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satoruhour · 1 year ago

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Accidentally sending gojo a nude and before you can properly apologise he sends a video of his own which leads to..well🫣

BABY BLUE SWEETNESS

a/n: my clit grew hands and wrote this. combined this w/ a part 2 of being gojo’s roommate / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody my gojo fuckers

wc: 3.7k (I HAVE GOT TO STOP WRITING SM ....)

warnings: mutual pining, roommate!gojo, dom!gojo, he gets rough but only bc he loves ur pussy sssoooo much, sending nudes by accident to gojo, semi-public m! masturbation, filming (on gojo’s end), pet names, praise, slight f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, nipple play, bit of dialogue during sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (twice!), multiple rounds, implied m! oral, n*sfw under the cut

the next week goes by uneventfully.

but you think there’s hardly anything worth happening when you hadn’t even said anything about that: standing outside satoru’s room, hearing his pleasured moans along with the slickness of his hand on his cock and watching him at his most vulnerable with whispers of your name.

gojo did have a few moments of weakness — brief bouts of failing to meet your eyes, stuttering, but he was still predominantly himself after, throwing laundry on the floor and leaving the toilet paper roll unfilled. by date, he was the messiest roommate you’ve roomed with, compared to sleeping over at shoko’s and geto’s places before; sure it was obvious enough being friends with him since high school, though you hadn’t thought that the rowdy, outgoing way that he spoke would translate into his living space, too.

and despite being the one who has the upper hand that very day you decided to stop and watch, he still manages to have some sort of hold on you, catching you off-guard at the worst times.

“any luck with the mods?” gojo peeks over at your laptop over at the small dining table, your leg propped up and a scowl on your face at how you were still on the waitlist. while mr. perfect beside you has gotten every module he’s bidded for, a course on philosophy, romantic and 20th century music as well as an online mod about ethics.

“i don’t even know why you got that last one! funny how the most annoying person who has anything but morals is entering an ethics course.” maybe it was the fact that you’ve already waited one and a half weeks. perhaps it was that one piece of clothing gojo loved to leave on the floor, or simply it was just because of the man himself — you were on your wit’s end with the week.

that fades away when you’re turning your head and gojo is right there, hovering over your computer screen with a sly smirk on his face and his stupid bright, blue eyes that you could spend hours staring at.

“you wound me, baby,” gojo whispers, like it was a secret between the two of you and he pulls away, both hearts beating an unnatural speed at the proximity. gojo swears to himself he’ll never call you anything close to that or be that close because it’s absolutely not good for his heaving chest and hardening dick — those pretty plump lips of yours and the innocent look on your face — he wanted to both kiss it and fuck it.

and yet, on dormitory movie nights where you’re sat on both ends of the couch with geto and shoko between the two of you, satoru wills himself to patiently wait until the end of the first movie to stretch his limbs and get more snacks; he knows you’ll follow, too, because it’s been like that for as long as he can remember.

“you know you have to stop eating all that candy, right?” you’re saying it mindlessly, pouring more chips into a bowl and getting the hummus and guac, “it’s not healthy.”

gojo’s leaning on the counter and doesn’t help whatsoever, both elbows on the wood and head tipped back to meet your height.

“aw, is my cute roomie worried about me?” you almost want to ignore him with that little compliment, not sure if he even meant it, but you’re leaning into him this time with a little glance down to his lips that he thinks he imagined it.

“no, just wondering how embarrassed i’ll be when i have to tell the paramedics that when you finally collapse on the floor, it was because my dumb roommate had consumed too much sugar.” you like this little game you play with satoru, yet you’ve never been this bold; maybe it’s because you know he finds you hot, too, but the two of you are too stubborn to stand your ground and admit the obvious.

gojo’s feigned pout spreads into a grin and simply blows a raspberry at your explanation. there’s a crinkle of yet another sweet packet, disregarding your chastise from earlier. “smart little thing, hm?”

“i become the brightest when you’re involved,” you swipe the sweet from his fingers and pop it into your mouth, “i have to when i need to insult you.” the two of you spend the rest of the movie night hip to hip on the couch, ignoring the fire in your connected limbs and the spark of your fingers when they brush against each other.

it’s a few months before you’re fully embracing that you might not just find your roommate hot, but that maybe you’d want to “wife” him up as the other has expressed jokingly. it didn’t help that gojo is cleaning up a little more often these days, learning how to cook and using his inside voice like you told him to (you didn’t think he’d remember). the last straw was possibly seeing him fuss over you when you fell sick, switching to remote classes just so he could be close to you — his main excuse was that he didn’t want his laundry to be infected.

“but you don’t even like to use shirts half the time you’re home!”

“you’re calling this home—” gojo giggles while simultaneously shoving cough mixture down your throat, “i didn’t know we were married!”

“shut your trap before i really make you regret this.”

but gojo thinks that maybe it wasn’t so bad to come home to you in one of his future days, he just had to get through this first.

it was meant to be a simple photo to show off your new set of lingerie, the ones that you had gotten with your girls at a half-off price just the other day. you couldn’t blame yourself when your hands naturally reached for one that mirrored gojo’s eyes alongside the white details that represent his hair. buy it, take a potential nude and laugh about it in the group chat, that’s all. you felt so damn sexy in it that you even went as far as to take a few photos with your bra unclasped and phone in hand hiding your chest, until the very last one where it was fully off.

you felt unlike yourself, in that stuffy, small dorm while satoru was out in a lecture—

before gojo texts you about groceries and his chat moves to the very top that same moment you’ve got all these lewd, unnatural pictures of you waiting to be sent. it happened all too fast: at least 10 being delivered and read on the spot that your panic is indescribable and you want to melt into mush on the floor.

while you’re scrambling to delete them, gojo stares at your figure in that last racy picture, hands skilfully covering your breasts just enough that he could still see the curve of them and then down to your figure interrupted by a pretty pair of blue lace undies. it’s like you planned this, looking so delectable in your little get-up until it all disappears and you’re sending multiple messages of “i’m so sorry”’s and “it was an accident”’s.

gojo thanked the heavens he was sat at the very back of the lecture theatre, immediately booking it out of there with the images of you seared into his brain. his cock is throbbing and so, so hard it almost hurts to walk to the restroom, and you’re still continuing your apologies. he wants to scream at you — how you do not need to say sorry for whatever you’ve just sent, because as he removes his dick from his tight pants, there’s a soft sigh of your name that falls from his lips.

satoru is reminded of the times you’d be sat in your stupid booty shorts in the dorm, basically showing your folds because he just knew you didn’t like to use underwear underneath. he’s reminded of the times you had to (unwillingly) use one of his shirts when the washing machine had broken down and the only thing on his mind at the time was what you’d look like bouncing on him — he thinks that maybe he just needs to spit it the fuck out, and so he opens the video feature on your private chat.

“this is what you do t’me, baby,” gojo’s tip is already leaking so much pre-cum, making sure he can be seen, expression and all, “you make me so— s-shit— fucking hard.”

he didn’t even care if he could be heard, pumping his cock to the thought of you in that baby blue set of lingerie. he thinks of ripping it all off of you and buying you more just so he could do the same thing again and again, eyes scrunching up in bliss as his hand continues to move up and down his length. his hand isn’t even close to what he wants to feel — your tight pussy sucking him in — but he settles for it, squeezing his palm around his shaft and thumbs his tip.

“ya see this, angel?” gojo chokes out a moan when he sees another notification of ‘i really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable’ and it was the exact opposite for him in this bathroom stall, really hoping this video would drive his point home, “s’all for you, f— fuck.”

the video is incoherent from then on, because it’s all too much for him, the strokes of his warm hand, the images of your body, the sensitivity of his cock. lewd noises of him jerking off and his whines echo throughout the restroom, cumming with a slack mouth and babbles of your name on his lips.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk…” satoru can hardly care as his cum stains his shirt, leaving his cock in needy spurts that dribble down his hand as well, wishing he could see it against your skin instead of his own. the end of the video is messy and hasty that he doesn’t even think much as he sends it, but it’s not even halfway through the video before you’re sending a simple “please come back, now.” and his heart jumps in his chest.

gojo simply shoots a quick text to geto, asking him to help him pack his things because he will definitely not be returning.

you’re so glad you don’t have any more classes for the day, too, because all you can think about now is satoru and his cock, blessed again with the sight of him losing himself in pleasure except now, he knew. your hands aren’t hesitant in reaching down to your core, lingerie already soaked through as you watch the short two minute video over and over as you lazily play with your clit with your eyes trained on his hand. it’s so hypnotising you don’t realise gojo’s already home, standing at your room door with his bulge showing through his pants and sweat lining his brow.

“did you run here?” you sit up, hands covering your chest instinctively. he shakes his head and you remove them.

“you know the bus will take too long, baby.”

you ignore the flutter of your heart and pussy when you know he says the pet name with intent, now, not in a joking or teasing manner. you want to hear it more.

“was that really an accident?”

you’re kneeling on your bed now, and gojo just wants to shut you up and make you take back all your apologies.

“it was!” you counter, not minding how your roommate slips his hand around your waist and is just inches from you, “but…”

gojo never truly loses his personality even when he’s hot and bothered, “but what, princess?”

that’s new.

you grin at his chivalry even when you’ve got your chest all vulnerable like this: he’s trying to break you with his eyes, the one thing that led you to choose baby blue in the first place. you win when his eyes flit down to your tits.

“but you still ended up sending me a video of you jerking off — hardly any decorum, huh, satoru?”

gojo rolls his eyes, hands trailing up your body and coming to rest at your boobs, “yeah. but you love it.”

that’s all he says before he dips down and takes a nipple into his mouth, leaving your hands to tangle in his hair as your back arches to give him more space. he’s so hungry, swirling his tongue around your hardened bud as he kneads the other, eyes occasionally meeting yours from your chest.

“d’you like the vid?” his speech is muffled.

“like it? i loved it—” a soft moan leaves you, “didn’t know you were such a sub, though.”

gojo laughs into your skin and you’re obsessed with the feeling, challenging him when he reaches your eyes again with a glint in his eyes.

“oh, you’re in for it, baby.” gojo grins, capturing your lips and feeling so free now that everything’s out in the open. he’s finally able to feel your lips on his, so soft and slow, making him go crazy from such a simple gesture. gojo pushes you gently onto your bed, kissing down your exposed body before coming to your pelvis, playing with the hem of the underwear.

“gotta thank this little guy for solving our problems.”

“please do not call my lingerie ‘little guy’,” you giggle, letting him remove the garment and you preen at the praise he gives your pussy.

“s’wet… is this all for me?” gojo shamelessly inhales your essence, the sight of him between your legs enough to make anyone cum.

“yeah…” it’s a whisper when you say it, breathless and impatient yet loving the way he treats you. “i get wet only for you, ‘toru.”

gojo moans at that, eyes rolling back momentarily before his mouth descends on your pussy and you think you can hear a brief hymn of hallelujah. he savours your cunt slowly, licking lazy stripes up and down your pussy and your moans match them — soft, drawn out — hands playing seamlessly with his hair. gojo’s startling baby blues meet you for a second and he smiles softly before he places a kiss to your clit.

a twitch, and satoru fully shows his expertise in the next second, eating you out like he was a starved man and you were the last meal on earth. your roommate sucks on your clit, groaning into your core as he feels your thighs close in around his head and your heels dig into his back. he switches easily to your hole, driving his tongue into the leaking entrance and his nose starts to nudge at your nub.

“satoru— s-shit!” your moans increase in volume, hands pulling harshly at his locks. “feel s’good—”

“yeah?” he speaks into your cunt, slurping up your juices time and time again until his jaw aches. your pussy just tastes so sweet that it’s got him grinding into the bed, too, relieving his cock with desperation. “was made just to eat you out, sweetness.”

“doing so well— are you close?” it was difficult to hold on when satoru was talking to you like that and devouring you so good, thumb now playing with your folds while his tongue focuses primarily on your clit again. he flicks at it and his eyes look at you for your answer, merely nodding pathetically as his abuse on your cunt is relentless. gojo would love to memorise the way you clench around his thumb, but he’s too fixated on your whines before you cum with a cry of his name.

“o—oh fuck— ‘t-toru! oh my goddd…” his mouth never stops moving even when your thighs tremble around his head and your body convulses, clit throbbing in his mouth and your mewls reaching the highest heavens.

gojo grins into your cunt, making sure you watch him as he collects all your juices onto his tongue, giving your pussy one last satisfied lick before he sits up, making quick work of his pants and he shows you how to not have one ounce of decorum like you commented on earlier—

because as he pumps the cock you saw just minutes ago, you tongue darts out to lick your lips unknowingly. as he drags the tip along your folds, you’re spreading your legs wider for him. as he slaps his cock along your cunt, your hips are moving on their own accord to feel more of him.

“filthy girl,” gojo leans in to your face, “talkin’ bout me having decorum. you should see yourself.”

you laugh, bringing him in for a brief kiss. you liked that you still could banter in times like this.

“i’ll admit i never had it, so it would b-be—” gojo slips just the tip in and you’re cut off, a choked whimper leaving you, “hypocritical to criticise you.”

“ya think?” gojo wiggles his hips gently, sinking into you and the squeeze of your cunt around his cock is too perfect, too tight. his own whines leave him as he eases inch by inch into you before you’re confessing.

“y’know after seeing you jerk off that day— f-fuck, in your room,” you mumble, wrapping your legs around his middle that causes him to moan, “i wanted nothing more than to help you clean up, cum and all.”

gojo chuckles breathlessly, you two have been pining for months? but he recovers just as quickly, bottoming out with a loud sigh. he lets your hands travel over his face, holding it in your palms.

“y-yeah? why didn’t you?”

“wasn’t sure if you liked me—” a whine cuts through your words as he takes the first slam into you.

“i’ll make sure you know how much i like you, baby, ‘kay?” gojo manages to get out before his hips moves into you, no longer able to hold conversation with the way your cunt sucks him in. he’s determined now, to show you how someone like you had a hold on him so strong that he was willing to pick up dirty clothes and take time out of his day to collect groceries. it’s not long before your roommate is able to pick up a pace, loving the way you trap him with your legs as his hips piston in and out of you.

the room is so much more stuffy, now, filled with the scent of sweat and sex as his pelvis meets your ass in timed thrusts. it was so filthy, too, cum from your previous orgasm aiding him as lube and sticking to his pubes from how much you were dripping.

“y-yeah— fuck me like how you’ve been wanting to, ‘toru—” you mumble out softly, already drunk on his cock. you swear you can feel the veins and his cockhead twitch at that, the sounds of the other filling your ears.

“you take me so, so well, baby,” gojo praises, face buried in your neck as he gives you kisses there, mind blank except for how you’re so wet that your arousal is spurting everywhere each time he comes up to the hilt in you, “taking my cock and squeezing me s’good.”

little pants leave you at the affirmations, and like always, gojo is a fast learner, already knowing your sweet spots when a hand sneaks down to rub at your clit. the circles go in time with his thrusts, and before then, you’re jerking in his arms, nails scratching at his back as your pussy spasms on his cock. gojo groans into your skin, hips still ramming into you before the clench of your cunt prompts him to cum as well.

“right there— s-shit!” you’re moaning when you can feel his cum seeping into you, the exact thing you’re imagining feeling even better as he loads you up, but you don’t have time to react when gojo flips you over. a quick glance to his face tells you he’s intoxicated on your pussy, pressing down on your arch.

“can you handle— another load— baby?” it comes out in between his thrusts, the way he begs to cum in you again and you’re never one to deny when you’ve wanted this for the longest time. you let satoru use you, face buried in the sheets below you while his thrusts start to turn sloppy. he’s not giving one fuck that he’s cummed the fastest he’s ever done before and how he’s going to do it again, but it’s inevitable when he’s got your cunt wrapped around him.

“y— yes, satoru— want you to fill me up, p-please—” it all overloads him: the way his cock disappears into your hole, the residual cum from earlier sticking to your ass and his pelvis, that white ring of semen around the base of his dick, your desperate pleas and cries.

it only takes one stroke of his hand on your clit before you’re cumming so fast again together with him, fingers grasping at the sheets as your pussy flutters around his length and you get his second load in return. it’s so viscous and hot, spilling into your hole. it’s so much, body going limp against satoru’s messy thrusts as he continues to rut into you, stilling finally when he starts to cramp in his thighs.

“attagirl, that’s it, sweetness,” gojo gasps out from behind you, staying locked in you as his cock spurts out the last bits of his cum. he presses a small kiss to your shoulder, asking softly into your skin if you were okay.

“more than okay—” a small mewl is heard when gojo pulls out slowly, sighing to himself upon seeing the way your cunt push out his cum naturally. there’s so much of it, spilling onto the sheets, but before he can take it upon himself to plug two fingers into your entrance, you’re dragging him to lie properly on the bed—

“not done?” your roommate laughs, a hand playing with your neck and the hickeys he’s left there.

you shake your head, noting how satoru’s cock is still sensitive when your hand closes around it, and you finally can see gojo in all of his glory when your tongue kitten licks at his tip and a shiver travels through his body. his hooded eyes and the buck of his hips are all you need to continue.

“i haven’t told you how much i like you, ‘toru. should i show you now?”

somewhere on your dresser, there’s several messages from your girls, but you’re too preoccupied with satoru’s cock in your mouth to notice — ah, well, you’d update them later.

[6:23pm, operation get (y/n) a partner]: photo attached (4)

@(y/n) girl where is your pic !!!! show us that cute baby blue lingerie pleaseee!!

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sweetimpurity · 1 month ago

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 👻🎃 Happy October my sweets! Please enjoy and I'll see ya tomorrow for day 2!! 🎃👻. masterlist>>

cw: fingering 1.6k words. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“You did so well today…” Miguel says suddenly, his eyes on the holographic screen in front of him. Breaking the silence of his office except for the hum of machines and computers. You came to discuss a future mission and he’s finding the files in the computer database when he says it. Bringing you to look up at him. Lashes fluttering slightly and a warm satisfaction flooding your chest, smile gracing your lips. You worked hard as you do everyday and it’s good to know he notices. “Thank you…”

“Really, babe. You were the exact right person for that mission and because of you, it went perfectly.” When he says it this time, he looks into your eyes. A genuine, purposeful look in his eyes. You could swear he can see you literally melting. From the inside out. “I’m very proud of you…”

“Thanks, Mig…” You can’t help the smile, warmth flooding your cheeks, a strange feeling inside, like pure happiness and satisfaction. Cracking your knuckles behind your back, crossing one leg over the other where you stand.

…

“I love your hair like that.” His deep voice hums and you feel his fingers on your cheek, pushing some stray strands behind your ear. Turning around to face him and that familiar feeling comes back. “It’s so pretty… too pretty…” He grins as he’s walking past you. His dark eyes raking over you and watching that smile wash over your face. Your voice a meek gentle sound. “Thank you, baby…”

“Thank you, pretty girl…”

…

“Amor, you made these yourself?” He smiles across the desk. The fruit-filled empanadas you made in the middle. The dessert you spent so long learning how to make. Because you know they’re his favorite. The butter layered in between, the reduction of berries and sugar to make the jam, the delicate shapes they’re formed into. Made with love and care. “Yeah I did!” You smile brightly across the table. Beaming at him.

“I’m so impressed, baby, these look so good.” He says as if it’s no big deal. Like you aren’t squeezing your thighs together under the table. He’s been doing this a lot lately. Maybe you’re just now starting to notice. From the compliments on your outfits or how good you look in your spider suit. To the progress you make on missions, the food you make, anything you do. “Thank you Miguel…” It’s something you keep saying. Over the past few days especially. It’s like everything you do, he just loves it. And more than that, he’s letting you know.

…

“You can pick the movie, I always pick.” You toss him the remote across the sofa. A rare quiet night in after a string of busy society days. Flopping back against the cushions, your legs draped over his lap and his big warm hands running up your calves, to the underside of your knees. “I think you should pick…” He says.

“But I always pick.”

“Because you always pick the best ones. Every movie you pick… that’s the perfect movie.”

Your eyes narrow at the side of his face across the couch. And then he finally looks over at you. His brow rising. “What.”

“What is that? What are you doing?” You smile, giving him a skeptical look. To which he just shrugs. He wasn’t doing this last week. He was his same stubborn and quiet self last time you checked. So you pull your knees up, rolling up across the cushions and over to him. “That thing you keep doing…”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He says, sighing and fighting back a smile when you climb into his lap. Straddling his lap with his hands naturally coming to your hips. His deadpan face to face with your narrowed expression.

“You keep complimenting me and… like everything I do, you say it’s good and stuff.” You say, crossing your arms with a pout. The words feeling stupid coming out of your mouth. He’s your boyfriend, of course he’s supposed to compliment you on things you do. Is all of this just normal stuff? No one you dated in the past ever did this before. But why is it such a big deal?

“You’re just so perfect at everything baby…” He whispers. And it’s now you’re sure he’s doing this with some ulterior motive. “You and I both know that’s not true!” You disagree with a smile, pointing a finger right at his face. “There are lots of things I suck at!” And he just leans forward, pressing his lips to the tip of your finger. “Perfect fingers too…”

“Miguel, stop!” You pull your hand away, blushing so hard and trying to squeeze your knees together if not for the blockage of his body between them. It’s more confusing than anything. Crossing your arms again. “Perfect fingers, perfect hands, perfect body, perfect face… most perfect girl in the world…”

Your eyes widen as the whispers hush past his lips. Your heart is starting to pound. “What happened to you? What's going on?” You ask incredulously. It’s comical.

“There’s nothing wrong… you’re just perfection, baby…” And he just leans forward, closer. You lean back, not knowing why you feel this way. Did he hit his head too hard on the mission today? You’re not complaining but all this praise coming from your usually reserved and quiet man is shocking. His eyes trail up your body as he’s speaking. Scanning you up and down. “You like it when I talk like that, baby?” He whispers looking right in your eyes, grinning at the embarrassing blush fanning your cheeks.

“I don’t know…” You whisper in return, pressing your cold hands to your hot cheeks and keeping them there. “You like that?” He asks again. Although the answer is obvious. “Mm…” You just hum softly, nodding with your hands on your face, as if to hide from how hot he’s making you feel.

“You’re such a good girl… such a sweet girl…” He whispers, barely audible over the thumping of your own heart in your ears. Pushing some hair behind your ear with gentle fingers. “It’s my job to let you know, right? To let you know when you’re being a good girl…” His deep voice vibrates.

He can see how this is making you feel. A satisfied feeling for him, watching you react. He’s suspected for a while that you have a thing for being praised and sweet talked. That it’s more effective in getting your panties off than a sharp talon sometimes. Even if you yourself have no idea. Because he can feel it. The way you squeeze around him when he so much as tells you, you’re beautiful during sex. The way you’re ten times slicker when he drowns your mind with countless compliments during the deed, making you hazy. So hazy you barely remember it the next morning. You just remember how good he made you feel. It makes you so much softer, like putty for him to play with. It’s his job to please you as best he can, is it not?

The past few days have sort of been a test. He’s a scientist after all. He showered you with compliments about anything and everything. It wasn’t hard for him. Since he really does believe in everything he said. He just usually doesn’t make a habit of saying it out loud. But knowing it gets you off was the biggest push for him to verbalize it every time. And knowing you like being good for him does things for his ego.

…

“You’re my best girl, my pretty girl...my only girl…right baby?” His voice husks, one arm wrapped around your back to keep you in place and the other buried in your panties. “Mm! Hah Mig-” You can only sigh and moan, grinding into his hand. His palm pressing perfectly to your clit. His long fingers curling up inside you, pressing upon your g-spot over and over. Massaging your sensitive walls and feeling you gush on him. You’re just so sweet for him. It gets him hard just watching and hearing you. The soft squeaks and squeals and sighs. Your knees pressing into the couch cushions on either side of his thighs, toes curling in your socks and desperate hands raking through his hair and holding his head in your neck. Listening to the praises and words of devotion flowing from his lips right to your ear. “Such a pretty, perfect pussy, amor… so soft.”

His other hand dips into the back of your waistband. A big warm hand splayed out on your asscheek and grabbing a handful in a squeeze. Pulling urgent moans and whines from your throat. His touch is gentle while still confident and sure. This is about your pleasure after all. Two of his thick digits filling you up already, working in and out, his other hand moving down your ass and snaking between your thighs, making you want to close your thighs again. All his fingers with all their attention on filling you up and making you come.

“Keep those legs open, baby…” He whispers, making you whine. Nudging your head to tilt back with his strong nose. His lips latching onto your throat in wet kisses, feeling you squirm, you just can’t keep still, knowing you're close. “Come on baby… be a good girl and come for me…” His words alone could get you there. To know he’s pleased.

“Miguel I-I’m… hah!” You squeal, fingers digging into his shoulder blades, and his head pulls back to look up at your face. “That’s my girl- Oh you look so beautiful like this baby… gorgeous girl… you can come, it’s okay…”

Your eyes flutter and roll back, a gasp of his name and you’re done for…

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist please comment on my masterlist post or I might not see it! thank you!

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stinkrascal · 2 years ago

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ive been trying to fix this stupid grass for literally an entire day im actually gonna cry im so frustrated right now

#i just want it to work #so i can make my life easier when im landscaping #but now its like ive spent more time working on this one dumb stupid idiot piece of cc than it wouldve taken me to just place grass down #and size it down manually in game like i normally do #but UGH i just want it to work. when i get fixated on something i cant tear away from it #the downside of this is when i cant do the thing because im just not skilled enough it infuriates me to tears #very cool. very nice #to the people who always say things like 'this is just a hobby dont take it so seriously!!' how do you manage that ahdhgfoiergj #i take everything so seriously no matter how small it is #im 2 seconds away from breaking my computer i need to eat something ugh

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strawburry01 · 3 months ago

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Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby

Ford Pines x Fem! Reader (no Y/N mentions)

Summary: Ford and you are trying to find another cryptid but a thunderstorm causes some emotions.

AN: Thanks for liking the first one all! This is technically a Part 2, but doesn't rely on anything from the first part so don't worry.

Part 1

Word Count: 2k

You stood in your dark room, humming along to the spinning vinyl as you painstakingly converted your camcorder footage to a VCR tape. Ford always noted that you could just save them to a computer, or just keep it on the camera itself- not understanding your insistence on saving it as physical media. Something in you liked the process though. It was meditative. Being able to uncap your marker and squeakily write the date and contents on the side, and then slide it alongside the rest of them in your growing library. It was rewarding to see the pile growing. Ford still had his growing notebooks, and you now had your growing video library. Between the two of you, both of your research had really been taking off.

As soon as the grant was passed, Ford and you shoved all your collective crap into his car and drove through the night, and then some, to make it to Gravity Falls. From the moment you crossed into town, you could tell he was right with his analysis. Something about the town felt so distinctly, well, weird. It was a quiet, small town, but everyone you met had been kind, although not very outwardly chatty. To be fair, two strangers from the east coast just moved in and were far too excited to be there. It was enough to confuse and freak out anyone.

But the two of you were fine with being the talk of the town. In fact you secretly thought Ford enjoyed the positive attention based on how much he convinced you to go to Greasy’s Diner for brunch.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, it’s scientifically proven,” Ford would always say trying to defend the addiction. As long as he paid, you weren’t complaining.

In the background your vinyl began to skip. You grumbled and flipped it over for the next side of songs as Ford entered, head deep in his notebook, not even acknowledging your presence.

“Knocking is considerate,” you commented as you focused on your work, glancing up at him as he sat in the chair nestled in the corner of the room. You had found it on the way into town on some random road with the word FREE spray painted on a sign nearby, so after mild convincing, Ford and you were able to balance it on top of the car.

“The door was open, you relinquished knocking privileges,” he said, without looking up,

“What if I was changing?” you said, “I could’ve been naked you perv,”. You watched as his face reddened and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as he snapped out of his reading.

You both liked each other. You felt like it was painfully obvious to everyone, even each other, but something kept you both from ever admitting it. Was it your scientific brains always insisting that it was some stupid imbalance of hormones and forced proximity? Both of your egos trying to constantly one up each other, never wanting to admit you liked the other? Perhaps the fact that if you actually admitted to liking each other, what would that mean for research? Or even worse, liking each other would mean you fell into the cliche.

But god, you had been around each other practically 24/7 for the past months now in Gravity Falls and it was only getting worse each day. Like a growing vine, only getting larger and larger. The only reason you were so confident Ford liked you back was the fact he never attempted to deflect your teasing. He was one to always correct you, or really anyone, if they said something incorrect, but whenever you taunted him, he would just redden and try to change the subject.

Ford coughed in his chair and shifted as he uncapped his pen to continue an entry in his journal, trying to move past your teasing.

“Sounds like a safety hazard if you were in here without clothes,” he muttered. You threw a marker at him across the room.

“Don’t judge the artist, perhaps I was trying something new,” you said as you slid another tape, labeled “Gobblewonker Part 3” besides Part 1 and 2.

“Let’s move from this hypothetical,” he said, firmly closing his journal, “there’s a storm coming in tonight according to weather reports. I wanted to try and see if we could catch the Thunderbird at some point,”.

“Pretty elusive fella, no?” you asked, scanning your tapes to see if you had anything on Thunderbirds.

“Yes, and unless you agree to a goat sacrifice this time we’ll just have to be patient and attentive,” he nodded. He really wanted you to agree to a sacrificial goat to draw one out. You crossed your arms and stared at him.

“Stanford Pines I’m not letting you go to hell for animal sacrifice,” you said.

“Fine, but don’t blame me when we can’t see one, because someone has strict morals all of the sudden,” he said as he stood up and left.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ALL OF THE SUDDEN PINES?” you shouted after him.

It was no use. He disappeared into the small cabin you were both calling home for now. It was dark when the rain started. Big drops pelleted the roof, which didn’t enthuse you as Ford insisted on setting up outside. You bundled your rain slicker close, trying to create some warmth, but instead only making your clothes underneath damp. Ford on the other hand couldn’t be bothered it seemed. He was moving around his instruments too much for his hood to actually stay on, causing his hair and glasses to be drenched.

“Do you need help?” you asked, not being able to watch him struggle for much longer.

“Can you just line up that telescope with the gap in the trees there?” he asked with a point towards the sky. You nodded and risked your fingers in the cold to swivel the telescope until it was centered on the break in foliage. You stood back up and saw Ford staring at you before he quickly looked away. He seemed stressed, so you spared a joke.

He let out a sigh as he stood back, looking over the set up. He dragged over two lawn chairs and held out his arms, gesturing for you to sit in one. Ford was damn lucky you believed in his confidence, you thought to yourself as you sat down. You couldn’t even use your camcorder out here because of the rain. You didn’t want to risk it.

The two of you sat, listening to the rain fall off the trees for a while until you started dozing off, catching yourself every time and jolting up. Ford scooted his chair closer and put his arm on your chair.

“Sorry it’s so late,” he said, “sleep on my arm if you need to. You’ll ruin your neck if you keep sleeping like that,” he noted. You smirked to yourself as you took him up on the offer, leaning onto his shoulder, not minding the drops that had accumulated on his coat.Before slipping into sleep you felt him put a hand on your leg, gently running over it with his thumb.

You weren’t sure how long you were out for when a crack of lightning lit up the sky and awoke you. Ford was instantly up and checking all his devices for the elusive Thunderbird, but you were frozen to your chair. The rumble of thunder filled your ears and paralyzed you in place. It was stupid, it was so stupid. You’re from the damn east coast, get over it, your brain chided, but your body couldn’t agree. You’d always been terrified of thunder, despite your knowledge that it was unlikely anything from a lightning storm would ever hurt you, you couldn’t help that loud noises from the sky scared you to death.

“Shit, are you okay?” Ford asked, realizing that you were not by his side. He turned and saw you, sitting down, but looking thousands of miles away. You wanted to nod your head yes, that everything was fine and you were over your dumb overreaction, but you couldn’t. You stared up at him through his dewy glasses and shook your head.

“I hate thunder,” you muttered, embarrassed, flinching as another rumble went overhead, “I thought I’d gotten over it…”. Ford stared at you and then turned back to his devices.

“Let’s go inside. These will get any data and recordings I need,” he said as he pulled you up out of the chair.

“I’m sorry-” you started to say before he cut you off.

“Don’t apologize. It’s a very understandable fear. It’s not worth your wellbeing,” he said as he continued leading you inside.

Inside the house the noise from above only reverberated more it seemed, causing you to jump. You caught Ford almost commenting on it, before he closed his mouth and helped you out of your rain jacket instead. You kicked off your boots at the door and they thunked with mud against the wall.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you scared,” Ford quietly remarked as he hung up his own jacket. Before you can reply there’s another rumble of thunder, louder now, causing you to jump into Ford’s arms. You feel him seize up under the sudden touch, but he quickly wraps an arm around your back with the other on the back of your head, pressing you into his red-sweatered chest. You slowly let out a shaky breath as you tried to calm your nerves. Ford slowly started running his hand up and down your back trying to calm you as well. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated.

You two stood like this for a few minutes as lightning lit up the sky outside.

“I-I’m sorry Ford, I’ll be okay, I’m just going to go to my room,” you said as you stepped back out of his arms, despite your brain screaming at you you were a fool for doing so.

“Can you actually sleep like this?” Ford asked, watching you walk to your room only to get stopped by another thrum of thunder. You looked over your shoulder.

Swallow your pride you idiot, you both thought.

“Would you-”

“I could-”

“-keep me company?”

“-stay with you?”

You bit your bottom lip as you laughed, Ford laughed too and rubbed the back of his neck. Both of you could’ve been mistaken for high schoolers in that moment.

You changed into your flannel pajama pants and oversized t-shirt as Ford dutifully faced the wall before changing into his boxers and one of your other oversized shirts you threw at him.

“I don’t need this,” he said, holding it up.

“I can’t handle this much skin on you yet,” you replied as you slowly got under the covers. You felt the weight of the bed as he got in behind you. He softly grumbled complaints about wearing a shirt as he snaked his arms around your waist.

"Is this okay?" he asked into your hair.

“Yes, now hush Pines,” you mumbled back. You shuddered a little as thunder rolled overhead again, causing Ford to tighten his hold on you.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he repeated as you calmed down again. You sighed into your pillow as you began to close your eyes.

“So…” Ford said, causing you to open an eye, “does this mean you like me?”.

“Do you like me?” you asked, tilting your head so you could try to face him. Ford took his chance to quickly kiss your cheek before you hid your head back into the pillow.

“Of course I am, are you kidding me? I’ve liked you since the first week of knowing you,” he said, “people aren’t friends with me, let alone people like you. You’re really important to me,”. You could feel your face heating up at his compliments as you tried to hide in the pillow, “Are you blushing? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you do that…” he said with a chuckle.

“For fucks sake of course I am Ford, I’ve liked you for so long now too,” you admitted. The two of you were silent as rain continued to patter on the roof.

“Damn,” Ford said before nestling his head into the back of your neck, “I guess my brother was right,”.

You smiled as you began to doze off, with Ford holding onto you. Neither of you knew that you wouldn’t sleep alone again as long as you were in this universe.

Part 2.5 up

#x reader #stanford pines x reader #stanford pines #ford pines x reader #ford x reader #ford pines #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls fanfic #gravity falls

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reiderwriter · 6 months ago

Text

Satisfaction Feels Like a Distant Memory

Chapter Three of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Your mounting attraction to Spencer Reid pushes you to the edge, turning begrudging friendship to deep hatred when he finally shows up on your doorstep. He's the only thing that can out you out of your misery even as you sink further into it.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, hate sex, rough sex, argument as foreplay, oral (f recieving) and face fucking, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, forced orgasms, "forced" submission, creampie, p in v penetrative sex, etc.

A/N: I've had about as much sleep as the reader in this fic has for the last week, but HERE IT IS! Chapter Three 🥰 You may need a bottle of water on standby, or at least a hand fan, because this one gets a bit heated....

Masterlist || Add yourself to the taglist!

You hesitated in front of your office door, which you supposed was going to become a bad habit of yours now. You tried lying to yourself, that nothing was different now, that you weren't attracted to him in a completely stupid way, but you still stood frozen in front of your own office door.

Frozen and horny.

Shit.

You mentally went through a list of the worst things that could happen if you went in.

1. He was there.

2. He wasn't there.

3. He was there, and he touched you again, and you moaned.

4. He was there, and he didn't touch you again, but you still moaned.

5. He was there, and you threw yourself at him immediately because why wouldn't you when you'd seen what you could be working with the night before? Fuck moaning once, moaning multiple times as he pushed you against the bookshelf would-

“Are you gonna go in, or are you just going to fondle the door handle?” He asked from behind you. From too close behind you.

You turned, keeping the doorknob in your grin, and immediately flattened yourself against the door as he took a step closer.

So close. He was so fucking close and it was suddenly all you could think of.

“W-What?”

“You know, the CDC warns that door handles should be washed every 20 to 40 hours To prevent bacteria like Escherchia coli and Staphylococcus aureus from-” You ignored his words, drowning everything else out as you tried to dampen the fire burning under your skin.

“Cock?” You said, all attempts obviously not working.

“Staphylococcus, yes. It can cause Adenovirus, Rhinovirus, not to mention-”

“Okay! Okay, Spencer. Taking my hand off the handle now.”

Finally, you twisted it and walked backwards into your room, walking backwards a few steps before your foot caught on a stray pile of books.

“What the-” you cried, waiting for the impact of your landing as you swung out your arms frantically for purchase, screwing your eyes shut as you found none.

Instead, you found an arm snaked around your waist, another wrapping your hip tight as Spencer Reid cradled your body to his own.

“Thanks,” you breathed out, not even hearing the words yourself for how much air was in them. How was it possible to expel air and hold your breath at the same time? Because that was how it felt being in his arms: at once a sigh and a stopping of all bodily functions barring want.

“I thought this was your office, Y/N. Surely you should know the layout by now.”

Moment over. You pushed at his chest to stand upright, and he stepped backwards, removing his hands from your person.

“Very funny. We both know these are your books. Setting traps for me now, Spencer?”

You moved around the piles of books again as he flicked the light switch, moving the opposite way around your desks, before meeting you again next to yours.

“You're usually more observant than this. Is there something wrong today?”

“What, like Adenovirus or Rhinovirus?”

“No, like something…” he searched for the right words, pace slowing as he tried not to scare you away by talking with you like this.

“Like something on your mind.”

You snorted, leaning down to switch on your computer, and also to avoid his eye contact. Unfortunately, academic curiosity had gotten to you in the last few weeks, and you'd read some of his psychological papers. You knew exactly what it was the BAU was apparently so good at, and you didn't want him to know that you'd imagined him balls deep in you hours before.

“Not friends, Spencer. If there's something I need to talk about, I'll talk to a friend,” you said, standing straight again and turning to him again. You still avoided eye contact, but it didn't matter. His eyes weren't on your face but angled further down, like he'd been checking out your ass as you bent over or something.

No. No, you weren't going down that train of thought.

“Or even better, my therapist.” You were planning on the words being a bit more playful, but your voice came out deeper than you expected it, more gravely somehow.

Your bedroom voice, you were using your stupid fucking bedroom voice on Spencer Reid.

You cut yourself off again before you said anything else. Before he touched you or didn't touch you, and you got to test your earlier theory about which would be the more demeaning reaction.

“I have class in ten. Clean up before I get back,” you ordered, and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when he replied.

“I don't take direction well, Y/N.”

No, you didn't think he would. Neither did you though.

For a week, you tiptoed around the man, your words sharp, but your body weak to him.

By day, you were hurling insults back and forth, messing up his papers and screwing with him via bookshelf again.

“YOUR…FLY…IS….OPEN.”

“VERY….MATURE.”

“MADE…YOU…LOOK…THOUGH.”

“BUSY….LOOKING…AT…OTHER….THINGS.”

“LIKE…THE…UNDERGRADS…THROWING…THEMSELVES…AT…YOU…?”

“LIKE…THE…PROFESSOR…I'M APPARENTLY…DATING”

“Very fucking funny, Spencer,” you sighed at the last message, throwing the books off the shelf and pilling them up on the floor.

“Don't even for a second entertain the idea of making that gossip a reality.”

He grinned at you from behind his desk.

“Okay.”

“Don't even - don't even think about it,” you said, stepping over his desk and poking at his chest as his smile deepened.

“Heard.”

“I'm serious, Spencer, don't-”

“You've thought about it.” You froze in shock at his words, as if your blood wasn't sure whether to run cold or burn hot and fast.

“What?” You spat the words at him, unable to stop them coming out any other way.

“You've thought about entertaining the gossip. You've thought about it a lot.”

You needed to deny him, but he was right. By day, you tried to torment him, but by night, he did torment you. A week of wet dreams, of imagining him taking you over every inch of your office, of sleepless rest and failed orgams, and you could not escape.

“No,” you said with a whisper, shaking your head and trying again even as your voice cracked from the lie and your body's cry for pleasure, for this man.

“No, I haven’t- I don't-” You took a deep breath, but you knew it was no good, as his hand grabbed yours and flattened it against his chest.

“Your pupils are dilated, your pulse is heightened, and your legs are practically clamped shut. Your mouth is dry, and I'm not sure if you've noticed yet, Y/N, but you're shaking.”

“All signs of anger, Spencer, as you're well aware.”

He let go of your wrist and sat back in his seat, just out of reach of you again.

“Shame,” he whispered under his breath, nearly low enough that you didn't catch it, as he flipped open his book and continued whatever the fuck it was he even did in this office.

You ignored it, anger really flooding you now, warring the heat of arousal that was firmly settled in your body for dominance.

The anger won out.

You grabbed books from your desk, files, and papers from the side table by the couch and your laptop from your desk and left the room quickly.

You slammed the door, and you didn't look back, knowing that if you did, you'd see his winning smirk staring right back at you.

You marched yourself right to the staff administration office and put in for a week of leave. Spencer had one more week of work at the university, and then he would go back to being a regular FBI agent.

Your paths wouldn't cross because you wouldn't let them cross, not when it meant for certain that you would give in.

You spent the week working to distract yourself from work. You finished books for your next semester courses, highlighting the better articles and essays to use, going through each bibliography to find better sources if they weren't good enough. You wrote more of a research paper you didn't have time to think about with so much going on. You corresponded with students, with TAs, with the other professors who wanted to know where you were.

Okay, that was a lie. You aired the professors, but you did look out for any inboxes from him. Surprisingly, there were none.

You spent a week throwing yourself head first into your work, and still, each night, you felt his phantom touch on you. No matter how exhausted, your brain still co jured images of his hands grasping your wrists, pushing them above your head and forcing his cock into you, his lips biting against your skin, the fire of his kisses leaving scars where they trailed down.

You were running on three hours of sleep per night, sure, but at least you were as far as you could possibly get from the man ruining your life.

You poured yourself a glass of wine the next Sunday, knowing that when you went back to work the next day, he'd be gone.

You wrapped yourself in blankets and put everything else off for the day, ordering food and eating it and not moving as you worked your way through boxes of pizza.

It was when you finished your first glass and went to pour yourself another that there was a furious pounding at your door.

“Y/N, I know you're in there, open the door.” His hand sounded again, and you nearly dropped the glass at the sound of Apencer Reid's voice.

Your body acted alone, immediately following his directions as you damn near tripped over your own feet to open the door for him.

Throughout all of your arguments, all of the quips you'd thrown at him, every stupid little thing you'd done to get under his skin, you had not once seen Spencer Reid looking this angry.

His brow was furrowed uncomfortably, as if it were frozen in place. Gone was his perpetual smirk.

“Spencer, what the fuck a-”

“Thoughtless. Careless. Do you even know what you've done?” He snapped at you, stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind himself as he immediately walked into your space and began touching things.

“Stop! Fucking stop it, Spencer!” You said grabbing his arm and pulling him around to face you. He brushed you off quickly and worked his way through papers you'd left on your coffee table.

“No. You stormed out over a week ago, you blocked my number, you did not answer any of my emails-”

“I didn't get any emails,” you spit back, pushing yourself between him and your things now, bodies so close they were touching.

“Then you blocked my email, too. You don't even know what I'm looking for or the damage you could have done, do you?” His hands were on you then, not threateningly, as you'd expect, his anger still burning through him if his shaking voice had anything to say for it.

His hands stroked up your sides and back down again, smoothing away your need to think.

“My files. My team sent me a file. It was on the coffee table, and you took it with you when you left. The case is ongoing, and I'm flying out tomorrow, and without some of the classified information in that file, we will be at a disadvantage. Our odds of catching our unsub fall from 83% to 47% without all of the pertinent information.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer.

“So yes, I'm going to go through your things, and if you're a good girl, you'll root through with me and help me find it.”

He stepped away then, and you held your tongue. As much as you hated him, he was right. You knew what he did, you knew who he was and to trust him not to lie to you about his chances without this information.

“The files on the coffee table are research notes, everything I took from the office is in that case over there,” you said pointing at a bag still where you'd dropped it by the door a week earlier.

He walked to it and rooted through it quickly before finding the file he obviously needed and letting some of the tension out of his shoulders.

“You're probably glad to see the back of me, right?” He said, laughing bitterly as he turned back around to you.

“Obviously not as happy as you are,” you spat back, stepping back over to him.

“If you ever speak to me that way again,” you started, spitting at him in the most threatening voice you could muster. “It won't be a fucking unsub that ruins your life.”

“And how are you going to manage that, Y/N?” He said, stepping closer to you until he had you backed up against the wall, trapped in by his bigger frame, using it to his advantage to intimidate.

“How will you manage to ruin my life,” he said, his voice softer as he finished his sentence, but not by much. “When you shake with just every time I get close?”

“This is not lust,” you growled the words out, but try as you damn might, you were shaking, vibrating even.

“Then what is it?”

“Hatred, dislike, loathing, detestation, abhorrence, fuck Spencer, you can pick up a thesaurus yourself and find out.”

“Yeah. Okay. I'll believe your lies for a second.” He walked away, he was walking away but the fire was ringing in your ears and you needed him to stay fucking put so he could take it all.

“You're a jackass.”

“Original.”

“You slammed into my life, expecting me to bend to your will and be at the mercy of your needs, your wants. Your office space, your fucking case files, your job-”

“None of that was my choice.”

“And it wasn't mine either, but at least I fucking left you alone. I spent the week in this apartment and left you the fuck alone, and you couldn't even allow me the same.”

His focus was back on you again, but you refused to be backed against a wall this time.

“What did you say?”

“You will not let me know peace. I have lost my security, my patience, my fucking sanity with each word you have said, my peace of mind, my sleep, my fucking sanity, Spencer.” Your chest was heaving, touching his with each exhale as he too held his place in front of you. He was so close, you'd practically spat the words directly into his mouth.

“How is that my fault?” He whispered, voice still dripping with disdain even as his hands again wrapped themselves in your hair, and he tugged your head back, baring your neck to him as he leaned down into you.

“How do you know that you're not doing the same to me?”

You refused to answer, though, meeting his eyes for one last second before you grabbed his hair in your hands and yanked him down to your mouth.

It wasn't so much a kiss as a battle for dominance, each trying to torture a surrender from the other with clashing tongues and teeth.

You made the first move, but he was obviously expecting it, and he didn't even pause before launching his own attack, finally pushing past your strong defence to walk you back to the sofa you'd abandoned earlier.

His tongue still lashed against yours as you retreated, refusing to give up your upper hand even as you moaned into his touch. The couch hit the back of your knees, buckling, and you silently cursed your lack of sleep for leaving you so unstable right now.

No, that wasn't true. It was him. He had left you so unstable, moving between happy and playful to angry and wrathful in the space of a week without you, and you'd been denying yourself the ability to even entertain any of this happening. Now that it was, your body was unprepared, totally at his mercy, as he pushed you to your back and pushed up your skirt.

“You're already so fucking wet,” he groaned slipping two fingers inside you as you moaned around him, no longer capable of thought. This was the moment, this was when he was going to make you submit to him finally.

Instead, he dropped to his knees and you gasped as his to guess found your sweet cunt and he began sucking to your clit.

You were on fire, skin scorched from the inside out, spreading in waves from your pussy to the furthest regions of your body.

With one hand, he spread your thighs further apart and pushed his entire face further into your cunt, tongue pushing inside right by his fingers, nose pushed right up against your clit as he didn't relent. Every movement was another curse falling from your mouth.

“Shit, Spencer, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered, hips rocking back and forth as you tried to fuck his face, begging for more.

To your surprise, he didn't keep your hips still but let you keep riding his face, riding his fingers as you chased your first orgasm.

It came quickly, overwhelming you with the impact, jolting through your body like a lightning bolt as he let your hips shake and crash across his tongue.

When he finally pulled his face away, it was glistening, and he wasted no time shoving his tongue back in your mouth. His message was clear - he may have let you take whatever pleasure you'd wanted with him, but he was still the one in control.

You trailed kisses along his cheeks, neck, shoulders as he divested himself of clothing, shirt, belt, pants, ripping at yours to free your body as well, until the two of you were only left with underwear and you'd picked up every last drop of your cum left on his skin.

“On your back, now,” he said, and you complied. You spread your legs, and rubbed at your still wet cunt, jolting as he finally lined himself up with your cunt.

But he didn't push in yet. Instead he wrapped two arms under your knees and pulled you closer, so his cock rested over the top of your stomach, and leaned down, his face hovering inches over your own, holding himself up with a forearm rested just above your head.

“You see that?” He said, glancing down. “That is how much I am going to fill you. That is how deep I am going to ease into you. That is how far I am going to go to claim you. You can take it like a good girl, right?”

“Just shut up and put your cock inside me, Spencer.”

“You're so fucking pushy for a submissive little slut,” he said, smiling finally.

“I am not a-” you started to protest, but he slid inside of your hot cunt and you lost the ability to focus.

“Not a what, Y/N? Speak up,” thrusting shallowly as your cunt grabbed him and held tight.

“I'm not a- SPENCER!” You screamed his name as he pulled out quickly, thrusting into you again with a speed and strength that had you wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly, fighting for him to stay right there deep inside.

“Not a sub? Y/N, you're whimpering and drooling right now. You're three seconds away from begging for my cock, why the fuck can you not be honest with yourself?”

“Fuck…you,” you said between moans as he rutted into you like a beast. He wasn't man anymore, bit monster, and he was claiming you inch by disgustingly perfect inch.

“Let go. Let me take care of you, let me control you. Come on, baby, you know how good it would feel,” he said, before ducking his head and wrapping his tongue around a nipple.

You screamed his name again, but you still tried to resist.

“Come on, Y/N. Show me. Cum on my cock.”

For a brief moment, you'd thought you'd resisted the demand. But then your brain faded, and your nails cut into his back like daggers as your body followed his commands and you came on his cock for a second time that night.

“Perfect. One more, you can do one more,” he said, kissing your lips and lifting himself back up so he was sitting on his knees as he again picked up the pace.

You mumbled his name over and over again as he fucked out all of the frustration in your body. Every thing either of you had said or done melted away in the glow of pleasure, your body buzzing from the feeling of him taking ownership of you.

“One more, Y/N. One more, you need to cum one more time.”

“I can't, I can't I can't I can't, Spencer I can't I really can't,” you said, voice growing pathetically whiny as the tears sprang to your eyes and you choked back a sob.

“Yes you can, one more. Together, we can do it together,” he said, groaning as you clenched around him.”

He claimed your mouth again, his hand wrapping around your throat as he cut off your air supply for a second, then two, then three, as your ears buzzed and you finally slipped over the edge again.

But this time, as promised, you weren't the only one caught in the pain of pleasure. Spencer collapsed on top of you as his dick spurted inside you, holding you close as he unloaded everything he had into you.

He sat there, warming his cock as he lazily kissed open mouth kisses into every inch of your shoulders, collar bone and chest. Everywhere he could reach without pulling out of you and leaving you there.

After weeks of no sleep because of him, it was his soft lips that finally enticed you into the hands of the sandman, his weight a comfort as you closed your eyes.

When you woke in your bed, clean and clothed, he was gone, and so was every sign that he'd ever been there in the first place.

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#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #dom spencer reid #sub reader #x reader

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