Your hair looks nice."]

Language anon here I just read your most recent post I served a cold-dish, room temperature, you were already on it 😭 I'm just gonna 🚪🏃‍♂️

ANON PLEASE, DON'T WORRY I LOVE THIS ASK SM 💗 And I was actually very much inspired by an anon right here so if anything, I'm also serving a cold dish as well 😭 But you're so right, the language of Teyvat has definitely changed a lot! From the way it's written, to new words, to old ones being now unused, pronunciation, and all that! Fragile reader was in for a shock for sure, because they would hear the segments and Dottore speaking in complete gibberish, and then switch back to the old language just for you. To reader, perhaps it's obvious that the language would no longer be the same but... it really hits them seeing it be so different right in front of them. You'd probably freak out a bit, considering literally no one can understand you, nor can you understand them.

Besides your lover, of course. Good thing he's a genius and made sure to preserve the old language for this day, and also program it into his segments. Thankfully, they are all quite patient in the process, as switching between languages is a piece of cake for them. I imagine you try very hard to learn certain words and phrases (how does one flirt in modern Teyvat? did courtship change much in 400+ years...? 🤔) in order to surprise him. Just don't do it too quickly... he will flirt back in much more advanced language that you don't quite understand yet and he'll laugh at your frustrated face. (AND READER TRYING TO BEFRIEND HER BY COMPLIMENTING HER BUT FAILING MISERABLY... you've been trying very hard for so long until he finally took pity on you.)

I imagine sometimes the two of them get jumbled together when you're feeling strong emotions, so only a select few people can really understand you. Sometimes, you still speak to Dottore in old Sumerian, if only to recall the old days.

#smooches talks #fragile reader <3 #dottore love notes <3 #reader: so how do i curse in the new language? 🤨 #SO SO CUTE!! im eating this before bed #but unrelated history is so interesting

[fixiationcentral]

Hazbin Hotel Episode 1: Live reaction

The animation of the intro was pretty good. It looked simple and cute. The story about Lilith and Lucifer sort of make sense now? It feels like an info dump to new comers (if any new people are even watching this). Also what's the obsession with Songs? The floating key looks a bit weird? Like they just pasted the image and decided to key frame it. But honestly I'd do the same- Vaggie's voice sounds monotone. Not in a good way but it sounds flat? Stephanie Beatriz is a good voice actor and singer, but her role in this under utilizer her talent in my opinion. 7 years of Lilith being radio silent? (haha get it. If the theory ends up being true). Didn't they say in the leaks that Alastor also disappeared for 7 years? The commercial scene starts... Katie Killjoy still doesn't look like a Mantis but oh well... Alastor is talking about Charlie's daddy issues... WAIT HE'S FROM THE 20s HE SHOULD NOT BE SAYING THAT?!. It should be more like "as she works through her personal problems relating to her father by making sure that you're fixed enough to get sent to heaven!" WHY DOES ALASTOR KNOW MODERN SLANG?! I know it sounds nit picky but I just want him to say old timey words- Oh finally, they added back his radio voice- I thought it'd just be that flat voice again. Did they actually listen to fans or was it an issue with the trailer. I'm only 4 minutes in- This is gonna be a long ride. What the hell is the perspective, and what the hell is going on with Vaggie's legs. So much swears. Lol, Alastor's pretty pissed about them trying to make him do a commerical.

Oh, it's been a week since the Pilot. Hey, what's with the music when Angel Dust pops up.

Angel Dust's voice is uhhh.... It sounds like Crimson but higher pitched. The accent feels off. Why is his entire personality sex sex sex. Why are his legs longer than his body. Alastor's chin is very pointy. Why is Lucifer calling Charlie- The ringtone sounds funny and the duck profile picture is cute, I'll give em that.

Angel dust's face looks a bit weird. Does anyone else agree with this? The phone's outline went from white to dark red (which blended into the couch), then light red?

WHY DOES THE LINEART OF EACH CHARACER CHANGE COLOR EVERY FEW SCENES Keith David's voice doesn't really fit with Husk... They reduced Angel Dust's personality to keep spewing sex jokes. Why. I'm only 7 minutes into this. There's 15 minutes more. Finally, Vaggie says something fire. (She calls Angel Dust out and tells him to let Husk do his job) Vaggie's mouth looks kinda weird in one scene.| Why is Charlie's face stretching. Charlie just cuts Vaggie off when she's asking legitimate questions through song-l The cuts are making me dizzy- (It's the Happy Day in Hell scene)

Oh, a helluva boss reference. (There's a truck with the label "Helluva Post" with the IMP logo) The song transitions feel a bit off, you get what I mean? Why does Adam sound like Michael Cera. (This is not an insult towards Michael Cera, I love his acting but I am serious when I say Adam sounds like him) Adam is a hologram I guess. Wait, if that leak is real then... Oh no WHY IS ADAM'S HEAD SO BIG. A commerical side plot? Alastor magics up a vintage camera and the camera looks like a png. Like it's not actually a png but it gives off that vibe since the lighting is different and the lineart thickness is way too thin. The new camera (a video camera) Alastor magics up looks like it fits in with the characters now because the lineart is consistent with the characters. If I ever see an Angel Dust scene (especially if it's with Husk), I'll just mute the episode because it's just a bunch of sex jokes (again). Another sex joke. Hilarious. Hahahaha. You can totally feel the genuine laughter in my laugh (/s). Dick joke after dick joke. The Nifty scene was pretty funny I guess, until Angel Dust ruined the moment with another sex joke. Nifty just stares into the camera.

7 MORE MINUTES, I CAN DO THIS Another Dr. Facilier and Alastor thing I guess. We can really tell how much Vivzie researched on Vodou. Vaggie and Alastor make a deal that Alastor helps the hotel while he never interacts with television ever again. The lighting and colors in this scene look really good. Angel Dust has an unnecessary small hot pink heart on the back of his suit. I pray for the animators. Why do they swear so much. Also the costumes are something. I'm skipping through the song. Adam's design looks so complicated. Vaggie's voice sounds so monotone.

Alastor's staticy effect looks cool though.

Charlie's demon form looks so... underwhelming.

Katie Killjoy's old voice was better. Now we're just stuck with a knock off Bryce Tankthrust and Blitzo sound-a-like. A headless corpse of an exterminator. That's something. Also heaven has sci-fi tech? Oh and Angels bleed gold? Also doesn't Adam mean to kill all sinners? What?

End of Episode 1. I'll organize my thoughts on a different post later. Also when the full season releases, I'll add photos.

#hazbin critical #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop critical #hazbin criticism

[sailoryooons]

You DTF? | pjm | (m)

☾ Pairing:  Jimin x female reader 

☾ Summary: You’ve never had a one night stand. Jimin has had countless. You’re trying to experience new things. Jimin loves doing the same old shit. So when you meet the man going around the club inviting people to touch his ripped abs, you think perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to try new things. It’s Labor Day weekend at the shore - what can go wrong? 

☾ Word Count:  10,233

☾ Genre: Smut, pwp, strangers to one-night stand

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Recreational drinking, Jimin being a total tool, cringe-worthy dialogue, explicit language, fuck boy Jimin is it’s own warning, 2009 slang should be a warning because it is literally so cringey, Jimin is quite literally doing the jerk and reader is totally buying it, literally these two are so cringe, sexually explicit content including oral (f. and m. receiving), some nipple play, a lot of spit description idk, big dig Jimin, throat fucking, unprotected vagina sex, Jimin bein an idiot and combing reader not to use a condom, reader is equally stupid cause she wants to get fucked, Jimin accidentally cumming inside, hittin' it from the back, cringe dirty talk, finger blasting (lmfao), Jimin occasionally hitting reader's cervix, they're like a little toxic idk, this is like the most hilarious thing I've ever written, Jimin does coke right on reader's counter cause he has to keep his stmania okay, Jimin is insensitive a lot

☾ Published: September 4, 2022

☾ A/N: This is both the best and the worst thing I have ever written. There are some light-toxic themes and some ignorant dialogue and behavior between the two of them because they're both bimbos drunk in 2009. The writing is supposed to be a little cringe but I may have gone overboard. Also I wrote this in two days idk what kind drugs I was on (amoxicillin and mucinex) but here is the wildly ridiculous and hilarious fic for a collab that no one asked for but we did anyways. Very very happy to share this trash idea with Jai and M 🥺

Special thanks to @here2bbtstrash for helping me edit because I was in a rush and at one point wrote that reader's head opened in the middle of sex. We don't know what I was talking about but happy halloween, reader's head was about to be posted splitting open in bed adkjadjdkja

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Playlist | Jeju Shore Collab

“So are you actually going to try and get fucked in that outfit or is it going to go to waste?” Tiffany asks as she sprays several pumps of Bath and Body Works Japanese Blossom all over herself. You cough as the sweet-smelling mist chokes you. She already has the lotion on. “You look hot, capital h-a-w-t.” 

The mirror of the hotel room is a little dirty - there is backsplash from the faucet staining the glass and some tiny dots of toothpaste. And you can definitely see Nicole’s fake tan staining the bottom corner after spraying her St. Tropez all over. 

You see Tiffany’s point about the outfit being wasted on you in a way. Low-rise, light-wash Lucky Brand jeans sans button, with the zipper pulled down just the slightest at Nicole’s behest. A shirt that was harder to get on than you think it will be to get off, made out of skin-tight pink fabric that only reaches your midsection, and even then, has a massive cutout over your abs. 

“Not this again,” you sigh, nervously playing with the belly button ring you had pierced the year before. A cute little Playboy bunny swings back and forth, hot pink rhinestones matching your shirt. 

“Yes, this again. You look so fucking hot tonight. A one-night stand will not kill you. It’s Labor Day. Please live a little.” Tiffany decides she has contributed to pollution enough, snapping the cap on her perfume bottle to turn around and face you. “You’re not in a relationship anymore. It’s time to be a slut.” 

“Yeeeeaaah be a slut!” Nicole yells, running into the room and grabbing you by the hips, slamming your ass into her crotch several times to crudely depict being fucked from behind. Her jean shorts are impossibly tight, red thong peeking out the sides. “It’s so much funner.”

“Funner isn’t a word.”

“God shut the fuck up for two seconds and be a hot idiot like Paris Hilton.”

Pushing your friend away, you nod. You love them and you know they’re right. You’re single and hot, and there are countless clubs all over with hot, single guys. You’ve never had a one-night stand, having been in a long-term relationship all throughout college until recently, and now you’re where single people come to get laid and you… have a night left to do it.

Tiffany’s iPod blasts in the living room of the hotel room. There are empty cups all over the counter, sticky and sweet smelling from the liquor and mixers spelled on most surfaces. You go to the fridge, pulling out a can of pineapple juice. 

Nicole gasps when she sees you reach for the bottle of Malibu on the counter. “WAIT! We need the song!” 

She rushes to the iHome, bending over the counter. She flips the song to Caribou Lou, wiggling her ass back and forth before she stands straight and points at you and the bottle of Malibu in your hands.

“151 rum, pineapple juice and malibu caribou get them all numb!” she screams, making you smile. 

Despite their earlier jesting, you relax as you mix drinks, singing along to the throwback while shaking your ass. The zipper on your jeans moves a few times, but you’re careful not to let your vagina make a surprise appearance. With how low-cut the jeans are, Tiffany had convinced you not to wear underwear.

Which was more of a reason to get laid. 

The drink is sweet and easy to drink. You scroll through your messages on BBM but otherwise give your attention to playing flip cup with your two best friends, determined to get just a little bit tipsy before you head out to the bars. 

The hotel isn’t very far away from all of the live entertainment. It’s within walking distance which saves a ton of money on cabs, but it is a nightmare for your feet the last three nights you’ve stumbled home in wedges. Nicole even broke one of her heels, walking home on uneven feet like a seesaw. 

When you’ve decided that you’ve pregamed enough, you and your friends teeter to the elevator and down through the lobby. Outside, the balmy air kisses your skin. A creamsicle sky has faded to black and you can see the lights of the entertainment district and hear the faint thunder of music from clubs with open doors and windows. 

You scrunch your nose when Nicole lights a cigarette on your walk. You smell the crackling menthol of her Newport as she takes a drag, hoarsely laughing at a group of men who catcall you from a sports bar as you walk by. You flick your hair over your shoulder, rolling your eyes. 

As if it were that easy.

Labor Day is in full swing around you. The street has barricades to open up to foot traffic only, and they’ve relaxed open container laws. There are a few food vendors on the road, people lined up to grab a quick slice of pizza or hot dogs to settle their tequila-churned stomachs.

A breeze makes your hair dance. It smells like fried food and a hint of salt from the ocean. It carries something else on it - a taste of something wild. You’re here with your friends on a vacation that you had originally planned to take with your boyfriend.

You can recognize now that it would have been a disaster. The two of you in a partying scene meant for singles would have signed your doom. But the end had come sooner than that when you found him with his dick down some girl's throat when you came home early from work. 

In hindsight, you always knew he wasn’t ready for a relationship. But you liked the way he called you baby, the way he peppered you with kisses to make you a little less angry at him, and the way that he made you feel when you weren’t fighting.

And you definitely like the way he drove his Escalade, and the fact that he could afford to take you places like the restaurant in the St. Regis and you stayed in lofty rooms at the Ritz Carlton while vacationing. 

Still. There had been a lot missing, namely in the bedroom, which is exactly why Tiffany and Nicole have been on your ass about at least trying to experience a one-night stand. They wanted you to expand your horizons, to learn what you do and don’t like, and to maybe stumble on someone who could actually make you cum more than two times out of ten. 

The first bar makes you lose a little hope. House music thumps loudly over the speakers. Jean-clad partygoers surround you, some on the dance floor shuffling their feet while maintaining a grip on sweating glasses and nodding their heads as the DJ thrusts a fist in the air. It’s not your type of club, but Nicole hits it off with someone in a larger group of people.

You exist on the edge of the conversation, picking at the slice of wilted pineapple in your drink as you watch the way Nicole plays her game. She’s excellent at flirting - a coy smile as she leans in to say something over the pumping music, balancing herself with a hand on his arm, swagging at his chest when he makes a funny joke.

It would be easy for you too if you thought any of the men were worth your time. They all look the same: bright polo, khaki shorts, hair gelled up. You want to tell them that Connecticut casual isn’t an outfit to the bar, but you say nothing, examining your nails for a while instead. 

One of the guys starts talking to you - Ben, you think his name might be. You bob your head to the music, listening as he explains what he does as a private financial advisor. Your eyes slip over every detail of his outfit: fitted Abercombie polo with the collar popped, khaki pants paired with brown sandals, a white shell necklace wrapped around a sunburned throat, and a tattoo of his former fraternity peeking from his sleeve on his bicep.

Whatever Ben is saying, you’re not listening. You’re almost positive that Ben fucks the way he dresses: generically. 

If you’re looking to experience something different, Ben - maybe Brian - isn’t it. You fucked Ben-Brians in college and they were as boring at sex as your ex-boyfriend was, except they couldn’t afford stone crab claws.

Everyone shifts to a new bar. You’ve molded your groups together, Ben or Brian - you’re starting to think maybe it’s Brad - is still by your elbow. You can sense he’s having a good time and you wish you were too. So you down a few shots at the next bar, loosening your limbs a little and making you a little less judgmental. 

Brad is okay. Not your type and he smells like Crest Whitestrips, but he’s more bearable now that you’ve switched from Pina Coladas to Tequila Sunsets. You nibble the stem of a cherry, enjoying this club much better than the last. The music is more hip hop and pop, familiar songs making you bob your head and sway your hips a little more.

Sweat makes your skin sticky. You shift to stand underneath the air vent by the bar a little more, but you misplace your wedge, knocking yourself off balance. Ben-Brian-Brad catches your arm and steadies you. Slides in closer. His mint breath fans your face and you blink up at him. For a split second, you consider if you were too harsh on his judgment earlier. Maybe he could surprise you. He seems easy enough to please and like it wouldn’t be hard work, and he’s already trying to win you over…

Your eyes slide past him for a second and your gaze stays fixed on the man you see coming down the stairs into the club. 

It’s nearly impossible to tear your gaze away once you see him. He runs a hand through his dark hair, laughing at something the man next to him says. He’s in dark jeans with bleached patches highlighting the material, a fitted Love Kills Slowly shirt by Ed Hardy, and even from a distance, you can see the glittering earrings in his ears.

He’s beautiful. Full lips pulling into a smirk as he winks at people he walks past. Brad rights you, asking you something but you don’t hear him, staring at the man across the bar who leans on the counter. He’s helped immediately, two bartenders drifting to a siren as they stare at him. 

As though he senses your gaze, the man looks at you and your face goes red. His eyes are seductive, narrowed a bit as he checks you out shamelessly. Dark hair gelled back perfectly. A jaw that is both elegant and dangerous. He stands out among the rest of the partiers, his features an exquisite blend of feminine and masculine. 

Your line of sight is cut off when Brad leans forward on the sticky countertop to order more drinks. You take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. Your hands are a little shaky. Whoever that man is looks more your type, but the Ben-Brian-Brads of the world are much easier.

So you accept the new drink, sipping it and turning your back to the bar. And when you’re coaxed onto the dance floor, all disjointed limbs and sweating bodies, you forget about the Love Kills Slowly man and focus on the way you feel - dreamy and soft with the buzz of tequila in your veins. 

A song you vaguely recognize plays in the background. You sway your hips, ass pressed against Ben’s crotch with his hands gripped tightly on your sides. He sways you back and forth, less like a dance and more like an erratic pendulum that can’t find its rhythm. Ben’s dancing is less than impressive, and you start to think that your earlier thoughts about his skill in bed might be right. 

Tiffany laces your fingers with hers as she dances in front of you, pulling you away from Brian’s greedy hands to press your front against hers, letting you grind against her. You tilt your head back. Fog fills the air, lights dancing across the ceiling. It smells like the sticky-sweet of the machines used to make the fog, a tinge of sweat. 

Nicole interrupts your dancing. Your legs ache a little, pieces of hair stuck to the nape of your neck as she bounces up and down yelling, “You have got to see this guy.”

You and Tiffany laugh as Nicole pulls you, the press of bodies jostling you back and forth as you try to catch a rhythm to move through the crowd. When you break the barrier and come out on the other side, your brows shoot up at the scene in front of you. 

The Love Kills Slowly guy is posing next to a girl who points at his exposed six-pack and holy shit his body is insane. Perfectly cut abs, a solid v-line dipping into pants that fit his narrow waist. He holds the shirt up with a thumb, sticking out his tongue as the flash on the camera goes off. You can’t help but think his tongue is devilishly long. 

Up close, he’s even hotter than you thought. You stare at him as the girl who took the picture flirts with them. There is a gaggle of men and women surrounding him, a flock of geese looking upon the swan longingly.

“He is the hottest fucking person I’ve ever seen,” Tiffany giggles. “We should totes get a picture with this dude.”

“Why, is he famous?” You ask, watching as he nods and lets the girl touch his abs. God. What a tool. “He loves being the center of attention, it looks like.”

“So? He’s probably a model. I mean look at that. Come on.”

Tiffany yanks you and Nicole. You resist, stumbling over as she inserts herself into the conversation. He smiles at her, dazzling as he raises a brow at whatever she says. You pull your hand away from her and take a step back. You will not throw yourself at the Adonis in front of you. 

You pivot away from them, staring out over the open crowd. You don’t enjoy the way Tiffany and Nicole giggle, sweet as the simple syrup on the bar over this new stranger. They make it too easy, and you don’t enjoy the idea of melting for someone just because they’re hot. Even if they’re model hot.

And what kind of model wears Ed Hardy?

At first, Tiffany and Love Kills Slowly chat animatedly. That makes sense - she has a way with people and she’s an excellent flirt. When your name is called the first time, you think you imagine it so you stay bobbing your head to the Ke$ha song, minding your business. When it’s said a second time, you glance at them from the corner of your eye.

“You’re being rude,” Tiffany asserts, glaring at you. You feel your eye twitch as she touches an open nerve. You’re not rude - you’re bored and your drunk friend cannot tell the difference. “This is Jimin. I was right, he is a model.”

“That’s nice.”

Jimin’s eyes are on you and your stomach flips. You pick at the french manicure on your freshly done acrylics, thinking that the attention will pass you any moment now. But you feel Jimin’s eyes on you and you sense when he leans forward past Tiffany, ducking his head to level the most intense pair of brown eyes you’ve ever seen at you. 

“What?” He asked. “Don’t like models?”

“Not one that wears Ed Hardy,” you answer honestly. Your words come out a little stiff. You feel your arm tighten, squeezing your clutch that’s wedged in your armpit. “Shouldn’t you be in like… Armani or something?”

“You’re uptight.”

“Thanks.”

He frowns. “Loosen up.” He looks at your empty hands. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

“Why?” Jimin moves past Tiffany entirely, offering a hand and a smirk that almost makes your mouth pop open. Your heart does a tiny flip - you can’t help it. He is stupid beautiful. “I am drinking.”

“Your hands look a little empty to me.” He grabs one of your hands, linking your fingers and tugging. “Okay, one hand full. Let’s put some goose to make you loose in the other.” 

You’re speechless as he tugs you along. Tiffany squeals a little, she and Nicole both on your heels. 

People make room for Jimin at the bar. You watch the way people look at him. He drops your hand to dig a hand into the pocket of his skin-tight jeans for a credit card. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he looks at you.

“What’s your drink, baby?” 

“I’m not your baby.”

The quip comes out before you can stop it. Tiffany smacks your arm and makes a noise behind you. You ignore her, staring at him pointedly. 

“Mmm she’s a brat. I like that. Your drink?” Jimin prompts again with a smile, undeterred. 

“Um. Anything with Tequila.”

“A girl after my own heart. You wanna do shots?”

“Yes!” Nicole and Tiffany both squeal. He smiles at them briefly, but his eyes drag back to you.

You stare. Jimin has a dark lash line, making his eyes more enchanting. He bites his bottom lip, letting his eyes drop down to your exposed midriff before dragging his eyes back up again, raising a brow in a question. 

He’s only buying shots if you want one. 

You shrug a shoulder, nonchalant. He grins and asks the bartender for chilled Patron shots with training wheels. With his back turned, you smirk, feeling a sliver of satisfaction as you look away from Jimin and spot the group of men you were with earlier looking in your direction, murmuring amongst themselves. 

Turning quickly before you can make eye contact with Ben-Brian-Brad, you find yourself face to face with Jimin once again. He leans on the bar with one elbow, head tilted as he studies you. His attention makes you feel warm and drunker than you already are. 

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he points out as the bartender sets four glasses of blanco tequila in front of you, rimmed with salt and garnished with a lime wedge. He picks up two glasses and hands them to Nicole and Tiffany’s hands as you give him your name. “Cute. You’re cute.”

“Thank you.” 

Jimin lifts his glass in your direction. “Salude.” 

You watch, mouth parted slightly as Jimin’s tongue curls out of his mouth, licking the rim of the shot glass slowly. His eyes don’t leave yours, even when he’s finished the rim and tosses the tequila back before biting into the lime. A tiny bit of lime juice runs down his chin, your eyes following the trail. His tongue darts out to snatch it. 

“Come on,” he purrs. “Your turn.”

Your mouth is dry. You quickly lick the salted rim, barely making it around before tossing the shot back and squeezing your eyes shut as it burns down the back of your throat. You bite into the lime wedge, the sour taste helping ease the burn. 

Juice runs down your chin. Before you can wipe it, Jimin’s hand darts out, a thumb brushing across your skin to catch it. He removes his hand, lips twitching upward slightly as he absently sucks the juice from his thumb and turns to the bartender to order two tequila sours. 

“Are you on vacation?” he asks and you nod your head, a little dizzy from the shot and from him. The group of men from earlier has shuffled back toward your group, Nicole and Tiffany reluctantly shifting attention from Jimin to the men they were talking to previously. “Same. I have no idea where my friends are, I think they left me.” He slides a drink toward you. “You won’t leave me, right?” 

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re nice or not. I like nice guys.”

He sips his drink, leering at you over the rim of the glass. “I’m a nice guy. At least, for you.” He nods his head toward the group of guys. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Would you care if I did?”

He throws his head back to laugh, throat covered in a light sheen of sweat. He looks at you over the glass, the first genuine smile not filled with something lingering on lust that he gives you. “No, but you told me to be nice.” 

That makes you smile a bit. You bite your lip, trying to hide it, and decide to sip the drink. It’s good - strong - but good. “You seem like the type who wouldn’t care.”

“Awe don’t hurt my feelings. You’re like one of the hottest girls in here and I’m into it. If I had to ignore a ring or a boyfriend, I would. Is that so bad?” You shrug, sipping on the drink. You don’t know what to say. 

Thankfully, Jimin doesn’t really seem to care. You think perhaps he likes hearing himself talk. It works out. Jimin fills the conversation with the normal what do you do and what do you like? You don’t miss the way he leans in toward you, or the way he glances at your mouth. 

Still, you’re a little rigid. Your sentences aren’t as smooth and practiced as his. He doesn’t seem to care, shuffling a little close to you as the bar fills up with people. He smells like Axe Essence and the 5 gum he’s popped into his mouth between drinks. 

“Trying to quit coke,” he snickers when he sticks another piece of gum in his mouth. “Got some bad press for it during last fashion week and my agency keeps threatening to drop me even though it's obviously a pre-fucking-requisite to walk for McQueen.” 

“And chewing gum helps with that?”

“Not really, but it gives my mouth something to do and it soothes the muscle memory of hand to face.”

“Smart.”

“You look incredible by the way.” That makes you blush, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and ducking your head. Jimin chuckles, tapping your chin lightly with a finger to make you look back up at him. “Cute.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a bit of a spoiled brat, huh?” That makes you frown and pull away. He whines, hands chasing your shoulders to draw you closer to him. “Stop. I like that. It means you have high standards and good taste.” 

You hum, finishing the rest of your drink. You’re properly drunk now, the room tilting a little bit as a giggle escapes you when Jimin looks at you. He laughs back, sliding a glass of water over to you after he takes a few sips. 

The water is refreshing. Your skin feels warm all over and you move a little slower, looking around. The club is more packed than you remember and there are more bodies on the dance floor. You watch the way people move together, pressed up against one another and grinding to the music humming through the air. 

Jimin follows your gaze, leaning closer to you and popping his gum in your ear. “Wanna dance?” 

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes. He grins and pushes off the bar, sliding a hand around your waist to shift you in front of him. You look at him over your shoulder with narrowed eyes and he smiles, tucking you to his chest and sliding his chin on your shoulder. 

“Coming through,” he calls, walking you both through the group behind you. Ben-Brian-Brad glares at you and you avert your eyes as Jimin guides you toward the dance floor, pads of his fingers pressed firming into your hips and scouring marks into your skin. “Tool in the polo definitely has a small dick.”

You giggle as you peel apart, Jimin catching your hand as you turn to face him, pulling him with you. “What makes you say that?”

“His fucking collar is popped, baby.” 

“I think he’s mad at me,” you admit.

“You’re way out of his league.”

“That’s true.”

Jimin wraps his hands around your wrist and yanks you to him. You gasp, stumbling as your chests press together. He slots a thigh between your legs, making you freeze for a moment as the music slows a bit. Jimin’s hands are confident where they settle on your waist, moving your hips in a soft rhythm as he begins to move. 

Instincts take over. You wrap your arms around Jimin’s neck, letting him press his forehead against yours as he stares you down. He’s no longer controlling your hips but letting you move against him naturally, both of your bodies in sync. 

Jimin is an amazing dancer, never forcing you to sway too much or trying to control your movements awkwardly. He rolls his hips into you experimentally once and you gasp lightly, noses brushing together. 

“You’re fucking hot,” he mumbles, his breath fanning your face. 

“So are you.”

Your fingers slide through the dark, sweaty strands at the back of his neck. He lets out an appreciative noise, making your insides melt. Your eyes drop to his lips, slightly parted, slicked with gloss from his pink tongue darting out to wet them. You wonder how soft they must feel, and the way he used his tongue to lick the salt from the rim of the tequila glass makes you wonder what kissing him is like.

You don’t have to wonder long. Jimin notices you staring. Gives you a wolfish grin. You think he looks wicked in the low light, all sharp eyes with a cunning smile. 

And then he’s kissing you. 

You make a sound of surprise, but it’s swallowed in his warm, minty mouth. Your fingers tighten in his hair as he presses the small of your back so that you’re impossibly closer. 

It’s easy to forget you’re in the middle of the dance floor. Jimin’s mouth moves slowly against yours, sucking your bottom lip greedily as he pulls away for a split second. Before you can chase his lips with yours, he’s kissing you again, with a little more vigor and a curious tongue that swipes the seam of your lips.

You open your mouth to him and Jimin consumes you. You’re spinning, holding onto him for dear life as he sucks your tongue into his mouth. Fuck, you knew his tongue would be good. It makes you light-headed as he licks into your mouth, fingers clawing at you as a whine escapes his throat. 

Suddenly the kiss breaks. You blink up at him, stars in your eyes and cotton-fuzz thoughts, lost in him. Jimin isn’t looking at you though, he’s looking at the DJ and yelling, pointing over your head as he detaches from you. 

“This is my fucking song,” he yells at you, as though he hadn’t been tongue fucking your mouth a moment ago. You look at him, dazed and confused. He notices and pops a kiss on your mouth. “God, you're needy. Don’t pout, I’ll kiss you more after.” 

“What makes you think I want to kiss you more?”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans forward and kisses you once. Twice. It’s sweet and leaves your mind scattered as he guides you backward slightly before smacking your ass lightly. 

“Watch,” he instructs. “And try not to be a brat about it, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Jerk by New Boyz is on in the background. Jimin sweeps his arms, backing people away before he starts walking quickly in a circle, bobbing his head to the music and making room for his little show. 

A circle clears in the middle of the dance floor. You cross your arms with raised brows, Michael Kors clutch tucked in your armpit as you watch Jimin wave people back as the song plays. All eyes are on him, cheering as he nods and smirks at the crowd, turning to blow you a cheeky kiss.

You roll your eyes but smile anyways.

Jimin decides he has enough room and right as the chorus starts, he begins to hop and shuffle his feet backward then forward. The crowd goes wild, clapping their hands as he manages to execute the jerk without slipping on the beer and liquor-stained floor.

He spins and drops low, going down to the floor. The crowd yells for him, clapping and cheering him on as Jimin slowly works his way back up. His devious tongue is tucked against his plush upper lip, the hint of a smirk on his mouth.

More guys join the dancing, showing off their moves. Jimin, not one to be outshined, sticks his tongue out all the way, rolling his eyes back as he shakes his head and hooks a thumb in the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal a flawless set of abs, shining in the glittering lights.

The women go crazy as he laughs manically, gesturing to his impressive physique to the other dancers, who roll their eyes and back off. You’re jostled from side-to-side, rolling your eyes when Jimin drops his shirt and dances his way over to you, eyes looking you up and down.

You give him an unimpressed look, yawning and looking the other way as he grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh through the jeans. “Come on,” he purrs. “Spoiled brat not impressed?”

You are. You just don’t want to be.

“Nope,” you say.

He crowds your space as the circle closes and the song changes. Jimin presses his hips against yours and your stomach drops. Your eyes snap back to his as his hands brush backward, squeezing the sides of your ass.

Jimin’s hot breath touches your lips. He smells like tequila and his cologne. He’s sweating through the Ed Hardy shirt, making it cling to the firm body underneath. Your toes curly slightly as you bite your bottom lip, looking up at him through your lashes.

“If that’s how good I dance,” Jimin murmurs, so close that his nose is touching yours. “Imagine how good I lay pipe.”

You cringe at the way he phrases it, but you’re intrigued. Your friends taunting you for your lack of sexual experience earlier replays in your mind. So you play along, raising a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You wrap your arms around him when someone knocks into you. He noses the line of your jaw, breath warm in your ear when he whispers. “So like… you DTF or what?”

“What?”

“You know, down to fuck. I’ve been wanting to fuck the shit out of you since I saw you staring at me across the bar.”

“I was not staring.”

“Shit, I would stare if I were you too, baby.” 

You smack his shoulder, pulling away from him slightly. Your heart pounds in your rib cage as you stare at him. His eyes are expectant, waiting for your response. 

Before your ex, you would have never thought to sleep with someone you just met at a bar. You know very little about Jimin besides the fact that he likes to hear himself talk, that he’s a little arrogant and that he is wildly, ridiculously hot. 

Jimin nibbles on his bottom lip, squeezing your hips to tell you he’s still waiting on an answer. The way your stomach flips and you already feel arousal at the cocky way he asserts himself tells you what you want to say. 

“I think so…”

“You think so or you know so?” Your mouth is dry and you don’t know what to say, so you shrug. He seems to read you. “You never went home with a guy at a bar before?”

“No.”

“Come on,” he whines, sliding his hands in your back pockets. “I’ll be really sweet.”

“Yeah?”

He leans down, nudging his nose with yours. You laugh, leaning back a bit but Jimin is persistent, chasing the intimate contact. “Yeah. I’ll even make sure you cum first.”

“We’ll see.” His hands squeeze your ass through your pockets. “My place or-“

“Yours. My friends are stupid fucks.”

Sliding your hand in his, you pull Jimin along. He presses himself close to your back when you walk, sticking the hand not holding yours in your pocket to give your ass an experimental poke. You hiss at him but end up giggling when he wags his eyebrows up and down.

You find Tiffany and Nicole dancing with the original group of guys. Ben-Brian-Brad is glaring at you openly now, and Jimin is pressed behind you so close that you can feel the cool metal of his zipper on your lower back. 

Tiffany and Nicole assure you they’re going to another club and will go to the beach house that the guy group is staying at. With gloss-stain cheek kisses and goodbyes, you leave them dancing as Jimin wraps a hand around your waist, gluing you together as you stumble out into the night.

The strip of bars is full of people. Cool air kisses your skin, making you moan in relief a bit as you begin walking toward your hotel. Your steps are uneven, you and Jimin pushing one another back and forth as you try to navigate your way home. You stumble a little too far when he presses a kiss to your neck, leaning on you too much for your drunk weight to bear and sending you several steps. 

“Owww,” you whine. “That hurt my ankle. I’m in heels and my feet hurt, Jimin.” You drop his hand and look up at him, sticking out your bottom lip in an animated pout. “Give me a piggyback ride.” 

“Hmmm. What do I get in return?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you ride my back, I need to… ride you.”

You roll your eyes. “I already told you I’ll have sex with you, idiot.”

“Yeah but I could really use a good blow job.”

You scrunch your nose. “Fine.” 

Jimin grins, letting go of you to squat and look over his shoulder at you, eyes glittering. “All aboard the Park express. Next stop: pound town.”

Huffing, you place either hand on Jimin’s shoulders and jump a little. He catches you easily, hands gripping your thighs firmly. You shiver at the feeling of his hands. Jimin straightens and you wrap your arms around his neck, settling your chin over his right shoulder.

“You’re kind of a jerk-off, huh?”

He grins as he starts to walk. “A little. But you’re kind of a bitch, so I think it works.”

You hum - he has a point.

The piggyback ride is just as dangerous as the walk. Jimin walks crooked sometimes, only for you to yell and smack his shoulder to send him back in a straight line. He gets distracted by a pizza stand which makes you flick his ear. And when you’re finally in front of the automatic double doors to your hotel, he is gasping for air and immediately sags against the elevator wall.

“You’re fuckin’ heavy.”

“That is so rude.”

“Baby, I am wasted and I haven’t done coke in like a week. It’s not you - it’s me.”

“What a cheesy line.” 

“Speaking of.” His hand feels around his back pocket before dipping into the fabric and removing a tiny Altoid tin. “My sobriety will not come at the expense of me cumming early. I’m going to need a little extra to fuck you right.” 

“Thought you were quitting?”

“I mean, do you want me to get my dick up?” The elevator opens and you try to hide your laugh behind your hand. “And now you’re laughing at me? Baby you’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“Sorry, it was just funny. Do whatever you want. You promised to make me cum first.”

“Never had a guy who did that?”

“Nope.”

Jimin makes a disgusted noise as you swipe the hotel key card in the reader. It flashes green and you swing the door open into the freezing room. It’s a little disheveled, but it’s at least not an embarrassing display of the room. You’re suddenly thrilled that it’s a suite with two rooms. 

The door clicks behind you and Jimin slides closer to you, pulling you by the belt loops. You’re prepared for his kiss this time, opening your mouth the second his soft lips meet yours. It’s sloppy and wet, Jimin sucking your bottom lip hungrily as he pulls your belt loops a little harder.

Carefully, Jimin walks you backward. He taps the side of your thighs and dips down as you jump. He catches your legs, hauling you the rest of the way onto the island counter where you spread your legs for him. 

Jimin slots himself between your thighs easily. At this height, you’re more on his level, but Jimin leans into you, pushing you back slightly as he controls the kiss. It’s more eager and demanding than the one in the club, Jimin sucking on your tongue and licking the rough of your mouth experimentally. 

Planting his hands on either side of your ass on the counter, Jimin trails kisses along your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and you become breathy. His mouth is noisy and wet against your skin, sucking at the tender flesh under your ear gently before biting lightly. The pinch of skin makes you moan, the sound lost in the lighting above the counter.

“So fucking pretty,” Jimin murmurs, continuing his assault with his mouth. His tongue is just as dangerous, licking over each bite he places as he drifts to your collarbone. “You want a line?”

You shake your head no. He presses closed-mouth kisses back up your neck until he’s straightened out to be eye-level. He brushes your nose with his. Sticks his tongue out and watches you expectantly. You tentatively stick yours out too, making a squeal when his tongue licks at yours.

“Weirdo,” you murmur, cheeks heated and shivering when he pulls away from you to pop open the Altoid tin. There’s a tiny plastic bag inside, sealing the white powder. “You like using tongue.”

Jimin hums in agreement as he stays between your legs, untwisting the bag. “I have a good tongue,” he says as he leans over, dumping a little onto the counter. You watch wordlessly. “I like to eat pussy too.” 

You nearly lay back on the counter and ascend to heaven right there. No one has been so open and bold with you when speaking about sexual acts. And the fact that he says it so casually as he looks around for something flat with an edge makes you dizzy. You produce the room key and he grins, kissing your nose once before he takes it and cuts the powder into two, thin white lines. 

“Do you need a bill too?” you joke. He shakes his head and pulls out a dollar bill that looks like it was once crisp but has been rolled over and over and over, making it look soft and pliant. “You don’t use hundreds?” 

“I’m a model,” he grunts. “Not a Kardashian.” 

That makes you laugh. 

Jimin’s fingers are practiced as he rolls the bill. You can’t help but stare at the rings that you did not notice before, each one placed on a delicate finger. He has nice hands, veins jumping as he places one hand on the counter to hold himself up as the other holds the rolled bill. 

Your knees squeeze his sides a bit as Jimin does the first line. It’s loud in the apartment with just the sound of his sharp inhaling, so you lean a bit to hit the iPod on the iHome dock, flicking through the touchscreen to find a song you like. 

You settle on a playlist Tiffany has loaded in called Party Jamz. She Wolf starts playing loudly, drowning out the sound of Jimin finishing his second line as you hit the volume button a few times to lower it. 

Straightening, you come face to face with Jimin as he wipes his nose a bit, taking a few sharp inhales. He runs his tongue along the edge of the room key before swiping his finger through the residue on the counter. There’s not much coke on the pad of his thumb, but he holds it to your mouth, watching.

Obediently, you open your mouth. He slides his thumb under your upper lip, rubbing gently on your gums. You taste how bitter the drug is, making a bit of a face that makes him giggle as he removes his finger from your mouth, sucking the thumb into his mouth briefly. 

“You want a glass of water?” 

You nod and he vanishes from in between your legs. He sings to himself as he grabs glasses and goes to the fridge, the ice machine loud above the music. You watch him with heavy eyes, your body feeling a little like liquid from all the tequila. 

He reappears, holding a glass of water to your lips. He tilts it carefully as he drinks his own, dark eyes watching you. You sip carefully, the water cool and refreshing as he continues to tip the glass. A bead of water runs down your chin and neck. 

Jimin is fast. He sets down both cups of water and surges forward, tongue chasing the bead of liquid as it runs down your throat. You lean backward, keeping yourself up with your palms planted on the cool counter as Jimin kisses and bites your neck. A moan escapes your mouth and absently, you’re glad you chose Jimin to go home with you.

You grab Jimin by his face, pulling kiss-bitten lips to yours and devouring him whole. He grunts in appreciation, mouth cooled by the water as his tongue dances with yours. His handles are not idle, rubbing up and down your jean-clad thighs, alternating between the gentle press of fingers and pointed drag of nails. 

Jimin’s kissing is like nothing else you’ve had before. He’s skilled, leading you between fast, hungry clashing of teeth and tongue and slow, languid movements. You’re dizzy with him, a buzz of electricity under your skin and heat pooling in your stomach long before his hands dip to your zipper, pulling the metal down. 

Eager hands slide to your hips where Jimin gathers the fabric. Your kiss breaks momentarily, a single line of spit connecting you for a second before you lift your ass off the counter, letting Jimin pull harshly at your pants. The fabric slides, making him cuss out loud when he realizes you’re not wearing underwear. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, tossing your jeans and pressing your thighs open. You shiver as the cold air hits your pussy. Jimin’s eyes are hungry as he drags a thumb up the center of your glossy folds, a high-pitched sound leaving you. “Spoiled brat wearing no underwear? You’re just dying to have this pussy fucked, huh?”

“Please.”

“Hmm.” Jimin presses his thumb into your clit. Your eyes roll back in your head. The pressure sends a shiver through you, sparking every nerve in your body as he barely wiggles his thumb back and forth. “Shit you’re so sensitive. Gonna scream while I eat you out?”

“Maybe.”

His thumb slides lower, teasing your clenching hole. You open your eyes, head heavy as you look at him. He’s slid down to his knees, looking up at you through long lashes with a smirk on his face. Your shirt is still on, but you don’t even care. Jimin’s hot breath is on your inner thighs as he bites your flesh softly, making your legs try to close.

“Don’t suffocate me,” he chastises you. “Wanna fuckin’ taste though.”

Everything turns to white noise as Jimin leans forward, running his long tongue from your dripping hole to your throbbing clit. You seize forward, gasping for air and clenching your fists as he pins your legs harder. Your muscles strain, the stretch a little painful but the good kind paired with the way he licks you slowly. 

Your blood turns into melted metal. You go boneless, laying back on the counter, knocking over cups, sending them scattering. You knock into the iHome, the iPod coming disconnected and cutting off the music. It doesn’t matter. Now you can hear the way Jimin sucks at your clit, making you moan loudly. 

From the moment you saw his tongue, you wondered what it would be like. You pictured nothing like this. Jimin eats you out slowly, tongue curious yet lazy as he circles your clit in a steady rhythm before sucking your bud into his mouth and squeezing with his lips lightly.

“Fuck, Jimin,” you whisper, voice hoarse from disuse. One of your hands falls across your eyes, blocking the light from the ceiling as Jimin splays you open for his mouth to explore. You’re panting, the other hand threading through his hair, gel making it easier to grab onto. “Feels so fucking good.”

And it does. 

“Tastes so sweet,” he mumbles, pulling away with a lewd, loud suck on your clit. “Your pretty little hole is just fucking dripping. Gonna fuck you open with my fingers to get you nice and stretched for me.”

You can’t come up with a verbal response. Something like a whine and hum of agreement slips out. Your hips twitch as his mouth turns firmer, tongue flicking over your clit quickly followed by his lips sucking at your wet hole.

There has never been a time someone enjoyed themselves so much while paying attention to your pleasure. Jimin is skilled and focused on bringing his fingers into the action. You feel him slowly trace the rim of your entrance with his fingers, applying just enough pressure to make you curse and squirm but not enough to slide in. 

It fucking aches. Your fingers tighten in his hair, begging him to make you feel fuller. Jimin chuckles, the vibrations going straight through you, your muscles spasming. 

Slowly, Jimin adds a single finger, the slide relieving some of the tension directly in your pussy. You let out a soft breath, sagging on the counter as he matches the gentle in-and-out of his finger with the steady licking of his tongue on your clit. 

The tight feeling of your orgasm is winding like a spring in your stomach. You can feel it, the pressure building and so compact that you struggle to breathe, finding yourself gasping for air when Jimin adds another finger to the mix. He applies pressure right against your front wall, pressing that spot that has you seeing stars.

You might be babbling now. You don’t know what comes out of your mouth. Stars are dancing behind your eyes and you struggle to remember not to hold your breath, to try and regulate your breathing as he increases speed. He’s messy now, sucking and licking and rubbing his nose against your clit. Jimin uses his entire face to get you off and you’re spiraling. 

It all happens at once. A deep breath in. Held tight in your chest, muscles seizing and your body going rigid. Jimin’s fingers push against your g-spot hard as he sucks your clit into his mouth and you scream.

Your orgasm snaps in half, everything going loose at once. You feel yourself clench around his fingers, so tight that Jimin pauses his movements, tongue licking at your sensitive pussy gently as you shake. Your hands cover your face now, breathing rapidly into your palms as the room fills with white noise. 

After a moment, your muscles start to relax. Jimin gives an experimental thrust with his fingers and you whine, making him laugh. 

“God, you came so fucking hard,” he growls from between your legs. He gently pulls his fingers from you, making you protest and drop your hands from your face. You open your eyes as the room spins, lifting your head to look where Jimin now stands between your legs. He sucks his fingers into his mouth, smirking around them. “Mmm. You’re a creamer. I like that.” 

You have no response for him. He doesn’t need one. Jimin lifts you from the counter and for a moment, the world tilts dangerously on its axis and you think you might vomit. The spinning is short-lived as he carries you to the bedroom, tossing you on the bed hard enough to make you bounce. 

“Jesus Christ, Jimin,” you mumble, righting yourself in the sheets. He laughs, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it. Your eyes zero in on his body and your mind goes blank. “Jesus Christ, Jimin.”

“Jesus had nothing to do with this.” He smacks his abs with a hand. “This is creatine, determination, and seven days a week at the gym, baby.”

Jimin flexes his stomach. His chest and abs are toned and well-defined. The low lighting of the bar had done him an injustice that is rectified in the lamp light of the bedroom. There’s a black tattoo on his ribcage that you can’t read, but think looks really good on him anyway. 

Jeans slung low on his hips, Jimin shuffles over to the bed. You can see his dick straining against his pants. When he leans over to catch your lips with his, your hand immediately goes to his crotch, gripping gently through the material. He moans into your mouth, the kiss full of spit and your essence. 

From the way your hand presses against his straining cock, you can tell Jimin is big. With nervous hands, you pull at his zipper. He pulls away for a moment, leaving you frowning and confused.

“How do you get this fucking shirt off,” he mumbles, sliding a finger under the strap going across your stomach. “It’s confusing.”

“Like a normal shirt,” you giggle. 

“Like a normal shirt,” he mimes in a high-pitched voice. “Off. Wanna see those fucking tits.” 

Leaning forward, you help Jimin pull your shirt off, followed by the pink bra with a little bow in the middle. He doesn’t seem to have an appreciation for lingerie, immediately pushing you down by your sternum once you’re fully naked so he can lavish your chest with his mouth. 

Jimin’s mouth is always hungry. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, making you gasp and forget that you had been trying to get his pants off. You go limp as his tongue flicks over your pert bud experimentally, his other hand tweaking the opposite peak. Both bring out a response, eliciting a grin from him.

Remembering that Jimin is still in jeans, your hands surge forward, pulling at the zipper. You can see Calvin Klein briefs peaking just out the top of his jeans. With the zipper undone, there’s enough room for you to slide your hand in and grip Jimin’s cock firmly over the fabric of his briefs. 

“Shit,” he moans, head resting in the valley of your breasts. “Come on, take my cock out. Wanna stuff that mouth of yours full.” 

You don’t hesitate. You help Jimin out of his jeans, momentarily distracted by his powerful thighs and the way they flex as he bends to pull his briefs down. Your mouth goes dry as his heavy cock bobs against his navel when he’s free of his briefs. 

Jimin might be a lithe model, but his cock is anything but. 

Smooth, heavy, flushed-brown tip, and thick. Your hand goes for it as he crawls up the bed, straddling your waist and looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. Your hand wraps around the velvet shaft, making him twitch a bit. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, watching you give an experimental stroke. 

Jimin moans. It’s such a pretty sound. You shift under him to give yourself a better angle. Your hand drifts upward, collecting the pearly precum gathered at his tip. You spread it on his shaft on the downstroke, watching as Jimin’s eyes close, head falling back. 

You gather spit in your mouth, letting go of his cock briefly. He looks down as if to chastise you, but before his comment can escape, you spit into your palm and bring it back up to his cock, giving a smooth stroke, grip firmer and more precise as you twist at the head.

“God,” he moans as you watch his muscles spasm in his abs. “Don’t just jerk me off like a middle schooler, put me in your mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying. Just suck me off a bit first.”

You huff at his impatience. 

Sliding further down the bed, Jimin meets you halfway, lowering a bit so that you can pull the tip of his cock into your mouth for an experimental suck. He curses and you grin, the saltiness on your tongue spurring you to take him in a little further.

It’s a vulnerable angle. Jimin can control the pace and fuck down into your mouth if he wants. Instead, he’s patient as you let the spit collect in your mouth, lifting your head to take a little more in your mouth each time.

Your tongue runs along the bottom of his shaft, providing a smooth glide as Jimin helps you out, sinking into your mouth a little more each time. He’s cursing and moaning above you, lost in the way you hollow your cheeks to provide better suction. You’re fascinated by the way his long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and you realize he has a few freckles that are… endearing. 

It’s a weird thing to notice, so you suck harder, trying to focus on the task at hand. 

Jimin grows more needy, fucking into your mouth so that he’s controlling the pace. You adjust, letting your jaw go slack to accommodate the stretch - and it’s a difficult stretch - making sure to guard your teeth and to let your drool help the glide.

“Your mouth takes my cock so well,” he hums. “How about that throat? Can I fuck that too?”

You nod, which is difficult with a mouth full of Jimin’s precum and cock. He grits his teeth, grabbing the bottom of your jaw gently to adjust the angle and start fucking into your mouth in earnest. 

Breathing is difficult - you remind yourself to try and breathe through your nose, letting out little sounds of euphoria around him that rile him up. You can feel your essence dripping down your thighs, turned on by the way Jimin growls every time the tip kisses the back of your throat. 

Once or twice your throat seizes up around him. He’s careful to pull out and let you breathe for a moment, spit and a little cum leaking down the sides of your mouth and down your chin, tears pooling in your eyes.

With one hand, Jimin slides the glossy tip of his cock through the mess on your chin before tracing your lips a few times, smearing the mess over your swollen mouth. 

“Lipstick,” he murmurs, nearly ruining the moment.

Before you can reply, Jimin slides his cock back into the heat of your mouth, sighing in relief as he starts to thrust in earnest again.

Just as the crown of his cock starts to brush the deeper part of your throat, Jimin pulls out, cursing. “Need to fuck this messy pussy of yours or I’ll bust,” he growls. “Turn over for me. Let me see that pretty ass.” 

Crawling from underneath him, you do as he says, too eager to care that he’s bossing you around. Your limbs are trembling as you prop yourself up on your knees, ass in the air and chest and head pressed to the bed. You look at him sideways, cheek on the mattress as he settles behind you, hands kneading the fat of your ass, giving you experimental squeezes.

It feels nice, the way his hands soothe your muscles and skate over soft flesh. He gives you an experimental slap and you squeal, making him grin. 

“Gunna rearrange your fucking guts,” he murmurs, grabbing the base of his cock. 

“Wait - condom?”

He gives you a look. “What? Are we in middle school? I’m not fucking you with a condom, I won’t feel shit.”

“What? How do I know if you’re clean?” 

“Um, does it look like I have something?”

“You can’t always tell.”

“Well, I don’t have a condom.”

You pause, glaring at him. Neither one of you moves. “Okay, well then pull out.”

He scoffs. “Obviously I’m going to cum in your mouth like a gentleman.” 

You roll your eyes. Even though he is wildly attractive and can pull an orgasm out of you with oral, Jimin is still a fucking ass. But he’s an ass who is good at what he does, so you shut up. 

Not that you can speak as he runs his cockhead through your wet folds. You moan, hearing how wet you are for him. He pushes the tip of his cock in slightly, just enough to make your hole flutter around him. You gasp, fists twisting in sheets as he sits there, letting you clench and unclench around him.

“Jimin,” you moan. 

“Ask nicely,” he teases. “Or you’re just gonna get the tip of my cock. I can feel your pussy fucking begging for it. Now you need to ask.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

“Yeah? Want me to split you open?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to fuck that cervix until you’re screaming?” You pause. He pauses. “Okay that wasn’t very hot, was it?”

“Not really-”

Jimin cuts you off, thrusting in hard on a single upstroke. You gasp, mind going blank and forgetting about his terrible fumble at dirty talk as his cock does hit something inside of you that sends you into a torrent of heat and trembling limbs.

He sets a fast pace, not letting you adjust to his girth. Jimin’s hips piston perfectly against yours, your ass snapping back into his hips with each thrust. You can barely breathe, panting into the sheets as you bounce backward, sharing the effort to meet him for each powerful stroke.

It feels amazing.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the way his cock fills up every part of you, the slide smooth and velvet against your walls, the tip brushing gently against your g-spot every time he thrusts in. 

Your stomach feels like it's flipping over and over again, each one of Jimin’s thrusts so deep you swear you feel it in your chest. Your thoughts start to slip away, your front half sinking further into the mattress as Jimin’s fingers dig into the meat of your ass.

“Fuck,” he pants. “This pussy is so fucking tight. You're just fucking taking it and this ass-” he slaps your flesh sharply, making you squeal. “You hear that? Fucking getting clapped.” 

You don’t have it in you to be annoyed at him. And he has a point - the slap of hips against ass, balls against pussy is loud. 

The same feeling coils in your stomach again. You squeeze your eyes shut, barely able to breathe around the pleasure and the feeling of Jimin fucking you so full. It winds and winds and winds, and as it’s about to snap, you hold your breath.

Jimin gives a hard thrust followed by another, and you cum with a scream. You go from frozen, clenched muscles to boneless limbs in a moment. Jimin presses his hands into the small of your back, pushing you so far into the mattress that you can barely breathe as you bear his full weight.

With a few disjointed thrusts, Jimin cums, grunting and digging nails into your back.

For a few moments, neither of you moves. You can barely remember where you are, much less ask Jimin to pull his weight off of you to give you air. He’s still pressed into you, the heavy weight of him sinking you further into sweat-soaked sheets.

Jimin relents. He slowly pulls his cock out of you and you feel the mess slicking between your legs. It’s sticky and wet, more than you have ever felt before. He falls unceremoniously to the side, nearly wheezing for air.

The room is filled with heavy breaths and the smell of sweat and sex. Strands of hair and sheets stick to your skin. You shuffle, trying to roll over a bit to look at him. Your limbs are sore and stretched from the press of his hands and the force of his hips spreading yours, but it’s a good sore. 

Jimin is flushed, sweaty, and half-asleep. His hand is on his stomach, sticky with cum. 

“OH MY GOD YOU DIDN’T PULL OUT!” You scream, sitting up with sheets stuck to your back and hair all over. “YOU ASSHOLE!”

“Please stop screaming,” he groans, covering his face. “I’ll buy you Plan B in the morning.”

“You’re the fucking worst!”

“Well,” he sighs. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll fuck you again to make you feel better.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, heart racing. You stare at Jimin for a moment. Two moments. You drop your arms and lay back on the bed. “Yeah,” you huff. “Fine, whatever.”

Who were you to turn down another round like that? Your ex and his Escalade are long forgotten now.

#jimin x reader #park jimin fanfic #jimin smut #park jimin smut #jimin x you #jimin bts #park jimin bts #jejushore #bts collab