WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | Spencer Reid X Sunshine!Reader

Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

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WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited. 

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you. 

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love. 

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically. 

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders. 

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope. 

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact. 

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs. 

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm. 

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind. 

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane. 

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk. 

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started. 

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk. 

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair. 

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it. 

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen. 

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face. 

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.” 

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.” 

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.” 

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked. 

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.” 

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive. 

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.” 

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships. 

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.” 

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.” 

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought. 

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him. 

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings. 

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name. 

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him. 

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to. 

~

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home. 

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.  

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night. 

“Hey,” you greeted. 

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door. 

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath. 

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“Huh?” 

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly. 

“Oh.” 

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips. 

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled. 

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was. 

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms. 

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head. 

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need. 

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache. 

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered. 

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck. 

“Do you wanna lie down?” 

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute 

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.” 

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend. 

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile. 

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him. 

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …” 

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers. 

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had. 

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg. 

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm. 

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did. 

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms. 

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice. 

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you. 

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured. 

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold. 

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?” 

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.” 

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response. 

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze. 

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.  

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.” 

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank. 

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch. 

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.” 

“Yes you were.” 

“Y/N please,” he begged. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.” 

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it. 

“I was freaking out,” he blurted. 

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now. 

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable” 

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good. 

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?” 

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment. 

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

 Here we go. Flood gates. 

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ” 

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper. 

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence. 

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach. 

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss. 

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him. 

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears. 

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.” 

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased. 

“That too,” he chuckles. 

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes. 

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,” 

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added. 

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh. 

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours. 

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Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

not his girlfriend

you’re not his girlfriend, but …

You're not his girlfriend, but you're the first person to listen to his ramblings. The first time he realizes, he notices he's been talking for too long without taking a breath, and you're still paying attention to what he's saying. Microbiology. You know nothing about the subject, asking him to clarify stuff while he talks. He's surprised because everyone always stops him.

You're not his girlfriend, but he knows your coffee orders. They're all disgustingly sweet, as the teams point out, but he knows what to get depending on the day. No matter how urgent the briefing is, he goes out of his way to stop at your favorite coffee shop. Every day, you're greeted with a fresh cup of coffee and a smile.

You're not his girlfriend, but he comforts you after emotionally hard cases. You often find yourself in his arms after wrapping up the cases, resting your head against his chest, allowing him to stroke your hair. He'll spend the flight next to you, his pinky resting on your arm as a way to ground you without the rest of the team exchanging glances.

You're not his girlfriend, but you don't leave his side when he gets shot on the field. You hold his hand as the paramedics carry him in the ambulance, and you only let go when they take him into surgery. He wakes with you by his side, his fingers immediately intertwining with yours before he's even fully awake. You smile and tell him he's an idiot for taking that bullet for you. He replies back with a smile and a, "Better for me to be injured than you."

You're not his girlfriend, but he makes sure you're paired up on cases. He goes to shooting practices to prove to Hotch he can be on the field with you, to prove that he can protect you. He does the stuff you don't want to, mostly readings you don't want to spend hours on or bagging up a used condom from the toilet.

You're not his girlfriend, but you go to every nerdy event with him. Whether it's a Spock convention or some nature documentary showing, you're there by his side. No longer does he find the seats next to him empty. Instead, when he looks over, he sees you and smiles, because now he's not alone.

You're not his girlfriend, but his mom thinks you are. When you spend a few days in Las Vegas for a case, you visit his mom with him, meeting her for the first time. She greets you, smiling coyly at her son, asking you if you like dating her son. He spends the next few minutes trying to convince her you're just friends. And the rest of the month trying to convince himself.

You're not his girlfriend, but he kills the man holding you hostage. He's the first to notice you gone, and he's the first to burst through the door, gun out. He doesn't bother talking to the unsub, doesn't bother descaling the situation, doesn't bother to wait for the rest of the team to enter before delivering a bullet through the man's head. He doesn't bother stepping over the body before he unties you and takes you in his arms.

You're not his girlfriend, but he covers you with a blanket when you fall asleep. He turns the TV off, placing a pillow under your head softly, making sure you don't wake up with a sore neck. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, longing in his eyes as he watches you breathe.

You're not his girlfriend, but he wishes you were.

[ sakusa kiyoomi ]

considering your boyfriend made it pretty clear on several occasions that he hated valentines, you weren’t surprised he made no move to even contact you during the day. you were slightly disappointed due to the fact that you loved the day, sure, but it wasn’t fair to place your disappointment on him when you knew what you were getting yourself into due to the years of friendship before dating, so you didn’t dwell much on it.

you had asked previously if you two would meet tonight and when he mumbled a response about how he would probably be practicing late, you took over your co-workers shift to save yourself the boredom of being home alone while consecutively giving her a chance to see her partner, earning multiple ‘thank you!’s and a promise that she will take your shift whenever as she rushed out, prompting you to smile.

you loved valentines.

you didn’t have a solid reason on why you did, but you didn’t need one. you loved being surrounded with red heart balloons and roses wherever you walked and you loved the glee on people’s faces as they celebrated the day with their beloveds. it made you feel warm every time despite your plans or status and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched a boy blush furiously as his girlfriend handed him flowers, giggling quietly with a love-dazed face.

the obnoxious bell ringing against the glass door made you turn to the costumers walking in, your smile widening just slightly as you saw osamu and atsumu bickering as they approached the counter until their eyes landed on you and widened just the slightest, atsumu gasping. “yer working today?!”

“yeah,” you mused, placing your chin on your palm. “you’re both spending valentines together?”

they both shot you a glare that only caused your grin to widen, placing their usual orders down on the system either way. osamu grunted. “he finished his date early and went over to have a mental breakdown at my restaurant.”

atsumu gaped at him for a few seconds in pure betrayal as you let out a quiet snicker before he shot his twin a harsh glare. “at least i had plans!”

osamu gave him a glare back. “they are out of town, you little—“

“please don’t scare my costumers away,” you retorted, cutting them off. they both huffed, avoiding eye contact before their eyes landed back on you and atsumu raised an eyebrow.

“what about ya? plans ended early?”

“there were no plans,” you shrugged casually, adding extra syrup into osamu’s drink while catching the discreet way his eyes lightened up at the action. “kiyoomi hates valentines.”

atsumu frowned. “but ya love valentines!”

you hummed, sliding osamu’s drink over. “so? i don’t have to spend it with him against his will to be happy.”

osamu stared at you with furrowed eyebrows and a frown that matched his twin’s. “yer too nice. so, where is he today?”

you shrugged. “told me he was practicing.”

they both shared a look before looking at you and speaking in sync. “when do you get off? we’re taking you out.”

you smiled as you slid atsumu’s drink over, stating that the drinks were on the house when they attempted to pay before telling them that you only had a few minutes left. as you finished the last bit of your shift, you could hear them checking with their partners that it was okay and you couldn’t help but silently melt at how cute their relationships were as you waited for the last costumer to leave and closed up, shrugging your jacket off before calling out for them.

the rest of the day was nice. the three of you bought over-priced cupcakes and ate them in a dark playground, half the time spent with you laughing in amusement while they argued while the other half was spent with the three of you gossiping about drama suna had shared. they even bought you a red heart-shaped balloon and you almost teared up as you gleefully accepted it, thanking them frantically as they walked you to the door of your apartment building.

“can i do something before ya leave?” atsumu grinned mischievously and you snorted as you nodded, interested to see what his plan was. he simply got out his phone, making you stand between the twins before he snapped a selfie of the three of you, making sure to capture osamu’s small smirk, the balloon and his poked-out tongue before he beamed. “sent!”

you raised an amused eyebrows as osamu snickered. “you sent that to kiyoomi?”

“yeah, told him we stole ya.”

you laughed as you bid them your goodbyes and made your way up to your joined apartment, humming your favorite song under your breath softly. you assumed your boyfriend was still practicing, so you were pleasantly surprised when you unlocked the door and the lights were all on, your boyfriend’s shoes in their usual spot.

“kiyoomi, i’m home!” you called out after a sleepy yawn, expecting to get a simple ‘in our room!’ or anything back. instead, your boyfriend walked out of the hallway with furrowed eyebrows and a frown.

“you were with the miyas?”

“hm? yeah.” you hummed, placing your stuff down on the coffee table, too sleepy to notice the way he was practically sulking. “they came before my shift ended and decided to take me out. when did you arrive?”

he huffed as he dragged himself over, strong arms pulling you into a tight hug as he buried his face into your neck. you smiled softly, your hands moving to lock into his hair as you hugged him even tighter. he hummed softly. “i missed you, how was your day?”

“it was nice,” you murmured quietly, enjoying the warmth he provided. “i love valentine’s day.”

he froze. you obliviously continued.

“the café was super busy, but it was nice seeing everyone on dates, you know? there were a lot of roses as well and it’s just so heartwarmin—“

he pulled away quickly, eyebrows furrowed deeply. “you… you love valentines?”

“hm?” you blinked. “yeah? it’s my favorite holiday.”

“you love valentines?”

you let out a small laugh at how cute he looked when he was confused. “of course i do. everyone knows i do, kiyoomi, how did you never notice?”

he tugged his hands into his hair. “how did i not notice— why didn’t you tell me you loved valentines?”

you shrugged calmly, not seeing the issue, and your nonchalance only seemed to make him even more distressed. “you hate valentines so i didn’t see why i should mention it, you know? i didn’t want you to force yourself to plan anything or do anything for me.”

he stared at you for a few seconds before he fell back on the couch, burying his face into his hands and mumbling muffled words before he let his hands fall down and frowned. “you’re an awful human being.”

you were too amused to take offense as you shrugged a few of the thick layers you wore off. “why am i an awful human being, my love?”

“how can you not tell me you love valentines? i would have taken a day off and i would bought you those stupid overpriced flowers and those overpriced chocolates you would hate and we could have spent the entire day together and—“

“you don’t like valentines.”

“yeah, but i love you.” he huffed. “i love you and i want to make you happy.”

“i’m always happy with you,” you assured, slightly entertained. “i promise. why do you seem more upset about us not spending this together than me?”

“because i was under the impression that you also hate valentines,” he muttered as exhaustion finally seemed to take over, his drooped shoulders and pout causing the almost 6’3 professional athlete to seem like a child. you took the seat beside him and he immediately laid his head down on your lap, huffing. “i didn’t know you liked it. i would have planned the best day if i knew you did, i promise.”

“you keep missing the point, my love.”

“what’s the point of anything if i ruined our first valentines together?”

“you’re such a drama queen,” you snorted softly, running your hands through his soft hair as he blinked sleepily. “the point is that i don’t need to celebrate valentines with you to be happy, kiyoomi, and you not buying ‘overpriced flowers’ won’t make me love you any less. i knew what i was getting myself into when i started dating you, i don’t want you to change and i genuinely don’t mind.”

his cheeks flushed, but he still sulked. “whatever, i’m taking you out next year.”

“or… we can stay in and order takeout? how’s that?”

“i’ll buy a stupid bouquet too.”

you grinned at his sleepily grumbles. “you can buy me a stupid bouquet then. you can even buy me stupid chocolates too, how’s that?”

“i will,” he mumbled determinedly, eyes finally shutting. “i love you so much, i’m sorry.”

“i love you and you have nothing to be sorry about, my love.” you promised, leaning to kiss his forehead. you only got a soft snore in response, your grin widening.

you truely couldn’t wish for a better valentines.

—

pouty sakusa supremacy :p anw valentine ended 22 minutes ago for me but yolo ! hope you enjoy this one :)

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

I told myself my first Twisted Wonderland post wouldn’t be memes-

New Fandom who dis >:3 SDFSDFASFSDFSDFASSDFSDF

Leona is from this Meme from this Music video  (also I just, used the in game drawing of the castle… i did not draw the background there xD) Rook is confused and maybe somewhat impressed… and also jotting down several notes.

Shout out to my friend for pointing out that Crowley looked like an abyss mage xD

– -No Romance Included-

–

no he has a point💀🚶‍♀️

Cater: so if ‘k’ is short for ‘ok’ and sometimes you call your grandpa ‘pop,’ then ‘k-pop’ equals ‘ok boomer’.

Everyone in NRC: *crying* please stop it’s 3 am

PLS THE "THIS CHILD ON TIKTOK" PART

*.⋆ʚ HOW HE TELLS YOU HE LOVES YOU…KINDA!

with: kōtarō BOKUTO, tetsurō KUROO, rintarō SUNA, kei TSUKISHIMA, atsumu MIYA, kenma KOZUME

warnings: none !

isabelle says: some are cute & some are dumb ahh! and thank you sm for the love on the notes work ily all → haikyū masterlist <3

BOKUTO !

*.⋆ʚ ‘y/n… YOU MAKE MY HEART GO WEE WOO’

*.⋆ʚ he’s flustered ok! he was psyching himself up to say something, that was just the first thing to pop into his head :(

*.⋆ʚ gosh i’m so soft for bo PLS

*.⋆ʚ also kuroo probably saw the whole thing and won’t let it go for literal months ‘wEe WoO pfft’

KUROO !

*.⋆ʚ ‘n 3^07 !’

*.⋆ʚ he was helping you study math and you looked so cute concentrating so he decided he was just going to go for it

*.⋆ʚ so when he passed you the slip of paper asking for help on this ‘difficult equation’ you were like •.• sir this was NOT taught in class, you were so confused

*.⋆ʚ ‘turn it upside down and then read it idiot’

OIKAWA !

*.⋆ʚ ‘oh are you the girl uncle tōru is in love with?’

*.⋆ʚ this boy constantly rants to takeru about everything, from how ‘tobio-chan and that chibi-chan have nothing on me and iwa!’ to ‘y/n looked so cute today’

*.⋆ʚ something i love about oikawa is his undeniable passion so being the subject of that fire, sparkles in his eyes and all, makes my heart flutter idc

*.⋆ʚ his poor nephew just had enough though and exposed him so he could go back to playing with his own friends instead of listening to his eighteen year old uncle’s love life

SUNA !

*.⋆ʚ ‘this child on tiktok is trying to tell me we aren’t compatible because of our star signs, the stars are obviously blind to perfection’

*.⋆ʚ even though he mostly acts unbothered or indifferent towards things i feel like the tiniest details make him so happy

*.⋆ʚ just the little fact that the stars agree you’re perfect together would make his heart skip beats

*.⋆ʚ also side note! just imagine rin hanging out with the twins and one asks why he’s smiling at his phone and he says ‘nothing’ but he’s still smiling and it’s all because of you ugh <33

TSUKISHIMA !

*.⋆ʚ ok just LISTEN

*.⋆ʚ i know this boy is always portrayed as a massive kuudere but just picture being up really late with him on call and he’s superrr sleepy and as you’re both falling asleep he says to you:

*.⋆ʚ ‘we’re like the sun and moon, i’m just waiting for our eclipse’

*.⋆ʚ sTOP i have butterflies

ATSUMU !

*.⋆ʚ just printed out a whole stack of heart reaction memes and gave them to you :,)

*.⋆ʚ like didn’t even do anything special, just smacked forty pages of memes onto your desk one morning with the biggest smile ever

*.⋆ʚ he would of sent them by text but he wanted a live reaction to each one

*.⋆ʚ suna is !!always!! making memes of him and his brother so he begged him to make one for you, it didn’t come cheap but the last picture of the stack is indeed him surrounded by hearts

KENMA !

*.⋆ʚ ok let’s set the scene: you’re at his house and it’s almost three in the morning, both of you laying in front of the tv with your shoulders brushing when he suddenly stops playing. but he doesn’t turn to you when he whispers

*.⋆ʚ ‘you know how i told you a while ago that i used video games to escape reality sometimes?’

*.⋆ʚ ‘yeah, ken?’

*.⋆ʚ ‘i don’t think i want to escape it anymore if it means i’ll be with you’

MWAH! ଘ(ᵕ◡ᵕ) - (requests are open!)

“Don’t worry, everything is alright”

I CANT PUT THE OTHER IMAGES😭😭

Look at the reblogs to see the kalim, azul, deuce, and jade version<3

ໃ𑄺. GOOEY C☆CK 𝒻𝓉．𝓋ℯ𝓃ℴ𝓂 𝒸𝒶𝓁ℯ𝒷.

✧ tws : nsfw/smut, fem!reader, multiple of rounds, tentacles, implied dubcon, creampie, spanking, nipple play, monster fūcking, petnames (pipsqueak, baby, etc.), caleb calls himself gege once, spanking, cōckwarming, doggy style and body worship.

✧ synopsis : You always knew something was off about Caleb his eyes bright in the dark, his touch too hot to be normal. After a mission goes wrong and you’re stuck alone with him, the truth comes out. He’s not just Caleb.Something inside him is possessive and starving. You try to escape, but his tentacles wrap around your waist, holding you tight as he finally shows you what he really is. “Don’t be scared,” he says. “He just wants what I want…”

The air inside the ruin was too still. Too quiet. You should’ve known something was wrong the second the scanner shorted out, static hissing into your earpiece before dying completely. You and Caleb were separated from the others, but he didn’t seem worried—just stared ahead, purple eyes glinting in the dark, too calm for comfort.

“Caleb…?” you whispered, clutching your comm. “This place gives me the creeps…”

He didn’t answer right away. Just tilted his head, lips twitching in a way that wasn’t entirely his.

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re scared,” he murmured, voice lower, deeper than usual. Then he looked back at you, eyes narrowing, and for a split second, something moved under his skin. Black tendrils rippled up his neck before disappearing.

Your heart jumped. “C-Caleb—what the hell was that?!”

“...Told you not to follow me this deep,” he muttered. “Should’ve known you’d stick to me like a needy little pipsqueak.”

Your cheeks burned. “You’re hiding something. I’m not stupid.”

“No,” he chuckled darkly, stepping toward you. “But you are reckless.” Another step. “And now that you’re here, well…” His voice dropped an octave. “We don’t see a reason to let you go.”

Something lashed out—fast. Slick, inky black. A tentacle coiled around your wrist before you could scream.

“Caleb!” you gasped, stumbling back. “Let me go—what the fuck is that?!”

But Caleb was changing. His pupils stretched into slits, claws forming where fingers had been. More tentacles slid free from his back, writhing like they had a mind of their own. And still—still—he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the universe.

“Shh,” he said softly, reaching out. His clawed fingers tucked your hair behind your ear. “It’s still me, pipsqueak. Still your gege. But… I’m not alone anymore. And he’s just as obsessed with you as I am.”

A low, alien growl rippled from his chest—and then the other voice came.

“So soft… so tiny… we could break you…”

Your legs buckled.

Caleb caught you effortlessly. Smiling. Gentle. Possessive.

“Don’t worry,” he purred. “We won’t hurt you, baby. Not unless you beg us to.”

The tentacles didn’t pull hard. Just enough to guide you. To show you he could. Caleb’s breath warmed your ear as one slick appendage coiled around your waist, sliding beneath your jacket, tracing your bare skin with a teasing, wet touch.

“Such a pretty little pipsqueak,” he whispered, voice trembling between his own and the growl of something deeper—darker. “You don’t even know what you do to me…”

His clawed hands cupped your face gently. Reverently. The monster inside might’ve had a mouth, but Caleb had a heart, and both were laser-focused on you.

You should’ve been afraid.

Instead… you throbbed.

“C-Caleb,” you breathed, thighs clenching. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“Didn’t want to scare you,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “Didn’t think you could handle how badly I wanted to breed you.”

The words hit like a thunderclap. You whimpered, body trembling as another tentacle slid between your legs—pressing against your clothed heat, circling it slowly.

“So warm…” the parasite hissed. “Let us in.”

You didn’t even fight it.

Your clothes were shredded by claws and tendrils in seconds, left in tatters on the cold stone floor as Caleb laid you down gently, hungrily, like you were a gift he’d been starving for.

His mouth found your breasts first—hot and eager, tongue flicking across your nipples as his hand spanked your ass, hard enough to make you moan.

“Caleb!” you gasped, back arching. “F-fuck—!”

“That’s it,” he growled, licking a swollen bud before sucking it between his lips. “Say it again. Let me hear how needy my little pipsqueak is.”

“Caleb, please,” you whimpered. “Need you inside—need it so bad—”

You didn’t have to beg long. One thick tentacle curled around your ankle, spreading your legs wide as Caleb knelt between them. His cock—larger now, veined and flushed—throbbed, slick with dark fluid and twitching at the sight of your soaked cunt.

“You’re already dripping,” he rasped. “You want it raw, baby? Want me to stuff you full until it leaks out?”

“Y-Yes—yes, please—”

He didn’t just slide in—he invaded you. One long, slow thrust that left you breathless, stretched, filled to the brim as your eyes rolled back and your hips lifted to meet him.

“Fucking tight,” Caleb hissed, gripping your waist as his hips slammed into you, again and again. “This pussy was made for me.”

“Us,” the parasite snarled. “Breed her. Fill her. Use her.”

His thrusts grew savage—deep, precise, obsessed. Your slick echoed off the ruin’s walls, your cries sharp and sweet as your gege took you like an animal.

Spanking your ass with each slap of his hips.

Mouth on your nipples.

Tentacles everywhere—teasing, wrapping, stroking.

You came fast—shaking, screaming, clenching around his cock as he growled in your ear, praising you through clenched teeth.

“Good girl… fuck… such a perfect little pipsqueak. Let it milk me, baby, that’s it—”

He didn’t pull out. Didn’t even try.

Caleb came with a low roar, cock buried deep, thick cum flooding your womb as your legs trembled. One tentacle held you open, letting it drip out slowly, making you squirm as he leaned down to lick your lips.

“I’m not done,” he growled, eyes glowing. “I told you. We want more.”

Round two came before you could speak—Caleb flipping you onto your hands and knees, spanking you again, harder this time.

“You love doggy, don’t you?” he growled. “Letting gege fuck you like the little slut you are…”

You screamed when he pushed back in—so much deeper this way, stretching you wider, one hand fisted in your hair while the other worshipped your body, tracing your curves, massaging your sore, red ass.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered. “Used. Open. Mine.”

“All ours.”

Tentacles wrapped around your tits, squeezing, twisting your nipples while Caleb pounded into you from behind—slamming his hips against your ass until you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but cum again.

He didn’t stop.

Three times. Four. He kept going until your pussy was sloppy, filled with so much cum you could feel it dripping down your thighs. Until your legs gave out and you collapsed, shaking, drooling, dumb from pleasure.

And even then… he stayed inside.

Wrapped around you. Holding you. Kissing your shoulders while his cock stayed hard, still twitching.

“You’re gonna cockwarm gege now, pipsqueak,” he whispered sweetly. “Let me feel how warm you are while I take care of you. You were so good…”

You nodded weakly, face buried in your arms, body broken but blissed out.

“Y-your turn next time…” you slurred.

He chuckled darkly, hugging you tighter as another tentacle stroked your cheek lovingly.

“Oh, baby…”

“There is no next time. We’re just getting started.”

Your legs were shaking. Muscles limp. Your cunt still full and stuffed with your gege’s thick cock, twitching deep inside you like it had no intention of leaving.

But even as you whimpered, half-conscious from the last orgasm, Caleb’s hands never stopped moving.

They worshipped. Explored. One palm sliding down your belly, spreading the warmth of your overstretched womb, the other dragging along your thigh, where his cum had trickled down and painted your skin with messy, sticky lines.

“So full…” the parasite hissed approvingly. “Keep her like this. Breed her again. Let her feel us always.”

“Mm, you hear that, pipsqueak?” Caleb murmured, mouth brushing your ear as his hips rolled slowly. “You’re gonna be so stuffed you won’t know where I end and he begins.”

You whimpered, twitching as he slid out just an inch—then slammed back in.

“N-Ngh!—Caleb!”

“Oh, you’re still sensitive, huh?” he cooed mockingly, voice thick with hunger. “That’s too bad. I wanna see you cry this time.”

His hips started moving again—slow and deep, pressing right into the swollen spot that made your vision spark. Tentacles snaked around your thighs to spread you wider, one wrapping lazily around your throat, not choking—just reminding you who owned you now.

“You’re taking it so well,” he growled. “So dumb and full of cock. Just how I like you.”

Your mouth was hanging open, drool on your chin, breasts bouncing as his cock pounded into your soaked hole again—again—again—and his tentacles twisted your nipples, tugging, pulling, flicking them until you were crying from the stimulation.

“C-can’t—Caleb, I can’t—!”

“Yes you can,” he snarled. “You’re my good little cocksleeve, remember? You said so yourself.”

“She belongs to us now.”

“Breed her again. Break her. Mark her inside.”

He spanked you hard—twice—three times, watching your ass jiggle from the force before grabbing both cheeks and spreading them to watch his cock disappear inside you, glistening with your slick and cum.

You came again. Didn’t even realize you had until your body locked up and your vision went white, cunt spasming around him so tight he moaned through his teeth.

“F-fuck—fuck, baby, gonna cum again—”

He slammed in deep—one final thrust—and flooded you all over again. You felt it hot and thick, spurting into your womb as your whole body trembled, clenching down, milking every drop.

But he didn’t pull out.

Didn’t even slow down.

“Caleb—please—too much—” you sobbed, legs kicking weakly as he kept thrusting, slow and heavy.

“Shh,” he whispered, kissing your back. “You said you wanted it all, didn’t you?”

His tentacles wrapped around your waist and pulled you back into a new position—straddling his lap now, his cock still inside, his arms wrapped around you from behind while his mouth suckled on your bruised, sensitive nipples.

“Now you’re gonna ride me,” he growled. “Be a good girl. Bounce on gege’s cock like it’s the only thing keeping your brain from melting.”

Your body obeyed before your brain could even catch up—hips rolling, ass bouncing, cunt squelching with every desperate grind down onto him. You didn’t even care if it hurt anymore. You just needed to feel full.

Needed him.

Needed them.

“Good girl… just like that…”

“You were made for us.”

You were cumming again. Didn’t even say anything—just sobbed and clung to his arms, drool slipping down your chin as your pussy clamped down again.

And then he stopped moving.

Just held you there. Cockwarming you like a living plug, stroking your hair while your body twitched helplessly in his lap.

“You’re gonna fall asleep with my cock inside you tonight,” Caleb whispered against your neck. “And when you wake up…”

He bit down lightly on your skin—then licked the mark.

“…we’re gonna do it all over again.”

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