#allusions of smut

[pfhwrittes]

"you love him. you've loved him since you were 9 and you love him now 20 years later." TW: references to transphobic bullying, angst, fluff, allusions to offscreen smut, alcohol mention, menstruation mention. pairing: kyle x ftm!reader

1.5k words of childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers. as always i've barely edited it so typos and errors may remain. edit to add: a massive thank you and shout out to @gemmahale for cheerleading me with this one and reminding me to trust my instincts. i love you a lot.

-- you love him. you’ve loved him since he first shared his curly-wurly during break time at primary school. head over heels puppy love. your mum teasing you with a “my little girl with her first boyfriend!” despite the way it makes your cheeks burn (and something twist inside your chest) when you both stand shyly together at 3.15 hand in hand waiting to go home. 

you love kyle when he’s the joseph to your mary in the nativity. you love the way the teatowel your mum leant his mum slips into his eyes and causes him to laugh and forget his next line about needing to find an inn. you love him when he wraps you up in a big hug when missus king takes a photo of you both as your mum cheers the loudest from the back of the little crowd in the assembly hall. 

you love kyle even when you both grow up and go to secondary school at 11, split up into different form groups and different timetables. you love him even more when he folds you into his little band of miscreants, “one of the boys” he says with a cheeky grin that warms you all the way through.

you love kyle when he chooses you first for the biology practical lesson, flicking little slithers of onion at you to make you laugh, despite the way anna-marie looks you up and down and whispers something cruel about how “he just pities the he-she” loud enough for you to hear. 

you love kyle when he skives off school with you the day your period takes you unaware. he sneaks in through the kitchen door 15 minutes after your mum leaves for work, a battered curly-wurly and bottle of oasis clutched in one hand and his rucksack in the other. you love him when he settles onto the sofa, dragging your duvet over the two of you, flicking the telly on so you can both watch bargain hunt together. 

you love kyle the day he cuddles you into his chest, completely uncaring about the way your snot and tears mark his t-shirt as you sob, both of you curled up on your bed. you love him so completely when he listens to you stutter out that you think you’re not really a girl. you still love him when he pulls away for the first time, a tiny frown on his face. you still love him when he doesn’t reply to your text asking him if he got home alright later that night. 

you still love kyle when he starts ignoring you in school, no longer coming to find you during lunchtime. you still love him when he doesn’t laugh along with harry when you trip during design tech but he doesn’t stop james hissing “freak show” as you rub at your hip from where you banged into their table. 

you still love kyle even when your mum sits you down at the kitchen and asks you how you feel about moving schools at 16. you still love kyle when you ask her “but what about kyle?” and her voice catches when she offers you a gentle “oh love” with wet eyes. 

you still love kyle when he stumbles into you at mattie’s house party when you’re both 18, a shocked look on his face when he takes in your close cropped hair and wispy facial hair on your cheeks, despite the fact you haven’t spoken in years. you still love kyle even when he calls you the wrong name and your mumble gets swallowed up by cheers from the kitchen as someone spots kyle in the hallway. you still love kyle when you spot him crowd mattie’s older sister georgia up against the bannister and kiss her breathless before leading her up the stairs with his hand on her waist. you still love kyle when you end up sobbing into alex’s neck, their hand rubbing your back gently as the dew from the front lawn soaks the knees of your jeans. you still love kyle even as alex murmurs that “you should just forget him babe” into your hair as you sob anew.

you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle the next time you run into him, many years later when you pop into the pub under oath from mattie to meet her for a quick pint to catch up. you recognise the shape of kyle’s smile even if he is partially turned away to grin at a man with broad shoulders and a slightly flattened mohawk standing next to him at the bar. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle when he catches you looking and his smile slips momentarily as he offers you a tiny nod of acknowledgement before turning back to his friend. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle even when your eyes keep drifting over to him and the other three men in the corner booth as mattie fills you in on everything you missed during your years travelling around australia. 

you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle when you bump into him again in the same pub the following week. literally bumping into him as you turn away from the bar with a pint in your hand. kyle steadies you with a hand on your forearm and you feel your heart soar before plummeting into the sticky carpet at your feet. you pull your arm away from him and your drink sloshes over the rim of your glass as you offer him a tight smile before stepping to the side. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle, but you can’t help but feel the warmth of his hand long after you’ve rejoined mattie and alex at your table. 

you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle but a thrill goes up your spine when he asks you if he could “have a word with you, mate” as he joins you in the beer garden the week after that. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle but your heart aches as he stumbles his way through an apology. you’ve forgotten how much you missed your friend kyle when he makes you stutter out a surprised laugh when he talks about his friend soap knocking some sense into him. 

you’ve forgotten how much you missed your friend kyle when he texts you asking if you want to join him and his sisters for a chinese. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when he hands you his vegetable spring rolls without asking. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when after dinner he leads you up to his childhood bedroom and he kicks his dirty socks under his bed like you’ve seen him do many times before. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when your ribs ache from laughing and he’s wearing that beautiful grin. 

you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when he slips into the open seat next to you at the pub, his arm slung over the back of your chair, much to the matching shocked expressions of mattie and alex. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when he takes alex’s frosty demeanour on the chin. you fall in love with your friend kyle again when he responds to mattie’s pointed rhetorical “you know you broke his heart, yeah?” with a small squeeze to your shoulder and serious “i know, i was a fucking idiot.”.

you fall in love with kyle again when his hands shake on your waist as he leans in to kiss you outside your house under the flickering glow of a streetlight. just like you hoped he would so many years ago when you were both teenagers. you fall in love with kyle again when he pulls away to take in your stupefied expression and he asks if you’re okay, if he can kiss you again. you fall in love with kyle again when he gently turns you around so he can push you up against the front door to trail sucking kisses down your neck as your keys hit the doormat with a tinkling sound. you fall in love with kyle again when you ask him to slow down - wait - please - as he’s reaching for the top button of your jeans. you fall in love with kyle again when he traces gentle fingers over the scars on your chest, adoration in his eyes.

you love kyle when you trip over your boxers and his shirt the following morning as you stumble to the bathroom. you love kyle when you slip back into bed and he sleepily nuzzles into your neck. you love kyle when his phone blares his alarm from the back pocket of his trousers near the door to your bedroom 30 minutes later. 

you love him. you’ve loved him since you were 9 and you love him now 20 years later as he presses a kiss to your hair. you love him. -- taglist: @kaadaaan

[jennaispunk]

Someone Like You

Summary: A vacation you didn’t want to take turns into something you never expected.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.3 k

Tags/Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, allusions to smut, shitty ex-boyfriend (not Marcus), brief mention of infidelity (again, not Marcus. He would never), meet cute, instant attraction, Marcus being Marcus (aka perfect), reader is shorter than Marcus and has hair that can be tucked behind her ear but no physical description is given

A/N: I wrote this for @whocaresstillthelouvre follower challenge (I hope you enjoy this Mallory!!). The moodboard was dream vacation with Marcus. This moodboard is gorgeous and I am so in love with it. I’m sorry I held onto this for so long. I went at the idea of a “dream vacation” a little differently. This was the idea that immediately came to mind when I saw this moodboard. This is for all my Marcus girlies (gn). Marcus deserved so much better and this is my (lame) attempt at a fix-it fic for Marcus. Thank you @clawdee for the beta read. The title is taken from a Van Morrison song.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You didn’t even want to go on this stupid trip. You’d planned it with Justin, and it was supposed to be a romantic getaway…until you caught him in bed with his ex-girlfriend, the one he called crazy and told you he wasn’t talking to anymore.

Your friends had convinced you to go on the trip anyway. "Fuck him!" they said. "Go on this trip and have the time of your life." Since the trip was paid for already, and you couldn’t get a refund, you reluctantly packed your bags.

The plane ride to Miami was peaceful. The older married couple sitting next to you was celebrating their 45th wedding anniversary. They showed you pictures of their grandkids, and you smiled politely. They were the goal…one that was looking increasingly out of reach.

You dropped your bags in your hotel room with a loud thud. You fell onto the bed and let yourself sink into the soft comforter. The sun shone brightly into the room, warming your skin, and you slipped into a peaceful afternoon nap.

Most of that night was spent sitting on the balcony listening to the ocean crash against the shore and feeling sorry for yourself. How did you not see the signs that Justin was cheating on you? They were there, you just chose not to see them. Every time that little voice in the back your mind started to chirp, you ignored it and told yourself it was just your insecurities. Looking back now, you should have listened. Hindsight is always 20/20.

You woke up the next morning with a renewed determination. You were done thinking about the past, it was time to live in the present. Today was going to be different. Today, you were going to go the beach and soak up all the glorious South Florida sun you could handle. You were going to let the ocean breeze carry all your worries away. This vacation was meant to be enjoyed and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

In your cutest bikini (bought specifically for this trip) and cover-up, you confidently strolled across the hotel lobby. It might be considered modest by Miami standards, but it showed off your assets. A small smile played on your lips as you remembered how sexy you felt the first time you put on the hot pink fabric. All around you were happy couples, holding hands and stealing kisses. Your resolve to not wallow in your sadness faltered just a bit as you made your way to the door, but you held your chin higher. You weren’t going to think about Justin anymore.

“Excuse me…”

You jumped as someone touched your shoulder and wheeled around to see a handsome man looking down at you. If you had to guess, he looked to be around your age. The style of his chestnut brown hair screamed young professional, and his mocha eyes were the kind you could get lost in.

“I think you dropped this.”

His large hand held a hotel key card toward you between thick fingers. Your brow furrowed and you patted the pockets of your cover up only to realize that your room key was missing.

You smiled at him and the heat rushed to your cheeks. Your carelessness struck again. How did you not realize you dropped your key?

“Thanks. It was sweet of you to track me down.”

The smile he shot back at you almost made you melt. It was so genuine, and the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled made you weak in the knees. Your eyes darted over his shoulder, half expecting his wife or girlfriend to be standing behind him, waiting. He was alone, and you smiled just a bit wider.

“It’s no problem.” His soft voice carried to your ears like a sweet melody. “You’re probably going to need this later.”

Your soft laugh was met with a nervous chuckle of his own. His soulful eyes studied you like a work of art but somehow it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t looking at you like other men do.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners? I’m Marcus.”

He extended a hand toward you, and you froze for a moment. You couldn’t even remember the last time a man introduced himself to you this way outside of a professional setting, and you found yourself intrigued by this stranger.

You offered your name in return and placed your hand in his. His skin was rougher than his appearance suggested, and the warmth radiated right through you.

“So, Marcus, does your wife or girlfriend know that you go around saving strange women from being locked out of their hotel rooms in your spare time?”

His laugh came from his belly, like you told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. It was warm and genuine. Suddenly, you had butterflies in your stomach.

“Actually, I’m not married or even seeing anyone right now.”

Your brow raised and those butterflies intensified. How in the world was this man still single?

Stop! This isn’t what you were here for. The last thing you needed was to get mixed up with anyone while you were here. The purpose of this trip was to stop thinking about your ex, not lust after a handsome stranger.

“Well, there’s a beach chair out there calling my name.” Your eyes darted toward the door and then back to him.

“It was nice to meet you, Marcus. Enjoy your vacation.”

You turned to leave without giving him a chance to respond. It was better to walk away now, before you did something you’d regret later.

Marcus watched you walk away, rubbing his chin as he huffed softly. He certainly hadn’t expected to meet anyone on this trip, but maybe it was fate.

You told yourself that you’d never see Marcus again, that it was just a fluke meeting, a fleeting moment in time that was never meant to be anything. You didn’t believe in fate or destiny. That was for other people.

It seemed that fate was trying to prove its very existence to you, because the very next morning at breakfast you ran into Marcus once again.

“How was the beach?” Marcus asked with that heart stopping smile. “You didn’t get sunburned, did you?”

Your cheeks felt warm as he looked you over. How could such a simple question get you flustered?

“Nope. I got the perfect amount of sun.”

The two of you chatted for a few minutes before your phone buzzed in your pocket.

“Sorry, but I gotta go or I’ll be late for my massage.”

His hand jutted out to stop you as you turned to leave.

“This is going to sound crazy, but would you have dinner with me tonight? There’s this amazing restaurant overlooking Biscayne Bay.”

You bit your bottom lip as you considered his proposal. What would be the harm in having dinner with him? Why shouldn’t you have fun while you’re here? You needed a distraction and Marcus certainly fit the bill.

“Dinner sounds nice.”

His body visibly relaxed when you agreed, and you could have sworn you heard him sigh.

“Great. I’ll meet you in the lobby at seven?”

“Seven it is.” You responded and headed off to your massage.

That was the moment that everything changed, although you didn’t know it at the time. You’d spent every night with Marcus since then and the more you learned about him, the harder you fell for him. The two of you lived closer than you thought, he was in DC and you were in Baltimore. You scoffed when he told you that he was an FBI agent with the art theft division, but he showed you his badge and swore you to secrecy under penalty of death. He winked and laughed, and you were sure he’d stolen your heart then and there.

He was here on a case and decided to stay an extra week to use up his vacation time. He was a total foodie, he talked at length about the amazing restaurants in DC. Every detail you learned about each other just made the attraction grow.

The week practically flew by as your time was occupied by Marcus. He took you to the institute of Contemporary Art and Pérez Art Museum and watched you with a smile as you marveled at the art, and he explained the finer details. The way he spoke about the art had you completely captivated.

On your second to last night in Miami, he took you to a bar with a live band. You couldn’t believe your eyes when he jumped up on stage with the band and they played one of your favorite songs.

You couldn’t stop smiling as you watched him on stage. The image before you didn’t jive with the mild-mannered, soft-spoken man you’d spent the last few days with, but it intrigued you all the more.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

The smile was still plastered to your face. He looked so carefree up there on the stage.

“It was definitely worth it to see you smile like that, Sunny.”

He wasn’t going to tell you that he’d cashed in a favor from the lead singer. He wanted you to think it was totally random.

After leaving the club, he took you for a moonlight walk on the beach. The night sky was crystal clear. A thousand stars dotted the sky, like a painting created for just the two of you.

During a brief moment of silence between you, he took your hand and laced your fingers together. It all felt so perfect, too good to be true. You never thought that you would meet someone like him.

He suddenly stopped walking and tugged your hand. His heart hammered in his chest as he looked down at you. After everything that happened with Teresa, he wasn’t looking for anyone. She had broken his heart, and he wasn’t sure if he was even ready to try again. Looking at you now, with the ocean breeze in your hair and the moonlight illuminating your skin, he knew he couldn’t walk away.

“Everything okay?” You asked

He smiled at you and looked down at the sand before looking back up.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do all week.”

Before you could say anything, he closed the distance between you and gently cupped your cheek. He gazed into your eyes, almost hesitant before he leaned in and softly pressed his lips to yours.

You tensed for the briefest of moments, you didn’t expect him to kiss you, but you were glad he did. You kissed him back, slightly parting your lips to let his tongue in your mouth. It couldn’t have been any more romantic: the moonlight, the soft swish of the waves upon the shore, and the most perfect man you’d ever met holding you in his arms.

As you packed your suitcase to head to the airport, you couldn’t help but think about the last few nights. You got lost in the memories of the way he made you come on his fingers before he made you come on his cock, how he intertwined his fingers with yours as he pinned your hands to the mattress, the way he talked you through your second orgasm: That’s it, sweet girl…just like that…so beautiful. He even held you afterwards, something Justin never did.

It really was like a dream come true. This vacation was wonderfully unexpected, and you didn’t want it to end. You didn’t want to go back to the real world, back to your job and your old life….not when you’ve had a taste of what could be.

Marcus paced the hotel lobby waiting for you to check out. After Theresa, he’d almost sworn off love completely, then he’d met you and he was smitten. He knew that this could work, he would be kicking himself later if he didn’t try.

You smiled as his sweet face came into view. Your heart clenched in your chest. Was this this last time you would see him? You couldn’t let that happen. This couldn’t be the end.

“This week turned out better than I expected.” you said with a soft laugh.

You wanted to say more. You wanted to tell him that this had probably been the best week of your life, but you held your tongue. You didn’t want to ruin the moment.

He took your hands in his, smiling as caressed the back your hand with his thumb. His mocha eyes took in every inch of you, committing it to memory until he saw you again. It was now or never. He was going to tell you that he didn’t want this to be the end, the two of you could make this work. A short train ride was no big deal, and you could see each other often. All he knew was that he couldn’t just let you go.

The way he said your name made your heart stop. It sounded so beautiful rolling off his tongue, just like when he had you in bed.

Your lips pressed softly against his, swallowing his next words. You didn’t need anymore words. You just wanted to keep the magic alive for a few more moments before reality came crashing down.

The hum of the car engine behind you broke the spell. It was over, your Uber was waiting to take you to the airport and back to your life. You shoved a piece of paper into his hand and smiled as your eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

“If you’re ever in Baltimore, give me a call.”

He chuckled softly as he watched you walk away and get into your ride. As you drove away, he looked down at the small piece of paper in his palm. There was no way in hell he was going to let you get away. He’d be calling you sooner than you thought.

[enjoythesilentworld]

Confess

“I know they say it is wrong, Father. But I cannot help myself, I cannot stop. I picture myself kneeling before him at the dais, tempting him to stray. Tempting him to break his lifelong vow, to take me, instead, a holiness and reverence of an entirely different kind."

Or, Wilhelm goes to confessional, hoping prayer may ease his mind of the countless fantasies about the Deacon.

† for Kinktober: Worship, Semi-Pubic Sex, Uniforms, Marks † @youngroyals-events

read here on ao3 (E, 2k)

[siriuslyblack12]

a drabble i wrote inspired by casey’s prince henry ama!!

“I can’t believe this does it for you,” Henry says matter-of-factly.

Alex can’t quite believe it either. Alas, he is only a man, weak to the impossible charm of his boyfriend. Especially when said boyfriend is wearing cowboy boots, jeans so tight they may as well be painted on, a flannel shirt and a stetson.

“Fuck,” Alex mutters, making Henry’s smile grow wider. “Baby, you look incredible.”

“I feel a bit silly, if i’m honest,” Henry says.

“You look like sex on legs, hen,” Alex says with a frown, fisting a hand through his hair. Henry is still standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest with his eyes firmly fixed on alex, who is laid back on soft bedsheets already palming himself through his sweatpants. “Fuck, c’mere.”

Henry obeys happily. He crosses the room with an almost unnoticeable skip on his step, falling on to the bed and crawling until he sits near alex‘s legs. Unable to take a moment longer apart, Alex pulls him forward by the hips until Henry’s legs straddle him - and if this wasn’t already one of the hottest sights he’s seen, he may have crumbled then and there. He lets his thumbs draw circles on Henry’s hips for a moment as his eyes greedily take in the sight, and he feels Henry’s arms wrap around his shoulders sweetly.

"I can’t explain it," Alex says, almost to himself. “You’re just… so fucking sexy, sweetheart. I can’t get enough.”

“If I'd have known you'd react like this, I'd have worn this a lot sooner," Henry says with a soft smile and blush rising on his cheeks.

“And I'd have had a heart attack,” Alex shoots back. “Do you want to kill me?”

“I suppose not,” henry says with a thoughtful look in his eyes, before leaning forward and letting their lips brush together gently. It's soft, teasing, intimate: slow because they both know they're not in a rush. They have all the time in the world. They can be vulnerable with each other, sweet, movements aching and belaboured as they kiss over and over, with neither of them ever getting sick of it. Their kiss becomes more heated - hands roaming freely, tongues dancing, Alex's teeth biting softly at Henry's lips - but there's still a tenderness to it that makes Alex's heart burst.

Henry pulls back for a moment, throughouly flushed and already half-hard, "How the hell will you survive moving back to Austin? You know I'll have to wear stuff like all the time."

Alex smirks, "I'm counting on it, baby."

"We are never going to finish renovating the house if you're as horny as this," Henry says, his stupid, posh accent making the words sound even more scandalous than they are.

Alex groans, pinching Henry's hips, "You complaining?"

Henry scoffs, "Of course not, love. I'm just worried for you're productivity."

"There's bigger things to worry about right now."

Henry leans forward to press a few kisses against Alex's mouth, smiling into it before raising an eyebrow at him, "Was that a dick joke, Alexander?"

"Why yes it was, Your Majesty," Alex mocks with a frankly terrible impression of Henry's accent. After all these years of living together, sharing a home and a life, he is still no better at it. "Now, are you going to put those riding boots to good use?"

[mrscoriolanus-snow]

Is it truly flattering?

Coriolanus is the kind of man to have an extravagant, or elegant nick name for the woman he loves or feels something for. His nick name being "My rose" or "Rose" maybe something along the lines of "Petal" "Flower" you name it. When you hear him call you his rose, theres just something so...violent about it.

Every morning, you wake up, and while watching him get ready, you see a trend.

The small vase of white roses sit on the grand desk, where he works from. Which gets replenished every saturday, at 3:30. Because that's when the green house gardens, are most warm.

He fixes his shirt in the morning, putting on his little thin suit vest. The small rose holder sits neatly on his left side

He strides elegantly to the vase. Picking up a rose. Pondering its shape, size and smell. Only seconds later, snapping it, so theres only about two inches left of the stem.

This isn't what scares you, or makes you concerned.

Its his small compliment is what makes this so... violent and somewhat scary

The man will say the most flattering seeming thing of all. "You are as beautiful as the roses which grow in the gardens...." quite a flattering line if I do say so myself

Is it really though...? Is the idea of being his rose really...that flattering?

I mean cmon! He snaps all of his roses at the neck and puts them to his chest like a prize.

Ultimately discarding them just to repeat the pattern over..and over..and over again..

Just a thought to keep in the back of your head. It might be a beautiful thing to be called, but what is its significance..?

Let me know how you feel about the name.

[galaxyedging]

No outbreak Joel Miller x inexperienced f!reader

Dave York x inexperienced f!reader

WC:3.2k

Summary: Dave and Joel make your birthday party memorable.

Warnings: Dub con. Dark Joel. Dave being Dave. Unprotected P in V sex. Anal. Degradation. Dirty talk.

Trigger warning: implying women who dress a certain way are asking for men to use them. That is obviously bullshit. This is fiction.

Summer Schooled

Part 1 | Part 2

Masterlist

The party was going well. People were enjoying themselves. You were enjoying yourself, for the most part. The night would be a lot more comfortable for you if your panties weren't soaked through. Going up to your room to change them was too great a risk with Joel's words ringing in your ears "Just you wait until I find a way to get you alone."

Those words had been whispered in your ear when he'd greeted you with a hug to wish you a Happy Birthday. Since you had only lived here for the summer and you only had a handful of friends, your mom had decided to invite the neighbourhood. A little joint birthday/off to college/get to know the neighbours party. Unfortunately, you already knew a couple of neighbours particularly well. One was giving you daggers from the moment he saw the dress you were wearing. The other caught you in the kitchen grabbing a soda.

"I think I'd better renegotiate my terms with Joel. You are begging to be fucked in that dress. What do you say? I'll tell Carol I have to go into the office. Then I'll give you a birthday treat?"

Luckily, the hand Dave had been running up the back of your thigh moved to grab a snack when someone came in behind you.

Since then, you had been very careful not to be alone. You didn't trust either man not to follow you and fuck you with people around. More importantly you didn't trust yourself to say no.

The playlist you'd picked seemed to be a winner. People were dancing as well as mingling and talking. You got on the makeshift dance floor to take a spin round it. Thankfully neither Dave or Joel were there to watch at that point. Part of you hoped they had skulked off to jerk themselves off. Maybe then they'd calm down. The testosterone coming off them in waves every time a boy your age came near you was ruining your underwear. Thankfully, the two of them were out of sight. You took a moment to collect yourself, leaning on the wall just inside the kitchen and letting the tiled surface of it cool you. A smile was on your face as you watched your mom have a go at the latest Tiktok dance.

Suddenly, the room was plunged into near darkness. The music stopped. Confused voices took its place.

"The lights are on across the way. It must be the breaker." You heard your mom's voice.

Just as people started to switch on their phone flashlights, a large hand clamped over your mouth. A strong arm wrapped around your waist. In tandem, they pulled you back into the walk-in pantry. Those hands then moved to squeeze your breasts. A small gasp torn from your throat. They then skimmed down your curves until they found your thighs. Before moving up to cup your wet sex through the damp material there. You should have stopped him. People were only a few feet away. Then his finger dipped inside you, stretching you around them. His other hand found your clit. Making you work harder to keep in your moans. His lips found your bare shoulder. Plush, warm lips. A clean shaven cheek dragged across your skin as he moved to your neck.

"Dave?!" Panic flared in you. You tried to pull away but he spread his fingers and kept you speared there.

"Sshhh. Not so loud. You don't want people to find us. Especially not Joel, who I know did this to ruin your party and get you away from those boys." That was your thinking too. That's why you had assumed it was Joel who grabbed you. "What a naughty boy. We should teach him a lesson. Imagine how mad he'll be when he comes to play with this little cunt and it's already filled with my cum again? I bet he'd punish you real well."

You didn't have to tell Dave your view on that. Your pussy did it for you, leaking onto his hand. "Dirty fucking girl! I'm going to keep your mouth covered. You play with that clit nice and fast. I'm going to use your tight pussy to get this done quickly before he comes looking."

This was a bad choice and you knew it. The journey down that rabbit hole was well underway. Between last night and Joel teaching you how to sixty-nine this morning, you might as well be fucked in a pantry with your mom a few feet away. There was no redeeming you now.

Dave's cock was at your entrance before you knew it. He had the courtesy to pull your hips back slowly to push inside. Everything was still tender from last night. Even your jaw ached, which didn't seem to matter. Dave didn't seem like he was going to kiss you. This was more a functional fucking. He was going to fill you and send you to Joel. You had to admit when he was goal oriented, Dave got the job done. He'd pulled you up onto your tipple toes and squatted down a little so he could angle towards your g-spot. His thrusts were hard and fast but not without purpose. Your hand worked with them to get you off fast. Surprisingly so as you shuddered in his grip.

"Fuck. Yes. Dirty girl, soaking my cock. Fuck, bend over." Dave near bent you in two and started fucking you faster as you grabbed the wall above your head to steady you. "Shit. This tight little cunt takes my big, fat cock so well…I…." The quiet whine that left him made you flutter around him.

It was thrilling to make a big intimidating man weak for you. He continued to moan as he pumped more of his spend into you before dragging your underwear back up. You were just fixing your dress as the lights came back on. Turning to Dave you watched him tuck his cock back in and fix his outfit.

For a moment from the way he looked at you, you thought he might kiss you instead he grabbed your pussy. "Keep these on until Joel peels them off." Then he was gone. Giving it what you thought was enough time. You slipped out of the pantry only to run into your mom.

"There you are, Sweetie. Are you okay?" She cradled your cheek for a second. "Yeah, I was just getting more sauces when the lights went out."

"Oh. Well, it's fixed now. Joel took care of it. He's such a good neighbour. Oh, Sweetie, it looks like you spilled something on your dress. What is that? Ranch?" Before she looked closer. One of her friends came to grab her attention.

When she moved away you could see Joel standing behind her, seething at the fact that you were definitely not covered in ranch.

"My friend invited me to a bar. I might go after I tidy up. If that's okay with you? Your friends can stay over. Dave and the Morgans are going to be home if you need anything."

Just before you moved here, your mom got out of a crappy marriage to your step dad. She still made you her number one priority but you could see she was lonely. "Go now, Mom. We'll clean up." A couple of the people milling around agreed."

Dr and Mrs Morgan helped to clean up quickly with their son who was a little younger than you. When you finished you made sure to thank them all. Joel helped too. In fact he insisted on staying to help as he waved the Morgans off. "It's fine Melissa. You get your boy home. Sarah went back off to her spa weekend with the York girls. I got time."

Thankfully most of the tidying was done when Joel stalked back into the kitchen. Stopping short of you he pulled up a chair. "Now, Honey, are there some things you'd like to tell me?"

"Like what?" You didn't meet his gaze.

"How about you wearing this dress around those boys? And having one stay to help you?"

A laugh bubbled out of you. "Josh? His mom's aren't the only ones that are gay."

"The kids still young, he might be looking to experiment, and there you are in that slutty little outfit, parading around in front of him with a cum stain on it."

"I…" your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Now, why don't you tell me about Dave? Did I not suck that pussy hard enough this morning that you had to throw it on his dick?" His tone was eerily calm despite his words. "Take it off."

"What?"

"Take it off." There was a bite there now. "Take all of it off. The slutty fucking dress. The cum filled panties. Take. It. Off."

A tremor developed in your hands as you complied. Once you were naked in front of him. He leaned back in his chair.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?" He fished your panties from on top of your discarded dress. He held them in one hand as he spoke. "Did you enjoy taking Dave's cock again?"

When you didn't answer he slammed his fist onto the table. He didn't scare you but the shock of it forced out an answer. "Yes!"

"He told me he made you touch yourself until you came. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Show me."

"What?"

"Sit your ass on the edge of this table. Spread your legs and show me how you touched yourself for him."

Once you were situated he pulled his chair up between your legs. "Go on."

Hesitantly you began to touch your clit. "Joel, the door isn't locked. The windows."

The blinds were still open in the kitchen. Anyone could see.

Joel laughed bitterly. "You've paraded that barely covered ass around. Your tits were almost spilling out and a married man fucked you in the kitchen with people a few feet away. It's a bit late to be modest. This is what I was talking about. You need to whore fucked out of you before you end up on your knees in some college circle jerk having a bunch of boys blow their loads over you."

Nodding you carried on working your clit. Thanks to earlier it did take long for you to come again. Shrinking under Joel intense gaze you barely made a sound. A little whimper came out as you quivered.

"Look at that." Joel's face was inches away from your pussy now. "Those little twitches are pumping all of Dave's cum out. It'd be a shame to waste it." With that he stood, pushing you back onto the table. The motion parted your legs and he slipped in between them. One of his hands pushed your thighs apart while the other gathered yours and Dave combined cum. You moaned at the intrusion when he started to slather it over your asshole, pressing his fingertips in ever so slightly with each pass.

"Maybe the problem is that I haven't claimed all your holes yet. I've painted your cunt. You've swallowed my cum. Now.." he pushed his finger in more, causing you to hiss. "Hush now, Darlin'. I'll admit I was mad before but now I'm just taking care of you. You don't want to go off to college and settle for some kid awkwardly jack rabbiting until he squirts into a condom just because you're horny. Let me satisfy you good and proper. Let me fuck some of those hormones out. Relax, just take it."

The finger at your hole pushed in more as he thumbed your clit. "Oh, good girl. There you go." His knuckle popped past your tight ring. "Gonna fuck your hole with my finger for a little while. Gotta get you good and ready for my cock." He felt you tense around him at the thought of taking his cock if just one finger was this tight. "Welcome to the adult world, Sweetheart. Your choices have consequences. You let another man come in my pussy. Now I have to fuck your hole whether you like it or not. See how I'm being kind, getting you all wet and prepared. What do you say?"

When you didn't instantly answer he pushed another finger in. "Oh. Fuck. Thank you, Joel."

"Good girl. You deserve a treat. Nothing but the best for my girl." His thumb was replaced by his lips as he sucked hard on your clit. The pleasure was so intense he managed to start on finger number three. Once you came again he used that to coat his cock, dipping it inside you and thrusting languidly until he was covered.

"Here, hold your knees up for me, Sweet Girl. Good." With you spread open he pushed in slowly. The burn was laced with ecstasy. It took a moment for the burn to fade then you moaned at the fullness stimulating all your delicate nerves.

"Fuck every hole on you is perfect." Joel wasn't in a hurry to finish. He pumped himself inside you leisurely. "You know. I think I've decided that I don't want you fucking any boys. I saw the way you were dancing with the girls out there. How you giggle and flushed when they accidently touched you. I think you'd be happy to get off with them." The thought made your throat dry. You couldn't deny it so you just lay there taking what he was giving you his cock, his proclamations. "When you go back east to college I'm gonna get lonely. I might need some material to keep me going. You could send me some pictures of that pretty face buried in a pussy. Maybe at the holidays you can bring a friend over? I'm a good host. I'd make you comfortable. One of you could sit on my cock and the other on my face." His thrusts stayed slow and shallow as he continued. "Or I could fill you while you make her come. Hell, maybe I'd even forgive Dave enough to let him join. We could see who could fuck you senseless first. I do sort of owe him." The chuckle he let out caused his cock to jump inside you. "We were going to share you at first but then I tasted that pussy on your fingers. I knew you had to be mine. Dave gets enough pussy anyway. When I wouldn't let him come over earlier he sent me a photo an hour later of some woman's face covered in his cum. He's pissed that you get him so worked up."

The thought of the two of them wanting you added to the tingle Joel's cock was nudging against through the thin wall of your pussy. Just as you finally started to fully relax around him and Joel bottomed out with a sigh, your phone rang. It was still on the table from where you had been cleaning earlier.

"Shit. It's my mom!" Joel barely reacted. He picked up the phone, answered it and put it on speaker. "Hi, mom. What's up?" It was a strain to keep your voice level as Joel pushed as deep in as he could and held himself there.

"The bar was super busy. We decided to come back. We'll be about five to ten minutes. I hope you don't mind. I heard none of your friends stayed."

"No. I was tired so I sent them home. I'm going to bed now."

"Oh, okay. We'll be quiet."

"Thanks. Bye, Mom."

As she said bye Joel hung up for you. "I guess we better be quick."

"Quick? No, Joel, she said five minutes. I need to get up to bed. You need to leave." You tried to sit up.

"No." Rough grabbed your tit to push you down. "You need to learn your lesson. Trust me." When you tried to argue he stuff you panties that he'd left balled up on the table into your mouth.

"Joel, please." You sobbed around them. It turned into a muffled scream as he started to thrust in aid of his release.

"This is what you need to learn, Baby. Look at how you've got me and Dave. He couldn't nut on your pretty face so he got some bored waitress to blow him. You've got me rambling about fantasies while balls deep in you. This is what you do to men.You momma could walk in right now and she couldn't blame me. This is all you. It's all your fault."

Whether it was his words or the pain of the new pace and depth, tears spilled from your eyes. "Stop. Joel. Stop, please." You couldn't have your mom see this.

"You don't mean that. Here." His fingers aggressively rubbed your clit. Your body reacted in spite of you. An orgams built quickly as Joel continued to use your ass.

"I didn't mean to make you cry, Baby. I'm just looking out for you. You need to know the truth. Men are going to be feral for you. You need to keep yourself safe without me. This is what could happen. They could be in you and not be able to stop themselves. You can take it though, my strong girl." His thrusts were still deep and strong but now they were erratic. "Take it just a little more. I'm almost there. Come on, come for me. Come while I fill you. Oh, fuck. Oh shit, Princess." The sight of Joel arching between your legs as he helplessly shot load after load inside you made you come. It was fucked up. He used you, degraded you. Ignored your pleas to stop, even if you didn't mean it. It was wrong. So fucking wrong. Still with what little strength was left in your rung out body you flung yourself at him, taking all the kisses he had denied you in anger.

"Oh, Sweetness. I'm glad you're not angry. I took it a little far. You know it's because I care right?" You nodded against his neck as you rested there a minute. "Speaking of which, you go get a shower. I'll clean up here." You looked at the once tidy table now covered in something that definitely wasn't ranch.

Over the sound of the spray of the water against your most intimate area, you heard your mom arrive home and a muffled conversation. When you got into bed, there was a text from Joel waiting for you.

I told your mom I sent you to bed while I tidied. Poor you, you were so tired. If you're sore in the morning. Come over and I'll eat your ass until you feel better.

It made your clean skin feel dirty. You wanted to go over there now and let him do whatever he wanted to do to your body. Deciding not to reply to him for fear of asking if you could come over and arousing your mom's suspicions, you set your phone down. After a moment it pinged. It was a message tone that was completely unfamiliar to you.

You naughty girl. You got me in trouble with Joel. He's not happy that I used your pussy.

The message disappeared a few seconds after you read it. Another one appeared.

He thinks that it's his. You and I know better. Don't we, Babygirl?

[farfromstrange]

I was listening to False Gob by Taylor Swift and thinking very unholy thoughts about Matt Murdock. She really had to sing about blind faith, how the altar is her hips and they should worship that love.

Nonnie, you are onto something here. If we think about the religious imagery in this song, we already have a lot of symbolism that can be related to Matt. It's not solely sexual, it also portrays the kind of unconditional love he would have for his significant other. Being torn between what he wants and his faith in God. Being torn apart IN the relationship because of having blind faith in each other and blindly believing things are going to work out fine with the life he leads on the side because it's impossible not to get caught up with this.

But let's talk about the sexual aspects of this song instead and focus on Matty.

I have some thoughts about that too and as I'm listening to the song, the following scenario came to mind:

18+ under the cut! (TW: religious imagery and symbolism)

You tear each other apart before you put each other back together again. It's a taking and a giving, but it's usually him who takes and you who gives. You fight and you try to understand, and then you make up because living without each other seems impossible.

You jumped into this relationship with the hope of a happy ending, but with every passing day, life got significantly harder to navigate. You blindly believed that it would be easy, but nothing is ever easy when it comes to Matt.

But between the fights that often have you cursing him to hell, there is heaven in every single one of his touches. His lips write poetry on your skin and set your body alight with sensations you have never experienced before.

When you're together, you forget about the constant push-and-pull you find each other in. You forget that the same lips that are capturing each other in the most intimate embrace are capable of uttering words that hurt.

You shouldn't be together, but here you are.

Matt is a religious man, but whenever he is with you, he turns into a sinner of the highest order. The worst part is though, he doesn't mind. With you, he believes in a different God, one that goes beyond anything his catholic little heart should allow - you are the one he prays to, the one he worships, and if he requires punishment, he will kneel for you if you demand him to do so.

You were crazy to think that this would work out, but he would die for you, and he would die between your thighs, too. It's the one place he could never get tired of. He would rather be there than outside where the noise attacks his ears like a sledgehammer and the smell slowly kills him inside; his religion isn't God or Catholicism when you're together, it's your lips, your body, and your sweet, sweet nectar.

He worships at the altar of your hips, whether it is propped up on a bed or the kitchen table. He would do it anywhere if he only gets to hear you moan his name in such ecstasy. For you, he would keep going for years or centuries to come. If you asked him to go to hell with you, he would.

The struggles you're facing, you get away with it. You get away with the fact that the odds have never been in your favor because even though it may be hard, he loves with a devotion that can not be matched up to. He loves so deeply, you can feel him in every crevice of your being and soul, and he continues to worship you like an angel - you are his religion, his God, and the Bible he reads with his fingers as if your most sensitive parts were Braille, and then, when he's done, he will do it all over again if you only beg him to. And you very often do.

Your love comes in different shapes or forms, and you're not afraid to say it, but for Matt, it's hard. He tries to show you in other ways, even if it's just worshipping your body and soul, telling you how good you are, and you take it every time. You're his and he is unconditionally yours. It doesn't matter whether or not it is blind faith that binds you, or the fact Matt finds more enjoyment and redemption in you than in God himself. What matters is that he gets to worship you to show you just how much he loves you, and only when you wrap your thighs around his head as he tastes you, all of you, your, sweet, tears and arousal, he finds his way home.

No matter how long you are apart, he will always come back to you. You're a drug. He is blind in more ways than one, but so are you. But neither of you wants to stop because no matter how painful it is, pain is a powerful motivator.

So the next time he dives between your legs and he hears you moan softly, "Matthew!" He prays to you the way you do to him.

Matthew.

The way his name sounds on your lips is a beautiful symphony. You moan and writhe and he drinks up every last drop of the holy water you give him. You take him to your personal church, you sing for him and baptize him, and he can never get enough.

Matthew.

His fingers dig into your soft skin, sure to leave marks, and he does his due diligence for all the sins he committed, for all the times he hurt you, and the air between you grows less tense as you submit to the pleasure he is so willing to provide.

He spells his name with his tongue as you scream it, and his heart flutters with something other than dread. He devours you, and he shows you just how much he loves you. And in return, to offer him redemption and finally free him from the shackles that bind him.

"Matthew!" It's the last time you utter his name before your legs tense around his head and he gets to drown in your completely.

The world outside disappears; only the bells of your gospel remain.

He kisses the inside of your thigh as he kneels before you, his unfocused eyes searching for something, anything, and you touch his cheek as if to tell him you are here. You won't leave him.

"Such a good boy," you murmur.

"Forgive me," he finds himself whispering over and over again. "Forgive me..."

For he is a sinner and sinners never reach heaven, but in your eyes, in your world, he is already in paradise.

You tug at his cross necklace, clicking your tongue.

"Forgive me," he repeats.

Your voice is bittersweet in his ear as you guide him back to your aching core. He is eager to dive back in, and this time you don't hold back as you use him.

"Matthew," you moan, and then you finally tell him what he needs to hear.

"You're forgiven."

And as you come for what feels like the millionth time that night, you whisper a promise of doing the same to him. All night. And he takes the offer greedily, as long as he gets to worship at the altar of your hips some more.

[purplebass]

I like to give commentary to my own writing and my comments may look like this (and yes this is totally about who you think it is)

[take-everything-you-can]

I had to go to the bank today and all I could think was that Eddie would get you to ask the people behind the glass for a damn 🍭

Since he doesn't see you much because of work and school, between the two of you Saturdays and Sunday is all you get to bask in all that is Eddie. He would end up running errands with you if you couldn't during the week. That's how you ended up in the bank with Eddie and his arms snaked around your waist. He would see the basket set nicely for the people who come in with kids and instantly want one .

He would wrap his arms a bit tighter over your middle bringing you to him until you were flush against his chest. He would lean into your neck since your impulse was to always grant him access. Loving the shiver that it sent down your spine as his voice would rasp deep against your ear and goosebumps started to prick your skin as his hum to get your attention satisfied him.

"you think you could get me one of those suckers right there?" The request making you giggle as you too thought about one for yourself. You bite your lip and shake your head as if to say no just to tease him.

"come on baby, please?" He knew his begging was a soft spot for you since it always brought out a little whine that went straight to your core. And he knew he had you as you turned away from him as you rolled your eyes at his plea. A grin gracing his face once you asked the clerk for a dum-dum at the end of your encounter. His dimples on full display as he unwraps the treat on the way out of the door .

Sliding into the drivers seat he turns to you in the passenger side and as you click in your seatbelt you see the wickedness in his features as his tone drops. The lollipop leaving his mouth with a wet smack as he was starting to salivate.

"What did I tell you about rolling your eyes at me? What? Think I didn't catch that in there?"

.....

[mamamittens]

AHHHH!!! Thank u thank u thank you!!!! 💗💗

Thank u so much for doing my request on yandere Luffy , I had so much reading it , love how you wrote him and the smut was 10/10 😎👌

Omg and the way you wrote gear 5 was chef kiss 😘👌 , I didn’t even think about the fact he could make the reader cartoony as well .

Seriously I love reading this , thank u so much for doing my request, sending love and hugs your way 💗

Bone Apple Tea (o゜▽゜)o☆

Not a problem! I've never written smut for Luffy so it was interesting exploring the relatively asexual character with darker, possessive, hedonistic tendencies.

[therulerofallpotatos]

I was set loose on a meme website and made a bunch for Pin Me Down

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

Blank blogs or blogs that don’t have ages in the WILL BE BLOCKED

[kflixnet]

[MDNI] Check out our member June's oneshot!

for 1k.. mtl likely to completely melt when u go into subspace and say "thank you" after your orgasm? 💤

member — svt ot13 x gn reader  genre — mtl, fluff (18+) word count — 1.3k (each member has a paragraph) warnings — subspace (reader), just aftercare but there’s allusions to having sex (not explicitly described), implied that svt are dom/reader is a sub, all are gn except shua's uses “good girl” as a nickname notes — @junhuisms this has been in my inbox forever i'm sorry nhdnsjs. honestly i feel like all of them would melt but in slightly different ways so i did a little blurb for each. i hope you enjoy! <3

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most

1 - seungcheol

this man is the biggest simp on the entire planet and he would be so so good at taking care of you. i think it’s about 50/50 the amount of time he spends as a hard dom and a soft dom, but regardless of what activities you get up to he is the best at making sure you always feel good. he would melt the hardest on the nights he’s been a little meaner and a little rougher, because how can you be so sexy and so adorable at the same time, especially after you just came four times from his mouth alone? it boosts his ego so much not only that you trust him with all of yourself, but that you love him enough to say thank you afterwards? his day is made. his week is made. his whole year is made.

2 - seungkwan

he is absolutely obsessed with you. his reactions are always big whenever he's around you because he's so in love with you; you could be doing the most mundane thing in the world and he'd react like you just saved a burning building full of orphans and solved world hunger. he’ll melt over literally anything you do, but especially when you get that dopey smile on your face after you cum because your pleasure is his pleasure so your reactions only make him melt even more. he gets so caught up in how cute you are, he’d probably end up falling asleep with you tucked in his arms and forget to clean up.

3 - joshua

he thinks you’re just so adorable. most of the time he enjoys a little pushback when he’s fucking you; being a brat tamer is what gets him off, so he’s always making you beg him to let you cum. but he can never tease you for very long, especially on the times when you decide to be well behaved, so of course he has to reward you for being such a good girl for him. he lives on giving and receiving praise so he’d be thanking you too for letting him take care of you like this.

4 - mingyu

he completely melts. literally reduced to a puddle on the floor or the bed. he would get the biggest puppy eyes and be so pouty because he’s so whipped and he believes you shouldn’t ever have to do any work. he’s the one who needs to be thanking you, actually, because he's so honored that someone as beautiful and perfect as you decided to choose him of all people. he will give you anything and everything you could ever need because he doesn't want you to have a single care in the world, especially when you're being so sweet clinging to his arms. he may not be perfect but he's going to try his damn hardest to make sure he truly earns your thankfulness.

5 - jun

he’d start smiling and giggling, and he wouldn’t stop until you came back out of subspace. he would also get super clingy and hold you close to his chest and stroke your hair and grin uncontrollably. he’d give you the sweetest “you’re welcome” you’ve ever heard and just keep praising you for being so darn cute. he is the snuggliest boy and his aftercare would be the softest and best part of the whole experience.

6 - hoshi

everything about him is intense, especially when you’re in subspace. he fucks you hard and loves you even harder, so when you thank him after your orgasm it would make him so happy and he’d love you even more than before (if that’s even possible). he thinks your reactions are the cutest thing in the world and once you come out of that headspace he’d be begging for another round just so he can see you like that again.

7 - jeonghan

he’d mostly be cocky and proud of himself for making you feel so good, but deep down he'd be so giddy about your reaction. he doesn’t always explicitly say it or show it, but you’re so precious to him and all he really wants is for you to be satisfied and happy. he would absolutely tease you later about thanking him, but inside he’d be blushing and hoping it’s something that’ll become a habit of yours. he’s a fiend for praise and would want to get you there all the time.

8 - seokmin

he has hearts and stars in his eyes for you on a normal day, so it’d only increase when you’re in subspace. he’d get all blushy and embarrassed and tell you not to worry about it because it’s his job to make you feel good, so there’s no need to thank him. he’d wrap you up in blankets if you’re too cold and he’d put a cool washcloth on your forehead if you’re too hot and he’d coo over you with the purest little smile on his face.

9 - minghao

he gets so soft and he would be so gentle with you. even if he'd been a hard dom earlier, he'll flip on a dime as soon as he notices you in subspace. the responsible dom in him comes out and he tries not to dwell on how cute you look because instead he's busy making sure you’re feeling comfortable and safe and loved, bringing you water and helping you calm down. he’d melt at your reaction, but in more of a protective way because he’s not gonna let anything happen to his baby. 

10 - wonwoo

he wouldn’t not be into it exactly, but he wouldn’t have as much of a big reaction as the other members. he’d mostly be proud of himself for being able to satisfy you so well, and he’d be ready to give you whatever else you asked for or what you needed. he knows what his job is and he does it well. he smiles when he thinks you're not looking or when you aren't paying attention and the sight of you makes him feel warm inside.

11 - woozi

he wouldn't melt so much as he would just be fond of you. he’d smile at you, let you rest on his lap and play with your hair until you come back to him. he's usually quiet, not making a lot of noise unless you ask him to, but when you tell him “thank you” he'll hum and blush a little to let you know he's listening and that he appreciates you.

12 - chan

he would love it when you go into your subspace, but at the same time i think he would get a little panicky. it’s a lot of responsibility to take care of you when you’re so vulnerable, and he would be so focused on that that he’d forget to think about his own feelings. he would still adore you and how cute you are, but it would be more at the back of his mind.

13 - vernon

quite honestly i don't think he'd even notice when you're in subspace. looking back later he might realize you were suddenly acting a little calmer and a little clingier, but he wouldn't treat you any differently than he normally does. he loves you and thinks you're cute all the time, why would he be any different now? he's just happy to be along for the ride, but he won't deny it feels good to be thanked, even if he thinks he hasn't really done much.

least

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i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[florenceafternoon]

Being a nerd pays off when it comes time to read in bed all day and you understand all the references and metaphors/similes

[notquitecanon]

Search History // Poly!141 x Reader

A continuation of this thought

Summary: Reader (based loosely on Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds) has to be face-to-face with the boys for the first time since they started including her in their late-night fantasies. They've decided it's time to take it off-screen and move in IRL.

I'm taggin the peeps who replied to the last part bc I'm desperate for attention lol (in all actuality y'all really encouraged me to actually write thank you!!)

CW: allusions to porn, allusions to female genitalia, they're all horny in the workplace, this is basically workplace harassment but we're excusing it because they're hot and fictional and I say so, no outright smut

Still nsfw though so MDNI pls and thanks

“The 141 just touched down. ETA twenty minutes.” 

Your eyes flicked up from the muted video on your monitor, cheeks flushed red but masked by the light radiating off your screen in your dark office. Thank God, your monitor faced away from the door. A young private was standing in the doorway with a tablet, looking at you for an acknowledgment, probably running about starting preparations for their arrival back on home base. 

“Thank you, private.” You murmured, teeth toying at your thumbnail, chipping the polish. The young soldier gave a short nod at the quiet dismissal and disappeared once again. Your eyes, with embarrassingly blown pupils, flicked back to the video. 

After your discovery two weeks ago, the sites and links you had to review furthered down the rabbit hole. And this video you were currently watching had been one that all the men had been visiting, and revisiting, and revisiting… 

By god, they’d done it. 

Similar build, skin tone only a shade or two different - you could probably share foundation and it wouldn’t look too bad. Hair and eye color so close it was uncanny. And when the woman looked over her shoulder at the mountain of a man hitting it from the back, the angle made the resemblance almost scarily uncanny.  The Had you had a porn career and simply forgotten?- kind of uncanny. 

Sure there were differences- she was a little taller, maybe a bit leaner, with boobs that had definitely had some work done. Tattoos where your skin was bare and vice versa, different piercings. Her voice was pitched different, and her accent was completely different from yours but within three minutes of the video she’d stopped speaking words, so accent didn’t matter much.  But as far as porn actresses went- she might as well be your twin. 

It seemed the 141 had perused her entire.. filmography. Different videos, different scenarios, different partners. They all had videos they seemed to like better than others. Soap seemed to particularly like the POV video where the man had a thick Scottish accent. Gaz had bookmarked a soft-core bondage and forced orgasm scene. Price, a shorter video of an unseen man pushing the actress under a desk for oral, and Ghost… the only link he’d visited was your instagram. It was hard not to let it stroke your ego a little bit. 

God, if you told anyone about this… They’d tell you to file a workplace harassment suit, and maybe a police report.  To start job hunting, and therapist hunting. Distance yourself. You should have been embarrassed or uncomfortable- you knew you should be. That you should feel objectified or disrespected, disgusted. 

But hell, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t send yourself the links and watched them in your free time at home. It was hot- turned you on in an almost concerning way that would set feminism back twenty years if you told anyone. 

The video kept playing on your monitor, one of the videos that Soap had visited more than once (little did you know it was one that Ghost had picked out). A gloved hand smoothly glided down the actress's spine before curving around her throat and pulling her upright on the man’s lap, filthy praises in a British accent playing through your single AirPod. 

“Holy shit…”  You muttered, thighs clenching because if you squinted it really did look like you, even some of her mannerisms. And the rough accent was like a mix of Ghost's and Price’s. 

Abruptly, you shut down the entire monitor completely, ripping out the AirPod and tossing it on the desk. Pressing slightly shaking hands to your too hot face. You needed to get it together, because Price was your boss and the others were your superiors. They’d been gone for a month and a half, and it’d been your voice in their ears guiding them through missions, and you knew you had a flirty disposition, especially from the private safety of your dark little office half way across the world. 

It made sense that their wires got a little crossed, but your wires- like those off all your monitors and hardware- needed to stay neatly organized and separate. Focus. Focus. 

Your nails were bitten to the quick, the bitter taste of old nail polish on the back of your tongue. The skin around your nails was raw from your teeth toying with it as your so intensely focussed on the videos. You needed to get out of this too small, too hot room.  Which is how you found yourself, twenty minutes later, in the communal break room fighting with the vending machine. It was withholding the ice cold water you were desperate for, despite your curses and attempts to jostle the machine. Right as you delivered a frustrated kick to the machine-

“Just the bird we were looking for!” 

It was Kyle’s voice first, that tipped you off to the herd of men entering the space. You almost jumped out of your skin- brain flitting through several scandalous snippets of the videos he’d replayed. His smile was dazzling as always as he came into view, tapping the yellow warning stickers that instructed people not to jostle the machine, with the little illustration of the stick man getting crushed, “What’d the machine ever do to you? It might start fighting back.” 

A gloved hand reached between the two of you, skeleton fingers curled into a fist that delivered a blunt strike, and, like magic, the water bottle fell in to the receptacle. You peeked over your shoulder at Ghost, standing just slightly too close and looking down at you intensely, but not meanly. An easy to miss bit of mirth that was usually reserved for Soap. Thank god you’d bitten your nails to stubs or they would’ve drawn blood from how they were digging into your palms to distract you from the gloved hands and the brutish display of strength. 

Kyle put the drink sweetly in your hands after cracking it for you, like he would do when bringing Ghost or Price something, eyes twinkling like he knew something you didn’t.  Another hand, warm and large clapped gently on your shoulder, pulling you back a step, almost directly into Captain Price’s chest. 

The men shared a look over your head before focussing back on you. 

“Your intel was good.” It was a simple statement, but delivered in a warm, proud tone that felt so much like praise that your stomach flipped a bit, with that warm smile that made him look soft despite the fact he was still in full tac-gear, “They didn’t even see us coming.” 

“They never see you coming, that’s kind of your whole thing.” You tried a joke, your voice a touch strained. His hand was lingering, right on the curve where your shoulder became your neck, fingers flexing into the flesh just so. Just like it did on the boys when he thought others wouldn’t noticed. focus, focus, focus. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, it was Soap that interrupted the kneading of Price’s fingers. 

“Don’t be so modest, bonnie!” He was laughing as large arms caught you around the waist, lifting and spinning you slightly. His voice so similar to that one Scottish co-star that had done such filthy things to your lookalike, it made your head spin.  Despite your startled yelp and squirming, his grip didn’t waver, “Couldn’t of done it without our lass in the chair.” 

“ ’nough, Johnny,” Ghost called firmly, leaning against the vending machine that they’d all but cornered you against, “Put ‘er down.” 

Soap’s laugh was still good natured as he set you on your feet again, a little roughly for the heels you had on to match your skirt, you wobbled only for Ghost himself to steady you, giving you another intense look, that you had trouble meeting, “ 'e’s right though. Intel was good.” 

They were all staring at you, varying degrees of smirks, eyes a spectrum of mischief and something that was dizzyingly close to hunger.  Unable to keep still, you were squirming, shifting your weigh from foot to foot, fiddling with the wrapper on the bottle. You found your eyes flitting around settling anywhere but their own gaze, cheeks feeling hot, mind full of vile images that you knew they’d seen and enjoyed- ceiling, the exit sign, Johnny’s tac-vest, the floor, the water bottle in your hands. You gulped, eyebrows raising as you puffed a breath, trying desperately to reign yourself in.

“Glad to be of service.” You smiled tightly, nodding meeting each set of eyes briefly and hoping your foundation masked your blush (it didn’t). Jesus Christ, you couldn’t do this.  You couldn’t tell if you felt turned on or awkward or both, but you needed to go. Preferably before you did something that would cost you your job. Your voice was rushed as you squeezed between Gaz and Price, double timing it to the exit, “Enjoy your leave, boys, you deserve it.” 

As you all but fled the building, you typed out a mass base-wide memo email, language formal as you professionally reminded every soldier, specifically four of them, that any website visited by government devices was subject to internal review. 

You swore you could hear them laughing as the memo went out. But maybe that was just your overactive imagination. 

____

You’d gone home for the evening, and then clocked back in the following morning. Surprised to find all of the 141 was still there, debriefing must have ran long. 

“Morning, love.” It was Kyle that greeted you, pressing a cup of coffee into your hands. He looked tired but happy to see you. Soap was with him, eyes bright and grin wide as he whistled lowly, fingers tugging at the hem of your skirt as you passed his seat. 

“Looking good, bonnie,” He smiled devilishly, rubbing the fabric between his fingers before letting go, “Tired of all the green, black, and beige tac gear. Missed seeing something a little… softer.”  

You somewhat doubted that. He seemed to appreciate military khaki when it hugged Gaz’s ass, and he sure didn’t seem to mind an all black tactical ensemble when it was on Ghost. But the compliment still brought heat up your neck, which you coupled with a sip of the hot coffee Gaz had brought you- fixed perfectly the way you liked it. It elicited a pleased sigh as you swallowed, humming in content. 

“Price wants to see you before we all leave. Brought you some new stuff to work on.” Kyle smiled, watching how your expression softened at the taste of the beverage, clearly proud of himself for drawing out that reaction.   

“A present? For me?” You smiled sarcastically back at the prospect of more work added to you caseload, “It’s like Christmas.” 

“You been good this year?” Kyle grinned back, accompanied by Soap chiming, voice low and chiding, “Nah, she’s definitely been naughty.” 

Both Sergeant’s shared a look as you almost choked on another sip of coffee. 

“I’m leaving now.” You shook your head, turning on your heel away from where they were hanging around the rec room, clearly waiting for Price to dismiss them, “Y’all should shower. Or take a nap.” 

“You want us naked?” Kyle questioned, raising his eyebrows at you, leaning back against the wall, standing so very close to Soap, who was sprawled out in his chair, long legs splayed and spread before him as he waggled his eyebrows. “And in bed?” 

Now that was some imagery. Taking the lord’s name in vain you didn’t dignify that with a response other than a huffed, “Leaving now.” 

____

The good thing about Price and Ghost was they were business first. So if you really focussed you could almost ignore Ghost's thigh pressed against yours as you sat beside him in the dark room, reviewing body cam footage. They pointed out different things to you, things to include as you started your next dark web deep dive. 

You could almost ignore how Price’s fingers grazed and lingered on your palm as he gave you a thumb drive to decrypt and analyze, how he stood close enough to you that you had to look at him through your lashes. 

“Has a self destruct program that Gaz didn’t want t' aggravate. Figured it needed your... soft touch.” Price smiled down at you as you curled your fingers around the thumb drive. You had to try pretty hard to ignore the slight emphasis on soft. Ghost seemed to chuckle lowly at your expression at the captain. 

“What’s on there'll point us in the next direction of our next target.” Ghost nodded to you, his leg shifting so it pressed harder against yours. In the guise of stretching out, he’d draped an arm over the back of your chair, the cotton of his gloves half tickling the sensitive skin on the back of your bicep, where the flesh was soft. 

“So don’t screw it up, got it.” You swallowed thickly, shifting so you couldn’t feel his thumb against your skin- it was making it hard to think about hacking and terrorism and military operations.  He took it as an invitation to spread out more, his fingers grazing the exact spot only seconds later. 

“Precisely,” John laughed lowly, his hand moved to your shoulder, back into that sweet curve that was partly your shoulder and partly your neck, and gave it a lingering squeeze, that kind of made you want to melt, “You won’t screw it up, love.” 

The captain gave his Lieutenant a nod, and Ghost quickly stood, his boot giving the toe of your pretty heels a slight nudge as a goodbye before silently stalking out. Price took a seat across from you, leaning back and his arms cross comfortably over his chest.

“I’m having the boys over at mine tonight. A couple of drinks, I’m gonna grill, put the footie on, celebrate another successful mission to start our leave.” Price listed out their plans casually, noting how you squirmed a bit, uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you tugged at the hem of your skirt before continuing, “We want you to come. Couldn’t have done it without you, so you should celebrate it too.” 

“Oh, uh-“ You started before you could think of a good excuse, “I’ll be really busy… with.. with the flash drive. And stuff.” 

“What stuff?” Price rose a single brow, his stare pinning you still as he reached across the table and took the flash drive back, “This can wait.” 

“Files. Coding. Security checks.” You mumbled the first couple aspects of your job that came to mind, the intensity of his gaze making you want to adjust your collar or shrink in your seat. You figured you’d have a couple more sites to clear off their devices, if they’d been sitting around base all night. Your cheeks heated just at the thought. “I’m a little behind. Been… distracted lately."

“Everything all right, love?” He ‘asked’ with at signature warm smile and amused eyes, he seemed to already know the answer to his question, “You’ve been… skittish, since we got back.” 

Your teeth worried the seam of your lips as you considered the question. Skittish, was one way to put it- fidgety, fleeing rooms, avoiding eye contact, barely speaking as opposed to your usual chatter and banter. Your eyes flitted away from his gaze again, swallowing dryly again- geez when did you get so shy, “ ‘m fine. Absolutely fine. Never been better. How’re you?” 

Cringing at your own rambling, you sighed shoulders drooping as he fixed you with another look, and muttered your name in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a look that expected obedience, as his legs shifted into a natural man spread. Your brain flitted back to the video of your look alike being shoved under a desk… 

Him saying your name again, slightly louder but just as bemused drew you back to him, realizing you were staring at his legs, debating if you could fit between his knees and you almost sputtered as you cleared your throat, “I’m fine, really.” 

“Either lie more convincingly or tell me what’s bothering you, sweet.”  Price chuckled, leaving forward against the table, drumming a knuckle against the table. Sweet, that was new. You’d have to add it to the laundry list of nicknames and pet names the boys had for you. You’d always told yourself that it was nothing personal, that British/Scottish people just did that. But this on wasn’t as easy to write off as ‘love’ or ‘bonnie’, average pet names in the UK colloquial, no sweet seemed personal. 

“I’m not bothered.” You glanced away again, nose wrinkling, even though you were bothered- hot and bothered. John Price had a way of drawing details out of people with just a look and a couple of well prodded words.  With a deep breath, you tried to keep your characteristic rambling to a minimum, a losing battle as he starting stroking at his beard with those long fingers- two parts of him that you’d been thinking about way too much lately-, “Listen, I’m not judging, you’re grown men, watch what you want to, but just a reminder that it’s my job and obligation to review every link and site that government devices visit. Which includes at least skimming videos.  In case you didn’t know or maybe forgot that I can and do see these things, so maybe you could pass that along to the boys-“ 

“You can tell 'em yourself. ’s your job, sweet.” Price said firmly. The girlish part of your brain corrected ‘firmly’ to dominantly. Before his demeanor relaxed again, giving you an amused, appraising look again, “At my place. Tonight. 8 o’clock. Not a request.” Shrinking in your chair a bit, hoping the chair hid the way your thighs involuntarily clenched, you couldn’t help but nod and squeak, “Yes, sir.” 

___

Another part here!

Was supposed to have actually smut in this but I got carried away on the build-up, laugh out loud. Maybe a part three or you can just imagine how the little dinner party goes (hint, she's the meal)

Tags: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @viviennevianna @savas-q1 @cringeycookies @lainey-laines @buttercup337 @acosmisted @carqueensworld @tmartin0918 @dreamland08 @sheepdogchick @hidden-wildflowers @lilynotdilly @astrxsee @joopyjup @originalsoulcollector @henhouse-horrors @ohdrey89 @red5tars @cod-z @balletbiscuit @spacecrawllerr @scrumptioussportstoadgarden-blog @blues-of-neptune @monster-effer @yunho-leeknow @ungodlydilf @pluviofleur @jandthecrow @fangtoothgod @coquetterie-dancer @sapphires-and-silver-things @ghost-is-my-bbg @loveergirll @silly-starfish @popkle @honestlymassivetrash @not-mentally-sane @devoetee @beloveds-embrace @jellyamour @simon141price @divinecat

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.  

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

--

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)