#but it was top quality content at least

[fromamelodytoasong]

EVE BEST as ELEANOR O'HARA in “Nurse Jackie” S1E5 | Daffodil

[cobbled-peach]

proposal(s)

aka: the four times Spencer thinks about proposing to you, and the one time he does

a/n: this is my first time writing/posting here pls be kind to me I just love him and I love books and I hope you love him and love books too !!!!! this hasn’t been edited much so apologies for sp mistakes cw: brief mention of sex, but nothing explicit. Fembau!reader. Lots of literature references (with books named at the end). I think this constitutes as fluff? Pre-prison Spencer, but no specific era. wc: 2.3k

darcy and elizabeth

The first time Spencer thinks about proposing to you, it’s the day you meet him.

The newest agent on the team. You’re emotionally intelligent in a way he can only dream of being.

You cradle a mug of coffee in your hands. His mug, which stuns Morgan into silence mid-sentence, his conversation with Garcia derailed by the sheer surprise of what he’s witnessing. Your mug had smashed thirty minutes earlier, an unfortunate casualty in the first-day desk unboxing. Spencer, seeing your disappointment, pulled a plain white mug from his top drawer, REID printed on the side.

He held it out tentatively. A peace offering. ‘Until you get a new one,’ he’d murmured, offering a small smile.

He’s always been wary of germs, but somehow didn’t care this time.

He watches your hands wrap around the mug. Soft, delicate, holding the item like its something precious. He wonders what it would be like to hold your hands himself. Then scolds the thought. Coworkers, Spencer.

You bring the cup up to your lips, humming in contentment after the first sip. Yor lipstick – or maybe lipgloss? He’s unsure of the correct term – leaves a gentle pink stain on the rim. He secretly hopes that it won’t wash off. He stares for a moment, and wonders, quite randomly, is this how Darcy felt when Elizabeth first touched his hand?

You set the mug down (Morgan still gaping in the background, like you’ve declared war on the Bureau’s hierarchy of personal property) and smile at him.

‘Thank you. Seriously. I desperately needed that caffeine.’

‘It’s not a problem. Did you know that caffeine sensitivity is actually inherited?’ A pause. To see if you’re listening. You are, and he suddenly wonders how appropriate it would be to stain his lips with your lipstick-lipgloss in a kiss. Not very, he concludes. ‘It’s all to do with polymorphisms in your enzymes. Its genetic; they tested it on twins.’

‘You sound well-versed in your coffee knowledge. A fellow connoisseur?’

‘I think the term “addict” is more fitting, actually. And I don’t know how much of my consumption is due to genetics over stress and lack of sleep.’

A laugh from you. He feels the sound in his chest and his stomach flips.

‘Good to know what’s in store for me,’ you tease.

‘Coffee addictions and sleepless nights,’ he replies. Then, hesitating. ‘Maybe I’ll let you use my high-quality espresso beans when it gets really bad.’

‘Literally marry me,’ you joke.

He almost says, I will.

He doesn’t, just stares at the mug like it holds the future.

2. the black cloud

The second time he thinks about proposing is your third-technically fourth date. (The first didn’t count, at least not to you. ‘You asked me to dinner to “celebrate closing the case,”’ you’d later said. ‘That’s not a date.’ He insisted that it was; he’d paid. You said so did JJ, once. Case closed.) They’re also technically not “dates” because dating within the team is prohibited, but Hotch showed some leniency.

Coffee in the park. A foolproof plan, not much room for error. He buys your drink, and you sip it beside him on the bench while he spews obscure facts about the tree you’re sitting under, intertwined with quotes from Ovid and Darwin. He offers to get you a refill as soon as you finish.

‘You haven’t even finished yours yet,’ you tell him.

‘I know. I can still get you a new one.’

‘Just drink your drink, Spencer.’ Accompanied by a fond smile.

You wander together. Conversation flows. He can’t quite explain why its so easy, why he feels so comfortable.

He’s puzzled by the anomaly, so he does what he does best: theorises. He’s been hypothesising for the past three-technically-four dates. Cross-referencing data points. He runs through the evidence, and draws the only viable conclusion:

Love.

Premature, maybe. But true.

You suggest dipping into a second-hand bookshop. He agrees eagerly, following you in like Orpheus descending. He’ll go anywhere, so long as he can find his way back to you. You disappear into your aisle; he into his. Mathematics, physics. The realm of science and fact. Only two minutes pass before you appear again, book clutched in your hand.

‘This is so you,’ you say.

It’s The Black Cloud. Fred Hoyle.

He blinks. Then again. Takes the book from your hand and turning it over like you’ve just handed him the world.

‘You’ve probably read it,’ you say. ‘But you’ve never mentioned it, and I know you like mid-century sci-fi.’

He has read it. Of course he has. But its not about the book. Its about you, thinking of him.

And you say it so casually. Like this isn’t the most intimate thing someone’s done for him.

‘You picked this out… for me?’

‘Yes.’

He turns it over again, shocked. He wants to hand you his heart, neatly wrapped in paper and ink.

‘Oh…’ he breathes out, the sound so quiet. He feels like he’s been winded, in the best way possible.

‘Not to your taste?’

‘No–’ he shakes his head. ‘No, its exactly to my taste. I think I have an older copy, but not this edition.’

‘Do you want it?’

‘Yes.’ The answer comes out before he even registers it. He does want the book. Not because he needs it, but because you picked it out for him.

You smile, gently take it back, and go to the register. He watches lamely, feels compelled to place a hand over his chest an steady his beating heart.

He thinks of Dante first catching sight of Beatrice. Of Gatsby staring across the bay. Of Gabriel and Bathsheba, paths destined to intertwine.

In the middle of the bookshop, he almost gets on one knee.

3. the hour of the star

The third time he thinks about proposing is directly after sex.

Not the first time, or the second. Somewhere in the quiet middle.

You’ve been officially together for six months. You transferred to a different department, and he asked the moment you were in your new office. (‘No interdepartmental fraternization,’ he’d quoted, followed by a nervous, ‘so, can you officially be my girlfriend now?’)

You’re both tangled beneath the sheets in your apartment, the place half his by default now. His toothbrush lives in the bathroom, his go-bag in the hallway, his own mug in your kitchen.

His copy of The Black Cloud lives on your bookshelf, annotated. He took it straight home, writing his thoughts in the margins, little notes to you. Fred Hoyle writes “There is a coherent plan to the universe” and beneath it, in Spencer’s barely legible font, is yes, and I think its you.

The book had been kept out of your sight for seven months, before he “sneakily” slipped it onto your shelf. “Sneakily,” because you watched every movement through the kitchen doorway. You’d read the whole thing that night, cried, and set to work annotating a book of your own for him.

The books are a love language themselves. If he could frame every annotated page on his wall, he would.

He’s reading aloud to you now.

It’s become a ritual. You, soft limbs and warm skin. Him, thumbing through whatever book is on the nightstand, voice a little hoarse. Sometimes it’s a play, sometimes poetry. Once, quantum physics (he didn’t take it personally when you instantly fell asleep to that).

Tonight, its Clarice Lispector. The Hour of the Star. Skin still flushed, he clears his throat and reads aloud, backed by your steady breaths. Each turn of a page is a pause in which he can press a kiss to your skin. Shoulder, cheek, temple. Wherever he can reach.

‘“Things were somehow so good that they were in danger of becoming very bad, because what is fully mature is very close to rotting.’” The sentence hangs in the air. Heavy. His voice stops, like he’s contemplating the words he’s just read.

You turn your head against his chest.

‘Everything okay?’

His quiet. Thinking, as always, a crease between his brows.

‘Mm.’ His arm shifts to wrap around your shoulders. ‘It’s just… interesting, isn’t it? How even the best things are fragile, maybe. Decaying.’

He doesn’t need to say “us” for you to catch what he’s referring to.

‘You think we’ll decay?’ you ask, propping yourself up on one elbow. He looks at your eyes, soft, unworried, and thinks again.

‘I think that… real things are vulnerable. We’re real. And I think that makes us susceptible.’ He hesitates, brushes some hair from your face absentmindedly. ‘Entropy. Everything tends towards disorder.’

‘Only if you don’t control it,’ you say. Factually incorrect, but he appreciates what you're saying.

And perhaps that’s it. Your unwavering faith. You’re a realist, not a romantic. Offering certainty in a world of disorder.

‘Decay isn’t death,’ you point out, continuing. ‘Its transformation, right? Compost to soil. Stars collapsing and becoming galaxies. Things can break and become something beautiful.’

His world shifts in that moment. He looks back at the line, reads it maybe 20 times in the span of five seconds.

‘We’re not going to rot, Spence.’

‘We’re not going to rot,’ he repeats. He knows it’s the truth as you press your lips to his chest, over his frantically beating heart. ‘Do you want me to keep going?’ he asks, lifting the book slightly.

‘Please.’

You adjust your position, curling into his side. He resumes his reading. He’s turning the page again when you mumble quietly.

‘We’re not going to rot, because I love you.’

Every syllable brands itself into his soul. He’s heard those three words before, but there’s something more to them in his context. He almost drops the book, catches I before it hits your head. He wants to tell you that you are his Eurydice, the person he’s always been trying to reach.

Instead, he says:

‘I love you, too.’

It falls easily. Inevitable, as always. No drama, no prelude. Just the truth, spoken to you many times before and many more to come.

He almost attaches a “marry me” to his words but instead kisses your hair and returns to the book. He’ll wait.

He already knows the ending will be worth it.

4. metamorphoses

The fourth time isn’t once. It’s every day.

You hand him coffee in the morning? Marry me.

You nurse him through a cold, unconcerned about coughing and sneezing, just wanting to be near to him? Here’s a ring fashioned out of Kleenex.

You coo over Henry in one of JJ’s photos? Let’s make one of our own. Just marry me first.

He asks Rossi for advice. (‘You’ve been married a lot, statistically speaking.’)

Garcia catches on quickly. Spencer Reid combined with search history is a concoction for whatever the opposite of “stealth” is. He looks at rings on his lunch break, tilting his computer screen like its classified information.

Pretty soon everyone knows. You remain oblivious – or pretend to be.

It’s simply a matter of when.

5. darcy and elizabeth

It’s a Tuesday. Raining.

Not a dramatic kind of rain. Unassuming. Soft and relentless, quietly soaking the world, a constant tap against the window of his apartment – now permanently shared with you.

He wonders if the rain is a piece of pathetic fallacy. A warning against his plans.

It’s four years to the day since he met you.

He had a plan. Of course he did. He was Spencer Reid. A riverside walk in the park. Take a picnic, surrounded by ducks. Bookmark a page in Much Ado About Nothing with the ring. But the weather has altered his plans, made him go off script.

But maybe that’s a good thing. Gentle touches and heartfelt gestures over big declarations, that’s what he’s always preferred. He just needs a moment.

You’re making coffee. Barefoot, hair damp from the rain that interrupted his plans. Wearing an old shirt of his effortlessly. A perfect picture of home. His home.

He stands in the doorway with a book in his hand. Pride and Prejudice. Not his favourite. Nowhere near his top ten. But it’s your favourite. You’ve worn it down with love, left your own story between the lines with annotations. And that makes it his favourite now, too.

His mismatched socks shift awkwardly on the floor.

‘Hi,’ he says, calling your attention.

You look up from the mugs with a pre-formed smile. Yours, a copy of the mug you’d smashed on your first day. His, the mug with your lipstick, now washed, but imprinted with you forever.

‘Hey,’ you respond. ‘Dry from the rain?’

He doesn’t respond. Crosses the kitchen and holds out the book. Why does it feel like a brick?

‘This is… mine?’ you say, unsure.

‘Yes,’ he confirms. ‘I added some annotations. For you.’

You open the cover. His handwriting – messy, familiar – sits below your own in black ink.

You know I am not very good with words. So, I thought I’d borrow someone else’s. Please turn to page 301.

He watches your breath hitch. Watches as you carefully flip the pages.

There’s a line. Circled not once, but many times over, holding the weight of what couldn’t be said with words.

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”

Beside it, tentative but certain at the same time, his writing: but if you ever choose to be bound to someone, I hope it’s me.

He’s already on one knee when you glance up. Ring held out in his hand. A quiet promise, forged from the pages of books you’ve shared and the one you’ve written yourself.

Your hands are cradling his face. He’s crying. And you’re crying.

‘I will always choose you.’ Quiet, definitive. A fact.

He slips the ring on and kisses you. Pride and Prejudice lays open in the background. Page 301. A circled sentence. A note in the margins. A love undoubted.

hi I’m super awkward but I hope you enjoyed yippee!! I thought I’d quickly mention all the books I referenced/have implied references to because I love them all and if you like literature you should read them teehee (in order because I’m super sweet) (also I know darcy doesn’t touch her hand in the books pls don’t come for me <33) Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen Metamorphosis, Ovid The Origin of Species, Charles Darwin The Black Cloud, Fred Hoyle The Divine Comedy, Dante The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald Far from the Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy The Hour of the Star, Clarice Lispector Much Ado About Nothing, Shakespeare Hamlet, Shakespeare

[a-b-riddle]

Can’t stop thinking about poly141 who get so wrapped up in their own bullshit they begin to neglect reader. So you leave 🤷🏼‍♀️

It wasn’t a big deal at first. You understood that their jobs were intense to say the least. You own a bookshop, which in itself was exhausting, but you understood how they could get carried away with work.

You had excused the many delayed returned texts or missed FaceTime dates when they were deployed. When they came home, they almost always made it up to you. Showering you with attention and quality time.

But the past two returns home have been… different.

Usually at least one of them made a beeline to your shop or your loft if it was too late in the evening. You always held your breath when it was just one of them.

“They’re okay.” Was the usual answer. “Everyone made it back okay.” It was only then that you could melt into whoever’s hands you were in.

After one of their recent returns home you had voice to Price that you didn’t appreciate several days passing after they came back and no one had bothered to tell you. He had snapped. Arguing that a mission doesn’t finish just because they land back on soil. There was paperwork and debriefing to be done. If and when they wanted to see you they would.

He didn’t apologize until later. Crawling into your bed, using one of the keys you had given them. Blaming the stress. How they had almost lost Johnny for the reason of his outburst. What else could you do but forgive him?

So you had given them space after that one. Not holding it against them to decompress before seeing you.

The next time was the final straw. Solidifying how little they cared about you and how much power you had given them.

Johnny had come in around 7 one evening. He was dressed nicely, for civilian standards. You were reading a book on the couch when he had let himself in. You were wearing on of Simon’s sweatshirts and panties. He took you in for a moment before scooping you up.

He fucked you absolutely stupid. Adamant on having you cum on his tongue, his fingers and his cock. You were only able to bask in the afterglow of him filling you up before he started pulling his pants back on.

“What are you doing?” There were times that you would practically need a crow bar to get Johnny detached from you just long enough to relieve yourself. You had gotten many a UTI courtesy of Mr. John MacTavish.

“Dinner with my family tonight.” He explained by the time he was already buttoning his shirt. “The youngest just graduated and ma’ feels the need to go all out.” Now came the tie. Johnny was actually wearing a tie. To go to dinner. “A fancy dinner in London.” He huffed. “Meanwhile I’m out scufflin’ with bloody fuckin’ terrorists and I get a pat on the back.” He gave you a peck on the cheek before heading out the door. Promising to call you later.

You just sat in your bed. Still naked. Almost in shocked. He had fucked you and just… left. You were close to a panic attack as you called Simon.

Simon wasn’t the one to cuddle and coddle. But there was something so soothing at the sound of his voice or even how his heavy body felt perfect laying on top of you. Yes. Simon wasn’t the time to lift you up with words, but he was your own security blanket. Just having him close helped.

“Can you come over?” It wasn't unusal for Simon to be the one to come later in the evening. Insomnia was a bitch to deal with and you could sleep through the sounds of whatever he played on the tv. Most of the times you were content laying your head on his lap as he ran his hand along your head as if he were petting you. It was a bit cringe, but it knocked you out every time.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. The low timber of his voice already calming you.

“Johnny came over.” You sniffled. “He just fucked me and left.”

“Not surprised.” He scoffed. You could almost see him rolling those deep brown eyes of his. “If you wanted to cum, I’m happy to come over and help.”

For whatever reason, that only seemed to make you more upset. “You’re not listening.” You said, trying to spell it out for him. “He left. Like didn’t even stay and cuddle just left. Fucked me and left.”

“That’s why you’re calling me crying about?” He almost seemed… annoyed.

“Yes!” You said, nearly snapping. All of the tension from the last several months coming to the surface. “I’m not just a warm body to keep a bed cozy until you assholes decide you need to get one off.” Assholes. You called them assholes. “This isn’t what we agreed to.”

“Johnny is Johnny.” Simon tried to defend, not really caring to continue the conversation now knowing that you weren't in any sort of physical harm. “He wanted his dick wet and from the sound of it, that’s what he did. Don’t hold it against him because he had other things to do.”

“It’s not just Johnny leaving.” Your throat felt like it was tightening. A telltale sign you were close to crying. Whether from sadness or anger you weren't entirely sure. “The only time any of you want anything to do with me anymore is to fuck.” You missed date nights and lunches. You missed texting any and all of them about your day, about theirs. About new books. You had been trying for months to tell them over dinner one of your books got picked up. Yours was being traditionally published.

None of them had bothered to even try penciling you in.

“You got yours.” You heard the popping of a can top. Simon was settling in for the night. Once he popped a top at home there was no getting him out. He wasn't coming for you. “I don’t understand what you’re bitchin’ to me about. Yeah, in the beginning we indulged ya a bit? Dressed you up, took you out. But you should have known spreadin’ them legs of yours wouldn’t end with one of us puttin’ a ring on your finger.”

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? These were the men that pursued you. Initially, individually, but when tensions became to much they offered a solution. All of them. Four times the attention, of the affection.

Four times the love.

But also four time the neglect. Four times the amount of heartbreak and disappointment. Loving all of them meant putting yourself in a position to let each of them hurt you in their own way and they had.

John's constant state of snapping at you as if you were one of his men.

Johnny swinging by as if you were just a fuck buddy. Not even bothering to give a peck before leaving.

Kyle essentially ignoring you for weeks now. Ghosting you for hours or having to cancel on date nights last minute or claiming that he really did forget that the two of you had planned to meet for lunch.

And now there was Simon. Telling you that all you meant to them was what was between your thighs.

Spreadin' them legs of yours wouldn't end with one of us puttin' a ring on your finger.

None of them ever intended on making this into something more. That much was clear now.

You didn't know what to say to Simon. You couldn't think of a witty retort. You couldn't find the proper insult to whirl his way. You couldn't convey just how much his words had hurt.

So you did the only thing you could.

You hung up.

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: Hey y'all! I hope y'all enjoy, the next one might be submissive Terry idkidk 🫣 kinda hate this one.

Perfect Gentleman. | Aaron Pierre.

Gentle!Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader

Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( penetrat!on, oral s3x ( m receiving), extreme language (cursing, sexual references) established relationship, slight daddy kink if you squint. Not proofread!

Summary: terry's been the perfect gentleman, maybe a little too gentle.

swear you can have me, you really one-of-one.

how you so nasty? you really one-of-one.

You eagerly scratched the itch away in your bitten up ankles. The mosquitoes out here in the Black Bayou had torn your exposed ankles up—and this was why camping wasn't your thing. You'd never complain though, any excuse to be with Terry was a good one.

"I told you to wear long socks," he chuckled looking back you and at how you'd scratched the skin on your ankles red, "all that gardenin' you do and you out here with no socks on," he softly lectured as you watched him pitch the tent, at his demand. He was such a gentleman.

You'd been dating Terry for over four months, you've both went on a plethora of dates, had the steamy first kiss, and even spent a night at each others apartment, but you still hadn't fucked yet. Was it you? You knew you had an Oscar worthy performance of your coy-innocent act that Terry ate up all of the time, but you weren't a prude. You couldn't count how many times you'd hinted, and seduced only to be met with more gentleness.

And you loved how patient, protective, and gentle he was with you. He was everything you'd practically asked for when you started dating. A nice man, a sweet man—and you got it, a full blown golden retriever boyfriend. He had so many amazing qualities, he was always on time arriving fifteen minutes early. Something he said was one of the most useful things he learned from his time in the Marine Corps. He was a full blown de-escalator, he never wanted to argue with you, always communicating as calmly as he could before coming to an understanding with you. He was gentle. But maybe he was too gentle? You wanted Terry in the worst ways. It didn't help that he stayed in good shape, gym four times a week, and his infinite morning runs kept him in tip-top shape.

You pouted, squinting your eyes as you looked at Terry from underneath the brim of the Nike bucket hat you'd retrieved from him. Although he was pitching the tent and the sun was currently beating down on him, he decided that, you, sitting in the shade doing nothing, needed the hat more. Such a man.

"You said come comfortable, and I garden in my crocs—that's what I came in!" You defended your reasoning for not wearing the socks that he did tell you to pack last night over a quick FaceTime call, but he did say come comfortable in the same sentence. "These mosquitos are relentless, baby, look at my ankles!" You frowned looking at how red and irritated the skin has gotten there even on your deep brown skin.

Of course Terry stopped his meddling with the tent and came over to assess your so badly injured ankles. He tsk'd softly his big hands cradling both of your ankles gently. Now push them behind my head! you eagerly thought feeling him touch you at all always sent shocks and shivers through your body.

"They eatin' my baby up," he somberly acknowledged rubbing his thumbs where the bites were firmly, "you put bug spray on like I told you?"

You nodded. "Yeah, just go and finish the tent," you dramatically sighed waiting to eagerly scratch at the bites, "I'll just be sitting over here, itchy, getting ate up." At least something was eating you up.

He brought your left ankle up to his lips casually, placing a soft kiss there before setting the both of them back down carefully. You almost moaned, it had been way too long. "stop scratchin' at em, you makin' em worse."

You looked at him, batting your eyelashes at him a dazed nod following right behind. He was so gorgeous, and it didn't help that he was so sweet and treated you like the absolute brat you were. He continued on with his quick work with the tent and you continued on with your sneaky scratching. After it was perfectly pitched, he got you inside as soon as it was done to rub a bit of alcohol on your itchy ankles and making you put on a pair of his socks that were way too big for you.

You frowned looking down at your legs later that night as you both set around the campfire, that you had gotten started. You hadn't forgotten all the survival tips your father had shown you. Terry focused on cooking the fish he and you caught earlier from the pier. He'd cleaned it and dissembled it himself. "These are puttin' a damper on my outfit, so not cute."

Terry chuckled, quickly flipping the searing fish over in the pan. Your eyes flickered over to him. "What?"

"You so country," he commented through a light chuckle, "damper?"

"That's not country!" You defended through a smile. "Everybody says damper!"

"Nobody says damper,"

"Does too!"

"Why you gotta be such a brat? Why you act like that?" He teased playfully, holding his hand out to you only to pull you up from your chair and into his lap. "Hm?" He hummed nuzzling his faced into your neck where he playfully nipped at the skin on your neck, knowing the ticklish effect it had on you.

You laughed hunching your shoulder up to push him away from the area, "stop!" The assault lasted a few more minutes before he reluctantly stopped, only when he seen the tears from your nonstop laughter, and how you cradled your aching stomach when you laughed.

"Brat," he mumbled in between persisting kisses to your lips. You happily returned each one, who were you to deny the brat allegations. They were very true. "Always gotta have yo way."

"You love how bratty I am," you retorted, trailing your own lingering kisses from his lips, to his jaw, to his neck.

"I do," he mumbled out an agreement making you laugh against his neck before continuing on, and you thought maybe, as his hands kneaded the back of your thighs and the undersides of your ass. But all that came undone when he urgently removed you from his lap in light hysterics about almost burning the fish.

The fish.

How could he even think about fish when he had your throbbing pussy in his lap, was he really blind to all this shit? Or was he just not sexually attracted to you? Or was he fucking celibate? The questions brought on a lingering insecurity. The rest of the night you were more distant, quiet, the situation left you a little embarrassed and salty. You'd never had a man be so indifferent to your advances. Or did he even see them as advances? Hell, you didn't know anymore.

Your distance and quiet demeanor didn't go unnoticed either Terry, who constantly made it his mission to see if you were okay and enjoying yourself. You answered the same all the time, yes, which did very little to comfort him—but he also didn't wanna push you into irritation.

"You sure you good, baby?" He asked later that night as you both settled into the cozy tent. You made sure to nestle yourself into your cute, pinky, sleeping bag. It was so you.

"Yeah." You simply answered with a nod, forcing the weak smile. Such a liar. But you weren't gonna admit that the situation left you feeling a little salty. You didn't wanna bring the situation up at all, you'd much rather forget it.

"You sure? You not actin' like yourself, baby. You want me to take you home?" There he went. Being so him. Always being so caring.

"No, I'm fine. It's nothing really, im just..itchy still." You seamlessly lied. Or maybe not. You were still itchy.

Terry decided not to press the issue instead making sure he got as close as possible to you, something he always did when you slept together, he loved being right up under you—you didn't contest to it. Ever. You both gave your good nights, and Terry made sure to turn off the LED lantern lamp you both had in the tent. A soft and easy silence falling over the both of you. Terry's soft breathing, body heat, chirping crickets and the pitch black were enough to lull you to sleep. And they almost did, but damn, you were still itchy.

You brought your knees to your chest, hastily scratching at your extremely itchy ankles, a heavy, draws out sigh from the temporary but almost euphoric relief skipped past your lips.

"Stop scratchin'." Terry's deep voice but through the silence, the raspiness on the edge of his voice attributed to the sleep that had took him in quick. The words halted your actions quickly as you tried to quietly morph into a comfortable position.

"I'm not," you spoke quietly.

"But you were."

His damn hearing. He heard everything.

"Well I wouldn't have been if I was doing something else." Your tone snappy but the suggestiveness fore fronted the sassiness.

"Somethin' else like what?" Terry questioned.

You huffed immediately, sitting up abruptly from your sleeping bag and flickering the lantern on. "Are you really that clueless?" You exclaimed almost, looking at his ever so lost expression. "Terry, are not you sexually attracted to me?"

Terry looked at you as if you'd grown two heads. Like he couldn't understand why you'd ask him such a question, like you didn't know he was a full blown raging man. "Why would you even ask me that, of course im sexually attracted to you, baby."

"You don't act like it," you quietly murmured, "it's like every time I try, you pull back. What is it? I really thought I was obvious enough with everything."

And you were. Terry wasn't ignorant to your advances. But he also wasn't ignorant to your past relationships and the men that you dealt with. Full blown sex addicts a few of them seemed to be, and some of them seemed unable to form a real bond with you without sex. He wanted to prove to you that he actually liked you, that he wanted to get to know you past sex. That he wanted this to last. It'd taken copious amounts of restraint for him to slyly deter away from the advances. Copious amounts.

He wasn't exactly sure how he made it to four months himself, without caving in. Maybe it was his serious he'd gotten about your relationship, maybe it was genuine like for you that made it somewhat easy. He was still a man though, taking care of himself when he was finally away from you.

He said your name slowly, sitting up himself, "im utterly, completely, and deeply sexually attracted to you. But I wanna show you that when it comes to keeping this together, sex is indifferent to me. I don't want you to think we need that shit to connect. I genuinely like you, alot."

"I like you too, but I already knew that Terry," he softly laughed, the weight of the insecurities dropping off your shoulders. You couldn't believe that once again, all this time, the lack of sex was catered to his feelings about you. You were gonna fuck this man so good. So good. "I knew that at the end of the first date when you didn't try to kiss me when you dropped me off." You giggled at the recanting of the memory.

"I wanted you to feel it though."

"And I do feel it," you slinked even closer to him, hand trailing up his thigh, "I feel it so much." You looked up at him, batting your long lashes.

Terry sat there slack mouthed, brows furrowed, his stormy eyes looking down at you with bursting pleasure and astonishment as he watched you suck him down. How the fuck did you get so good at this shit? You'd completely covered his shaft in your saliva, you were loud and sloppy. Just how he liked it. Throat so tight around him, every time you nuzzled him in. You were dazed yourself, tasting him, having him in the back of your throat where you craved him so many times before. You were savoring all of this.

Your hands wrapped themselves around his girthy length, stroking them at a brisk pace, your wet mouth guiding them in their dizzying up and down movements. His grunts and groans of approval only furthered you to please him more. You looked up at him, eyes watery, and soft as you took him down, spit bubbles formed around him, as you nuzzled him in deeper into your mouth. Removing a spit soaked hand, you nuzzled that into your soaked panties, pleasing him, pleased you.

"Sss-shitttt," he drug out through a groan, his strong hand grasping the back of your neck, as he bucked himself up into your mouth, relentlessly fucking your throat. You shut your watery, burning eyes letting him use you how he wanted. "Fuck, eat that dick up baby. You do that shit so good," he slurred through his persisting moans.

That only furthered your arousal, which furthered your efforts. The rough gags and choking from you was almost enough to send him over the edge. Almost. You finally pulled back, giving him a chance to recover and giving yourself a chance to catch your ailing breathing.

You stroke him off, spitting down on his shaft in your hands, eagerly stroking the lubrication in, leaning your head down to suck one of his balls into your mouth; gently. You knew too much. How did you know so much?

"Why you so nasty?" He mumbled grabbing your chin once you were done tending to his balls. "Hm?" He hummed before pressing your wet lips to his own. His kiss rushed, sloppy, and deep. His tongue searched every inch of your mouth, his lips sucking your own into his mouth.

Oh he was nasty like that?

"Move," he knocked your hands away from his still hardened dick, "take that shit off." He comments taking heed to the articles of clothing you still had on, his own hands slithering under the oversized shirt you'd put on for bed.

"But I wanted to make you cum—" you started, wiping your wet mouth with the back of your hand once he eagerly pulled your t-shirt off, nipples immediately pebbling due to the exposure of the cool night air in the tent. You didn't get to finish your sentence before Terry's lips were already latched onto the flesh on your neck, creating red blemishes as he cascaded down your body skillfully.

"You bout to," he mumbled attaching his lips to yours once again, "open up," he tapped your jaw firmly, "lemme see." The firm taps to your jaw ignited the fire and aching need in your belly, a moan slipped past your lips as you opened like he asked.

You watched, dazed, as he spat down into your mouth. Oh, he was nasty.

It was like yin and yang to you. This couldn't be your Terry. Not the Terry that bought you flowers every Sunday and never let you lift a finger Terry. This was a different Terry, nasty Terry. Impatient Terry. Demanding Terry. Just what you wanted.

"Oh my god-uhhhh!" You slurred out through a moan. Terry's vice grip on your locs matched the same vice grip you currently had him in right now. He had you positioned on all fours, one hand on your hip to steady his hard, dizzying strokes. He was fucking you hard, too hard. Too good. Your thighs trembled beneath you, knees threatening to buckle as he slammed into your heated core repeatedly. It's like he knew exactly where that spot was located. "Right there, daddy! Right fucking there," you whimpered, face pressed pathetically on the pallet beneath you.

"I know, i feel that shit," he groaned, sending another hard smack to your ass cheek, the recoil from his pelvis constantly slamming into your ass had him in a complete daze. Four months he kept himself from this, restrained himself from what he knew had to be good. But he didn't expect it feel like this. "Wettin' me right the fuck up—mm mm, keep that shit right there, you better not fuckin' lay down, keep that shit open just like that." He mumbled out into the tent, taking into head your trembling legs. The lewd sounds of your sopping wet pussy, followed by the loud slapping of your skin together filled your tent and your empty head.

"Fuckkkk," you groaned out, managing to sit up in your elbows, acrylics clawing at the covers beneath you, your eyes crossed as you felt his tip kissing a little too deep, "so deep, baby."

"Mhm," he hummed pulling your head back with his tight grip on your hair, his lust filled glare looking right down into your own crossed eyes, "right where i should be. Look at you, takin' this dick like a good girl. This what you wanted right?"

"Yesssss," you managed to fully get out, a series of breath taking moans following. He was giving you exactly what you wanted; hard, rough shit. He was fucking you like he hated you, like he had a point to prove. This shit was only making you delusional did he not understand the type of you he would get now?

"Yeah? Wanted daddy to dig yo' shit out just like this, huh?" He nodded watching you nod in response, your breaths coming out in a series of heavy puffs. "I know you did, can tell by the way you creamin' on my dick."

"Shittt!" You gasped out the exploitive, planting your hands flat against the ground, mustering yo whatever weak energy you had to fuck yourself back against him, working toward your own impending orgasm. "I'm finna cum!" You rushed out.

Terry pulled you back toward his chest, your small frame engulfed in his as you sat promptly in his lap getting impaled in the most delicious way possible. You felt lightheaded, high, and perfect all at once. "Babyyyy, im cummin'!" You whined out.

"Keep tellin' me, do that shit. Lemme feel you cum on my dick," he grunted, the lewd works making you clench around him as they clearly sent you tumbling over the edge. Terry mocking your long, loud and drawn out moans with his own. His lips attacking wherever they could on your exposed neck. His impaling strokes never stopped, even when it was clear you'd completely rode it out. He kept fucking you, sending you into a deep place of overstimulation. When was he ever planning to cum?

"Look at you," he mumbled a smug smirk on his lips, hand firmly holding your slacked jaw in his hand, "dick got you dumb—breathe through that shit, baby." He tapped your jaw, repeatedly. The sight of you alone, plus the constant contracting of your walls around him had earned you a deliciously sounding groan. You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until he spoke up.

Everything was too much. It was too much to focus on. The pleasure, his voice, his kisses. Forgetting to breathe in the middle of your overstimulation was warranted.

Your breaths cane tumbling back to you fast, hard and quick you panted. Body trembling in Terrys grasp, as dared to lean forward feeling another orgasm approaching, but this one felt harder. Body-shattering. It hurt and felt so good at the same time.

"Fuck, ima nut baby," Terry grunted in your ear. "Pussy so good, why yo shit so good like this?" Finally.

"Cum in my pussy, please daddy," was the first and only thing you could get out, not even warning him about your oncoming orgasm. This one cramped everything, the tightness in your stomach didn't subside but seemed to get tighter. Your thighs were numb, but your legs ached. The squeal you let out left your throat raw, and that's why you didn't hear Terry when he finally announced that he was cumming, but you felt him for sure, right where you told him to.

You felt Terry's lips against your jaw, kissing you repeatedly. Telling you how well you did for him, how he couldn't believe he kept himself away from that for four months. How good it was. These were finally the words that lulled you off to a blissful sleep, you'd finally got what you wanted. There you were, fucked out In a tent, with cum leaking out of you. Such a whore. A happy whore.

-

still no tag list! 😭 hope you enjoy this little filler! 💕

[angelbarelywritesslashers]

♡ slashers scenarios | your first time together is…your first time (part 2)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream, Dead by Daylight, Hannibal (TV) /Silence of the Lambs, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (og), slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Billy Lenz, Hannibal Lecter, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; graphic sexually content!!, mentions of vouyerism, documentation kink (yay Danny), manipulation, breeding kinkish content, lots of cumming inside, light pet play elements

♡ notes; seven babes in one post wowowowow! i’m just trying to get caught up with everyone else before i start doing new prompts. but! i have a big list of new ones do not fear

these weren’t written in one sitting like some of my other fics so i’m sorry if the quality wildly varies

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> It’s been gentle coaxing towards each step of the relationship with Jason

> And while you have the patience of a saint when it comes to that man, you’re also incredibly pent up. You’re just as much of a virgin as him and starting to wish he’d fix that.

> But you keep it to yourself, not wanting the pressure him into anything and getting yourself off when he’s not there. It worked well enough before after all.

> One day he comes home when you’re in the middle of mastrubating and you quickly scramble to hide the fact

> He knows somethings up right away, you’re covering yourself with a blanket and red faced…He’s repressed, not stupid.

> You apologize meekly and expect him to walk away - instead he grabs the blanket and pulls you forward by your thighs

> “J-Jason- baby? Are you going to-?”

> He pushes his mask up and goes down on you like a man starved… he may or may not have been home earlier than you realized, listening to you whimpering and moaning his name

> And getting you off ends up getting him very excited- excited enough that he doesn’t care about anything but doing it again

> And if you want him inside you, he’s more than happy to oblige.

> You shyly straddle him and sink onto his cock, holding onto him tightly

> He hides his face in your neck as you slowly move, murmuring sweet words of encouragement to him

> “Jason, it’s so good- you feel so good-“

> After a bit he holds your hips, fingers digging in as you get him closer and closer

> You gasp as he comes inside by accident, too shy to admit you liked the feeling

> He doesn’t even pull out as he holds you, knowing that as soon as he can, he’ll be helping you ride him again

Bo Sinclair

> It slips out when you’re cuddling and watching but not watching some silly movie with copious sex scenes

> “What’s your favorite position, darlin’?”

> “Hm? Oh, I dunno?”

> “Top three then-“

> “Bo I haven’t even-“. You blush bright red as he slowly grins

> He doesn’t leave it along the rest of the day- he has cute little innocent virgin partner

> He likes it way too much- and you like his fixation on it too much

> When you get him alone again you huff and straddle him “Stop teasin. Show me your favorite position, then.”

> You don’t have to tell him twice- and he’s a gentleman, letting you ride his face before he finally fucks you

> He’s got chest against your back and hand between your legs as he slowly uses you

> “Fuck- you’re squeezing my cock so tight- pretty little fucking virgin-“

> His dirty talk gets you both off…again, and again, and again…

> He doesn’t stop until you start whining and pushing his hand away, overstimulated and sore

> “Fine, fine…we’ll try the other top two tomorrow,”

Vincent Sinclair

> Honestly, Vince isn’t huge on sex

> When you offhandedly mention you haven’t done anything before he doesn’t mind and he doesn’t get overly excited like some people.

> He let’s you make the first move

> …or at least he’s going to, but you don’t say anything about it for a long while

> He finally asks softly if you want him to touch you.. and meekly you say yes

> You’re not sure who’s happier- you as he makes you come with just his hand, or him getting to watch you

> After a few days of this you finally get the nerve to ask to do more- his good side goes bright red at the idea of you touching him and you giggle and praise him the entire time.

> But about halfway through he makes you stop and pins you- still gentle but very daring for him

> You giggle again “…wanna go all the way?”

>He nods eagerly and he positions you- very gentle missionary with his forehead against yours

> Even inside you he stops so he doesn’t cum, coaxing you over the edge twice before he gets too close

> The third time you cum you wrap your legs around him and make sure he can’t pull out

> He’s so apologetic after he cums inside- but quite pleased in the same breath

Danny Johnson

> The conversation comes up when he asks you to model for him- a boudoir shoot, naturally

> You’re his muse already- but he wants to shoot more than just your pretty face and the hickies he leaves

> He’s surprised when you’re shy and look away, mumbling that you aren’t pretty enough for that

> “Course you are babydoll- no way no one’s ever told you that. Unless you were screwing them with the lights off-“

> “Danny I haven’t screwed anyone.” You pout

> He tries his best to hide his perverse excitement and looks determined- he’s got an idea…Those usually don’t end well

> Next thing you know he’s pulled a mirror to face the bed and has you on his lap, kissing at your neck and feeling you up.

> He spreads your legs and makes you look as he starts to touch you- you’re not sure if it’s the lewd situation or just him that makes you cum faster than you have ever before

> He makes just as much of a show of cleaning up the mess you’ve made on his hand, and you can feel how hard he is against your ass

> You pull yourself together enough to pout and grind down on him- that’ll show him

> Your revenge quickly backfires as he manhandles you to your hands and knees, grinding against you in a much more expert manner

> It doesn’t take long before you’re babbling beneath him, begging to take him

> He takes his sweet time teasing you- once he’s finally inside you’re pushing yourself back against him, fucking yourself with him

> He lets you do the work- it makes it easier for him to enjoy the show

> At least until he’s about to cum

> Then he pulls you up, making you watch in the mirror with one hand and holding you against him with the other

> “Fuck- look at you- that’s my good fucking baby (/girl/boy)!”

> When he pulls out it splatters across the mirror and he grins and gets a picture- just your bodies in the reflection

> If you thought you’re getting away to rest though…you were mistaken- he had a lot more pictures to take, and a lot more methods to get you to make pretty faces for them

Billy Lenz

> Billy takes things fast. He’s depraved an eager man.

> You aren’t very far into the relationship when he lets his hands wander while you’re cuddling

> He frowns when you push his hands away insistently- you’d talked so confidently about this on the phone…

> “I wanna touch my pretty toy-“

> You mumble something he can’t hear- making you pout as he tilts his head and leans in closer curiously

> “You’ve never- oh.” His grin is huge and excited

> After some convincing you make it a game- how long can you two go without going too far?

> While you want to have sex with him, you’re nervous, so you figure that’ll buy you time to muster up enough courage

> But Billy being Billy, it isn’t long until he finds a shortcut- he bites and kisses and laps your neck and grinds up on you every single time he gets the chance

> If it was PG-13 before, you were heading fast to an R rating

> Finally you can’t stand it any more as he’s got you on his knee, pushing it up as he oh so innocently rubs your hips and kisses you

> “Billyyyy- please — I need it-“

> “Need what?” For once he’s acting coy- so you quickly show him as you undo his pants

> He’s all giggles and moans when you blow him- cumming down your throat quickly

> And before you can move he flips you, going down on you and to your chagrin already hard before you cum once

> But he’s not a monster- or maybe he is, because before he’s even got it in you you’re whining that it’s all too much

> He licks away your overwhelmed tears as he slowly pushes in, cooing softly for once

> Though as soon as your comfortable he’s saying the filthiest things in order to coax louder and louder moans out of you

> Without warning or real permission he cums inside, grinning at the mess and finger fucking whatever leaks out back inside as he coaxes you to another orgasm

> Once he’s finally done late into the night, he holds you tight and continues to coo praises - Billy’s baby was so good! -and he knew they’d be just as good for him in the morning

Hannibal Lecter

> Hannibal knows almost everything about you, especially if you ever began as his patient

> Even if you don’t tell him expressly, he has his theories- but he’s not trying to be too forward

> It’s going to be your idea when he shamelessly uses you :)

> He has it planned to the T as well- you’re having a sweet little date night in and he’s admiring you on the couch

> Perched on his lap you giggle and shiver as he gently brushes your neck, and your thigh, and your stomach- each a little “accident”

> Not that you’re complaining or he’s apologizing for the increasingly lingering touches

> “…darling? Ah- we’ve never done anything before but…”

> “But what my love?”

> “Can you pretty please touch me?”

> He’s so proud of his little pet and tells you as much as he lays you down right there, going a step forward and using his mouth

> Of course he wants, needs to taste you

> But he doesn’t let you come- not yet

> No, he makes sure you’re already riding him slow and deep by the time he makes you come for the first time

> He stops and showers you in praise before helping you move again

> He wants you to crave him inside- and by the way you’re already whimpering with every little move he thinks it’s working

> He’s territorial- coming inside isn’t even a question, even if he pretends it it

> “Good puppy…Very good. Master’s going to cum- are you going to let me cum in that pretty little hole?”

> As you manage a blissed out sound, you’re sent over the edge and he takes the moment to cum inside

> You only hum an acknowledgment as he pulls out and lays you down, practically tucking you in with him

> What a good pet you made…

Bubba Sawyer

> Bubba is so scared of sex at first…Well, small correction- he’s scared of having sex with you.

> I mean Drayton’s idea of sex ed was simply not telling him about it because he didn’t ask “Sex is- well nobody knows!”

> And from what he’s read in books and heard on the radio, it’s sinful and dirty and ruins you

> And he’d never want to dirty you. You were the nicest, cleanest thing in his life.

> So when you ask him if he’s had sex he vehemently shakes his head and you tell him you haven’t either. Good!

> “Well- ah- would you want to? With me, I mean?”

> He’s absolutely shocked- didn’t you know it was dirty?

> “We don’t have to- I just- I really like you. I wanna make you feel good.”

> Maybe he had some details wrong. That’s what he tries to reason as he lets you take his mask off and undo his pants. He’d try it, but if he felt wrong, he’d stop so you both stayed clean…

> It takes all his will not to immediately buck up into your throat when you put him in your mouth.

> You’re sloppy and clumsy and he’s just the same, groaning and whining and gripping the sheets. Before he can finish you pull off and he pouts.

> “C-can we- I mean- can I-“ You huff and get frustrated at your own embarrassment, starting to slip your shirt off and hoping he gets the message.

> He goes red and nods quickly, practically tackling you and kissing you sweetly before he moves into position

> You help him ease himself into you , whimpering and making sure he’s comfortable too

> “Oh my god- that’s it baby- just like that,”

> The praise makes him move harder than he means to but god you’re grateful

> When he does come he pulls out and paints your stomach- and as soon as he realizes you haven’t done the same he uses his hand to correct that.

> He holds you tight and doesn’t let go the rest of the night, keen on trying more in the morning

[oneofreid]

Close for Comfort

Summary: A new hot tub is installed at your apartment complex. You find yourself sneaking a dip at the same time as a particular BAU agent. But how much room can steaming water truly hold for two?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Warnings: (18+ Content) Typical smut except heavier? and Spencer being a perv/slightly unhinged while being horny lol. Slight degrading. Descriptions of fingering, handjob, and unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before ya tap it). Public sex like damn get a room.

A/N: lord…….first ever fic. i think i might’ve blacked out with this. read my other fics here

Glistening sweat formed a thin line above your hairline, a few drops slowly running down the nape of your neck.

The heaving of your chest as you wiped the remaining sweat off your face. Still in need of a dip in the newly installed hot tub that was just emplaced at your apartment complex. Your body bruised and aching from how intense the workout you had just finished was.

A shade of purple and blue spots aligned various spots on your body. Some held a greener tint due to the start of healing. You hated the look, but nonetheless, you were one of the strongest agents on the team. Therefore, you got beat up pretty badly trying to take down different unsubs at times.

Slipping on a your favorite bikini, the fabric was snug accentuating your curves. A towel in one hand while another held a water. Closing the door to your room, making way towards the other side of the apartments. It was late at night, nearly one o’clock. You knew everyone else was bound to be asleep or at the very most, doing their own thing.

At least that’s what you hoped.

Sliding the back gate shut before passing the in-ground pool that had also been splurged on by your landlord. The cool marble of the backyard patio on your feet with every step. Only to halt at the sight of someone else in the hudson bay spa.

His chocolate brown eyes turning at the sound of your footsteps, his attention now all on you. Arms rested on the tub’s edge like an eagle spreading its wings to fly. The muscles in his biceps visible, a few veins poking out as well. Your eyes dropped down to his chest, strong pecks on full display. The dips in his broad shoulders giving away the idea that although he was lean, he was fit and worked out quite frequently.

“I thought I was the only one awake during this hour,” The sound of his velvety-voice snapped you from drinking him in. His eyes still completely on you.

Your cheeks heated up, a faint blush painting them red with embarrassment. Mentally kicking yourself for gawking at the man in front of you, not only was he your undeniably hot next-door neighbor, but your nerdy and charming co-worker at the BAU as well.

Spencer continued, “you can join me, if you want. Hot tubs like this one are made for two people. And they actually have a lot of health benefits like reducing stress, improving quality of sleep, and relieving pain….which can help with healing your bruises quickly.” The water lightly splashing around him as he talked with his hands, again over sharing.

You nodded, smiling lightly at him. Placing your towel and water bottle down before nearing towards the tub. Carefully sinking down into the water, the heat instantly burning your skin. Sighing in content. You leaned against the back wall. The scorching temperature numbing the ache in your exhausted limbs.

Opening your eyes to make instant eye contact with the man in front of you. A smirk pulled his lip, relaxing further back into the tub with a puff in the chest. Pushing his pecks further out, the defined lines of his abs peaking beneath the water.

“You still haven’t spoke a word to me. Are you enjoying yourself honey?,” He spoke after a moment of silence between you two. Nearly choking at the weak use of a pet name he used for you.

Eyes slowly dropping to admire your chest, the cups of your top pushing them slightly hire. A sight that secretly always drove Spencer nearly to the edge.

Clearing your throat at the sight of his chest slowly rising up and down with a trickle of sweat running down, “Yes, the water actually feels very nice.”

“It feels very nice,” his voice slightly mocking yours, “I like the heat…against my thighs,” His voice suggestive, dripping in lust.

Your breathe hitched at his flirty remark. Clenching your thighs together in need, forcing yourself not to drop your eyes any further. Noticing his damp curls sticking to his forehead with droplets of sweat forming. Every bone in your body fighting to run your fingers through his dark colored hair.

You guys were always close, dare to be nothing more than best friends at and outside of work — and unfortunately in this case, neighbors at the same apartment complex. Yet, the sexual tension that had been building between you two these past few weeks was inevitable. It started with lingering glances during briefings, he would look at you like he wanted to devour every inch of you. You thought you were overreacting at first until Penelope…and Derek had pointed it out. Noting that the chemistry the two of you had shared was gradually getting deeper. Spencer always yearning to be close to you, sneaking touches here and there. Whether it be a light hand on your thigh as you glanced over crime scene photos, or the way his hand would sometimes slowly travel down the curve of your back. You knew there was something there, you just weren’t sure….who would make a move first.

A deep cough snapped you out of your filthy thoughts, his thick brow quirking at you. Posing a question of ‘what are you thinking?’ yet he remained silent.

Both of you scrutinizing each other, drinking in each other’s appearance. Atmosphere around you growing thick and heavy, yet all you could do was blame it on the heat. His eyes never leaving yours as you sunk further into the water. The temperature engulfing you like a warm blanket on a cold winters night.

Shutting your eyes closed, in hopes that you’d brush away the burning heat that traveled its way to your core. Along with the dirty images that flooded your mind.

The slosh of water snapping them open, Spencer’s body now right next to yours. Stiffening at his sudden move, you turned to look at him. A smirk still plastered on his face.

“Can I help you?” You asked, a bit more blunt than you intended to.

“There’s too much clothing on,” Spencer drawled.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened at his reply, caught off guard by the sudden surge of confidence from the one-and-only, Spencer Reid. The man who was known

“You have too much clothing on.” His eyes slipping from your face to stare at your breasts, covered in thin fabric.

“I don’t understand how exactly that’s a problem here.”

“Oh, honey…” he breathed, twirling a piece of your hair with his finger, “I see the way that you look at me. You crave intimacy but most of all, to be touched by me.”

The air knocked from your lungs at his bold statement, your chest tightened as he exposed you. Confused on how he of all people would know about your deepest desire. To be completely and utterly fucked at the hands of Spencer Reid.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you choked.

His intense gaze burning into your side, mentally forcing yourself to look anywhere but him. You needed to get out. Yet, your legs stayed mounted to the charcoal tub.

Intoxicated by his smell, a hint of cologne and cypress with every inhale you took. A staggering breathe from how close you were to the inviting man beside you.

Lips lowered to the shell of your ear. “Oh. I think you do, my love, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” The little pet name he picked out for you easily rolling off his tongue.

Closing your thighs shut, you attempted to scoot away from him. Desperate to get out before he could tantalize you any further. Hearing the snap of his finger before the material of your top disappeared along with the bottoms.

Yelping in shock, you quickly turned around. The devious look of him amused at your embarrassment.

“Relax, my sweet girl, I prefer you this way. Naked and on display, for my pure enjoyment,” he teased. Eyeing your bare breasts, nipples hardening as a slight breeze blew by.

Bubbles arose blasting at the quick speed that projected into the water. Just your luck, the jets had turned on.

Giving you slight coverage in attempt to cover your bottom half. The fast pressure massaging your muscles as you still remained in shock over what had just occurred.

You felt completely exposed to the man in front of you who held no shame.

A few bubbles had splashed up, dripping down his chin while he waited for your next move. His eyes hunting his prey like a meal in need of devouring.

The look he sent you sending electric waves to your core. A burning sensation stirred inside of you, a temperature that even the water inside of the tub could not satisfy you. The familiar ache of yearning to be touched and pleasured by a man growing by the second.

Your next words even surprising you, a surge of confidence leaving as you spoke. “Well, come fuck me then.”

Closing the distance between you two, moving each leg to straddle his lap. His fingers sliding down to grasp the side of your hips. Grinding your cunt to ease any friction against his swim trunks. A moan leaving your lips at the rough material and growth of his erection from underneath you.

Palming his clothes length, a strangled moan could be heard against your ear. Earning a smirk from you, satisfied with the reaction he gave you. He was withering under you and you both knew it.

Slowly lifting yourself up off of him, “I’m afraid that you have too much clothing on,” you whispered. Reversing the tables and mocking him this time.

Moving a hand down to tug the waistband of his swim trunks down, setting his aching cock completely free. Taking it in your hand before slowly working in a pumping motion, up and down, gripping slightly harder every time you made it to the top. Repeating the movement hastily. Gliding a thumb over his tip, beads of his pre-cum mixed with the body of water that held you two.

The water becoming a lubricant of its own, slipping through your nimble fingers with ease. Taking note of how easily your soft touch affected him. His breathe staggering with every jerk of your hand.

Spencer’s hand tugged your own. Releasing the hold you had on his cock, it was his turn. He needed to touch you.

“Allow me,” he murmured.

His lips attaching themselves to the side of your neck, hungrily sucking the sweet spot below your ear. A mixture of sweat and salt water. Moaning in approval at the magic of his tongue.

Grazing your folds, he delicately ran his fingers through them. Even with the water that submerged you two, he could feel how slick and wet you were for him. Just from his presence alone. Teasing you with one last draw of his finger before slowly dipping one inside of you, your walls welcomed his touch. Adding another digit, pumping it and out, a moan leaving you every time in a serene of pleasure.

Digit after digit. He pumped four fingers inside of you.

Moaning with every pump of his delicate fingers, getting lost in not only his touch but the feel of his lips on your skin. The slick of his fingers sliding in and out of you. Sucking the flesh of your neck to mark up your breasts with delicate kisses.

Pulling his fingers out swiftly, you whined at the absence. Suddenly feeling empty. Chuckling at your reaction, he knew how downright bad you were for him in that moment.

He had you right where he wanted you.

“Such a needy little one, you are,” Spencer crooned at you.

The bubbles stilled around your naked bodies. Your bikini and his swim trunks long forgotten, completely chucked to the side. Both of you drenched in a mix of salt water and sweat.

“Spencer….,” you cried. Your arousal still building up inside of you, the tip of the iceberg. Yet, that wasn’t the tip that you needed.

“I need you….I need you, Spencer,” you began to beg.

Feeling utterly humiliated as you pleaded for out of all people, your fucking co-worker to fuck you. Your body craved to be full of him. To feel his cock fill you up till he fully stretched you to your limit.

Reid snickered, a sense of dominance that he never knew he had coming over him, “Look at you. Begging for my cock. Is that what you want?,” his hand grazing your jaw before gripping it slightly so you could look at him, “For me to fuck you? Fill you with every inch of me until I have you screaming, pleading so that everyone knows who you belong to.”

His mocking words fired something inside of you, arousal practically dripping as it soaked your folds. Nodding eagerly, you began to grind your hips ferociously against him. A spill of ‘yes’s’ and ‘fuck me please’ coming from you.

Pulling you up from the hips, Spencer practically drooled at the sight of the water that dripped from your breasts. His mind spiraling, completely filled with the ideas and images of him fucking you until you couldn’t walk, or even better speak.

Your focus shifted from leaving kisses on the trail of his neck to centering his cock at your entrance. Gently running his shaft along your soaked folds, earning a moan from the both of you, before slowly sinking down. His girth stretching your walls leaving you to fully adjust, taking every inch of him.

A shaky breathe left your lips, never feeling this full before. “Are you okay?,” Spencer asked sincerely. Grabbing your chin, searching for any doubt in your eyes.

He knew he was above average so he gave you a moment to take him all in. You bit your lip, nodding at him.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered. Slipping a hand behind the nape of his neck, you steadied yourself for support. Running your fingers to through the soft, damp texture of his curls.

Beginning to bounce up and down, the water sloshed around you. Your eyes never leaving his in what is now the most intimate moment you have ever had with Spencer Reid.

“Fuuuuckk…Spence, you’re so big,” you panted.

Your praises fueling his ego, boosting him with pride.

Spencer thrusted beneath you aiding you both to reach your climax. The tip of his cock piercing your cervix with every bounce from you and thrust the he made.

His grunts and moans filling your ears, a mix of your own joining with him. If nobody could hear you before, they definitely could now. Both of you too lost in the pleasure of ravishing each other to care about all your neighbors and people down the street who could hear.

Up and down, you continued to bounce on top of him. You were never a huge fan of riding but suddenly with him, it was the best thing in the world. Your breasts at his eye level while he looked up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and you are.

His hand fell down to circle your clit. Adding another source of stimulation to your nearing climax.

“Come on, sweet girl….don’t be shy. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel, let’s put on a whole show,” he coaxed in your ear.

Quickly pulling out his dick before turning you to face the wall. You clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling the scream that had just erupted from you. The sudden change in position hitting a different angle, a different spot than before. Your chest was flushed up against the wall of the hot tub as Spencer pounded into you from behind. His attempts at getting you to be more vocal succeeding as your pleasure was heard for the whole world to witness.

Moan after moan, shout after shout, the spews of you telling him to go harder and how big his dick was, you cried after each thrust. Each one hitting harder than the last. Tears spilled out of your eyes at the brutal force that Spencer used to help you reach your climax.

Fuck, he heard you tell the girls how you liked it rough.

“You feel so good, taking all of me like this. The good girl that you are,” Spencer praised. Wrapping a fist full of your hair around his wrist. Tugging it ever so slightly which earned another moan from you in return.

Water splashed with every hurried rock of his hips against the flesh of your skin. His heavy balls slamming against your ass, destined to create even more bruising from the grip he had on you.

The sound of waves crashing around you drowned out by the heavy pants and whimpering moans that left both of you.

“My pretty girl,” you felt yourself tighten around him, “Is that right? You’re my pretty girl, you look so beautiful filled with my cock.” He moaned.

Thrust after thrust, his dick disappeared inside of you. Pulling out just before the tip only to slam right back in. It was rough and you knew tomorrow you’d wake up bed bound but damn, it was worth it. Your body jerking every time he forced himself back in while you gripped onto the ledge for dear life. His sweet praises, compliments, and slight taunts tipping you over the edge.

“F..fuck..Spence, I’m gonna…I need to cum,” you panted.

Your stomach tightened, knowing you were almost close and he was nowhere near from slowing down.

“I know, sweet girl, I can feel you,” he rasped. His own stomach coiling from the rapidity of his movements.

He placed a kiss on top of your shoulder blade. “Where…where do you want me to cum?” He panted.

Turning your head to look back at him, his dark curls framed his face. His face contorted in sweet pleasure, heavenly moans leaving his lips at the same time. Your walls clenching even harder around him at the scene of him pussy drunk over you.

“Inside. Cum…I want you to cum inside of me,” you managed to get out. Feeling drunk over his cock as well.

Spencer deeply inhaled, feeling his cock twitch aggressively as he coursed you with every thrust to cum. Screams and moans could be heard from the both of you, as his head fell onto your shoulder. Both of you chasing out a high that you had never felt before.

After performing a couple more lousy thrusts, Spencer rested his head on you. His chocolate curls laying to fall on your shoulder, feeling his chest fall up and down behind you. Your own vision falling blurry at what you could now say was the best sex of your life.

A mixture of both of your cum slowly slid down your leg, his length still buried deep inside of you.

“That was….,” he breathed.

“Amazing,” you finished the sentence for him.

Earning a laugh from the both of you. Spencer slowly pulled out of you causing you to wince, “I’m sorry,” he kissed your forehead.

You turned around placing yourself back on his lap, moving to snake your hands around his neck. “It’s okay, I like this side of you,” you smiled at him.

Both of you exhausted yet still relishing in the presence of each other. His hands rubbing in a circular motion on your hips.

“You know I’ve thought about this for so long,” Reid admitted.

“What? Fucking me in a hot tub outside of our apartment complex,” you teased. Splashing him lightly with the water, watching it glisten and hit his chest.

“No,” he laughed, shaking his head as he continued to stare at you. A look that he had never given you before.

“Turning our friendship into something more than just being friends. You know since we first joined the BAU, I always had this thing for you. Everything about you was just so…so magnetic and captivating. There was just somethin-“

You cut him off, babbling and over explaining being a bad yet adorable habit of his. Closing the small gap that was between you, connecting your lips with his as you finally gave him a true and passionate kiss.

Leaning back you took him all in, “It’s a date. Tomorrow, we can head to the coffee shop that you love down the street before work.” This would be the start of something new.

[mggslover]

Addicted

In which Spencer meets a beautiful stranger at his local dealer, his addiction to weed rapidly turning into an addiction to her.

Pairing: stoner!spencer x stoner!fem!reader Genre: slight angst x smut (18+) Content warnings: weed usage (not promoting it! pls zont zo it), short mentions of tobias hankel and maeve, finger sucking, mutual masturbation, lazy high sex Word count: 3,6k A/n: my first fic inspired on a song! when i listened to 'denial is a river' by doechii, this fic immediately started to form in my mind

Spencer oftentimes wondered when he started becoming afraid of his own mind. Maybe there was never a starting point — maybe it was rooted in his bones, something he never had the chance to escape. An inherited terror, passed down like a family heirloom. 

He knew the descent into insanity was inevitable. That there would come a time when his mind, the thing he’s relied on all his life, would betray him. That he’d watch the pieces of himself scatter until his identity was nothing but a cruel mockery of who he once was.

What Spencer didn’t expect was for that moment to arrive so soon. He never imagined his first meeting with madness to be in a dark cabin as the sting of Dilaudid coursed through his veins. And what Spencer least expected was how he’d feel afterward — how, no matter the trauma, he would find himself aching for that sensation, longing for it to return.

With his reason still intact, he managed to sign himself up for a support group destined for addicts in law enforcement. Rehab might’ve been the hardest battle he’d had to face, and being clean is a title he still doesn't deserve. Because even though it’s been years since his arms last looked blue, he’s been smoking weed habitually. 

It started when a police officer in the program spoke up about his struggle with weed addiction, going into detail about the tranquilizing effects and how it left him unable to focus on the job. Whereas his story would sound appalling to most, Spencer found appeal in its descriptions. Cannabis offered the same calming qualities as Dilaudid, but with a lower overdose risk, and on top of that, it was far easier to obtain.

So when the officer casually slipped his dealer’s address in the middle of immersively sharing his story, Spencer made a mental note and found himself on the location later that day. The transaction was easier than he’d expected; showing the cash in his pocket was enough for the gruff man to hand him a small, opaque bag, its contents concealed. 

That same night, Spencer found himself sitting on his couch, supplies spread out on the coffee table before him. He remembered a guy from his PhD mathematics program, rolling a blunt in Yale’s community garden under the same big tree where Spencer would read his literature for the day. It gave him some of an idea on how to proceed. Once he had the wrap filled, he methodically pinched and smoothed the paper as he rolled it with his fingers, careful to avoid tearing. 

He didn’t feel much with the first drag, but as he inhaled deeper, a tingling sensation spread to his head and chest, almost coaxing him into a dosed state. The world around him instantly softened, and he sank further into the couch, as if a fuzzy, warm blanket had draped over him.

That moment marked the first of many, as Spencer would often return to the plant when experiencing withdrawal or when he started developing headaches later in his life. He frequently recalled how the officer mentioned performing less at his job while under the influence, but for Spencer, it had the opposite effect. He tended to approach cases too objectively and analytically. When he would go home at the end of the day and smoke before bed, his mind would suddenly make creative, out-of-the-box connections — connections he had never considered before. 

Spencer wasn’t ready to give up weed just yet.

———

You were lying down, your head resting on the armrest of the pink velvet couch that stood in the corner of your therapist’s office. For the past fifteen minutes, you’d been staring at a small star painted on the ceiling, which was part of a mural of the universe. It was supposed to help people ground themselves — to remind them that their existence was nothing more than a tiny spark in the entire cosmos.

“I don’t know,” you eventually responded in a sigh as your therapist questioned you once again. “This is a really dark time for me, I’m going through a lot.”

“By ‘a lot’, you mean drugs?”

You were thrown off guard by the inquiry, brows furrowing. “Um, I wouldn’t-”

“Drugs?” She repeated, her pen ready in hand, as her notebook rested open on her lap.

Your head shot up from its position on the armrest of the couch. “No, it’s a-”

“No?” She probed, her eyes raised up, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

“It’s a natural plant,” you stated, sitting up straighter.

“No, I’m not judging.”

You rolled your eyes at her attempt to reassure you. “I’m not an addict.” 

“I’m just saying-”

“I don’t think-”

“You wanna talk about it?”

———

The door slamming behind you was as much of a response as you would offer her. With hurried steps you walked out of the building, hand reaching into your pocket as you searched for your car keys. With a small click of the door, you entered your beat-up old car, shivering as you still haven’t been able to fix the radiator. 

You didn’t need to pull up the GPS — not that you even owned one — to know where you were headed. You speed-dialed your dealer as you rounded a corner, and maybe that was enough to confirm that you did have a bit of a problem with drugs. At least you were seeing a therapist; not many can say the same.

The sun was disappearing behind the clouds as you pulled into the familiar motell parking lot. There was a chill in the air, making you pull your jacket tighter around you as you walked toward room number 13. 

Your attention was drawn to a tall, lanky man with messy curls, bouncing on the balls of his feet with his hands tucked in his pockets as he stood in front of the door. It was a rare sight to see someone ahead of you in line — usually people would arrive one by one to not bring any attention to the scene, but then again, you made an appointment at the very last minute.

You walked up to him, standing beside him in an attempt to make the scene look like a casual visit. You offered a polite smile, which he returned with a brief wave of his hand. Awkwardly, you turned your gaze to the door in front of you, waiting. You could feel his eyes scanning over you, making you reach up to fix your hair, just in case something was out of place. He seemed to notice your action and turned his head.

After a minute, you cleared your throat. “Did you knock?”

He looked at you, and you weren’t expecting the flutter in your stomach as you met his deep, brown eyes. 

“I did,” he answered. “It’s been four minutes and twenty eight seconds, which, based on my previous encounters, gives him approximately three more seconds to open the door.”

You fell silent as the door opened, just like the handsome stranger had predicted. You reached into your jacket pocket, pausing when you found it empty. Your heart began racing as you checked the other pocket, then anxiously patted down your jeans.

“Fuck.”

“Are you okay?” The brown-haired man asked in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just- I forgot my wallet.” 

“I could pay for you.” 

The casualty of his offer took you by surprise. “Really?” 

It was embarrassing that you didn’t turn him down, but you didn’t have the energy to be polite — today had been rough, and all you wanted to do was go home and relax. You felt a little less guilty when the stranger’s lips curled into a smile, as if he was happy to do this for you.

“Well, I don’t give a shit who pays. Just give the damn money — it’s cold.” 

The stranger’s lips tightened in response as he handed the man twice the usual amount of bills. The dealer handed over two small bags in return, closing the door behind him with a loud slam. 

“Here you go.”

You breathed out a soft ‘thank you’ as you accepted the bag from him. “I’ll pay you back next time.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind,” he replied with a casual wave of his hand. 

You exchanged names, which led him to compliment yours and give you a brief history lesson on its origins. 

“I never expected to learn more about myself from a total stranger,” you chuckled. 

You didn’t notice he had walked you to your car until you stopped in front of it. “This is me. Where are you parked, or are you staying here?”

“I got here by subway, actually.”

You raised your brows, surprised. This wasn’t the safest neighborhood, especially at night, and Spencer didn’t strike you as the type to wander around here. 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you asked, just to be certain.

“Absolutely!” he answered, lifting up his shirt, revealing a gun holstered at his waist. “I can handle myself.”

Alarm bells blared in your mind at the sight, and you instinctively stepped back. 

“Wait! No, no, no,” Spencer put his hands up, showing you that he meant no harm. “I work at the FBI.”

He could read the doubt in your expression, slowly moving one hand to his jacket while keeping the other raised in the air. Carefully, he retrieved his badge and held it out, revealing it to you. You leaned in, observing the golden emblem and the ID picture beside it.

“Now, that wasn’t what I was expecting,” you said with a relieved sigh. “I guess I can offer you a ride, then?”

Spencer looked at you, as if considering all the possible outcomes of his answer. He ended up nodding his head and giving you a soft grin.  

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks.” 

The car ride was filled with a comfortable silence, the weight of the day settling over both of you. 

“You seem nervous,” he observed.

“How’d you know?”

“Your fingers are tapping against the steering wheel, and they’re out of rhythm with the radio, so it’s not like you’re tapping along with the song.”

“I guess I am.” You turned your head to him, then back to the road. “It has nothing to do with you, though. I feel oddly comfortable around you.”

When you glanced at him again, he was smiling, a glimmer in his eyes, shyly playing with his fingers. “Me too.”

———

You hadn’t expected Spencer to invite you in when you arrived at his house. He suggested you smoke together, saying you shouldn’t be driving while feeling anxious. 

Honestly, you didn’t care about the reasoning. You just wanted to spend more time with him. 

You were sitting beside him on the couch, legs pulled up and half draped over his as you took another drag from your joint. You didn’t know who started the conversation, but somehow you found yourself opening up about life and its struggles.

“I caught my ex cheating. He was supposed to pick up his stuff and leave the next day, but instead he crashed my place and just… destroyed everything I owned.”

His expression remained neutral, like he was trying not to judge, though his eyes said enough. After a beat, he spoke up again. “My girlfriend got shot in front of my face.”

Your eyes widened in shock, but the weed dulled your reaction. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah… shit,” he muttered in an exhale, picking up his joint again. 

Your eyes were drawn to his fingers, noticing the long, slender shape of them, the small bones shifting under his skin as he gripped the joint. The image of a tree flashed through your mind, its branches moving in the wind — or maybe it was just the weed making your mind wander. 

As he brought the joint to his lips, your gaze followed the movement, your breath catching when his pink lips parted just enough to reveal a hint of his tongue. A shiver ran down your spine as your eyes lingered there, entranced. He closed his lips around it, letting out a low hum that was almost a moan as he inhaled. 

He exhaled, filling the air with smoke, the rich scent enveloping you.

“Can I take a hit?” 

He didn’t question why you weren’t using your own. Instead he handed you the joint, his fingers brushing lightly against yours as you took it.  

You kept eye contact with him as you placed it between your lips, softly moaning at the contact, knowing his mouth had been right where yours was. 

Spencer took you in with dark, tired eyes. You threw your leg over his thigh, feeling the need to be closer to him as the air around you grew warmer. 

He didn’t seem to mind your clinginess, which gave you the confidence to lean in closer. Carefully, you reached out, your nails lightly grazing his jaw, making him shiver as he let out a quiet purr at the touch. 

“What are you doing?” he asked in a husky whisper, more intrigued than accusatory.

“I’m horny,” you whispered against his lips, fingers trailing down his jaw. 

His breath heaved at the proximity. “Evidence shows that cannabis can enhance sexual pleasure.” 

“Yeah?” you purred, lips brushing against his. “And what should I do about it?”

“You should touch yourself.”

“Should I now?” your voice teasingly sang as you leaned back, your hands sensually moving up the sides of your body before squeezing your breasts through your shirt.

“Like this?”

He blinked a couple of times, licking his lips. “A bit lower.”

You smirked, your hands trailing down your body, relishing how he was taking you in, unable to look away. Your hand stopped as you cupped your heat through your clothes, slowly rubbing your fingers in circles. “Here?”

He groaned at the sight, nodding his head in confirmation. “Right there.”

Spencer’s bulge pressed against your leg, which you had thrown over his lap. You couldn’t resist moving against it, making him gasp as he threw his head back.

“You should take care of that,” you suggested, nodding towards his pants. “Let me give you something to work with.” 

Spencer’s gaze was expectant, as he watched you slowly peel your clothes off. Inch by inch, you revealed your skin, leaving him desperate for more. 

Spencer mirrored your actions, undressing himself before he took a hold of your bare leg, placing it back on his lap, so that your legs were spread wide open. With one arm behind you, he pulled you in closer, his other hand reaching out to caress the skin in between your breasts, making you catch your breath. 

His hand trailed further up your skin, until his fingers were lightly tapping against your lips. “Open up for me,” he murmured.

You obeyed without hesitation, parting your lips for him to slide two of his fingers inside of your mouth. You responded instinctively, wrapping your lips around them, your cheeks hollowing as you started moving your head back and forth. Your tongue swirled in lazy circles, humming at the taste of his skin.

“Good girl,” he cooed in approval. “Get them all nice and wet, so that I can touch you.”

Spencer watched your eyes sparkle at his words. When a moan escaped your lips, vibrating around his fingers, he was reminded once again why he loved being high — it soothed his anxiety in a way that made his thoughts spill out without overthinking. And it thrilled him to see the effect his words had on you, words that would usually stay locked in his mind. 

The hand that had been resting around your shoulder wandered down to your breast, giving it an experimental squeeze. You moaned around his fingers, meeting his gaze, his nose nearly brushing yours as he watched you with intent focus. 

He pulled his fingers from your mouth with a pop, before he reached down to press them against your pussy. You closed your eyes in bliss as he rubbed his fingers up and down your slit, the combined juices of your slickness and your mouth made his fingers easily slip between your folds with every move.

“You’re so wet,” he whispered in awe as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your mouth. 

“That’s your fault,” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips. He chuckled, his breath brushing your cheek. “I’ll take the blame,” he murmured before pressing his mouth to yours.

You hungrily accepted his kiss. Your hand slid between his thighs, finding his hard length pressed against his stomach. His cock felt warm against your palm as you wrapped your fingers around him, the movement causing a string of precum to form, connecting from his tip to his happy trail. 

Spencer groaned into your mouth, his tongue swirling against yours, deepening the kiss even further. You traced your thumb over the sensitive head of his cock, causing him to buck his hips and pressing his fingers harder against your clit in response. 

You squirmed at the intensity of his touch. His slender fingers continued to trail over your pussy, teasing with delicate strokes before slipping a finger into your dripping heat.

“Fuck, that feels good,” you moaned. 

You began stroking his length, squeezing him gently as you flicked your wrist. Every movement was a lazy, unhurried exploration of each other’s bodies. Savoring the haze of the high as it sharpened your every sensation. 

You broke the kiss, as you reached for the joint on the coffee table, turning toward Spencer with a playful glint in your eye. He gratefully parted his lips, as you placed the roll between them. He took a deep drag, the smoke curling into his lungs. You leaned closer, opening your mouth in anticipation to receive the smoky breath he exhaled, as you shared the pleasure.

Spencer took in the sight of you. Your swollen lips were slightly parted as you breathed in. Your nipples were hard with excitement, and your pussy glistened around his fingers as he slowly pumped them in and out of you. You were a sight to behold, and he couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten tonight.

He could look at you all day. He’s never felt so drawn to someone before, and he could easily finish just by watching your body as you sat bare in front of him. His cock fitted perfectly in your delicate hands. You were gripping him just right, bringing him closer to the release he’s been longing for.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, the words slipping out naturally. 

“So are you,” you replied just as sensually, your eyes tracing the way your hand palmed him, feeling his heavy weight in your grip. “I wanna know how you’d feel inside of me.”

A flush crept across his cheeks at your bluntness. “Yeah?”

You nodded slowly, humming in response. “Bet you’d fill me up so good.”

“Jesus,” he groaned, swallowing hard as he could feel the way you clenched around his fingers.

“Are you clean?” you asked him, and he quickly nodded.

He eagerly grabbed your hips as you crawled on top of him, moaning softly as he felt the weight of you. His hand slid to your neck, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, sucking your bottom lip.

You reached down between your bodies, fingers curling around his thick length as you guided him to your entrance. You let out a shaky whisper as he filled you up more than you expected. Spencer noted the furrow in your brow, but before he could remind you to take your time, you were already rocking your hips against him.

“Oh, baby,” he cried out, his hands sliding to your back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Your thighs rolled over his, and he met your pace, thrusting up into you.

“You feel so good,” he continued moaning as his fingers dug into your skin. 

You could only whimper in response and you fastened your movements, your breasts brushing against him with each slide of your hips.

He could feel you tightening around him, your legs trembling against his. “Spencer, I-”

You didn’t need to finish your sentence for him to understand. “Me too, sweetheart,” he groaned. “Please, don’t stop.”

You kept moving, the urgency in his voice spurring you on. You leaned in to capture his lips one more time, and Spencer accepted with a desperate whine. 

The pressure in your core finally broke, and you cried out his name as an overwhelming pleasure washed over you. Spencer’s grip on your hips tightened, and he pushed up into you one last time, his body shuddering as the warmth of his release filled you.

“You’re so amazing,” he sleepily groaned, nuzzling his head into your chest as you came down from the high. You chuckled at the scene, unsure if he even noticed how clingy he was being. It had to be the weed that made him hold onto you like that, but the action still made your heart flutter, imagining how you could be the reason why he’s acting this way.  

“Can you pick up the joint for me?” he softly asked, his lips brushing against your stomach. 

You giggled. “You’re really an addict.”

“I’m just addicted to you.”

[moonstruckme]

Could you do a scenario of reader comforting sirus after he gets an injury while playing Quidditch and has to sit out a lot of games?

Thanks for requesting!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 701 words

Sirius hardly pauses his sulking to mutter a quiet, “thanks,” when you return with his hot cider. 

Remus scoffs. “Nice, Pads.” 

“What?” 

“You’re just so sweet to your girlfriend.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, sitting next to Sirius with a smile. “It’s his first match being barred from the pitch, I get it.” You fix your boyfriend with a look. “I won’t be patient forever, though.” 

Sirius looks genuinely contrite. “Sorry.” You accept his apology kiss, but he scowls when a first year nearly trips on his cast. “Fuck, is this thing bloody invisible?” 

“Easy,” Remus cautions, though both he and you shoot stern looks at the first year. 

“Wanna turn sideways?” you offer. “I could hold it in my lap?” 

Sirius perks up some. “You gonna give me a foot massage, gorgeous?” 

“Merlin,” Remus mutters, scanning the student section for Lily. 

“I don’t really see how that would be possible…” You raise your eyebrows, smiling when Sirius half turns in his seat to plonk his injured leg in your lap. “I was thinking more like I could draw on it. Any tattoos you’ve been wanting on this leg?” 

Most of Gryffindor has already had a turn signing Sirius’ cast. It’s been on since the match last weekend, when a bad fall had broken Sirius’ leg badly enough that Pomfrey eventually had to send him out of the infirmary with skele-gro to heal what she couldn’t. It’ll be on for another couple weeks at least, and between you and James the white plaster is beginning to run out of space. 

“Hm.” Sirius leans over, considering. You’re glad the distraction is working. He’s been quiet and sullen all week because he’s had to miss quidditch training, and you’re sure his melancholy is twice as bad having to miss out on an actual match. “What about a dragon?”

“I could maybe do that.” You fish a marker out of your bag. “What sort of dragon?” 

Sirius’ mood sinks again when the match starts and the players fly out onto the pitch, but as it gets going and Gryffindor starts to score points, he gets into it. He roars with the rest of the crowd, picks up a chant about house pride, and, though he shouts a few obscenities at the beater filling in for him when a bludger gets too close to Bell, he still smiles when James points at him after scoring a goal. A real smile, bright and heart-fluttering. 

Near the end of the game, Sirius looks rather contented. He sips his second cup of cider while you draw daisies in between the other doodles on his cast. 

“They’d have more points if I were out there,” he says, rather mildly. 

Remus nearly snorts. “Yeah? How do you figure?” 

“I’d have sent a bludger towards Malfoy ages ago. There’s been lots of opportunities. Marlene’s holding her own, though,” he acknowledges. “And there are some advantages to being off the pitch for a little while.” 

You catch the syrupy quality to his voice, and turn to find him looking at you. You raise your eyebrows. “Do tell.” 

“Well, the cider, for one.” Sirius holds up his cup, as though that’s obvious. “Can’t usually have that during a match.” 

“Mm, you’re welcome.” 

“Did I not say thank you?” He leans over to nose at your neck. Remus respectfully looks back to the match. “Thank you, baby. Really. It’s great.” 

“I didn’t make it.” You grin at him. “What are the other things?” 

Sirius hums. “No early morning training. I get to have breakfast with my girl.” 

“No afternoon training on the weekends, either.” 

“Ah, see? You’re catching on.” 

“Don’t talk down to me,” you laugh. “You’re the one who’s been giving everyone the cold shoulder all week, Black.” 

“I know.” Sirius pulls his face from beneath your jaw. The playfulness is mostly gone from his expression, his eyes deep blue and full of apology. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to give anyone the cold shoulder, I just…” 

“It’s okay,” you say easily. You lean over, kissing the top of his head. “Really, I get it. You alright?” 

Sirius sighs, looking out over the pitch. “Yeah.” 

You rest your cheek on his hair. “Good.”

[sabertoothwalrus]

so I’ve been gaining a lot of insight into the animation industry recently, especially in regards to pitching & the creation of new shows. There’s a few ways to go about it.

First, there’s pitching to a studio. When you pitch, it has to be SHORT and CONCISE. You may write a lovingly detailed pitch bible that perfectly breaks down episodes and characterizations, and it might barely even get read. First impressions, first impressions, first impressions!

Most peoples’ first projects don’t get picked up. I’ve heard a few stories from directors that said they tried pitching a story they’d had for years, which got rejected, to then spend a week or even several hours in their car coming up with a new idea, only for that to get greenlit.

But that’s not the end of it. Just because a show gets greenlit, doesn’t mean it will ever get finished. There’s lots of things that can happen. Sometimes, unexpected major world events (like… a global pandemic) can cause projects to get chopped. Sometimes, a CEO change or studio merge means a single person can decide a project “no longer fits with the company’s brand.” Sometimes, the one producer that was rooting for your project gets laid off, and no one else cares enough, so it gets shelved. Sometimes, a streaming service decides to create an animation department, and then they decide they don’t want it anymore. Sometimes, the studio will be simultaneously be developing another project that was too similar to yours and they just didn’t think to tell you until they decide yours is the one with less potential.

On top of that, almost everyone in the industry is saying that “studios just don’t pick up original content anymore.” Studios want something they can franchise, something that will bring in money. New content is risky. Established fanbases are safer.

However! Studios can still be a very good thing. They can be unionized. They can provide better benefits and resources. They can have connections and infrastructure and a larger volume of workers. At a studio, you can divide the labor and produce more in less time. Longer episodes, longer seasons, more consistency in quality.

But this comes with all of the disadvantages of having more in the kitchen.

The alternative is indie animation.

With indie animation, you have total freedom. Full artistic control. It doesn’t even matter if your idea sucks ass, because there’s no one to tell you you can’t make it. You could make it anyway, and you can make it whatever you wanted.

The thing is, making animation is hard. In my production class last semester, the average maximum animation one person could make in that timeframe was 30-60 seconds, and that’s not even counting background design, sound design, or cleanup/color. To make a 5 minute animated short, you should probably have at least 5 people.

And it is CRUCIAL you have a production manager. Ideally someone who’s not already doing art for the project. Most projects without a production manager will fall apart pretty quickly. Once the adrenaline and impulse-fueled motivation wears off, you need someone to hold you accountable and enforce deadlines and proper time management.

Speaking of time, that’s also hard to get. The more people you have, the more likely schedules won’t line up. Most people will have school, or other jobs.

And it costs MONEY!!!!!! You either have everyone work for free and volunteer their time & energy, or you establish a business as a proper indie studio, with people who may or may not have experience on how to handle paying someone else’s salary. And the money has to come from somewhere, so you have to rely on crowdfunding like patreon or kickstarter. (This, by the way, is why I could never fault an indie animation for releasing merch with their pilot.)

And like, maybe you wanna do a series, and all your friends agree to volunteer their labor and time to make the first episode, but it was unanimously not sustainable. Deciding not to produce a second episode until you can raise enough money is not being suddenly greedy, it’s attempting to compensate people rather than expecting them to be continuously taken advantage of.

You have to consider your output as well. There are some outliers like Worthikids, who afaik does all his animation himself, and afaik can work on it full-time thanks to his patreon subscribers. And he still has only produced a total of 30 minutes of animation (for Big Top Burger specifically) in the past 4 years. This is an IMPRESSIVE feat and this is with using a lot of 3D as part of his pipeline!!

Indie animation also has the complication of being more accessible for fandoms. When you’re posting your Official Canon Content on youtube, it doesn’t look a lot different than the fandom-created video essay in the sidebar next to it. What’s canon vs what’s fanon becomes less distinguishable. The boundaries are blurrier. When the creator is just some guy you follow on twitter, it’s easier to prod them for info regarding ships and theories and word-of-god confirmation. They don’t have a PR team or entire international tv networks to appeal to. And this is when creators get frustrated that their fans snowball and turn their creation into something they don’t recognize (and no longer enjoy) anymore.

So it’s tricky.

Thankfully, the threshold to learn animation is fairly low nowadays!! There are TONS of resources online to learn it on your own without forking over a couple hundred thousand to a private art college. There are conventions and discord servers and events where you can network, if you know where to look.

I know it can seem discouraging in the face of capitalism, but I think that’s all the more reason why it’s so important to BE DETERMINED about animation!! We’re already starting to see the beginning of an indie animation boom, and I think it’s a testament to humanity’s desire to tell stories and create art. Even if there’s no financial gain, we do whatever it takes to tell our stories anyway.

[koiiiji]

nsfw headcanons with Busan gang

THIS IS SUGGESTIVE CONTENT!! AGELESS AND EMPTY BLOG DNI.

starring ; Baek Sang, Hwang Jungseok, Jinrang

Baek Sang can be very selfish person, and sometimes it may slipp in sexual life too. of course he care about you and your pleasure, but that doesn't mean he will forget about his own needs.

i also have a feeling that Baek is a man of aesthetic. he loves buying some beautiful attributes, like butt plugs, nipple clips, lash, high quality ropes — flowing silk, bright red bandages, expertly woven ropes, anything that can decorate your body during foreplay and sex.

he can be into something rough like bdsm that includes shibari but it doesn't apply to sex itself. i mean he will tease and badger you when your eyes are covered with a silk bandage, and your senses are overwhelmed. during foreplay he can overstimulate you with his fingers, with a whip, or any other bdsm attribute, but Baek would be gentle during actual sex. the same ropes and leather, but he loosens it for your comfort. of course if you ask him, he can continue in his mocking and teasing manner, but usually Baek himself prefer to go a little too much with his games, to have you cockdrunk and drooling, while he actually fucks you. but don’t get him wrong! he loves you, and the second he would feel that you are uncomfortable, he will double check!

Hwang Jungseok is most soft guy out of all of them. he likes size difference, but he understands his own strengths so he is biggest gentleman. despite his personality, Jungseok really into vanilla, soft and sensual sex, he likes long foreplay, and want his partner feel comfortable and satisfied. maybe he is into roleplay, with you as a cute nurse or middle school teacher who met a gangster.

just as Baek he likes seeing you in outfits, but in his situation he prefer it cute, lacy and really light ones. Jungseok likes this difference between you two, when you dress into pretty little dress and meet him at home (he will blush like tomato), while he is still wearing his classical suit, he likes your soft and sensitive skin against his huge hands and how sweetly you moan his name when his hand slip under your dress.

Jinrang is pretending to be softie! but in fact he is feral, especially after releasing from jail. man really wants and try to be gentle and soft, but he just can’t get enough of you.

it always was like that, he start really softly and carefully, but lose some control, but after few years in prison… let’s say your first night was, mmm, feral at very least. his kisses are deep, he is biting, sucking and licking on your soft skin, leaving his marks all over you. Jinrang didn’t mean to, he really is a big softie, but he just so carried away with you, that he doesn’t notice how he can be a bit too much with his own strength.

he can go like 2-3 rounds in a row and while mercilessly pounding into you he will whine into your ear in low, hoarse voice something like “sorry princess… ‘m so sorry… just… a little more… please give me one more..”

but don’t worry! he will gave you most warm and sweet aftercare — hugs, kisses, light strokes on marks he left. so far Jinrang wasn’t shown as man who talks a lot, but he likes listen, and surprisingly he likes after sex talks. he is more on listening side, but will kiss and quietly purr into top of your head how he loves you!

🥥🕯️🤍🪞

[mahalkitamully]

a better stress reliever ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

: leon kennedy x reader

content warning !! : mature content ahead (no unprotected sex you freaks), praise kink, marks (biting/hickieshenwajhfnejf), but I promise it's kinda fluffy :3

sub to dom leon muwahahah

i've never wrote smut before, so expect this to be kind of cookie cutter. (I was too embarrassed rereading it and making sure it was good so y'all getting this the way it was playing out in my head)

一

"baby we really gotta find healthier stress relievers for you." you spoke, gently taking the unopened bottle from Leon's hand. "like what?" he grumbled, eyeing the bottle in your hand as you thought for a bit.

"we can't go out right now.. so why don't we just- watch a movie together or something? quality time together y'know?"

he paused, before nodding. you led him to the couch and he sat a little further away. whenever he was stressed he didn't really want to be touched so you gave him space. you let him pick a movie and half way through it, he grabbed your waist, pulling you closer towards him.

"i'm sorry-." he mumbled, his hand softly caressing your side as you smiled lightly. "it's alright babe."

as the movie progressed, his hand found its way to your thigh, then slowly rode up ever so slightly. you eyed him, your head tilted as you stared at him confused. "what're you doing?" you asked and he immediately moved his hand back down. "sorry- i- just-.. you're so.. attractive-." he spoke lamely, his eyes avoiding yours. despite his boldness, your comfort came first to him.

you rolled your eyes before he frowned slightly, his thumb tracing circles on your leg. "..baby can i..?"

"can you what?" you asked, tilting your head. you knew what he wanted but- fuck he's so pretty when he begs.

"...can I touch you? I think that'll be a healthy stress reliever.." he was cute when he flirted- even if it was a little lame.

"what's the magic word?"

"please? can I please touch you? fuck.. I want to so bad baby please.." he looked at you, his finger continuing to draw shapes on your leg before you smiled proudly. he eagerly walked with you to the bedroom, gently pushing you onto the bed.

he started slow- or at least tried to. he kissed you softly for a second before tilting his head, deepening the kiss as his tongue pressed against your lips. you crawled on top of him, his hands gently caressing your chest before trailing down your stomach, his finger tips at the waistband of your underwear.

"nuh uh.. not yet.." you spoke, gently moving his hand away as you grinded on his growing boner. he let out a muffled grunt, his brows furrowed as he held your hips tightly, his eyes fluttering shut. "fuck.." he cursed under his breath, a wet spot growing on his pants.

"please baby stop teasing.. please I wanna touch you so bad.." he groaned out, his hands gripping your hips tightly. you shook your head, smiling sadistically.

after a while (five minutes was all it took, baby was stressed.), he quickly took you off him, pinning you down under him before he placed his knee between your legs gently. "I can't wait anymore.." he mumbled, before hastily taking your shirt off. he leaned down, placing hungry hickies on your chest as his hands struggled to take his own clothes off.

after leaving trails of hickies on you, he unzipped his pants, his already leaking tip pink and ready for you. he gently kissed your nose before speaking once more.

"m'gonna fuck you now baby ok..?" he mumbled and waited for your nod once more. as soon as you did, he slowly pushed inside of you, his head dipping down to kiss your neck once more. once all of him was inside, he took a breath and paused, the tip of his dick hitting inside of you right where you needed it to be.

he always waited for your signal to move, never proceeding until then. "doing so good baby.. fuck... you- hah.. you feel so good.." he groaned, his hands gently holding yours as he placed kisses on your face, trailing your neck and collarbone.

he whispered praises into your ear, his breath hot as he slowly thrusted inside you- in and out skillfully.

"leon.." you moaned, your eyes shutting as you felt him moving inside of you. "I love hearing you say my name.." he felt you grip the back of his shoulders, your eyes teary as he quickened his pace. "shh.. you're doing great baby don't worry shhh.." he kissed your tears away, both your bodies shimmering with sweat.

despite his sweet praise, his movements were rough and fast. he left hickies and bites on your neck, his cock hitting deep inside you.

"are you close sweetie? 'cause I am.." he whispered, biting your neck as he kept his pace. your body shook as the coil in your gut releases, both your breaths heavy.

he kissed your cheek gently, as you smiled weakly. "thank you babe.." he whispered before slowly pulling out, standing up shakily as he reached for his boxers. "i'll get you some water and we can go show okay?"

一

i've never written smut before.. i'm sorry if it's bad!! to my irl friends no u didn't see this.

[creepy-friday]

More Creepypasta Mansion Headcanons

Warnings: dark content,violence,

blood,mental illness and drugs mentions,suggestive content

if your room is close to Jeff or Ben,you're not getting any sleep.Both of them would play loud obnoxious music;Jeff would blast metal while the blonde would play hours of techno music while gaming sounds would be heard plus inappropriate loud sounds from whatever he's watching/playing/enjoying himself to

The calmest and safest times are during breakfast or when the others eat in general,everytime someone is in the kitchen they just do their own thing and leave

EJ doesn't need sleep,so if you happen to wander the hallways at night you might bump into him

Slenderman doesn't care about anything that doesn't directly affect him,he would actually be pissed if a resident would complain about something that he doesn't care about,that's why all the creeps can be unhinged at times

One violent fight has to happen at least once per month we all know the violent motherfuckers who start it and an argument has to happen at least once per day

If you're a shy and an empathetic person then your stay in the mansion can be hell,that's why you should stick with the ones who can make your life a little bearable

Even lone wolves like EJ and Bloody Painter don't stay alone for long periods of time.If you're isolated for a long period of time you might hear the static again..some say it's Slenderman who doesn't want his creeps to be alone because the eldritch might care about them,some say that it's because their loneliness can get into their quality of work and it would piss him off

Besides the blood and the desperation,most creeps keep themselves clean,but you might see some residents like Jeff who can wear the same pair of sweatpants for 7 days in a row

If you need money you can simply go to Ben,he will either order what you need for you or make himself useful and get you some cash,altough he is a little fuck and wants something in return even if it's HIS JOB to provide the residents what they need.Maybe a blowjob under the desk will do

Drugs are easy to obtain,even Nina has a bottle of something hidden inside her room,you just have to know what you want

One of the top unspoken rules between the residents is to never,in under any circumstances,never enter another creep's room without permision,the only keys that are provided are to proxies rooms.

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 3

(Eventual)Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist | my masterlist

gif by me (tumblr is making gifs that i upload extra potato quality lately and I'm not happy about it at all)

summary: You're feeling lighter and freer now that you and Matt are seeing each other, only to have it all come crashing down when Frank strolls back into your life. When you go to tell him you're pregnant, it doesn't go as planned.

warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio or I will block you!) AFAB Reader. No use of Y/N. Mention of pregnancy. Fingering, unprotected P in V. Pet names. Angst.

a/n: This is gonna be the last chapter with the flashback parts, so thanks for sticking through it if that style was confusing!

w/c: 2,940

Still a few weeks earlier

It was far too comfortable in your bed to even think of opening your eyes, let alone getting up and starting your day. The glow of the light streaming in from the morning sun was warm against your skin and encouraged you to burrow further under your plush duvet. The way Matt’s fingers also sleepily danced at the waistband of your panties while he lazily kissed at your neck and pressed his body against your back didn’t help you to fight the urge to stay in this blissful state of near slumber all day.

“Come on sweetheart, let me in. Just a little bit before I have to go.”

His voice was husky. Still shaking off the sleep as he cooed in your ear between haphazardly placed presses of his lips to the skin where your collar bone met your neck.

You couldn’t help but grin, rolling your leg so that your knee bent towards the ceiling, allowing his gentle hands to easily access you.

“Matty.” you cooed in a whispered plea

“Shhh”

You arched your back as he finally swiped a finger through your already drenched core, still leaking the mix of yours and his fluids left from just hours before.

In the few days since you and Matt had gone out, things heated up quickly. You’d woken up with him in your bed three nights this week and any notions of keeping things casual and taking it slowly had gone out the window. At least sexually, that was. You still were holding him at an arm's length emotionally and you were sure he’d complain about it if he weren’t so busy spending so much time between your legs making you both feel good.

Preening at his touch, you softly whined when he inserted two fingers into your heat, loving the way they scissored and explored inside you.

Fuck, he was so good at this. Using his heightened senses to read every clue your body gave and bring you to levels of pleasure you couldn’t have fathomed were possible.

It was a slow climb this morning, each of you allowing hands to explore sleepily for a long time. Eventually, he had you flat on your back, nestled comfortably between your thighs as he gingerly pumped into you. He moved as if there was no rush, no world outside that needed your attention, despite the impending threat of each of your morning alarms and the responsibilities of the day that awaited. Just the two of you and the warm glow of morning.

It was pure ecstasy when you reached your peak, shuddering under the weight of him as your heat contracted in slow steady pulses in a drawn out orgasm. He moaned into your mouth as he felt you clench around him, so wishing this could be the only way he needed to spend his day, but also chasing his own release, spilling inside you unable to resist giving into how good you felt fully anymore.

A satisfied hum escaped his lips as he collapsed on top of you, nestling into the crook of your neck while you stroked his back.

You were so content in the moment. Happy to hold him close and revel in the bliss of it all.

Until his phone beeped out, his morning alarm cutting through the rosy haze you were both in.

Still, the two of you remained snuggly as you prepared for the day, unwilling to be away from each other’s touch for too long.

“You know, we could try that Indonesian place down in Chelsea that Mahoney always raves about.” Matt said, sipping at his coffee while you packed up your bag for the day

“I can’t tonight Matty, I have the gala, remember?”

“Oh shoot, that’s right.”

You didn’t think it was possible for him to be any more handsome, but his still kiss bitten lips cracking into a groggy smile as he stood in the morning glow in your kitchen certainly had you considering calling off for the day and dragging him back to bed.

“You know, I could go with you. As your date? I shouldn’t be in court past five tonight if you want some help charming those donors.”

“Thank you for the offer Matt, but I think showing up with you to a work event when we’ve been going out for less than a week feels very much like putting a label on this. Which I thought we were trying to avoid.”

You could tell from the way Matt ran his tongue along his teeth that he was not thrilled with your continued stance on the state of your relationship. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be seen in public with him, actually quite the opposite. God, how you’d love to know what it was like to be his truly and fully; to show up to the gala and let the world know that someone thought you were special. Worthy of being with. Not just someone but Matt. You could feel yourself already falling faster and harder than you’d ever planned. In fact most days, Frank was just a whisper of a name that echoed in the back of your thoughts. But you knew if you let yourself jump head first into this, whatever was still lingering in your heart about Frank would inevitably bubble up to the surface and ruin things. Plus, you expected Matt to eventually grow bored of you, a handsome and successful lawyer like himself had plenty of options. You were sure he’d find someone better than you eventually. Best not to let yourself fall too hard and end up hurt again.

You also couldn’t deny the disappointment you felt at losing the opportunity to see Matt all dressed up for a black tie event; knowing he’d probably spend the entire evening schmoozing and charming you and showing off.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you deflected, trying to defuse his mood “I also really do not want to hear it from Colleen if I show up with you on my arm. She tries to set me up with every even moderately hot dude we see because she thinks I’m too lonely or something and I just do not want her to even have a smidgen of notion that she’s right.

“Fair. Honestly, I don’t want to hear it from her either.”

Matt put his coffee mug in your sink before making his way to you and giving you a quick kiss.

“Maybe you can make it up to me though, let me cook for you at my place on Friday?”

“Mmm you cook?”

“I do.”

“You any good?”

Matt scoffed at your question, letting his eyes roll as he playfully smirked and drew you into his arms.

“I haven’t ever heard any complaints.”

“Yeah? What are you gonna make for me?”

“I have a shrimp scampi recipe that’s my go to. You’re gonna love it, sweetheart.”

“I like shrimp scampi.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s a date.”

The gala was a great time, even without Matt’s presence. You were exhausted though when you finally walked through the door of your apartment shortly after midnight. Wasting no time, you kicked off your shoes and changed into something comfortable. Just as you were about to shut off all the lights and head to bed, you heard a thud come from your fire escape.

You had joked with Matt earlier about Daredevil one day maybe making an appearance late in the night, but with him being vague about his stance as a vigilante lately, you didn’t think he’d actually commit to the joke.

With a roll of your eyes, you made your way to the window, unlocking it and tugging it open.

You weren’t expecting to see Frank standing there instead.

“Jesus! Frank, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to scare you.”

The tender way his eyes scanned you nearly had you crumpling to your knees. Frank always looked tired, but right now, only bathed in the light of the city and hastily shoving his hands in his coat pocket, did you realize how broken he looked. As you took in the sight of him before you, all the feelings you’d been pushing to the side in the days since you’d seen him last came flooding in. A burning welled in your eyes and the lump in your throat only grew by the second.

A week and a half was not a long time to go without hearing from Frank usually. But this was different. Things had shifted between the two of you after that night.

The way your gaze tore down and away from him broke his resolve, coming to stand before you in one large stride and leaning into the window sill to gently take your face in his hand.

He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t bring himself to. Instead he kissed you fiercely, not like the heated and desperate kisses you shared last time, but soft and full of yearning. As if he was trying to throw every apology he couldn’t back up with true action into his kisses.

It didn’t take long to get you inside. He didn’t bother to break his lips away from yours as the two of you bumped around your dim apartment until he found your bedroom.

The measured way he undressed you and laid you down consumed you with an understanding; this was his goodbye. His 11 o’clock number in the story that was the two of you. Not unprepared by the heat of the moment like last time and the awkwardness that followed, but carefully planned to take you apart and put you back together as a parting gift.

But still, you allowed it all to happen. To let the car crash just to stand in the glow of the flames to keep yourself warm, if only temporarily.

Frank’s skin was heated as he pressed his bare chest against yours, clinging to your skin in a desperate attempt to keep you as close as physically possible. He shuddered softly and nuzzled his carved nose into the dip of your collar bone, gently tugging at your thigh to pull your leg up as he pushed inside you slowly.

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby.”

All you could do was whimper quietly and hold on while he made love to you, trying so hard to enjoy the moment and not overthink.

And as the two of you laid there in the mellow afterglow and you dozed off in his arms, limbs still tangled together and covered in a light sheen of sweat, you let yourself finally hope.

Maybe he’ll stay.

But when you woke up, still in a daze of pleasure, the cold sheets beside you let you know; Frank was gone.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Now

The abandoned warehouse smelled mustier than usual thanks to all the rain that had fallen on New York this past weekend. It made you sad to think that this is how Frank lived, only surviving in cold, barely habitable hideouts, only eating canned food and plotting his next hit. You made your way through the echoing hall, bobbing and weaving through the doors and tunnels as you navigated. After your last encounter, you were certain you’d never see him again.

Now things were different.

Matt handled the information that Frank was the other potential father to your child shockingly well. You knew many a conversation needed to happen about how you all wanted to proceed further, as well as you finally getting the full story on their history. Matt agreed to let you have the space to tell Frank the news on your own though. You were tempted to text or call him but knew it would all go unanswered anyway. So, you came here to tell him in person.

You finally reached the door you were seeking, covered in chipped paint and rust from years of neglect. Trying your hardest not to startle him, you knocked just loud enough so that he could hear you.

“Frank?”

No answer.

Just in case Frank was hiding in a corner with a weapon or something, you gingerly turned the handle and poked your head in slowly so he had plenty of time to see it was you.

But the room was too dark to see anything. When you flipped on the light switch, you swore you heard the sound of your heart dropping.

The cold concrete room was mostly empty. Free of all Frank’s gear; his carefully organized supply of guns and amo, his stockpiled perishable grocery supply, the ratty mattress on the floor. All gone. All that remained were a few shelves and lockers; cleaned of all the things that once sat in them, and the worn metal desk; which had on top of it only one thing.

Frank’s old Marine sweatshirt.

It wasn’t odd for Frank to move locations from time to time. You tried to calm yourself with this information and stop from jumping to the worst case scenario as you reached in your back pocket and retrieved your phone.

You only had the number of his latest burner. The calling tone only rang out once before there were three beeps and a robotic voice spoke.

“We’re sorry, but the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected.”

It was as if a landmine went off in your heart, sending splatters of veins and ventricles into every direction of the cinder block cave. All at once it felt as if the room was spinning and your knees wobbled. You picked the neatly folded clothing article off the desk and held it close as you choked out a sob and crumpled to the floor.

Frank was gone. No note. No way of contacting him or finding him. Just gone.

And you were pregnant. And there was a very good chance the baby was his.

And you loved him.

Your heaving cries stopped just as suddenly as they started when you heard footsteps behind you. They were slow and clearly being intentionally loud enough for you to hear.

“Frank?!” you cried out, whipping your head around to see him enter the abandoned hideout.

But Frank was not standing there, ready to pick you up off the floor and comfort you.

Matt’s lips pursed in a grimace as he crossed the room toward you, tightly gripping his cane. His expression read of pity for sure, but also with an air of “I told you so and I really wished I would have been wrong” to it. It took him little effort to lift you off the floor and pull you into his strong embrace as your tears flowed once more.

“You said you were going to let me do this alone.” you coughed out

“I know. But I was waiting just down the hall, listening. I needed to hear how this went. To make sure you were okay.”

“Frank wouldn’t have hurt me.”

“I know, sweetheart. But I didn’t trust him to not be an asshole.”

“Well it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s gone.”

“I know.”

Another wave of tears washed over you. You breathed out Matt’s name out in a plead, decibels below a whisper so that only he would ever hear. His lips came to press softly into your hair as he comforted you. Nuzzling into his strong hand as he cupped your face, he reassured you over and over.

“Shh. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Running his fingers along your cheek to wipe away the tears, Matt pressed his forehead to yours as he heard your breathing finally begin to even out.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise. You and I. Well do this together.”

“What if it’s Franks?”

“I don’t care. I don’t.”

“I can’t hear your heartbeat but I know you’re lying.”

“I’m not. You and this baby; I’m going to love you both and we’ll be a family. We don’t need Frank to complicate that.”

Love

The word sent an icy dagger into your heart. Could he? Could you ever? You took a step back, wiping the last of the salty droplets from your cheeks.

“You sure you don’t want a paternity test?”

The chuckle Matt released reverberated in the echoing space. He shook his head, moistening his perfectly pouty lips before speaking again.

“I’m sure.”

“I thought a lawyer would be smarter than that.” you said with an attempt at a smile, albeit a melancholic one

“You know sweetheart, my dad died when I was young. He made a stupid decision and left me all alone. And my mom wasn’t in my life, well not in the way I needed her. But that’s even more complicated...”

It shocked you a little bit that Matt Murdock had not always been a charming, smart-mouthed, successful lawyer; but at one time had actually been a scared little boy who had been hurt by the world. The way he tilted his head up in the dim fluorescent light as he swallowed thickly, recounting his family history, made you wonder how much there was to his story and if he’d be willing to tell you sometime.

“Anyway, they both chose to leave me in their own ways. I didn’t have them there when I needed them most. And I promise you right now, I will not repeat their mistakes. I will not let this child; our child, feel abandoned.”

The way he said ‘our child’ lit a glimmer of hope inside you like seeing a lighthouse through a storm. Matt’s earnest sincerity made you actually believe him, if only a little bit.

“Okay. We’ll do this together.”

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[n0tamused]

⋆.˚ ★—Anaxa x Reader

Contents: How does Anaxa comfort you, and how does he react to you comforting him?

A/n: Good luck on your pulls!! Words:539

Masterlist ✦ Rules ✦ Ko-Fi

˚☽˚.⋆Comforting you

-Anaxa doesn't look like he knows how to comfort, probably comes off as too blunt, too harsh, too cold, too this or that, too logical in a field that needs tact and sentiment. However, that is not wholly true. He does understand when someone need a gentler hand, or a shoulder to lean on

-Perhaps it can go without saying, but, he doesn't ever go out of his way to really harass/insult anyone, he doesn’t have the time to go on witch hunts and only gets confrontational when met with ignorance or clear disrespect, and so when he's in a relationship with someone he loves all his otherwise snappy qualities turn into heavy attempts at being more empathetic or at least more warm

-He does prefer when you come to him with problems that can be solved or on which he can give his insight on from a more logical perspective, at least that way he can help you best. But with emotional issues he goes more quiet, simply listening to you talk and vent and rant, sometimes offering a few words if you seem to be looking for a quick input, but largely he stays quiet until you're done. Then he does his best to find some common ground between logic and emotion

-He's not clueless, just trying to be gentle with you. He'd also offer to have your head in his lap and run his fingers through your hair, like you do to him. He also rubs your shoulders while you're there

-Makes you tea or if you're feeling particularly rough and visibility crumbling, he throws in some stronger medicine to help you relax

˚☽˚.⋆You comforting him

-Anaxa is shit at receiving comfort as his first habit when he's distressed is to run to his work or to his room and isolate until he has found the solution himself. He buries himself in his work 90% of the time, and the other, rare, 10% is when he's around his grave or under the shade of Cerce’s great shade, pondering about the future and what ifs in silence

-He's stiff as a plank when you offer comfort, he does feel rather weak and vulnerable when he knows you noticed his shift in demeanor, which truth be told - it is not that hard to tell apart when he’s simply frustrated or when he’s genuinely feeling down

-Although that doesn't mean he doesn't grow to really appreciate your concern and often does try to ease your mind, by at least sharing a room while you both work at your own work. He doesn't want to neglect his time with you either, yet it is hard for him to wholly accept it too

-He does prefer more subtle approaches at comforting him, simple questions or gestures like you making him a lunch box and sliding it to him for example, or simply giving him that knowing look of yours. Nothing over the top but enough to let him know he's loved and cared for, he's not alone and if he pushes this away he'd only be hurting someone, someone he loves, and he doesn’t want that. He can’t lose you due to his selfishness and neglect. He won’t

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[g0niki]

camera's on ── y.jw p.js

pairing: bf!jungwon x afab!reader x classmate!jay

word count: 3.4k+

content: no protection (wrap it up 😓), oral (m&f receiving), light mxm (ooo they're both boys,,ooo and they're kissing), exhibitionism, jay is a little mean, jw is a little dumb, recording. i think that's it

a/n: another late-night banger, wrote this at like 4am and barely proofread it because i'm just a girl 🤷. lmk if anyone wants a part two!

“shit shit shit-“ won wasn’t giving you a single break, his hand rested on top of your head as he pushed your head down into the pillows. his hips repeatedly thrust in and out of you, knocking the air out of your lungs each time as you stare back at your reflection through his phone camera. 

the camera quality was shitty, blurry, and shaky, jumping any and every time won’s pelvis came in contact with your ass, but to won you looked angelic. he didn’t care how ‘bad’ it was, he could see your face red and stained with tears while also being able to see how good you took him. what he did not like was just how much the setup would come crashing down, like now. 

“wait wonnie-“ jungwon throws his head back in frustration, already knowing what words were going to come out of your mouth “it fell again...” won pulls out, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips as he crawls off the bed again to grab the small device, hand running through his hair in frustration. you sit up, pulling the blankets up to cover your figure. 

“we can try again another time…”  jungwon holds the phone in his hand now, his hand coming up to push your hair back and cup your face. he sees the slight pout on your face, knowing you haven’t gotten the chance to finish yet. he looks down at his erection, not as hard as it was before but still there. 

“let me finish you off baby,” tossing his phone to the side and tugging the blanket off of you. he grips your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the bed, kneeling between them and immediately getting to work. his tongue pressing flat against you and licking from top to bottom before inserting his muscle inside you and using his right hand to massage your clit. another failed attempt at completing one of his sex list goals, but that doesn’t mean he was going to leave his princess high and dry once again. 

jungwon continues to practically make out with your cunt. burying his face in your warmth and moving his fingers from your clit and to the outside of your entrance, gently pushing two of his digits inside and feeling around the space. you can hear the slurping sounds he makes, knowing it’s messy and that his face is coated in your essence yet unable to bring yourself up to look. too overcome with the feeling of ecstasy and throwing your head back as your back arches up. 

jungwon’s hips rutt against the edge of the bed, trying his best to match up with the pace of his fingers and trying to imagine the feeling of you clenching around his fingers being around his member instead.  

the feeling of his fingers curling up inside you finally sending you over the edge as won digs his hips into the mattress a couple more times, lapping at your cum to properly finish himself off. the warm cum oozing out and spreading against the bed sheets and his stomach. 

he might not have gotten the recording, but at least he still has you gasping for air in front of him. 

【☆】★【☆】

jungwon was in a bad mood and everyone on campus could tell. his hand gripped the strap of his backpack tightly, tight enough for the vein in his arm to pop out, his eyebrows pinched together in annoyance, and the inside of his right cheek was caught between his teeth. 

most of the time people would say hi and ask won how he was doing or stop him to exchange a couple of words, but anyone with working eyes could tell not to speak to the boy at that moment, let alone look at him. 

 jungwon tosses his bag onto the ground next to the table his friends are all studying at, all of them pausing their work to look up at him as if he had his head screwed on backward.

“who the hell spit in your coffee this morning?” sunoo scoffed, closing his book and setting his head on his palm to glare at jungwon. “that was unnecessary, interrupting our peace.” jungwon watched as sunoo rolled his eyes and sighs, jake nudging the sassy ginger. 

“cmon bro he’s clearly having a rough morning.” jake gives him a sympathetic smile, ruffling sunoo’s hair to get him off of jungwon’s back. “what’s got you like.. this?” the aussie looks jungwon up and down, taking in his messy look and the bags under his eyes, “you don’t even look this bad during finals.”

jungwon plops down onto the chair, rubbing his eyes and groaning out loud. “personal issues.” trying his best to keep the situation slightly vague. the answer wasn’t enough, sunoo and jake gave him a look that said ‘like???’

“recording issues,”

“recording… like a camera?” jungwon shoots sunoo a look, coming off harsher than he meant it to be, the ginger putting his hands up in response “jeez i’m just making sure, didn’t know you had a pole up your ass today.” 

“sorry hyung… it’s just really bothering me.”

“i was going to tell you to give you that junior jay’s number, but it seems like you don’t need my input.” sunoo looks away to check his nails,  not bothering to further explain himself. 

“who’s jay?”

“you know? the videography major from america.” jake ignores sunoo’s attitude and continues the conversation for him, filling in jungwon. “i’m sure he could help you with camera shit.” 

that’s how won found himself in front of the creative arts building. a sticky note in his hand with the room number 6-107 and the name of one of his seniors. the building being the polar opposite of his majors with a sleek and cool design, making him feel as if he stepped foot onto a completely different campus. 

after a couple of awkward interactions and asking people if they had seen this mysterious jay, jungwon was finally pointed towards a guy. his golden blondish hair sitting messily as he clicked away on his laptop, a nice looking camera sitting next to the device. 

park jay… or jongseong. he’s not sure which one he should be calling him but his legs are dragging him right over to the older boy. 

“i need your help.” jungwon stood over him, he’s eyes sharply looking at the blonde and waiting for him to look up.  jay’s head slowly looks jungwon up from bottom to top, making eye contact and raising his brow, licking the corner of his lip before speaking up. 

“do i know you?” jay minimizes his tabs, jungwon watching as the editing apps close one by one and the only thing left is jay’s camera roll, many thumbnails displayed on the screen in front of him. “and my services aren’t free.” 

despite jay having to look up at jungwon, won is still a bit intimidated. jay’s aura is suffocating, having him swallowing down the lump in his throat to continue the conversation. 

“yang jungwon. i just had a couple of questions about camera setup…” 

“i guess i could spare some tips, what camera are you using?” 

“my phone...”

“… do you have a tripod?”

“no…” jay blankly stares at jungwon, shutting his laptop and beginning to pack his things into his back. 

“you must take me for some kind of joke.”  grabbing his now-packed bag and slinging it over his shoulder done with the current conversation. 

“wait wait wait i’m serious i swear. i just… haven’t gotten my start.” jay sighs deeply, his eyes stabbing jungwon with a piercing glare. 

“do you have good lighting?” jungwon pauses for a second and thinks back to his room, he had some poorly strung-up led lights as well as an accent lamp in the corner of his bedroom.

“maybe…”

“you don’t have a camera, don’t have a proper setup, and you might have a lightbulb. what kind of project is this?” jay’s voice sounded flabbergasted, unable to understand jungwon’s vision from a videographer’s point of view, whatever the fuck jungwon was planning to record was going to be trash. 

“a personal project.”

“well, then what the fuck is in it for me?” 

“… not much.” 

jungwon had no idea how he managed to do it, but now jay was standing in his bedroom, analyzing the environment, walking around the bed, and looking at the room. turning around to stare at jungwon with a look of judgment. 

“are you trying to film a fucking porn?’ 

“whaaatt nah, nothing like that…” jungwon’s hand scratches the back of his neck, eyes avoiding the other boys.

“sure, what’s the focus point?”

“… the bed”

“alright, porn it is.” 

“it’s not porn. it’s wrestling!” jungwon winces at his bad cover-up, if it wasn’t already obvious (clearly it was) he had just blown his (non-existent) cover. 

“listen, every videographer has dabbled into pornography. there’s no shame, anyways i’d say this angle right here is best for a still shot.” 

“what about close-ups-“ and before won could finish his sentence the sound of the front door shutting could be heard through the small apartment and the sound of your voice shouting down the empty hallway to him. 

“baby, i’m home- oh we have guests??” jungwon doesn’t miss the way you quickly scan jay’s figure before leaning in to give won a peck on the lips, quickly pulling away and excusing yourself. “practice was long, i’m gonna go wash up.”

“she’s a dancer?” jungwon doesn’t fail to miss how jay keeps his eyes on you as you walk out, hands in his pockets before he resumes his conversation with won. “consultation fee is usually $100, but since you and your girlfriend are hot and you’re desperate, i could go for $75.” jay leans on the door frame, watching as you walk out of the bathroom in your shorts and sport-bra, grabbing the towel you seemed to have forgotten. 

“… great, i’ll pay you this weekend.” won also didn’t fail to watch you run across the hallway to grab your favorite fuzzy towel, and he certainly didn’t miss jay calling the two of you hot. 

“this weekend? you can’t be fucking serious.” jay pinches the space between his eyebrows, swearing he could feel his brain thumping against his temple dealing with the younger. 

“or, my girlfriend and i could give a different form of payment?” 

【☆】★【☆】

you weren’t expecting your boyfriend to sit you down on your bed after your shower, nothing but a towel wrapped around you while the guy you had briefly seen earlier set up a camera in the corner of your room. you weren’t put off though… the way his sharp eyes looked over and he adjusted the camera every few minutes was enough to have a puddle forming between your legs. 

“jay’s going to be helping us with that bucket list baby?” jungwon’s sickeningly sweet voice came from in front of you, his hands rubbing your thighs as he squatted in front of you, the now identified jay working behind him. “you’re already doing such a good job and being so pretty for the camera.”

“camera’s on, just start when you’re ready.” even his voice was enough to send shivers down your spine. 

“why don’t you take this off pretty?” jungwon tugs on the end of the towel, slipping it from around your form and dropping it onto the floor. his hands return to your thighs, dragging up to your waist as he raises himself to be leveled with your chest. kissing your left boob before taking your nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the hardened nub. 

“why don’t you make some noise for the camera, don’t make me feel like i’m wasting my time here.” jay’s harsh words paired with jungwon lightly biting down on your nipple has you letting out a high-pitched sound of satisfaction. “just like that.”

jungwon’s pushing you back and lifting your legs onto his shoulders, moving down to kiss your cunt. “put on a show for hyung? we want to make this worth it for him baby.” he marks the inside of your thighs up, leaving you to pull at your hair in frustration, the build-up not being nearly enough for you. 

“please wonnie, please i need more.” 

“i don’t think the camera is picking that up, say it louder pretty.”  jungwon laughs against your cunt, pulling back and looking over at jay, the obvious bulge between the blonde’s legs on display. “jay hyung, why don’t you bring the camera closer, she’s dripping like crazy.” 

jay moves the set-up, bringing the camera close as won moves out of the way, giving the perfect view of your cunt glistening and dripping down onto the bed. you can hear jay groan, looking up to see him straining against his slacks. 

seeing jungwon and jay stand next to each other and glare at you through the screen of the camera setting something off inside of you. 

“can i be the director for a moment…” you speak lowly, unsure of if the two of them would let you get your hands on the camera, but pleasantly surprised when jay hands the device over to you. jay and won continue to stand over you, watching you fumble with the camera and flip it around towards them, the visual of them looking down on you making you cower and turning you on all at once. 

“what do you want us to do angel?” jay smirks at you, chuckling lightly as he watches you fumble around with the camera.

“take off your shirts…”

“what do you say, angel?”

“…please?”

“good girl.” you watch as the two of them grab the backs of their shirts and tug them over their heads, the contrast in their skin tones complimenting each other nicely. 

“could you kiss too… please?”

“you remembered your manners, good job.” jay turns to face won, grabbing your boyfriend’s chin. you had never seen your boyfriend look so gone before, you usually had an idea of what he was thinking but with his empty eyes and jaw slightly dropped down you were sure you knew exactly what he was thinking. he wanted jay just as much as you did. 

“you okay with kissing me, pretty boy?” the way jungwon dumbly nods back at jay makes the older suck air through his teeth. “fuck, you two are making me so hard right now.” pushing his lips against your boyfriend’s roughly, you gasping behind the camera and pushing your knees together, trying your best to hold steady and keep the two of them in frame. 

without you having to give any further direction jay is pulling jungwon in by his waist, won raising his arms to tangle his hands in jay’s hair, messing up the strands that were once neatly styled. 

jay’s deep groans mixed with won’s whines drive you crazy, the two of them dragging their covered-up cocks together, the layers between them making them push against each other desperately.  

you put the camera down and reach for won’s belt trying your best to help only to feel a slap against your hands, jay’s hand roughly grabbing the hair on the back of your head and tilting your head up to look at him.

“what do you think you’re doing?” 

you freeze, lip slightly quivering as you struggle to respond. 

“i- i’m helping..” you hear jay tsk, shaking his head at you. 

“jungwon, she isn’t even recording. wasn’t that the whole point of this? I might as well pack my things up and leave.” 

“apologize y/n. you’re disappointing our guest.” the switch that flipped in won’s mind had you reeling. just a moment ago he was almost as out of it as you were, you couldn’t even begin to figure out how he could bounce back in a split second. his hand reached towards your face and pinched your cheek, slightly shaking your face in a teasing way. “what do you say to jay hyung?”

“i’m sorry. i’m really sorry jay.”

“how about i prop the camera up and then you can show me just how sorry you are? you’d like that yeah?” he massages the back of your head, soothing the spot he tugged on before picking up his camera and walking back over to the tripod. “help won out of those pants.”

you drop to your knees immediately getting to work, taking off won’s belt and dropping the pants to his ankle, massaging his achingly hard length through his thin boxers. you could see his member jump through the flimsy material, spit building up in your mouth at the thought of having it lay heavy on your tongue. 

you’re unable to stop yourself from leaning in and sucking on the tip, the soft material between your mouth and his skin doing very little to stop you, the spot growing darker as you suckle him. 

“nu uh, i need my payment first.” jay softly pushes jungwon out of the way and sits on the mattress, beckoning for the two of you to come over to him.

jay pulls his pants and underwear down, letting his irritated tip meet the cool air and slap up against his stomach. your eyes go wide, he’s thick and long. a prominent vein up the side that you’d kill to feel inside you.

“come on now, wrap those pretty lips around me.” jay spreads his legs and makes space for you between him, letting you settle between him before pulling your hair back into a loose ponytail. “say ‘ahh’” and the moment you do the most satisfying grown is leaving both jay and won’s mouths. your face flushes, proud of yourself for getting both of them to react in such a way. 

jay taps his member against your tongue before pushing in with no warning, enjoying the way you gag around him and your throat clenches around his tip. you struggle to take him properly, tears building up in your eyes as you look up to him and practically plead for him to let you up. 

jungwon groans beside jay, kissing up on his tan skin and marking up jay’s neck after every couple of kisses. you wanted so badly to join won and help, but the feeling of jay cock continuously thrumming against the back of your throat has you losing focus and your eyes rolling back. 

“she can’t even do it on her own, why don’t you help her out won?” you pull off for a quick moment, keeping only the tip in your mouth to suck on as you watch won bite down onto jay’s neck, the older boy hissing, his length twitching in your mouth as he does so. “come on she’s waiting for you.”

won uses his thumb to wipe the spit from his lower lip, wrapping both his hands around jay’s length and pumping the older boy, waiting for you to continue bobbing your head up and down. 

“fuck, i’m seeing stars right now.” 

your tongue comes out the trace the underside of his member, jay’s thighs clenching underneath your hands as you push yourself to take more, won’s hands getting everything you couldn’t reach. you watch as won slightly opens his hand, letting a glob of spit slip out of his mouth and drip down onto jay’s cock, adding more to the messy mixture of precum and your spit that’s already glazing jay’s member.

you couldn’t tell if the slick sounds were because of your mouth or jungwon’s slippery hands but you do know jay was loving every moment of it and you were going to have to watch back this tape later.

without any warning your throat was being coated with a warm release, jay tugging you off as jungwon milked the rest out of him, letting the last couple of streaks paint your lips and lashes. 

“show me my cum angel.” you open your mouth, one eye-opening as the other stays shut, trying to prevent the cum from getting in. jay spits into your mouth, watching as his clear liquid mixes with the pearly white one. 

“pretty, i want a taste too.” your boyfriend’s hand came around your next and pulled you up to him, lips meeting and his tongue scooping jay’s fluids into his mouth, groaning at the taste of both you and his senior.  swallowing down the bit of liquid he was able to get into his mouth. both you and won gulped it down before facing jay and showing him both your tongues, proof of it being all gone. 

“fuck i need this on tape-“

and then you hear three beeps from the corner of the room. 

“never mind, the camera just died...”

ᯓ★

@g0niki all rights reserved. do not translate or post my work anywhere without permission.

[de4dlyniightshade]

꩜ WHAT'S A GIRL TO DO?

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: 18+, mdni

꩜ WORD COUNT: 2.9k

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: smut, needy!spencer, vague mentions of injury, dry humping, making out, cumming in pants, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, begging, light choking, brat!spencer, softdom!reader,

꩜ PROMPT(kinda): when he's begging so nicely and looking at you with those big eyes, what's a girl to do?

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts.

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

꩜ A/N: ^•-•^

You knew that Spencer could be stubborn since the day you met him, which was never much of an issue; everyone could be stubborn at times, but this was hell in a handbag. He had only been out of hospital for two days, and you already felt like you were losing your voice from spending the entire day yelling his name, not to mention constantly forcing him to stay in bed.

"Spencer! sit down! You're not supposed to even be out of the hospital yet, let alone on your feet." You scolded for about the tenth time today. Honestly, you felt like a nurse taking care of an elderly, demented man with the willpower of a thirteen-year-old boy.

"I'm fine! I can walk; I don't wanna sit down anymore." Spencer bargained with you, trying to convince you that he wasn't in complete agony, which you knew he was, and you weren't about to let him make it any worse. You needed him healed and out of your hair as soon as possible, not because you didn't want to be around him; you just knew that he wanted to be better and back out in the field.

"You're a terrible patient, you know that?" You grumbled as you walked over to him, clearly unsteady on his feet, using your shared sofa to keep himself upright. "Sit down before you fall down," you ordered, placing your hands on his shoulders and urging him back onto the couch, where he insisted on being rather than in bed, where he was supposed to be, whining about wanting to be nearer to you, which is what made you cave. You couldn't deny him quality time with you, especially when he gave you his winning puppy eyes.

"If you don't cut it out, you're going straight back to bed, or I can give the doctor one phone call and he'll be the one taking care of you." You didn't mean to be demanding or strict with him; you just didn't want him to hurt himself further. It was purely out of love, and Spencer knew that, but he just couldn't help but want to be close to you. He had spent just over a week in a boring hospital room being showered with care, but it wasn't the care he wanted. He wanted to touch you; he needed it, and he was sick of trying to drop hints.

"Will you sit with me at least? please?" He pouted with those same puppy eyes that he used to get here in the first place, and you just couldn't say no, letting out a defeated sigh. "Alright, fine, but I'm still not happy with you," you warned, pointing an accusing finger at him as you carefully sat down next to him, lifting your arm instinctively so he could rest his head on your chest, his arms snaking around your waist.

You sat there with him curled against your chest, your fingers combing through his long hair as your chin rested on top of his head. It was a completely innocent moment between the both of you, or so you thought. Your brows furrowed as you felt Spencer sneak his hand under your shirt, trailing his way up until you grabbed his wrist, stopping him just shy of his destination.

"Nice try, mister," you quipped, Spencer letting out a whine of protest, fighting your hold on his wrist to no avail. "Come on, please? Can I please just touch you?" He begged, moving to rest his chin on your shoulder, trying to go three for three with those big eyes, but you weren't going to let him win this time. You were soft on him, but not that soft; you knew exactly where it would lead.

"Nope, hands off, hoppy; I know your little ploy and it's not gonna happen." Your tone was stern as you stared him down, his hand still under your shirt and a pout still on his lips. You did feel bad denying him, but doctors orders were no strenuous activities, and although groping wasn't strenuous, what would follow definitely was.

"Please, I just wanna feel you, I promise." Spencer bargained desperately, and you could feel him breaking down your will, but you forced yourself not to fall for it. "Spencer, no, don't make promises you can't keep." You felt a tightening in your chest as he looked back at you, pouting with big, sad eyes, and you could've sworn you saw his eyes welling up with tears.

"I'll keep it, I will, I promise. Please just let me touch you." You could hear the desperation in his voice as he begged and pleaded with you, tears now truly welling up in his eyes, and you broke. "Oh Spence, shh shh, don't cry, honey," you moved to quickly cup his cheeks, walking straight into his trap as he looked up at you with his picture-perfect sad face. Who could blame you?

"j-just miss you," he sniffled, and he wasn't lying about that or trying to trick you; he did actually miss you; he missed your warm, soft body and being close to you after having spent a week with the only physical affection being a peck on the lips, cheek, or forehead and a reassuring hand in his. Needless to say, he was sexually frustrated.

"Okay, okay, but you promised only touching, got it?" You reminded him, a stern look in your eyes as he nodded eagerly before moving to bury his face in the crook of your neck, finally inching his hand up to cup your breast, an almost silent whine falling from his lips, and you melted. You wouldn't admit it, but you'd missed his touch just as badly as he'd missed yours.

You felt Spencer breathing heavily against your neck as he continued to caress your soft flesh, his other hand gripping at your soft waist as you ran your fingers through his hair, cupping the back of his head as a quiet moan slipped past your lips when he suddenly pinched your nipple between his fingers, the sound making his sweatpants tighten and blood quickly rushing south.

"I-I need you, please," Spencer whined into your neck, placing a few open-mouthed kisses over your pulse, letting his tongue dart out to taste your skin, the feeling of his hot mouth on you almost clouding your judgement enough to let him continue before you realised what he was doing, snapping out of it.

"Spence, no, remember w-what the doctor said." You tried to pull away as you spoke, but Spencer just secured his arm around your waist, tugging you closer as he continued to mouth at your neck, gently suckling and licking your smooth skin, still rolling your sensitive nipple between his fingers.

"P-Please, I'll take anything. J-Just please, please touch me," Spencer mewled, moving to press his hard length into you, wincing as he strained his leg. "Spence, sit back, please." You placed your hand on his chest, pushing him to sit back to take the strain off of his injury, Spencer whining as you did, the loss of your body heat making him pout at you.

"Spence, come one, you know better," you sighed, a sympathetic look on your face as you kept your hand on his chest, stopping him from hurting himself further. "P-Please, I c-can't; it h-hurts, please," he panted, his eyes pleading and glassy as he shifted where he sat, his tip rubbing against the inside of his pants and making him whimper.

You felt yourself losing your composure watching him buck his hips into nothing, looking at you with those pleading eyes, his hair awry and clothes wrinkled. "You promise to stay completely still?" you questioned, watching Spencer lick his lips before he nodded quickly.

"Promise, I-I promise," he breathed, watching intently as you removed your hand from his chest, quickly moving to sling your leg over him, straddling his lap, and placing your hands on his shoulders. A whimper falling from his lips the second your clothed core pressed to his as he instinctively rutted his hips upward.

"Still. Spencer. Or I'll stop." You warned, lifting yourself off his lap to prove your point. "Sorry! 'm sorry!" He apologised quickly, forcing himself to sit still, placing his hands on your hips as you slowly lowered yourself back down, moving to tuck his hair behind his ears, letting your hands rest on either side of his neck.

"Now, behave; do you hear me?" You scolded, your eyes boring into his as he nodded shakily, swallowing thickly in anticipation before you leaned in, stopping a mere inch from his lips just to tease a little for a brief moment before you closed the gap, pressing your lips to his in an open-mouthed, almost desperate kiss.

Spencer's kissing quickly got messy, his organised, precise movements becoming sloppy and desperate as he kissed you with fervour, his hands gripping at the flesh on your hips, his cock twitching in his pants as he forced himself not to fuck into you no matter how badly he wanted to.

You let your tongue slip into his mouth, the feeling making Spencer let out a muffled moan, hands tightening on your hips to ground himself as you explored his mouth, your warm tongue sliding against his, the whole thing so messy and wet, a mixture of yours and Spencer's saliva trickling down his chin.

You were the first to pull away for air, a thick string of saliva connecting your lips to his, and you couldn't help but pull your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight of him, his hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and lips swollen, red, and glossy with spit, all while his painfully hard, leaking cock throbbed against you. You simply couldn't resist grinding on him, revelling in the way his eyes fluttered closed, brows pulled together, and his jaw fell slack.

"Oh, p-please," Spencer breathed, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he struggled to compose himself as you continued to grind on him, setting a steady pace as you ran your hands down from his neck to his shoulders and back up before you leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips before trailing down to his jaw, placing open-mouthed kisses along his jawline and down to his neck, stopping to nip and suck just below his ear, the sensation of your hot mouth on him making his hips roll into you.

Spencer couldn't resist trailing his hands under your shirt again to cup your boobs, massaging them gently in his large hands as you continued sucking red and purple marks into the smooth skin of his neck, licking over each mark as you did, tangling your hands in his hair, and tugging lightly, eliciting a moan from him as you did.

Spencer could feel an all-too-familiar feeling rising in his stomach as you rutted your hips into him at a fast pace, purposefully trying to get him to cum in his pants, and he wasn't about to stop you. The feeling of his impending orgasm completely overriding his better judgement for the mess it would make.

"I-I'm gonna-" Spencer couldn't even finish what he was saying, cutting himself off with a loud whimper as you rutted your hips particularly hard into him, a quiet moan falling from your lips, the sound making Spencer throb in his pants as he shallowly fucked into you, making sure to keep his leg completely still so you wouldn't stop your movements.

"Gonna make a mess of yourself, baby?" You husked in his ear, burying your hand in his hair and tugging at the roots, a choked whimper falling from his parted lips as he squeezed his eyes closed, his jaw falling slack.

"Mhm, d-don't stop, p-please don't stop," he mewled, rutting his cock into you as he felt his release so close he could almost taste it, letting out a constant stream of whimpers and moans as you trailed your hand around from the back of his head to rest on his throat, gradually pressing your fingertips harder into his pulse.

The feeling of your hand wrapped around his throat and the blood flow being cut off had him choking out a moan, babbling incoherently, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he shot spurts of cum into his sweatpants, completely soiling them, a slew of desperate sounds spilling from him.

"Happy now, hm? Always get your way," you murmured when you realised that you'd been hustled into giving him what he wanted, the ruse of him simply missing you clouding your judgement. Spencer couldn't even reply to you, just whining quietly, completely fucked out and pliant under you. The sight making a devious idea come to mind, a smirk tugging at your lips.

You shifted off his lap to rest on his thighs, trailing your hands down his body to stop at his hips, Spencer letting out a breath, thinking you were just sweetly touching him until you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, harshly tugging them down enough to free his spent cock, the cold air making him gasp and open his eyes to look at you, a confused expression on his face until you pressed your hand to his length.

"No underwear, huh? Was this what you wanted all along?" you teased, quirking your brow at him as you slowly stroked your hand up his slick shaft, spencer writhing underneath you at the feeling, your words not even registering in his mind.

"I-I c-can't 'm sensitive," he mewled, gasping and arching his back as you wrapped your hand around his sensitive tip, purposefully paying extra attention just to watch him squirm and hear him whimper.

"Thought this was what you wanted, no? You wanted me to touch you." Your tone was low as you spoke, your words making him whine as his hips stuttered away from you, your brutal touch on his oversensitive tip making him writhe under you, pathetic cries ripped from his throat as tears welled in his eyes.

"P-Please, o-oh my g-god, please, I c-can't," Spencer gasped, his cock throbbing in your hand as you pumped his length at a fast pace, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as he panted and whimpered desperately, his hands gripping your thighs as tears spilled down his flushed cheeks, the overstimulation completely overwhelming him.

"You can, baby; I know you can; c'mon, pretty boy, cum for me," you breathed, clenching around nothing at the sight of him, his jaw slack and brows furrowed as he arched his back, his body tense and twitching as he felt his second orgasm approaching quickly.

"M g-gonna i-i mmph," he choked out, his head tipping back as he let out a quiet sob, his lips quivering and tears streaking down his neck. "That's it, baby, look at me. Wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum" you practically moaned, moving your hand from where it rested on his hip to take his face into your hand, his eyes fluttering open to look at you like you told him to.

"Good boy, such a good boy," you breathed, the praise making his cock twitch, rutting his hips into your hand as he choked out nonsense, a mix of your name and desperate pleas falling from his lips before he gasped loudly, his eyes rolling back his head and mouth dropping open as he came, making a mess of your hand and himself, his back arched towards you and hands gripping your thighs so tightly you were surprised it didn't hurt.

"That's it, baby, I've got you," you breathed, wrapping your arm around him and tugging him towards you as you continued to stroke him through his orgasm, the feeling making him let out quiet sobs into your neck as he wrapped his arms around you, his body shaking and twitching in the aftershocks of his high and the overstimulation.

You finally released his spent cock when he tried to squirm away from you, whining pitifully into your neck. "Shh shh baby," you murmured, wiping your hand on your pants before placing it on the back of his head and letting your nails lightly scratch his scalp to soothe him, a content sigh falling from his lips as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

"T-thank you," he breathed against your skin, his words making you croon at him, hugging him closer to you. "Too soft on you, y'know that?" You spoke as you let out a breathy laugh before you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, your words making him huff slightly, knowing you were right.

"m sorry, just needed you so badly," he breathed into your skin, his voice laced with guilt and his tone hushed and meek, which made you coo at him. "Aw, don't be sorry, baby, can't say no to you, not when you beg so nicely," you teased, the reminder of how he begged so desperately, making him whine out of embarrassment, his cheeks blushing a dark pink.

"Let's get you cleaned up, hm?" You spoke softly, stroking his hair as he nodded into you before pulling away to look up at you with those big, pleading eyes and a pretty pout on his lips. "Will you watch Doctor Who with me after?" He asked meekly, his antics making your heart swell as you cupped his cheeks, pressing a kiss to his soft lips. "Of course I will, sweet boy," you spoke against his lips, feeling him smile before he surged forward to press his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, smiling into you, feeling like the luckiest man alive.

꩜ TAGLIST:

@cancersunthatsit @mindfullycriminal @teachugger69 @queermaxwooo @olives-and-sunshine @ac0511 @deluluforu @reidsdaisies @fliesforeyes @iluvreid @unimportantweirdo

(tagging moots bcs i'm annoying asf;)