#clayton spencer x reader

[slaasherslut]

Fire and Brimstone

Priest!Clayton Spencer AU (@rottent33th 's OC)

Summary: Father Clayton has only been with your church for a few months now, and yet he has already made you a filthy sinner and sent your soul straight to hell.

Warnings: fem reader, religious imagery, fem masturbation, fingering, sexual intercourse

4.8k words

You were sitting in the pews closest to the back of the church. You had planned to come in a few moments later than your family so you could get away with sitting elsewhere. After the embarrassment of last Sunday's sermon where you became a fidgety and distracted mess much to your family's annoyance, you wanted to sit alone. It wasn't your fault though. No, it was the new priest who had rolled his way through town and quickly landed a spot in your church; Father Clayton Spencer.

You were quite shocked to see someone so young and so handsome take up the recently vacant position in your church. When you picture a man of god standing before you at the altar, he was the last thing you expected. He was quite well built for being a preacher. Bulky, with wide shoulders and a muscular frame. If you saw him on the streets you would have guessed his profession would have been anything else. A weight trainer or a fighter, but not a holy man like you saw him every day. Freckles littered his pale face, surrounding his captivating hazel eyes and exhibiting his charming smile. His hair was a long, fiery red, which when down almost reached his waist. It was pin straight and seemed to always shine in the bright sunlight that would shine through the large church windows. It was a color and length that was both uncommon in town and in the church. The long locks were always neatly tied back or tucked tightly behind his ears.

You had often heard some of the older women gushing about him in hushed whispers around town. Before service began last week you heard your neighbor, a married woman in her 40’s, talking to one of the other women. She mentioned how she had been walking by his home one morning and saw him at work in his garage. She went on about how his large hands moved gracefully as he demonstrated his woodworking talent and that the piece he was making was almost as beautiful as he was…and that his shirt seemed a little bit too tight. For the rest of that day you couldn't help but imagine the way his hands might have looked as they worked. The muscles in his back through his tight shirt or the way his fingers curved. The fantastical image alone was enough to make your mind wander for days to come.

You caught your mind drifting as you observed him at the altar and quickly brought yourself back. You couldn't help the way your thighs squeezed together whenever he spoke. His voice was deep and erotic with a hint of a southern drawl that would make any woman quiver in their skirts. The passion for religion and leading was evident in his voice, which did no favors for the aching in your loins.

As the sermon went on you listened intently. You were hung on every word falling from Father Claytons lips. Not because you believed it, but because it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. The only heavenly thing you cared about was his voice, and you wondered what it sounded like when he said other things too. Other not very holy things. As your mind drifted once again as it often did, your eyes were still hung on him. He cracked a wide smile. You felt your heart skip at the pretty sight. The smile was followed by a laugh. A deep euphonious sound that echoed across the holy ground of the church. Your body writhed in the wooden pews, the sexual frustration was becoming too much. It was hard to sit still.

The feeling of your now soaked panties rubbing against you in the most pleasurable ways caused you to jolt. You couldn't help but grow hot at the feeling inside you. The last place you should be feeling sexual pleasure is in church, let alone in church during a sermon! You squeezed your thighs together and shuffled as you tried to bring forth the same pleasure from seconds ago, and hopefully more. But it wasn't working. You just couldn't seem to rub that same spot again. You wished so strongly to be back in your bed, sprawled out and rubbing yourself to completion at the thought of the oh so handsome, young priest.

A nervous shake took over your hands as you looked around at everyone else in the room. They were all in front of you since you were sitting the farthest back and seemingly at angles where they wouldn't be able to see past the pews in front of you. You slowly pulled the hem of your skirt up to your hips, exposing the wet penties underneath. The inside of the church was warm but the chill that ran through you was ice cold as well as an extreme rush of adrenaline.

Your fingers slowly moved up to rub the spot over your panties, testing the waters for your indecent act. If you weren't going to hell before, you definitely were now. Fingers ran up and down the crevice in the fabric, causing the arousal underneath to seep through the cotton. Your bottom lip trembled in a mixture of nervousness and pleasure. You slowly and carefully ducked your fingers underneath the wet material. The pads of your fingers coming in contact with your irreverent slick. You glanced down at your thighs as your fingers softly rubbed at your clit. You bit your lip in an effort to contain the rising moan from deep in your throat. Your eyes flicked back up only to be met with the hazel eyes of your preacher man.

Father Clayton's eyes almost blew wide, but he stopped himself before people would have taken notice of his reaction. His handsome face turned a pretty shade of red in embarrassment. His adam's apple bulged as he tried to compose himself, almost tripping over his words. He was shocked when you looked up at him with a glazed over look in your eyes. Bottom lip tucked between your teeth and a timid blush creeping across your cheeks. What Clayton saw was a look of pleasure and it was written all over your face.

Your face ran hot as you made eye contact with Father Clayton. The look in his eyes let you know that you had been caught. Your hands immediately retracted from your aching pussy to grip onto the pew below you. Your wet fingertips left the wood damp as you white knuckled the seat in embarrassment, afraid that too loose of a grip would cause you to slip away. Although that probably would have been for the best at that moment. Even though he was no longer looking at you, the feeling of still being watched was prevalent in your gut. A look around showed that no one was looking at you, but the feeling still lingered. It felt as though God himself was staring down at you with disgust and disappointment. You could never be granted absolution in His eyes for as long as you lived. Your soul now tainted like the now damp wood beneath you where you sat.

Father Claytons bellowing voice caused your stomach to drop for a moment before you realized he was concluding the weekly sermon. You were relieved that service was wrapping up and you could run away and hide without causing a scene. You quickly started adjusting your panties and your skirt as the sound of echoed footsteps and voices bounced around the church walls as people started to make their leave. You quickly started to make your way toward the large oak doors, hoping to make your way outside. Being inside the church was starting to feel small and claustrophobic. A firm hand grabbed your shoulder, causing you to spin around. Your eyes were met with those of Father Clayton as he towered over you, a confused yet far off look in his eye. Your already quick heartbeat seemed to get even faster. Being so close to him and having him look into your eyes made you feel like you were seconds away from hitting the floor.

Your name being called diverted your attention. A quick look in the direction of the voice and you locked eyes with your mother, smiling as she made her way through the crowd of people leaving the church. “Please take me away.” Your thoughts pleaded. “My heart can't take anymore embarrassment today.”

She greeted you before turning to Father Clayton, grabbing his hands and squeezing them before letting go. A wave of unexpected irritability moved through you at the sight.

“Oh Father! What a lovely service as always!” She gushed. “We're all so glad to see you settling into our church so well.”

He bowed his head slightly with a sweet yet flustered grin. “Thank you ma’am, that's very kind of you.”

Your mother smiled down at you as she gave your arm a small nudge.

“You didn't sit with us, we weren’t sure if you showed up!” You nervously chuckled, eyes darting between Father Clayton and your mother.

“Sorry, I was running late so I just sat in the back so I wouldn't interrupt.” You lied. A quick glance at Clayton and the look he was sporting showed that he knew that as well.

“Are you still planning on getting breakfast with us at the diner?” She asked.

Before you could speak, another voice cut off your words.

"Actually, they have graciously offered to assist me after the service." Father Clayton smiled innocently at your mother, before turning to you with a smile that held something different than the last. You tried your best to hide your confusion. You never agreed to that, and he never asked. It took you a moment to realize that your preacher just lied to your mother to keep you longer. She raised her eyebrow in curiosity.

"Is that so? Well that's awfully kind of you!" Her voice was shrill as she reveled in your “kind gesture”.

"Well don't forget you're coming over for Sunday dinner, we'll see you tonight." Your mother adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and kissed your head before saying her goodbyes to Father Clayton. Making her way out the church doors to meet up with the rest of your family while you stood next to him, awkwardly shifting around on your heels.

You watched him intently as he said his goodbyes to the others who attended his service. Your mind couldn't help but race as you waited. Did he really know what you were doing during his service? And if he did, what would he say? What will he do?

Once everyone had cleared out and the church doors finally closed, Father Clayton let out a jagged breath. He looked down at you with a straight face before he motioned for you to follow him. The walk through the church and to his office felt both too long and not long enough. The door to his office let out a loud creak as the hinges bent with the motion.

“Have a seat.” He said as he pointed towards a wooden chair sitting opposite of an old desk, which you assumed was his. You nervously sat down in the chair while Clayton sat in the big office chair behind the desk.

The air was heavy with tension and embarrassment as the two of you sat in silence. Father Claytons eyes bore holes in you, yours in your church shoes. You wiggled your toes in an attempt to distract yourself from your harshly beating heart.

"Well?" He broke the silence. "Care to explain yourself?" His words hung heavy in your ears.

The sound of his voice did nothing but make you blush harder and make your heart beat more vigorously to the point where your chest began to ache. You stayed silent, finger fiddling with the material of your skirt. "There's nothing I could say to him to make this any better." You thought to yourself. Your eyes flickered up to him for a short moment before casting themselves back down to the floor. He sighed before standing and making his way around the desk.

Father Clayton crouched next to your knees, in an attempt to make eye contact with you.

“We aint leavin’ here until you tell me.” His voice whispered, it felt heavy in the surrounding air.

You shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair. His eyes on you made you flush, but the closeness of him on his knees in front of your naked legs was an even more intense feeling. Your hips swiveled as you tried to situate yourself more comfortably, legs shifting. The holy man before you unknowingly let his eyes drift, making their way to the area between your legs and getting a view of the damp panties under your skirt. His face ran hot when he soaked in the sight of you. He immediately rose to his feet and shuffled back to his desk. He stood with his broad back facing you as he laid his palms flat against the wood and hung his head. Wisps of soft orange hair fell over his eyes. A chorus of curses floated through his mind as he tried to silence them. The loudest being the image of your dripping cunt mere inches from his face. His mind was racing, the internal struggle inside of him was incredible. On one side was his faith, what he fought to be since he was a young boy back in Killmor. All his days as a young man studying his religion. Since he was old enough to read the bible on his own, Clayton lived and breathed Catholicism, priesthood called his name like a beckoning choir. He felt like it was what he was made for. But something else beckoned him as well. The pretty church girl who attended every service and hung on every word he spoke.

Clayton turned around to face you, leaning back against his desk. His toned arms crossed in thought as he studied you. Regardless of how conflicted he felt, he knew he felt a certain way about you. Certain that he wanted you, even if it was something he shouldn't dare admit. From the stolen glances every week and the blatant sin you committed in church today, it was obvious how you felt about him. He wanted to test the waters and see where he could take you, and where he could take himself.

"Rise." He uncrossed his arms for a moment, his long fingers making an upward motion. Your body seemed to blindly follow his orders. Not even fully realizing what he had said before you were already on your feet.

“Do you take me for a fool, little one? Cause rest assured, I am most definitely not." His words spewed confidence, but deep down, his nerves were snapping against his freckled skin like rubber bands.

He leaned up off his desk and took a nervous step toward you. He couldnt help but think you looked so small and meek as he gazed down at you. His figure shadowed you. His large hands reached out to rest on your upper arms, softly rubbing up and down them. You froze at the contact, the feeling of tightness that had been building up inside you all day just felt tighter. His own body ran hot at the feeling of your warm, soft flesh under his palms.

"If- If I read the signs wrong.." Clay stuttered out. "Jus' tell me to stop and I will. Okay, sweetheart?" For the first time since he spoke to you, your eyes flickered up to meet his. Clay felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he made eye contact with you. You were so much more pretty close up. The colors in your eyes were hypnotizing to the young priest. Your hands rose to grasp at his forearms. You could feel the muscles under your hands.

"I dont want you to stop." You spoke, your voice low and sweet. Clay nodded slightly, trying to hold back a smile. He hesitantly leaned down towards your lips, his body stuttering as every holy cell in his body screamed at him to stop. But in that moment, he felt like no more than a man. A mere man who deeply wanted the person that was in his arms.

His lips finally made contact with yours and he felt the intense breath that you both fought to suck into your lungs. His lips slowly pressed against yours and pulled away, the loss of contact felt deeply upsetting to him. Without even thinking his lips moved back against yours with an almost inaudible moan. Your sinful hands dropped to grope at his torso through his holy robes as his moved upward to cup your face. His large hands held you in place as his lips moved faster and carnally against yours. He spun you around and Clayton backed you up, the backs of your thighs hitting the solid oak of his desk. The fire of arousal in the pit of your stomach only grew in intensity once you felt the growing heat of his kiss.

"Father Clayton.." you exhaled heavily with a low moan. His hips bucked against you of their own volition, a low grunt clawing its way through gritted teeth. He didn't know why the sound of his religious title slipping past your sweet lips lit a fire inside him. Possibly because of the many unholy thoughts that swam through his mind as you said it. He knew that what he was doing was wrong, that he could be exiled from the church and shunned if anyone else were to find out. But he couldn't hold back any longer. He couldn't force himself to sit through another sunday service with your eyes watching his every move and not knowing what the flesh of your hips felt like under his hands.

What your soft lips moving against his felt like.

What the heavenly softness between your legs felt like wrapped tightly around him.

He effortlessly snaked his arms around you and lifted you off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his wide waist, your skirt falling up your thighs. His large hands squeezed you as he set you down on top of his desk. His palms were rough as they trailed over you, kneading and squeezing every inch of skin he could get his hands on.

Clayton reached around you to shove the many papers, folders, and pens that littered his desk to the floor below. His beloved bible found its new home on the hardwood floor where it fell open, bending and creasing its thin and previously pristine pages. Your fingers moved quickly as each button of your shirt popped open, hands shaking with need. Clay helped you slip the shirt off your arms before tossing it over the back of the chair you previously sat in. You broke the kiss to adjust your position before easing yourself backwards. The chill of wood against your back contrasted heavily with the pools of heat that littered your body. Your eyes softly shut as his large hands traveled up the outer expanse of your thighs as they wrapped around him. Once his hands reached your hips he gave them a soft squeeze, gently rubbing circles into the flesh underneath him. You let out a sweet hum as a delicate smile took over your lips. He preached about God's heavenly angels weekly during his sermons, but he never imagined he would have one as soft as you under his fingertips.

His hands slowly trailed downwards, all the way to the outside of your thighs. He began kneading the soft flesh, moving his hands inward as he went. His fingers softly trailed up to the spot between your open thighs. His thumb rubbed deep circles over the wet spot on your panties. His eyes trailed up your body as your back arched in pleasure from the small contact. He continued to rub you while you writhed on his desk, soft moans slipping out from between your lips.

He hooked his long fingers through your panties as he tugged on them. Pulling the damp fabric off of you and moving them around your ankles. You wiggled your feet as they dropped to the floor. Your thighs slowly parted and a shiver ran up your spine as your wet cunt was now fully exposed to Father Clayton. His breath caught in his throat as drank in the sight of you.

"Fuck," He cursed. His curious fingers swiped up and down through your wet folds. "So fuckin' pretty."

Without warning he plunged two long fingers almost fully inside of you. You squeaked at the sudden intrusion, rolling your hips as a signal for him to move his hand. He slowly pulled his fingers out, leaving only his fingertips in before sliding them back inside, fully this time. He pumped his fingers slowly, picking up speed the closer you seemed to get. Your high was approaching, and it was approaching fast. The sexual frustration that had built up during today's service heightened the pleasure you were experiencing tenfold. The fact that you were finally getting the relief you needed mixed with it was at the hands of the preacher man you had fantasized about lit the hottest fire in your core.

Clay pressed his large palm against your lower stomach, fingers splayed out, as the fingers on his other hand were still working inside you. His fingertips pressing into the soft flesh of your stomach. They pumped and curled as the pressure from his other hand made the bubbling inside you begin to reach its peak. Your hands reached out for his as you whined. Fingers wrapped around his wrist as your orgasm finally took over, causing you to writhe and shake under his touch. His hand on top of you that was intensifying the pleasure was now pressing harder to hold you down as you wiggled on his desk. The added pressure doing nothing but making you feel even tighter inside and a shrill moan being pushed out of you.

Clay withdrew his fingers as you started coming down. His hands, now damp with your slick, tugged at his robes. Your cum seeping deep into the holy fabric. He quickly started undressing himself, tossing the holy garments in a crumpled pile on the floor. Much like his sacred vows, they were thrown aside.

Now left in only his boxers, you could see what the other women were talking about. His broad shoulders and toned body were on full display for you. He looked so much bigger than he did under his robes. The loose fabric hid his muscles well. Your ego soared at the thought of you of all people being about to take Father Clayton to bed, metaphorically speaking. You hoped that maybe there would be other times where you would indeed have him in his bed, or him in yours.

His cock strained itself in his boxers. The obviously large appendage created a tent in the fabric, a damp spot soaking itself through.

His strong arms hooked themselves around your thighs tightly and pulled you closer to the edge of his desk. Your legs hooked around his waist as he pulled down his boxers enough for his now fully hard cock to stand tall on display for you. You couldn't help but let out a soft moan at the sight as he slowly gave his dick a few lazy pumps as he looked down at you. He gripped his cock just above the base and ran his head through your wet folds. You couldnt help but let out small whimpers whenever he ran over your clit. The veins that ran through his hands and up his arms pulsed as he let out heavy breaths.

His movements stopped, holding the head of his dick right at your entrance. You were so wet that he could easily slide himself inside you with one ill move. His hazel eyes looked into yours as if silently asking for permission. This was your last moment to turn back now and tell him no, he prayed you still wanted him. You subtly adjusted your position with your bottom lip tucked behind your teeth and a small nod. Clay slowly slid the fat head of his cock between your folds and inside of you. He held his breath as he slowly inched himself inside you. The weight of his dick inside you, stretching you wide was like no other youve ever experienced. It was a shame that a man as well endowed as Father Clayton would be sworn to a life of celibacy. But it seemed like it didnt matter to him now, as his vow to never experience earthly sexual pleasure was snuffed out like a candle.

Once he was fully inside of you, a moan escaped you as his thumb slowly rubbed at your clit.

"Darlin', open up f'me." His hips moved slightly, giving you a miniscule thrust. "Thats it, c'mon." His thumb continued to move as his thrusts slowly became bigger. He gazed down at your moaning, writhing form with a sexual intensity. His eyes hung heavy as his thrusts became faster, leaving only the head inside you each time he pulled back.

"This what you wanted, sweetheart?" His drawl was thick with pleasure. "Is this what you were thinkin' about as you played with yerself before a man of God?" His thrusts continued. His words were enough to make you moan. His voice sends sweet arousal through your body. You nodded in response.

Clayton leaned forward, driving himself deeper inside of you. You let out a shrill moan as he hit that pretty spot inside you. One hand pressed firmly into the desk by your shoulder as the other held onto your waist. A smirk crossed his lips as his thrusts increased in their speed. The desk below you creaked harshly under the weight of your sweaty bodies and the velocity of his thrusts. You could feel yourself dripping onto the beautiful oak beneath you like viscous holy water. Your legs squeezed tighter around him as his cock continued to hit that spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

"Father Clayton!" You were surprised the words actually came out coherently. "Im so close! Please!"

"Sweetheart, Im gonna bring you closer t'God." He said through heavy breaths. "Im gonna make you feel so good."

Your pussy squeezed around him in reaction to his words.

"Fuck!" He cursed, his thrusts getting faster. "So fuckin' good!" His head hung low as he started getting lost in you. Long strands of ginger hair hung over your chest. He was getting close, that much was obvious, as were you. His moans getting swallowed by his heavy breathing. His hand on your waist moved back down to your clit and started rubbing messy circles into the sweet bud. Your back arched with the contact and your arms wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips ghosted yours as your moans mingled together. Clay grit his white teeth as he tried to hold back his orgasm, needing you to let go first. He was having a hard time as you began spasming around him. Moaning beautifully as you soaked his thick cock.

Right as your orgasm concluded, Clay pulled himself out, not being able to wait any longer. He rubbed his shaft through your wet lips as he loudly grunted. He stared down at his cock as thick ropes of cum coated your stomach. His hips jerked along you as he emptied himself all over your soft skin.

Your arms dropped to your sides from around his neck as your felt yourself sinking into the desk. Clays hand ran up your side, his thumb dragging itself through his cum and trailing up your torso.

"Darlin', this needs to be our little secret, okay?" His eyes pleaded with yours. "No one can know the sins we've just committed." His tongue darted out of his mouth to lick at his bottom lip. You tiredly nodded to him. He shook his head. "No.. say it." His voice was soft yet demanding in tone. You studied the flecks of brown and green in his eyes as your hands moved upwards to cup his cheeks, tenderly rubbing the stubbled flesh with your thumbs.

"I promise, Father."

☾ notes: after a long time coming, i present to you *drumroll* Father Clay smut!

☾ tag list: @rottent33th, @damien-mlm, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @the-pinstriped-hood, @allthingsblood, @25bohemianmoons, @devil-doll13

[neptunerising]

𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 🧸🩰🎞️

⌊ notes ⌉

characters/ people have their own masterlists, which are linked below. most recent works are shown below, however older works are not. please read content warnings before you engage with fics. last updated on the 22nd of September 2024

⌊ hockey ⌉

quinn hughes

» summer mornings

blurb! a summer morning with quinny at the lake house. wc: 324. quinn hughes x fem!reader.

⌊ celebrities ⌉

vinnie hacker

» Vinnie Hacker nsfw Alphabet

title says it all. wc: 1.7k. vinnie hacker x fem!reader.

⌊ characters ⌉

randall pink floyd COMING SOON

» summer lovin’

summer o’ “76. randall pink floyd x fem!reader.

[qslovebot]

Requests: Rules and Things

I've never really written from request before, so read through this and the link to my requests will be at the bottom of this <3

Rules:

-no underage smut asks (character must be age of 18 at least) I don't tolerate p*dophilia at ALL

-nsfw requests are allowed but they won't be as commonly done

-no ab*se, r*pe, inc*st, or basically any non-con requests

-requests can be as detailed as you'd like as long as there is a general formed idea that I can use to write with

-I don't write character x character, but I do write character x reader and character x oc

-I write headcanons, imagines, blurbs, oneshots, and fanfics

-The fandoms I write for include: Criminal Minds, American Horror Story, Timothee Chalamet cinematic universe, X-Men (main), possibly Bly Manor and Marvel

How to Ask:

-be polite, it makes me want to write yours a lot more <3

-for a 'The Evans' blurb, ask something along the lines of "could you please do how The Evans react to ________". Of course, it doesn't need to be a reaction, it can be what they give you for an occasion, it can be what they do in a certain situation, it can be what their hobbies or likings are as well

-don't be afraid to stray from The Evans as a whole, either. You can ask for Kit Walker, Jimmy Darling, as long as you have an idea of what you want me to write about them! (Oneshot, blurb, headcanons, imagines) nsfw allowed

-for the BAU series, the same rules apply. "Could you please do how the BAU ________" this can be how they react, reply, act, this can be what they do in their spare time, really, it can be anything, just be nice

-Criminal Minds fics are just what they are. My specialty is Spencer Reid and I'm willing to write just about anything for him. Oneshots, blurbs, headcanons, imagines are all welcome with Spence. Nsfw allowed and maybe... I'll write Emily as well

BONUS: send me songs you like, a character, and a genre (smut, fluff, angst, mix) and I'll write a fic based off of how I interpret the song

I think that's it for now,

submit your requests here!

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

That’s How I Know You’re Mine

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader (She/Her) *the woman is not indicative of "Y/N" she's how ever you interpret her*

Summary: Spencer and Reader decide to screw the traditional wedding and get married amongst the wildflowers.

CW: None, just cheesy wedding vows

Author's Note: This is for @reidsacademia challenge!! Congrats Syd!! I decided to use the Rusty Clayton song, How I Know. When I listened to it, it sounded like wedding vows. And I probably should have waited to post this till the morning, but I can't help myself sometimes. Thank you to Nat for being the best beta in the world!! You are amazing!!

Masterlist | Join Taglist | Let Me Know Your Thoughts!

That's How I Know You Are Mine

“Spence! You’re getting suds all over the place,” you shout, jumping back from Spencer’s sudsy hands. He washes the dishes to your right, cleaning them carefully as you dry them. He takes his time making sure that your set of mismatched dishes are perfectly clean before handing them over to be dried, “Don’t you dare get me wet. You’re dead if you do” you tease, placing the clean, dried plates on the counter.

“Well that’s going to be a problem,” Spencer says, raising his eyebrow suggestively at your comment. In faux annoyance you slap his shoulder with the towel, smiling as you kiss his cheek. His eyes crinkle as you kiss him, smiling so brightly that his laugh lines pop out, “Just saying,” he says, as you shake your head at his crude joke.

“You’re a handful,” you say, holding Spencer’s face in your hands as you smile.

“Your handful,” Spencer says sheepishly, kissing the palm of your hand. Gracefully, he brings his hands to yours, moving them from his face to his lips as he kisses the back of your hand gently, “There’s no one else who’s handful I’d rather be,” Spencer adds, closing his eyes as you plant a quick, chaste kiss on his forehead.

Through the mishaps and miscommunication, somehow the universe had led you straight to his warm embrace. It was worth the years of pining and thinking your very requited love was unrequited. You gaze back at him, thinking that it’s practically a miracle that everything, in the end, worked out in your favor.

“Is there anything you want to do this weekend?” you ask, putting your engagement ring back on and handing Spencer his, now that all the dishes were done, “We have a couple days off together. Finally,”

The quiet music in the background is much more audible now that Spencer shut off the sink. The jazzy tunes fill all the nooks and crannies of your tiny, yet cozy apartment. Spencer fidgets with his ring, twisting it around and around his finger as he leans against the refrigerator. Strangely, he looks quite nervous and almost like he’s about to be sick.

“Are you alright, Spence? You’d think after all these years you’d be used to my—”

“We could get married,” Spencer suggests, cutting you off in a rare moment of bravery. He looks bashful as the weight of his words hits you. Turning away from your stare, he refuses to meet your eyes. He starts to walk away, perhaps scared that you think marrying him is a terrible idea. His fears of inadequacy follow him like a shadow, “Actually nevermind, ignore me. It’s a stupid idea,”

“No it’s not,” you say, stunning Spencer into silence. He gives you a pained look, like he’s begging you to not say those words out of pity, “No, Spence, it’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve always thought weddings seemed terrifying. Like standing up in front of all those people and having to dance in front of them,”

“Exactly!” Spencer says, sounding a little eager that you agree that traditional weddings seem scary, “It’s also that you seem a little stressed about the wedding. I mean, I know it’s a lot to think about and there’s so much pressure for it to be perfect. But I only need you to a have a perfect wedding,”

Could it really be that easy to just get married this weekend? Could you really be that lucky to spend the rest of your life with someone as observant and kind as Spencer? It would take you a lifetime to count up all the good deeds that you’ve done that would warrant ending up with Spencer.

“So you’ve noticed,”

“Of course, I have, Y/N,” Spencer says, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ears, “I notice everything about you because I love everything about you. And if that means getting married spontaneously, let’s get married tomorrow,” he says, his warm hands seeking your cold ones. The soft lighting from the kitchen illuminates his face, casting shadows on his sculpted features. He looks younger in the warm yellow lighting, less jaded, less hardened.

“I really do love you, Spencer,” you tell him, whispering despite wanting to shout your love for him from the rooftops. Somehow, whispering it to him in the kitchen is more profound than letting the entire world know. You kiss his cheek, your lips brushing up against his unshaved face.

“There’s not another moment, that I don’t want to be your husband,” Spencer says, his voice low and gravely, “And for you to be my wife,” he adds, his whispers sweeping you off your feet just as he did all those years ago.

You kiss his lips, soaking in the pressure of his body against yours like it’s made of the sun’s rays. He moves his head, breaking the kiss, to your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck as you stand sway slightly. The quietness of the apartment is interrupted by the jazzy tunes of the old record player that Spencer insists on usings.

“I don’t want to wait another day too,” you whisper, your heart heavy as your forehead presses up against Spencer’s, “I don’t want to wait another day not being yours,”

“I’m already yours,” Spencer whispers, his hands gathering at your back as he pulls you closer. His hands move from your waist to your face. He always likes to hold your face when he kisses you. From your very first kiss, he held your face so gently it nearly made you cry. And now, all those years later and thousands of miles away from your first kiss, he still holds your face. As his lips glide over yours, you can feel the coolness of his ring against your face. It reminds of the promise you’ll make. The promise of being forever his, and him being forever yours.

Swiftly, you break away from the kiss, leaving Spencer slightly frustrated at the sudden emptiness. You smile to yourself, enjoying the pout he makes when you place a hand against his chest to prevent him from kissing you again.

“What’s that about, Y/N?” Spencer asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice laced in between his usual playfulness. You simper as his concern, but continue to tease him, “My wife doesn’t want to kiss me?” he teases back, using the soon-to-be title liberally.

“No, Spence. I just want to get a headstart on my vows. I got to beat a genius,” you claim, kissing Spencer cheek in an apology for denying his earlier kisses, “And I do need a couple days to get a dress and find out how long we have to wait for the license,” you say, the practicalities of your weekend adventure flooding to mind at full force. As romantic as an impromptu wedding sounds, you have to reckon with the logistics too.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Spencer says, coming to your side quickly as he starts to notice you spiral again. Weddings are stressful, there’s no denying that, “Let’s not worry about that. You could wear your gardening overalls and my old shirts for all I care. I don’t care if you have a pretty dress on, you’re already the most beautiful girl in the world, Y/N,” Spencer adds, “And I don’t need a piece of paper that convinces me that you’re my wife. I’m yours whether or not it’s filed away at City Hall,”

His eyes scanning your face. He says the words like he means them. He says them with so much passion and certainty it makes you want to believe them. When you met him, way back at CalTech when you both were even more nervous versions of yourselves, Spencer always had a knack for centering you.

“You really are something, Spence,” you say, squeezing his hand tightly as you sit on the love seat together, “And I also don’t need a piece of paper that tells me we’re one. I know I’m yours,” you say, your lips pressed up against his shoulder.

You kiss his clothed shoulder, leaning back into the comfortable couch cuddled up under a blanket with the love of your life. Spencer kicks his feet up so he’s laying down on the couch vertically. He motions for you to lay on top of him, acting as the weighted blanket he sleeps with every night.

You hover above him for a moment, taking his glasses off his face and placing them on the side table near his head. Before you lay back down, you kiss Spencer’s forehead, silently saying all the sweet things you want to tell him.

“I love you,” Spencer whispers into your skin, his lips brushing against your ear as he talks in hushed tones. You close your eyes, letting the warbled tones of the music lull you to a much needed nap.

“I love you more,” you say, threading your fingers in Spencer’s hair and counting his breaths as you drift off to sleep.

“Impossible,”

In your dreams, you stand in a field with wildflowers under your feet that match the ones braided in your hair. Spencer looks happy in his brown suit and lavender shirt. He holds your hands as you stand in the vast, empty field. You aren’t sure where you are, but it’s beautiful and you know, no matter where it is in the universe, you’re meant to be there with Spencer by your side.

Spencer went to five different florists looking for the exact wildflowers that you described in your dream. You told him that just like the wedding not being official in the government’s eyes, having the exact flowers you dreamt off didn’t matter. He wants it to be perfect for you and if searching the entire list of florists on Yelp means getting you those flowers Spencer will spend hours doing so.

“It’s really alright, Spence,” you say, trying to convince him that you won’t miss the Lavender Hyssop and White Larkspurs, “Anything will be fine, there’s some nice greenery over here,” you suggest, holding the skirt of your dress in one hand and Spencer’s hand in the other.

“But I want you to be happy,” he says, his words making you smile in the rows and rows of beautiful flowers.

You turn to face Spencer and feel your smile grow even larger when you see him in this worn, yet wonderfully Spencer suit. The tweed jacket with matching camel colored pants and vest brings out the honey-brown color in his eyes.

His glasses slip down his nose as he rambles about wanting to make sure you get the perfect flowers.

You fix them, pushing them up his nose as he talks.

“You’re not paying attention to me, are you?” Spencer asks, not annoyed at your lack of attention because, much to his chagrin, you always tend to get a little carried away by domestic daydreams when he talks. He smiles at you as he rests his hands on your bare shoulders.

“No, I’m too distracted by how handsome you are,” you mumble into his cheek as you kiss him again, “Let’s not worry about the flowers, Spence. The flowers won’t make this the perfect wedding. You make it the perfect wedding,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand in that silent I love you that never gets old.

In the aisle of peach colored Calla Lilies and baby blue Delphiniums Spencer’s hands reach out tentatively towards your face, holding you gently as he always does. His fingers brush against your cheek and his soft palms cup your chin. He kisses you lightly, still bashful about public displays of affection, despite kissing in the middle of a flower shop with him in a suit and you in a wedding dress.

“Let’s go get married,” Spencer says, finally agreeing that the wildflowers aren’t the thing that makes this the wedding of your dreams, he does. His hand drops from your face, reaching down and finding its rightful place laced in with your fingers. Silent I love yous are squeezed as you walk out of the flower shop and down the street to Spencer’s powder blue Volvo.

Spencer rode shotgun in his car, like he always did. You never take his car out driving when you’re together, instead opting for your more practical Subaru on the rare occasion you venture outside of the little wonderland called your apartment. He holds a crumpled up piece of paper in his hands, hiding it from your view as you drive.

The windows are down in his car making his hair run wild in the wind. Spencer shed his suit jacket, giving it to you to cover your arms from the chilly fall wind. It’s only another turn before you arrive at your destination and the realization just starts to set in.

“I can’t believe we’re gonna do this,” Spencer says, his voice squeaking with nerves, “I mean, Y/N, don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole life, but it’s like every single moment since I’ve known you had lead up to this moment,” he says, reaching his hand over the console to squeeze your knee. You smile at the warmth of his hand against the thin fabric of your satin dress.

“Is it too cheesy if I say I knew I’d marry you the moment I saw you, Spence?” you ask him, turning on your blinker as you drive down the winding road.

“Nope,” Spencer says, leaning over to kiss your cheek as you park the car, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I mean, we’ve spent the last three years together and I know that this isn’t a legal marriage, but I just… What I mean to say is, that I love you so much and I’m so happy and…”

You know you have to stop him before he starts either talking himself out of getting married spontaneously or starts sweet talking you so much that this elopement leads to another surprise 9 months later. So you choose the kindest way to interrupt: kissing him. Spencer gratefully accepts as he kisses you back eagerly. He sighs contently as you separate, leaning your foreheads against each other listening to the soft rhythm of your heartbeat.

“Let’s get married,” you say, clicking your seatbelt as Spencer rushes out of the car hurrying to open the door for you. You let him, laughing as he offers you a hand to climb out of the car.

The road leads to a soft green cleaning overrun by native flowers and plants. Hand in hand you walk towards the lush green grass. Spencer picks a bunch of flowers and hands it to you as a bouquet, he blushes when you kiss his forehead in thanks and pushes his slipping glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“Here’s good,” Spencer says, turning to face you in the field of wildflowers. He holds your hands in his, squeezing as your heart threatens to thump out your chest, “I’ve never been to a wedding before, Y/N. I don’t know how these things work,” he whispers, sounding nervous.

“It’s our wedding, my sweet Spencer. We make it what we want it to be,” you reassure, “But usually the officiant will welcome everyone and then the couple will say their vows. So do you want to go first?” you ask.

Spencer nods his head frantically, excited to finally have something resembling a plan for this spontaneous wedding. The setting sun catches the golden-brown color of his eyes, making him look like his eyes are made of melted bronze. His wide smile only grows bigger as he starts to recite the vows he wrote.

“On February 14th, 1990— years before you and I met— Voyager One captured our first picture together. It’s not a great picture, it’s really fuzzy and hard to see. It’s just a pale blue dot in a sea of grainy grayness,” Spencer says, starting his vows like he’s a TA in an astronomy lecture, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“But we’re all in it. All of us. And, uh, I’m not the best with words, Y/N. So I’ll like Carl Sagan say it, ‘Everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there--on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam,” Spencer recites, the words flowing from his impeccable memory just as if they were his own words.

He catches his breath suddenly as he chokes back a cry, “And somehow, someway I ended up here with you. With all those possibilities, Y/N, somehow I got lucky enough to be on this Earth the same time you are. I’ve spent the last 1,332 days loving you. That’s nearly 3 and a half trips around the sun and it’s not enough. Forever isn’t enough when it comes to you, my love. But we’ll make it work. We’ll be together until we’re nothing more than dust suspended in sunbeam,”

He’s crying now. His tears fall into your palm as they glide across his face. You kiss the tears away from his skin tasting the salty tears on your lips. It's the happiest kind of tears, and the only ones you’d ever want to see on his face.

“We’re not supposed to kiss yet,” Spencer says, wiping his face with the back of his hand. The tears collect in the corner of his eyes making them look both golden and sparkly. He’s beautiful this, with the lush green under his worn Converse and wearing his camel colored suit.

“We’re breaking the rules, Spence,” you tease tiptoeing to kiss his lips quickly, “It’s my turn any way,” you say, pulling out a piece of crumpled paper from Spencer’s jacket pocket.

You can’t meet his eyes because you know if you do you’ll end up crying so much you’ll laugh or laughing so much you’ll cry.

“You know a lot of things, Spencer,” you tell him, reaching and joining your hands because there’s not a minute that you don’t want to be holding a part of him, “And there isn’t much that anyone can teach you. But if there’s one thing I can teach you, it’s how I know I’m yours,” you add, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his hand like he’s a princess and you’re his Prince Charming. He blushed cheeks and golden brown eyes spur you on as they threaten to stop the thumping in your heart.

“I know you’re mine because we don’t have to speak to know what’s on our minds,” you say, your palms sweaty and shaking. Spencer’s hands wrap around your wrists, holding you steady as you continue, “I know I’m yours because I can feel it in the wrap around me and when you run your fingers down my spine. I can feel the love pour out from your fingers and absorb into my skin,” you say.

Spencer lets you talk, listening intently as you read from the tear-stained paper in your hands, “If I was shell then I’m shore you’d be the sea,” you add, looking up at Spencer seeing if the joke landed, “It’s a joke, Spence, please laugh,” you say, your cheeks hurting from smiling as he finally understands the joke, “Not a very good one,”

“It’s my new favorite,”

“Hush and let me finish,” you tell him, “Even when you’re thousands of miles away from me you’re always within reach to wash me over, wash away all the nightmares with daydreams. Your kisses remind me that I belong to you and your hugs are how I know you’re mine. You say that you don’t have a way with words, but all the words sound right when they come from you. All the hellos and goodnights and everything in between, it sings me to sleep and puts me on my feet in the morning,”

Maybe you judged Spencer a little too harshly when he cried during his vows. You feel the lump lodged in your throat grow three more sizes and the tears prickle in your eyes. Spencer’s thumbs rub against your cheek, wiping away the tears.

“And if it’s love that we’re in, I’m going overboard while holding your hand. Together, we’re har above the shore and our hearts are soaring above our heads. I know I’m yours in the way you always let me wear your jackets when it’s cold. I know you’re mine when you always come home to me in one piece. That’s how I know, Spencer, that’s how I know we’re meant to be,”

Please this is so cute

“I love you,” Spencer mouths as you finish your vows, “forever and ever,” he adds, whispering the word against your skin. You wish you could bottle up this feeling and keep it forever.

“Now it’s time for the rings, but we’re still waiting for them to get made so we can skip it” you say, ready to kiss Spencer for the first time as your husband. It’s like your first kiss all over again— and you can’t wait.

“I actually have an idea for that,” Spencer says, always coming through with solutions, “it’s a little silly and totally spontaneous, but that’s what this is, right?” he argues, even though you are already agreeing with whatever he has planned.

He slips a little ring made of buttercup yellow flowers onto your finger. Spencer then looks up at you, gazing at you like he’s looking at you for the very first time, “I know that it’s not real, it’s not the rings that we ordered, but—”

“Stop, Spence,” you say, cutting him off, “my sweet boy, you really are the best person I know. I’m so lucky to be able to marry my best friend. I don’t give a flying shit it’s not a real ring. Because what we have it’s the realest thing I know. Loving you is the only thing I’m sure of,” you say, placing the matching ring on his finger as gently as he did for you.

“You may now kiss the groom,” Spencer says, smiling sheepishly as he takes your hands in his, accepting your heart as his. You take each as your own, scars and all, to create a forever until you’re nothing but shimmering dust in a sunbeam.

“It’s usually you may now kiss the bride,” you correct, but lean to close the gap between your lips, “But if we’re in the habit of screwing tradition, get over here,” you say, pulling him by the tie closer to you.

His hands cup your cheek like they always do. Everything about the kiss is just like the thousands you’ve shared for the past three years. Spencer’s whimpers out of something resembling relief and happiness as your lips mesh perfectly with his. You claw at his hair, forgetting for a moment that you’re in the middle of a public field. Spencer, as it seems, melts into the kiss desperately. Your body curves into his as his arms wrap around your upper half holding you into him.

He kisses your head silently promising to have and hold you, love and cherish you, to honor and listen to you, in sickness and health in this world and whatever lies beyond, “I love you,” he says, this time you can hear him, even though you don’t need his words to know you’re his and he’s yours.

Taglist

@pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @fandomfriend33 @folkreid @@the-chaotic-cow @muffin-cup @reidslibrarybook @jswessie187 @fbivestreid @emilyprentisswif3 @doctorspenceryeet @alexrosex99 @alexlovescriminalminds @cncos-baby @reidslovely @shemarmooresfedora @strawberryspence @drayshadow @mimischaos @nomajdetective @xoxospencerreid @gspenc @ssa-uglywhore27 @eurydice-but-gay @alexxavicry @simmonsmilf @spencerreidat3am @reidsmilf

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Psychodrama: Part Four

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: fluff, canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

You decide that it’s better if you go to the parole officer to get Roland Lynch instead holed up in the police station with Elle, JJ, and Spencer. You grab your jacket and head out with Gideon, Hotch, Derek, and Wallace. JJ managed to get hold of Roland’s parole officer very easily, so you took the opportunity to meet up with him outside of a taco stand where he’s currently getting lunch on-the-go.

“You're Lynch's parole officer,” Derek says to Terrell Clayton. “When was the last time you talked to him?”

“I haven't talked to Lynch in a month.”

“What can you tell us about him?” Gideon wonders.

“Roland? A real peach. He used to punish his girls by raping them in front of their little sisters.”

You become silent at the “r” word, but you don’t sink into your shell. You’re trying to live with the fact that it happened to you, and to not let it determine your future. It’s hard, but you’re trying as best as you can.

“He got a habit?” you ask.

“Which one of mine doesn't?”

“If Lynch is our guy, he's going downhill fast, but if he's tweaking, he's going down even faster.”

“His latest drug test isn't back yet, but I'm betting it isn't going to be clean,” Terrell scoffs.

“You got a line on him?”

“Give me a break. You know what my caseload is like?”

“He might have beaten a civilian to death with a mac-10, caved in a meter maid's face, and that's just the beginning. Does that make the top of your list?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“I’ll make some calls,” Terrell sighs.

“Thank you,” Gideon nods.

He makes his calls and gets the location of Roland. He’s at a restaurant/bar that’s on the other side of town. You don’t know why he's still in the same town as his parole officer which means he’s confident he’s not going to get caught, or he’s dangerous if he does. Regardless, you and your team head over to the restaurant to catch him. Thankfully, he’s there when you get there.

“FBI. I need Roland Lynch. Talk to me, Roland Lynch.” The men and women who are in Derek’s way point to where Roland is, and you head over to him. As soon as Roland sees the FBi at the door, he tries to book it, but Derek is way ahead of him. Derek puts away his gun and slams Roland against a booth to make sure he isn’t going anywhere. “Don't even think about it. Don't move! Give it to me.” Roland takes out the gun he’s got stashed in his jeans and hands it over to Derek who passes it off to you. He then handcuffs him. “You know I can count about sixteen different ways you've just violated your parole.”

“They send in feds for busting parole?”

“We're here for the bank robberies and the delivery man you killed.”

“I don't rob banks.”

“You violated parole, we've got you on possession, and you're going down.”

“You think I'm gonna roll over ‘cause you're waving three to five at me? I took beatings that lasted longer than that.”

“It's not him,” you say to Gideon. “He’s bad, but he’s way too secure to be our unsub. Whoever is robbing these banks is severely mentally ill. I don’t believe Roland is responsible.”

You know Gideon believes you, but if Roland isn’t the unsub, then you’re going to take him in for the charges and violations he’s currently breaking.

“If I were you, I wouldn't even worry about the murder charge,” Gideon speaks up. “I'd worry what happens to you when word gets around you're a pervert.”

“Yeah, well, I made my living being a pervert. You can tell them that.”

“Oh, this is different. You went after little old ladies and kids. Witnesses say you got off when the old lady took her shirt off. Old ladies and kids… inside… think about it.”

Roland looks like he’s completely out of it, and Derek grabs his chin to make him look into his eyes, though Roland is completely stoned out of his mind.

“Hey, Roland, you're high out of your mind right now, aren't you?”

“Get him in the car. Take him back to the field office, spend a few hours with him, and he'll sober up.”

“Give me a pot of coffee and I'll go all night with this fool. Get him out of here.”

The officers who escorted you take Roland away, and you take out your phone to call Spencer. You’re sure Roland isn’t your guy, but maybe they found something useful back at the office. Spencer answers on the third ring.

“We got him, Spencer. This guy's a hardcore prison rat.”

“Hang on,” Elle says in the background.

“What’s going on?” you ask Spencer.

“We just got another call at a restaurant in the south bay,” JJ says in the background. “A guy came in wearing a ski-mask and started making people undress. He just shot a fourteen-year-old kid.”

“When?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“What did she just say?” you gasp and turn to your team who knows your look all too well.

“Hardcore or not, you've got the wrong scumbag.”

“Alright, text me the address.” You hang up and roll your head to the side to work out the kinks. “Roland’s not our guy. Our unsub just shot a fourteen-year-old kid at a diner in the south bay ten minutes ago.”

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Derek mutters.

You and your team head over to the address that JJ texted you, and you meet the rest of your team from the station. Everyone is already freaked out about what just happened, and since there is a dead child here, you feel more than just panic. You feel the sadness and heartbreak of his mother because she had to witness her son getting killed right in front of her. The cafe has been cleared out except for the workers, and you head inside to try and talk to potential witnesses about what just happened. Officer Murad is already on the scene, and he has the security tapes already up on the small TV around the counter.

“According to witnesses, he came in and fired into the ceiling. He separated all the kids from their parents,” Murad explains.

Once the unsub got the kids separated, he tried to force the kid to beat up his own mother. The kid refused, obviously, but the mother told him it was okay. Still, he refused, and that’s what got him shot right in front of her.

“He's forcing the sons to hit their mothers,” Spencer gasps.

“He started to,” Murad corrected. “When he tried to get the first one to hit his mother harder, he refused, and when he refused…”

“It doesn't make sense. They're children,” Hotch hisses.

“He's playing out a fantasy.”

“Yeah, but it's his fantasy and someone else's children.”

“They're surrogates of some kind.”

“No. You don't do this to someone else's kids to get off. You just don't do it.”

Hotch is clearly upset at this and heads into the kitchen where Gideon follows him. This case is proving to be very stressful, and Spencer can see it on your face. He brings you into a hug, and you accept the warmth from his body. You rest your head on his chest and let all of your stress out in the form of deep sighs. His hugs do a good job at relaxing you. Suddenly, Gideon comes out of the kitchen and points to you.

“You’re coming with me. We’re talking to Bill Henderson again.”

“Duty calls,” you say and part from your boyfriend.

“You’re going to be okay.”

You nod and leave his side, heading back to the station with Gideon. When you get there, Bill is already waiting with his family again. They are in the same position as last time with the kids on the couch and the parents in the chairs in front of the couch. Bill hates that he’s here again, and when he sees you, he becomes verbal.

“I don't know what else I can tell you. I've already gone over it three times.”

“What we need to know is if there's something in that tape that you don't want us to know about?”

“There were twelve other people in that bank who were forced to watch. What could I possibly be hiding?”

“This is about your children, isn't it?” you ask, and he becomes closed off. “We're sorry. Mr. Henderson, but this is very important.”

“He's already killed two people and he's not going to stop,” Gideon adds.

“God!” Claire Henderson, his wife, explodes. “Go ahead. Why don't you tell them what he did to us, what you let him do?”

“He had a gun. He was going to kill me.”

Claire stands up since she doesn’t want to be here anymore. She motions for her kids to follow her, and the three of them leave the room.

“They took my family from me. We can't even look at each other anymore,” Bill softly sobs in his chair.

If something else did happen, then he isn’t going to tell you about it. There was no point in coming back here and talking to him since you have no new information that could help you. You’re outside with Gideon just talking to him about where to go from here when one of the Henderson kids, Darren, approaches you.

“Excuse me. Is it true he would have killed my father if he tried to stand up to him?”

“There's no way to know, Darren, but your father did the right thing,” you say softly.

“Is there some reason you doubt that?”

“It's just... the robber said something afterwards. He said he was sorry.”

Wait, he apologized? Sadists don’t apologize for anything, they revel in the fact that they have control over their victims. This opens up a whole new side of your unsub you didn't know he had. The rest of the team that stayed back at the restaurant came back to the station when there was no other information they could get from the place. When everyone was in the same room, you told them what Darren said.

“He apologized? Sadists don't apologize. They gloat, maybe, but they don't apologize,” Elle shakes her head.

“Our guy's not a sadist. We got that part of the profile wrong,” Gideon states.

“He doesn't derive any sadistic pleasure from these fantasies, they're more like a compulsion. Compulsion that's literally life or death. I mean, if anyone interferes, he kills them. It's like he's compelled to direct these fantasies using these people as actors,” you say.

“Actors on a stage. It’s a play.”

“It's a psychodrama,” Spencer corrects.

“What’s that?” JJ wonders.

“It's a form of psychotherapy whereby actors serve as surrogates for actual people in the patient's life. It incorporates many elements of theatre including an audience. There's a very famous pilot program at the San Luis Obispo county jail in the mid-nineties.”

“Isn't that just a couple hours away from here?” Jj wonders.

“Let's go over the suspect list and see how many of them did time in San Luis Obispo.”

“I’ll call Penelope,” you offer and take out your phone. You get her on the line after the first ring. “We need your genius, Pen.”

“Don’t you always? What shall I serve?”

“That suspect list we gave you? How many of them did time in San Luis Obispo?”

It takes her a moment to gather the information, but she has it in minutes.

“The answer is four.”

“Come on. Tell me you narrowed it down a little more than that,” you sigh.

“Only two live in the state, but only one lives in LA.”

“What a queen,” you praise.

“Caleb Dale Sheppard, last known address 236 Harbor Lane, Inglewood.”

“Thank you so much!” You hang up and turn to your team with a smile. “Our unsub is Caleb Dale Sheppard, and he lives in Inglewood.”

“That's only 1.6 miles from the last restaurant that he hit,” Spencer says, and JJ gives him a weird look. “I've been studying a lot of LA maps.”

What everyone else thinks is his weirdest traits, you think they are the most interesting. Spencer wouldn’t be Spencer without knowing what he knows. You love him for it. Wait… love? Do you really love him? You push back the thought for a later date; you have something more pressing to deal with.

“If he's been attacking that close to home, he's given up any interest in protecting his identity.”

“We need to all go down there and split up, half to his address, half patrol in the area around the restaurant in case he's on the hunt.”

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag has a strike through it or it’s not linked, it means doesn’t work. find out why!

*if your tag is bolded, then the tag isn’t working. you have until next episode to get it fixed otherwise you’ll be deleted from this list*

@averyhotchner​​ @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel​​ @fan-girl-97​​ @inkstainedwritergirl​​ @estrela-rogers​​ @kwbaby24​​ @redsalv20​​ @joonie-centric​​ @xs​​ @sixpencespencee​​ @boygenius-reid​​ @meganskane​​ @prophecyflame​​ @happynekochan1​​ @babydee17​​ @darlingisntit​​ @fandoms4ever97​​ @spencerreid-187​​ @snakeythesnake​​ @nomajdetective​​ @scarletstarrs​​ @hc-geralt-23​​ @fairytalesforever​​ @werewolfbansheelove

[weirdsciencecomics]

Here are the February 2020 Marvel Comics Solicitations for all Spider-Man related comics!

VENOM #23

DONNY CATES • MARK BAGLEY (A/C)

VARIANT COVER BY SKOTTIE YOUNG

GWEN STACY VARIANT COVER BY HUMBERTO RAMOS

VENOM ISLAND COMES ALIVE!

They say there’s no rest for the wicked, and few creatures in the Marvel Universe are as wicked as CARNAGE. Face front, readers — the seeds of next year’s VENOM event are already beginning to grow…

32 PGS./Rated T+ …$3.99

RAVENCROFT #2 (OF 5)

FRANK TIERI • ANGEL UNZUETA (A) • Cover by KYLE HOTZ

VARIANT COVER BY SKAN

Ravencroft is open for business! But with the secrets revealed in RUINS OF RAVENCROFT in the open, the Institute is more dangerous than ever. Can John Jameson right the ship before it’s too late?

32 PGS./Rated T+ …$3.99

SYMBIOTE SPIDER-MAN: ALIEN REALITY #3 (OF 5)

PETER DAVID • GREG LAND (A/C)

VARIANT COVER BY RON LIM

VARIANT COVER BY ALEX SAVIUK

GWEN STACY VARIANT COVER BY PHIL NOTO

VARIANT COVER BY GERARDO SANDOVAL

CONNECTING CHINESE NEW YEAR VARIANT COVER (2 of 3) BY JIE YUAN

PETER PARKER: THE SPIDER SUPREME?!

After reliving one of the most horrible moments of his life, Peter Parker turns to one of his oldest allies for a magical helping hand. Don’t miss the next history-shaking adventure of Peter David and Greg Land’s landmark SYMBIOTE SPIDER-MAN Series!

32 PGS./Rated T …$3.99

AMAZING SPIDER-MAN #39

NICK SPENCER • IBAN COELLO (A) • COVER BY PATRICK GLEASON

GWEN STACY VARIANT COVER BY PEPE LARRAZ

CONNECTING CHINESE NEW YEAR VARIANT COVER (3 OF 3) BY JIE YUAN

There’s a new game in town, and the ante is QUITE HIGH! Welcome to The Palace, a super-villain casino run by the classic (and under-utilized) Spidey-villain CHANCE! It’s got everything a villain could want, including betting on whether your arch-enemy is going to make it through his or her latest super-battle! Not only will this not sit well with Spidey, but it may just CRUSH him.

32 PGS./Rated T …$3.99

  AMAZING SPIDER-MAN #40

NICK SPENCER • IBAN COELLO (A) • COVER BY PATRICK GLEASON

GWEN STACY VARIANT COVER BY ELIZABETH TORQUE

Jonah Jameson’s new gig has proven to be nothing but trouble for Spidey. As you are well aware, JJJ doesn’t take “no” for an answer, so even if Spidey is knee-deep in a world-saving situation, JJJ will always be there to “help” him. But while Spidey is dealing with JJJ and Chance, something is brewing with Kindred and it can’t bode well for Peter.

32 PGS./Rated T …$3.99

SPIDER-HAM #3 (OF 5) 

ZEB WELLS

WILL ROBSON (A/C)

VARIANT COVER BY DAVID NAKAYAMA

LET’S DO THE HAM WARP AGAIN!

What’s a Ham Warp? We don’t know, but this third issue of SPIDER-HAM is an interdimensional delight! Spider-Ham just can’t catch a break! First SPIDER-MAN crashes his solo adventure…and now they’re trapped in the past! Somebody’s gotta bring home the bacon!

32 PGS./Rated T …$3.99

SPIDER-MAN/VENOM: DOUBLE TROUBLE #4 (of 4)

MARIKO TAMAKI

GURIHIRU (A/C)

“VENOM IS A GREAT ROOMMATE AND FRIEND!” – Spider-Man

Spider-Man and Venom must finally work together to fix their situation…one that Venom TOTALLY didn’t get them into in the first place. YOU CAN’T PROVE IT WAS HIM!

32 PGS./Rated T …$3.99

AMAZING MARY JANE #5

Leah Williams • Carlos Gómez (A) • Cover by Humberto Ramos

VARIANT COVER BY TBA

GWEN STACY VARIANT COVER BY JAVIER RODRIGUEZ

CUT?!

All that stands between MJ and Mysterio’s ragtag crew and filming their climactic battle scene is…well, VULTURE, STEGRON, TARANTULA, KING COBRA, RHINO, and SCORPION! If this is Mary Jane’s last chance to realize her dreams, you can bet she’s going to fight like a tiger–or a spider! Will filming ever wrap? Will Mary Jane ever go home to the AMAZING SPIDER-MAN? And can Peter forgive her for her Hollywood team up?

32 PGS./Rated T …$3.99

GHOST-SPIDER #7  

SEANAN McGUIRE • IG GUARA (A)

Cover by PAUL POPE

Gwen has it all! Two worlds, two lives, living in harmony…nothing bad could happen! …something bad is definitely about to happen. Be there when Gwen’s worlds begin to collide!

32 PGS./Rated T …$3.99

AMAZING SPIDER-MAN: THE DAILY BUGLE #2 (OF 5)

MAT JOHNSON • MACK CHATER (A)

COVER BY NIKO HENRICHON

VARIANT COVER BY PASQUAL FERRY

Professors missing from Empire State University: Abductees or recruits? Skeins of Spider-Man’s web drape Lower Manhattan: Charming local color, or Department of Sanitation headache? Does anything happen in Kingpin’s city without his knowledge? The reporters of the Daily Bugle are beating pavement to answer YOUR questions.

32 PGS./Rated T …$3.99

MILES MORALES: SPIDER-MAN #15

SALADIN AHMED • JAVIER GARRON (A/C)

GWEN STACY VARIANT COVER BY NICK BRADSHAW

INVASION AT BROOKLYN VISIONS!

Miles’ journal has gone missing–you know, the one where he wrote his private thoughts about BEING SPIDER-MAN!!! And it’s fallen into enemy hands! Does that have something to do with Miles’ high school under siege by the most monstrous goons he’s faced since CARNAGE? You’re about to see more of Brooklyn Visions than ever–but is it for the last time?

32 PGS./Rated T …$3.99

SPIDER-VERSE #5 (OF 6)

CHRISTOS GAGE – JUAN FERREYRA (A)

Cover by DAVE RAPOZA

SPIDER-MAN NOIR, DEAD NO MOIR?!

Miles continues his journey to save the web of life and comes face to face with Spider-Man Noir! But, wait…isn’t he dead?!

32 PGS./Rated T …$3.99

BLACK CAT #9

JED MACKAY • KRIS ANKA (A) • Cover by J. SCOTT CAMPBELL

GWEN STACY VARIANT COVER BY CARLOS GOMEZ

Felicia has gotten into some trouble in New York. Some may call it “inciting a war” but we aren’t here to mince words. What’s a girl to do? GO TO MADRIPOOR! That’s right, the Black Cat and her crew go to Madripoor to steal the next object on their list. No problem, just another artifact that is in the private collection of someone named… where’d I put that note… oh, here. Someone named “Patch.” Uh-oh. Patch is Wolverine. BLACK CAT IS STEALING FROM WOLVERINE?! All this and guest-artist KRIS ANKA (UNCANNY X-MEN, RUNAWAYS) is joining the book for two issues!

32 PGS./Rated T …$3.99

MORBIUS #4

VITA AYALA • MARCELO FERREIRA (A) • Cover by SKAN

CONNECTING VARIANT COVER BY JUAN JOSE RYP (4 OF 5)

THE MONSTER CALLED MORBIUS!

Michael Morbius has always been a man of science. But he’s also a man of pride, and when those two traits combine, the results have been catastrophic. This time is no different! Whatever Morbius has wrought havoc on his genetics – with his humanity inching closer to memory with every passing moment! This while a figure from his past returns, with Morbius dead in her sights.

32 PGS./Rated T+ …$3.99

SCREAM: CURSE OF CARNAGE #4

CLAY McLEOD CHAPMAN • CHRISTOPHER MOONEYHAM (A) • Cover by RYAN STEGMAN

VARIANT COVER BY CLAYTON CRAIN

SPINNING OUT OF THE PAGES OF THE VENOM EVENT OF THE YEAR, ABSOLUTE CARNAGE!

SCREAM faces an ancient evil from the depths of the sea! Watch as the VENOM lore builds the history of the symbiotes into a twisted tale of horror and menace! You’ll never want to go back in the water again, True Believers!

32 PGS./Rated T+ …$3.99

MARVEL’S SPIDER-MAN: THE BLACK CAT STRIKES #2 (OF 5)

DENNIS “HOPELESS” HALLUM • LUCA MARESCA (A) • Cover by SANA TAKEDA

Variant Cover by DAVID NAKAYAMA

BLACK CAT HEARTS SPIDER-MAN!

The BLACK CAT continues her mysterious crime spree in New York…but will her reappearance catch SPIDER-MAN in a tangled web between MARY JANE and his former flame?! An all-new look into Peter and Felicia’s fiery passion and the deadly consequences of a Super Hero romance. ME-OW!

32 PGS./Rated T …$3.99

GWEN STACY #1 (OF 5)

CHRISTOS GAGE • TODD NAUCK (A) • Cover by ADAM HUGHES

VARIANT COVER BY JEEHYUNG LEE

VIRGIN VARIANT COVER BY JEEHYUNG LEE

FACES OF GWEN VARIANT COVER BY TODD NAUCK

CONNECTING CHINESE NEW YEAR VARIANT COVER (1 OF 3) BY JIE YUAN

HIDDEN GEM VARIANT COVER BY TBA

VARIANT COVER BY J. SCOTT CAMBPELL

VARIANT COVER BY TBA

The First of Gwen Stacy’s AMAZING Adventures!

Gwen and Peter may not have met until AMAZING SPIDER-MAN #31, but that doesn’t mean Gwen’s life began on that page. Learn the never-before told origin of Gwen Stacy, top of her class, daughter of the Police Captain and, as her friend Harry Osborn calls her, “The Beauty Queen of Standard High.”  But she’s way more that you even know! Gwen’s got a science brain, a nose for trouble and a no-quit attitude that always gets her in trouble. In the early Marvel Universe, that’s a recipe for disaster. Don’t miss Gwen, Captain Stacy, Harry and Norman Osborn, Crimemaster, Wilson Fisk, Jean DeWolff, Yuri Wantanabe and even Spider-Man!

40 PGS./Rated T …$4.99

      Spider-Man February 2020 Marvel Comics Solicits Here are the February 2020 Marvel Comics Solicitations for all Spider-Man related comics! VENOM #23 DONNY CATES • MARK BAGLEY (A/C)

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1283

Monday, October 14, 2019

 Happy Canadian Thanksgiving to one and all. Thank-you for reading this. The Jee Gang gathered for a turkey dinner yesterday with the littlest 2-month-old Ashton being passed around like a hot potato because he was tired and cranky. His mom got him settled but you couldn't hear his tiny cries for the raucous noise from his cousins. The kids took over the larger formal dining room now that they outnumber us old folks. It was a nice big family affair.

 Gwenpool Strikes Back #3 - Leah Williams (writer) David Baldeon (art) Jesus Aburtov (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Gwenpool tries to save herself from cancellation by holding a "Contest of Champions" in this issue. Guest stars galore. This thing is so much fun.

 Catwoman #16 - Joelle Jones (story & art) Laura Allred (colours) Saida Temofonte (letters). I'm glad I checked the credits on this issue since I said that I was going to let this cat out after reading last issue. I will always read a book by Joelle Jones even though this one had me befuddled with some jumping back and forth in time and the added "Year of the Villain" thing. I am curious to find out Catwoman's decision.

 Loki #4 - Daniel Kibblesmith (writer) Oscar Bazaldua (pencils) Oscar Bazaldua & Victor Olazaba (inks) David Curiel & Carlos Lopez (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). I love a good trickster. Loki uses a good one to defeat Nightmare. I like this Loki.

 Detective Comics #1013 - Peter J. Tomasi (writer) Doug Mahnke (pencils) Keith Champagne & Christian Alamy (inks) David Baron (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). It's Batman versus Mister Freeze as the super villain tries to resurrect his dead wife. Batman's flame thrower costume is a cosplayer's wet dream

 Doctor Doom #1 - Christopher Cantwell (writer) Salvador Larroca (art) Guru-eFX (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). This was a pleasant surprise. The art caught my eye but the story is really good too. There's no sign of the good guy Sorcerer Supreme from a while ago. Just good old fashioned arrogant Victor. He scoffed at a new technology to reverse global warming and is accused of being jealous of it because it was invented by Reed Richards and Tony Stark. When disaster strikes, Latveria is blamed and Doctor Doom sacrifices himself for his country. The mystery is who framed him and I will keep reading to find out.

 Web of the Black Widow #2 - Jody Houser (writer) Stephen Mooney (art) Triona Farrell (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). What the!? Two Black Widows? Doctor Doom isn't the only one being framed for murder. I liked the clever cut-out on Nat's bathing suit.

 Miles Morales: Spider-Man #11 - Saladin Ahmed (writer) Ze Carlos (art pages 1-8) Ig Guara (art pages 9-20) Dono Sanchez-Almara with Protobunker (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Miles must solve the super hero's dilemma of saving a family member or a stranger's life. His decision leads to a confrontation with the Prowler. Is it Uncle Aaron? I can't wait to find out.

 White Fox #1 - Alyssa Wong (writer) Kevin Libranda & Geoffo (art) Israel Silva (colours)

VC's Joe Sabino (letters). Another Agent of Atlas super hero gets her origin story told. She's based on Korean folklore. It was very well done and almost makes me want to read the new team book. There's also a peek at the Future Avengers by Alyssa Wong (writer), Ale Garza (art), Dono Sanchez-Almara with Protobunker (colours) and VC's Joe Sabino (letters). They're an Asian version of the Young Avengers but these guys used to be Hydra agents in training. Read on if you're wondering what turned them into good guys.

 Age of Conan Valeria #3 - Meredith Finch (writer) Aneke (art) Andy Troy (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). I wish the art inside was a nice as the Jay Anacleto cover.

 Marvel Action Spider-Man #9 - Delilah S. Dawson (writer) Fico Ossio (art) Ronda Pattison (colours) Shawn Lee (letters). The Black Cat gets caged as the kids finally work together and start to treat each other with respect. Next, things get even darker as Venom attacks.

 Batman 100 Page Giant #1 - There are five superb stories in this $4.99 US one-shot and you'll feel like you just read five $3.99 comic books when you hit the last page. The only story that was disappointing was the Batwoman story mainly because she was fighting a lame villain named Lord Death Man. It was written by Steve Orlando, who has never impressed me. The other four stories more than make up for it though, especially Scott Snyder's lengthy contribution. This book is a steal at twice the price.

 The Amazing Spider-Man #31 - Nick Spencer (writer) Ryan Ottley (pencils) Cliff Rathburn (inks) Nathan Fairbairn (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). More hints are given to the secret identity of the super villain Kindred. Definitely related to Norman Osborn. That mystery is the only thing keeping me reading this book. As if the waters weren't muddy enough, the guy in the straight jacket isn't even Norman. I hope we don't get strung along too much longer because there will come a point where I say screw it, I don't care anymore.

 Batman Universe #4 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Nick Derington (art) Dave Stewart (colours) Josh Reed & Tom Napolitano (letters). I don't mind this time traveling if it means that we see Batman and Green Lantern team up with Jonah Hex. The chase is on as Vandal Savage gets his hands on his prize. I know I've said that I don't like time travel and Vandal Savage, but this is a Bendis book and I'm a sucker.

 Harley Quinn & Poison Ivy #2 - Jody Houser (writer) Adriana Melo (pencils) Mark Morales (inks) Hi-Fi (colours) Gabriela Downie (letters). I think the Floronic Man chowed down on Swampthing and Ivy is next on his menu. Well, it's Harley to the rescue and the girls seek help from a fellow super villain to see what's wrong with Ivy. I'm reading this because it looks so pretty.

 Powers of X #6 - Jonathan Hickman (writer) R.B. Silva & Pepe Larraz (art) Marte Gracia & David Curiel (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). The house is built and the power has been connected for a new X-verse. Jonathan Hickman has managed to make mutants relevant again for me. There are a half a dozen new mutant books coming out in the next six weeks starting with X-Men #1 hitting the racks October 16. I'll be reading them all to see how I feel about them but I can't imagine that they'll be all worthwhile.

 Event Leviathan #5 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Alex Maleev (art) Josh Reed (letters). I'm curious to find out who Leviathan is but it's not going to have a big impact on me since I'm not a huge DC fan. I'm sure DC fans might be able to suss out the secret given the Manhunter clue in this issue but I'm going to have to wait until next issue when all is revealed.

 Joker/Harley: Criminal Sanity #1 - Kami Garcia (writer) Mico Suayan & Mike Mayhew (art) Richard Starkings of Comicraft (letters). I love new and different takes on iconic characters and this one is a killer. Harleen Quinzel is Doctor Harley Quinn, GCPD profiler, who is working a 5-year-old cold case of the murder of a hospital employee. Meanwhile there are other new murders landing on her desk. The writing is tight and the characterisations are vivid, helped by the beautiful art. Mico's black and white art chronicles the present while Mike's gorgeous colour art handles the flashbacks. DC's Black Label imprint is well worth checking out if you're a mature reader. This mystery not only looked good but made me feel good after I finished reading. I can't wait to find out what happens next.

 Contagion #2 - Ed Brisson (writer) Stephen Segovia (art) Veronica Gandini (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). I know I said that I wasn't going to read any more of this 5-issue mini but this was on the racks with the awesome Power Man and Iron Fist cover so I snagged one after I finished reading all the others for the week. This issue was better thought out and the story flowed smoothly. Ben takes Sue, Reed and Johnny to Doctor Strange for help and the two of them go back to Yancy Street to contain the infectious bad guy. Danny and Luke are there helping the first responders and a couple of surprise super heroes show up too. The villain is briefly subdued but Doc Strange and Power Man succumb to the disease at the end. Uh-oh. The next issue teaser has Jessica Jones so that's reason enough for me to want to read it.

[slaasherslut]

Softness Like You

Clayton Spencer OC x reader

Summary: soft love making session with Clayton (@rottent33th's oc), just pure smut no plot lol

Warnings: fem reader, oral (f receiving), mf intercourse, unprotected sex, mentions of murder, creampie

2.5k words

The energy in your shared bedroom with Clay was intense. An evening cuddle after band practice had turned into something more, as it usually did. Sometimes Clay couldn't help but come home from a show or even practice with a bit of an adrenaline spike. Your bodies seemed to radiate a sensual heat that was felt deep in your loins as the make out session between the two of you grew heavier. The sheets below you were a tangled mess, his hands wandered the lovely expanse of your body as he laid over top of you. He held himself up just enough so he could feel your body against his but not crush you. Although you wouldn't have minded either way.

Clay's lips separated from yours much to your dismay. Those feelings soon vanished when he placed a loving kiss to your cheek before cascading down to your jaw, then to your neck. Your hands snuck their way up the old Slipknot shirt he was wearing and trailed over his adorably freckled back, feeling the muscles flex under your fingertips. Clay's own hands began to wander, softly running down your sides before stopping at your hips. He gave the soft flesh a hearty squeeze as his mouth sucked fresh bruises into your now sensitive neck. 

One after the other was shifted downwards, numerous hickeys now littered the skin between your ear and the base of your flushed neck. His hands assisted yours as your shirt was discarded to the floor while a few tender kisses were placed on your shoulder before moving back to your throat, sucking one more deep bruise and moving downward once more. Clay's delicate hands moved under your torso, arching your back to give him room as he unhooked your bra. You couldn't help but blush at the thought of his rough hands. The same hands that had taken human life many times were now ghosting your skin like delicate glass he was too afraid to break. The wetness between your thighs only intensified. If you could squeeze them together to relieve some of the erotic tension that was now pooling in your underwear, you surely would. Although that wasn't possible with Clay’s large body nestled between your legs.

The bra was now tossed haphazardly to the floor, not too far from where your top had landed. His lips cascaded down the middle of your chest. The metal stud just under his lip felt cold in contrast to your quickly warming skin as it dragged along, leaving a trail of goosebumps and hot tension behind. Once he reached the spot between your breasts, he used the tip of his tongue as he flicked a line back up between them and gave the skin a long, wet kiss as his eyes flicked upward towards you. His calloused hands swiped up your sides and over your breasts, giving them both a pleasured squeeze. He let out a jagged breath as he watched them jiggle under his rough palms. He adored the sight of the flesh peeking out from between his fingers as he massaged them, earning a lovely moan from your lips. His body craved to hear that sound again. 

He kept one of his hands on your breast as his lips eagerly circled the sensitive nipple on your neglected mound. His tongue swirled around it, making sure that the piercing in his tongue made contact, just how he knew you liked. Your hands fidgeted in the tangled sheets due to the newfound pleasure before adjusting to comb your fingers through his soft orange hair. Fingers pushing strands out of the way of his face so you could watch him work. He continued on for a few moments, listening to your soft mewls before swapping his mouth to the other nipple. He could feel himself growing harder in his jeans as he looked up at you to gauge your reactions. Your eyes were now closed, head rolled back, bottom lip tucked between your teeth in bliss. His cock jumped with every jolt of your reactive body. Clay lived for moments like this. Moments when he knew you felt good and it was all by his hand. 

"You look so pretty f'me, sweetpea." He whispered against your soft flesh. 

You could feel a smile tug at his lips as he spoke. He knew what he was doing, that voice of his always seemed to light a fire deep within you. His words felt like a sickly sweet honey coating every inch of your soul that was so deeply enraptured by him. 

He once again continued his journey downward. Your body ached the closer he got to your weeping pussy. When he finally got below your navel, his kisses felt like they were on your skin for an eternity and the time between them was agonizing. He placed one final kiss to your quivering mound before moving downward once more to where you needed him most. Clays tongue was flat as he swiped the wet pierced muscle up between your lips. Your entire body shook at the contact. The moan you let out was also pornographic as he got to your clit. His piercing tugging on it lusciously as it passed over, your reaction brought a smirk to his lips. He wanted to be sweet and slow but the sounds you were making and your body showing to him how good you felt made that idea out of the question. The only softness coming from the look of love written on his face and his hands rubbing gentle circles on the outside of your thighs

Clay's hazel eyes gazed up at you from in between the cushion of your thighs. His eyes were laser focused on you, wanting to see every pleasure filled reaction. He watched as your features contorted as you let out a whine, the metal ball in his tongue danced over your clit. The sounds you were letting free made Clay ache painfully in his black jeans. The chains attached to his belt loops clinked together as he found his hips moving of their own accord against the mattress below. Your writhing intensified with each gesture, so much so that Clayton's arms moved around your thighs and to your hips. He used his boxing strength to hold down your writhing form. His lips moved from your clit to the inside of your thigh, placing a gentle kiss. An involuntary whine escaped your chest from the lack of his warmth.

"Stop squirmin', sugar."

You tried to level your breathing and stay as still as you could while he went back to work. It was hard when he always knew exactly what to do and every button to push. His hands still continued to hold you down as he licked and sucked, you could barely keep your cool and Clay was forced to hold you down tighter. He was worried that he was starting to hurt you, bruises were surely going to be visible the next morning but the pleasure filled whining said you didn't care much. Your hips rolled against his mouth as you felt your orgasm quickly building. Both of your hands tangled themselves in his hair along his scalp to pull him even closer to you. 

“Cum for me,” was barely audible from between your thighs. His grinding against the bed still in full force as he let out a loud moan. The vibrations caused you to cum hard. Clay was in heaven as your thighs squeezed his head as you came, he could have suffocated in your pussy and between your thighs and he would have died a happy man with a hard on.

He gave your pussy one final large lick before pulling away. His plan was to only eat you out but his cock was too hard to ignore anymore. He needed to be inside you like he needed air to survive. Clay sat up on his knees, eyes never daring to break away from yours. The look of pure lust and love he so desperately craved was evident in your eyes. He reached back and grasped the back of his shirt with both hands. His tricep muscles were on full display as they framed his handsome face, rippling and bulging in all the right places as he moved and flexed. His shirt was pulled up and off over his head. His long ginger hair cascaded out of the shirt and over his back and shoulders like soft ocean waves. Your eyes trailed his body as he quickly unbuckled his belt and slipped off his jeans and boxers in one pull. When your own eyes met his hazel ones, he smiled. A soft blush coated your face. You felt like the luckiest person in the world, Clayton Spencer was the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

“Ready?” You nodded eagerly as he guided his long cock inside you. Your breath hitched, as did his. The feeling of him slowly pushing inside you made you squirm and whine. Your walls stretched deliciously around him as he kept pushing, bottoming out with a groan. The feeling of being so full of him caused a sultry moan to tumble out of you. The feeling radiated throughout your entire body. His eyes flickered up to your face to make sure you were okay before he leaned down over you. Hands placing themselves next to your shoulders before shifting onto his forearms. Clay pressed his broad chest against yours. Air filled your lungs in one large burst as you felt him shift inside you. One large hand came up to your cheek, his thumb tenderly rubbing the soft flesh of your pretty face. His heart leapt when you leaned into his touch with a loving hum. Clay swears he had never known softness like you and hoped he would never be without it. He gave you a deep kiss as your arms shifted to wrap around his neck, your fingers tangling themselves in his long, soft hair.

“You okay?” His voice was a hushed whisper as he pulled back enough to be able to see your face. You nodded, eyes still closed from the kiss. Clay cradled your face with both hands. “I need to hear you say it, please.” Clay cracked a small smile when you opened your eyes and looked up at him. Your gaze always had that effect on him. You mimicked his smile as a thousand emotions seemed to run wild behind your eyes.

“I'm okay.”

Clay gave you a soft kiss on the forehead before dragging his cock halfway out of you and pushing back inside. You both moaned at the feeling of movement inside of you. He slowly started repeatedly thrusting. Starting off with a soft slow pace before making his way up to fast needy movements. The dissonance of the sounds that drifted through the air were a tune you both loved as it danced throughout the sweaty room. Clay pushed himself up off of you and rose to his knees. The head of his cock still inside you as he grabs you by your thighs and pushes your knees to either side of your torso before continuing his fast movements. His head rolls back with a grunt as he thrusts fully back inside. The new feeling wrapped around him started bringing you both closer and closer with each thrust, his long cock being shoved fully inside you each time. Part of you always wonders how he managed to make himself fit inside you. He was massive in both girth and length and taking the whole thing was always an internal challenge but he always felt so fucking good. The fact that he had already made you cum on his tongue helped you take him in.

Clay fully pulled out of you as he shifted. He moved your thighs again, pushing your knees to your shoulders before lightly falling on top of you. Making sure not to crush you with his immense weight. He quickly fully sheathed himself back inside you with a deep moan into the bruise ridden spot between your neck and your shoulder. You couldn't help the high pitched squeak you let out due to your new tightness around him and the pressure of his body pressing deeply against your lower half. The speed at which he was immediately thrusting himself inside was cataclysmic. Each pull and push of his cock was felt so much more deeply as your hands grasped onto him. His breath smelling of mint and whisky flowed across your cheeks as he panted in between low whines. You could tell he was getting close. The sounds he was making and his eyes squeezing shut always gave it away. His lips pressed against yours in a tight kiss, which was cut off by the in unison moan as you squeezed around him, feeling your own pleasure just around the corner.

"Where do you want it?" His words were barely audible through his heavy breathing. You raked your hands through his hair, pushing it out of his face. He always looked so handsome when he was losing himself deep within you. 

"I-inside me.. please."

His eyes shot open at your words. He had never cum inside you before. Although he would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it. There were multiple occasions where he was left alone and he jerked his thick cock to the thought of cumming inside your tight little pussy. Filling you up and claiming you forever as his, having an intimate part of him deep inside you afterwards. It was such an act filled with devotion that he didn't expect. Now here you were, moaning beneath him and begging for it.

"Are you sure?"

You nodded.

"No, say it. Say you want it, baby." A new look filled his hazel eyes, something possessive, something primal. That look searing into you was enough to nearly build your orgasm to its crescendo as he started thrusting even faster.

"Clay! Cum inside me please! I want it! Please!"

With one final deep thrust, you crashed like waves together. A cacophony of moans spilled out of you as you came, feeling Clay's hips stutter and roll, somehow getting even deeper each time. The moan he let out was more akin to a growl. You twitched as you felt his thick cum streaming inside you, covering every inch of your insides. You didn't even need to see it to know that he came so much more than usual. Once your shaking body began to slow, Clay gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead as he carefully pulled your sore legs down against the mattress. He crashed down next to you as you instinctively shuffled yourself into his bulky arms, tangling your legs into his. One hand rubbing up and down your back while the other rubbing soothing shapes into your arm. He looked down at your heavenly form secured next to him with heavy pants that were slowing to soft breaths.

“You okay, sweetpea?” He whispered. You nodded with a happy hum, his lips tugged upwards in a smile. He placed another sweet kiss to your hairline as you spoke.

“I love you, Clay.”

“I love you too.”

☾ notes: teethy, thank you so much for letting me write smut for your man. im so horny for him and i love him so fuckin much its wild

☾ tag list: @rottent33th @damien-mlm @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @the-pinstriped-hood @allthingsblood @25bohemianmoons

message me if you want to be added to my tag list!

[slaasherslut]

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers.

Aww! Thank you so much!! I answered one of these not too long ago from T33thy and Pin and I haven't uploaded anything since but my choices would still be the same. Ill gladly post it again cause im so proud of these works.

1. Pig to the Slaughter (OC x Black Christmas)

I was really worried this one wouldn't turn out at good as I was hoping, having a bunch of my friends OC's together in one fic. But I'm quite proud of it! I think I wrote everyone's OC's decently well.

2. Dance With Me, Tommy (Thomas Hewitt x reader fluff)

This has to be my favourite fluff piece I’ve written and posted. I’ve always thought my fluff wasn’t the greatest compared to my smut, but i really like this one. I go back and reread it every once in a while. Tommy always makes me feel all soft.

3. Softness Like You (Clayton Spencer OC x reader smut)

Clay belongs to @rottent33th

This smut that I wrote for Clay is one of my all-time favourite pieces of writing I’ve ever done. It’s a lovely balance of fluff and smut. I also absolutely adore Clay. I can’t exactly place it, but i just feel so close to him. I love writing for him even though he isn’t mine.

4. Void and Cold (Milo Vess OC) This was my first fic for Milo and I think I handled the emotion and the imagery pretty well. I feel like Milo is my deepest OC with the most story to tell and I just love him. Hes my sweet little graveyard man.

5. Pose for me (Ellie Mason OC x Vincent Sinclair)

Ellie belongs to @rottent33th

This was my first go at writing an OC that wasn’t mine and im so incredibly proud of this one. I absolutely adore Ellie and Vincent as a couple so getting too stretch out and write them in a different setting was really fun! After a conversation T33thy and I had about the college AU I had to write it. Plus it was a gift for my bestie <3

[slaasherslut]

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers

My Wifey is so talented and I'm excited to see what she recs

Oh my god my wife called me talented even though shes the uber talented one here.

Also i got sent this from @the-pinstriped-hood too! Thank you so much Pin!!

1. Pig to the Slaughter (OC x Black Christmas)

I was really worried this one wouldnt turn out at good as I was hoping, having a bunch of my friends OCs together in one fic. But Im quite proud of it! I think I wrote everyones OCs decently well.

2. Dance With Me, Tommy (Thomas Hewitt x reader fluff)

This has to be my favorite fluff piece I've written and posted. I've always thought my fluff wasn't the greatest compared to my smut, but i really like this one. I go back and reread it every once in a while. Tommy always makes me feel all soft.

3. Softness Like You (Clayton Spencer OC x reader smut)

This smut that I wrote for Clay is one of my all-time favorite pieces of writing I've ever done. It's a lovely balance of fluff and smut. I also absolutely adore Clay. I can't exactly place it, but i just feel so close to him. I love writing for him even though he isn't mine.

4. Void and Cold (Milo Vess OC) This was my first fic for Milo and I think I handled the emotion and the imagery pretty well. I feel like Milo is my deepest OC with the most story to tell and I just love him. Hes my sweet little graveyard man.

5. Pose for me (Ellie Mason OC x Vincent Sinclair)

This was my first go at writing an OC that wasn't mine and im so incredibly proud of this one. I absolutely adore Ellie and Vincent as a couple so getting too stretch out and write them in a different setting was really fun! After the conversation we had about the college AU I had to write it. Plus it was a gift for my bestie <3

These were all in no particular order, I had a really hard time picking fics my own fics. If anyone hasnt read any of them I would love for you to give them a look.

Thank you so much T33thy! luh you

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1277

Monday, September 2, 2019

 Happy Labour Day. Not doing much labour today after two tough days of fishing in the wind. I was out on the Ottawa River with a friend and his young son on Saturday. We took shelter in the Nation River where it wasn't so blustery. I managed to catch an albino pike in the muddy water there. I wish my guests had better luck. I was out on Mississippi Lake yesterday and we were being blown hither and yon again. We found a little refuge in the lee of an island where I caught a little pike, what anglers call a hammer handle. I also had two larger fish on but they got off my barbless hooks before we could see what they were. It's a big lake and I'll be back exploring it again another day.

 There are too many comic books on the racks these days. I've been complaining about this for a long time. I love the diversity and variety but if I had to buy the books that I read I couldn't afford it all. If you count the variant covers there are around 100 new books that hit the racks every week. That's mind bogglingly overwhelming to me. Not only that, but it's hard to keep track of everybody. When I started reading comic books there was only one Spider-Man. Now we have three major Spider-Mans and I'm not even counting the clones and ones from the future and other dimensions. How about how many Robins are flying around these days? At least old Robins have evolved into other characters. How is a new reader supposed to distinguish the Spider-Man in New York City to the one in San Francisco just from flipping through the pages? Yeah, okay, one's Amazing and the other is Superior. It's must be daunting to people who want to try reading comic books to follow a book and I'm sure the confusion doesn't help things. I'm pining for the good old days when you didn't need a full time job to afford buying comic books and you didn't have to remember which Batman you are reading about.

 House of X #3 - Jonathan Hickman (writer) Pepe Larraz (art) Marte Gracia (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Okay, the ultimate goal of the Mutant Nation is to prevent Nimrod from coming into existence. If you've been reading Powers of X you know that they failed. This does not mean that these stories are boring. Cyclops and his team go on a mission to stop a space station from completing their development of a Sentinel factory. It's still exciting to see these X-Men in action. The trial of a mutant at the super max prison for mutants was a fun scene.

 Thor #16 - Jason Aaron (writer) Mike del Mundo (art) Mike del Mundo & Marco D'Alfonso (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). This issue is a most excellent epilogue to the War of the Realms and sets up the next chapter of the life of Thor. I can't wait for King Thor #1 to hit the racks on September 11.

 Detective Comics #1010 - Peter J. Tomasi (writer) Christian Duce (art) David Baron (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). There's a big boo-boo in this story where Bruce Wayne has to fight Deadshot after a plane crash onto a somewhat deserted island. Why would he wear a disguise that makes him look like Batman? Didn't think things through there, did you Bruce?

 The Amazing Spider-Man #28 - Nick Spencer (writer) Kev Walker (pencils) John Dell (inks) Laura Martin & Andrew Crossley (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Spider-Man's team up with Boomerang and their run in with the Syndicate comes to an end and almost everyone lives happily ever after. Except for Peter Parker, of course. I've been thinking of benching this book but this fun issue changed my mind.

 Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #11 - Tom Taylor (writer) Juann Cabal (art) Rachelle Rosenberg (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). If I ever do stop reading the Amazing Spider-Man this title will more than pick up the slack. Here we have a story that ties into the end of the War of the Realms. Mary Jane has an adventure while Peter is resting. I love that they are a couple again.

 Absolute Carnage #2 - Donny Cates (writer) Ryan Stegman (pencils) JP Mayer (inks) Frank Martin (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Venom and Spider-Man split up to gather reinforcements to fight the Carnage epidemic. The issue ends with Venom trying to save the Scorpion and Miles but the odds against the good guys are enormous. I almost decided to step away from this mega event while reading the first page of this issue because it focused on what Carnage's ultimate goal is. Mindless killing isn't appealing to me. I'm glad the Carnage sequences aren't the main part of this book.

 Runaways #24 - Rainbow Rowell (writer) Andre Genolet (art) Matthew Wilson (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Karolina and Nico don masks and costumes to go out and fight crime in Los Angeles. There isn't a lot of action until the end but then things get very interesting. I can't wait to find out who the caped crusader is.

 Spider-Man Life Story #6 - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Mark Bagley (pencils) Andrew Hennessy (inks) Frank D'Armata (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). And so this 6-issue mini ends in 2019 with Peter Parker and Miles Morales saving the world from Doctor Doom. It was cool how Chip used 50 years of Marvel continuity to tell this Spider-Man story and end it with a life well lived. May Peter Parker rest in peace.

 Marvel Team-Up #5 - Clint McElroy (writer) Ig Guara (art) Felipe Sobreiro (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). This Ms. Marvel and Captain Marvel team-up story is really freaking good. The arrival of more Kree warriors on the last page means that there will be plenty of action next issue. I'm going to be looking for Clint McElroy's name on the racks now because this story has impressed me all to heck.

 Marvel Comics #1000 - I'm not going to list all 137 creators names. The back cover has them in alphabetical order and there is a one and a half page listing of the writers, penciller, inkers, colourists and letterers in the back of this ginormous book. I had a better time reading this than the first issue of the History of Marvel Comics. It was a pleasant walk down memory lane for this Marvel Maniac. The Eternity Mask is introduced and a new character named the Raider makes an appearance. My favourite pages were the ones with Deadpool. There's a lot crammed into this book but if you've been a Marvel reader for as long as I have you'll realize that there's a lot missing too. You'll more than get your money's worth for $9.99 US.

 Action Comics #1014 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Szymon Kudranski (art) Brad Anderson (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). They sure are milking this Leviathan mystery for all its worth. If you're anticipating a big battle between Superman and the Red Cloud based on the cover you'll be sadly disappointed. The crimson criminal only appears on two pages and she's attacking somebody else. The big surprise happens on the last page with a patented Bendis cliffhanger. The new owner of the Daily Planet will be played in the movie by Orpah Winfrey.

 Fantastic Four 4 Yancy Street #1 - Gerry Duggan (writer) Greg Smallwood, Mark Bagley, Luciano Vecchio & Pere Perez (art) Greg Smallwood & Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). This one shot was enlightening for some new details shown of Ben Grimm's youth on Yancy Street. Who knew Doc Doom was a practical joker?

 Batman Superman #1 - Joshua Williamson (writer) David Marquez (art) Alejandro Sanchez (colours) John J. Hill (letters). It's the World's Finest team versus the Batman Who Laughs. The super villain killed all the heroes and villains in his home dimension before coming to ours. He can infect anybody and turn them evil ala the Joker. It's a simple concept and Batman and Superman must find a way to stop the plague. The really bad news is that some of their allies could be infected and we find out the first one at the end of this issue. Even without the nice art by David Marquez, there's enough here to make me want to keep reading.

 Absolute Carnage Miles Morales #1 - Saladin Ahmed (writer) Federico Vicentini (art) Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). I'm only reading this 3-issue spin off because it's about Miles. Carnage is going around killing everybody who had ever been infected by his symbiote. The Scorpion was a victim and Miles just happens to be fighting the super villain when Carnage and his minions show up. This issue doesn't end well for the young hero. I want to see how Miles gets back to normal again so I'll read the rest.

 Avengers #23 - Jason Aaron (writer) Stefano Caselli (art) Jason Keith (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). In part 2 of "Challenge of the Ghost Riders" we learn what demonic being has taken possession of Avengers headquarters. Meanwhile Robby Reyes races against Johnny Blaze in hell. I'm learning more about the Ghost Riders that I ever wanted to know.

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1249

Monday, February 11, 2019

 Ottawa is bracing for another big dump of snow expected to start tomorrow. The city crews can't seem to catch a break this winter. The snow situation is made worse by the cycles of thaws and flash freezes that we've had. I hope everyone stays safe.

 Archie #702 - Nick Spencer (writer) Marguerite Sauvage (art pages 1-4) Sandy Jarrell (artist pages 5-20) Matt Herms (colours pages 5-20) Jack Morelli (letters). The mystery of Reggie's dad's disappearance deepens. Meanwhile Betty and Veronica try to figure out who Archie's new girlfriend is. I loved the art in the first 5 pages. Sandy's work in the rest of this issue wasn't so bad that it turned me off so I'm going to keep reading. I was sad to find out that Midge is a bit skeevy when it comes to dating.

 Batman #64 - Joshua Williamson (writer) Guillem March (art) Tomeu Morey (colours) Steve Wands (letters). The Price of Justice part 1 of 4. Argh! We've got a couple of cross over issues with The Flash before getting back to the Batman story already in progress. I like the teasers for Heroes in Crisis because that's a good story that Bat fans might not know about. I won't be reading the parts in Flash unless the next issue makes me feel like I'm missing important elements of the mystery. It sure was nice to see Guillem March's art again.

 X-23 #9 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Diego Olortegui (pencils) Walden Wong, JP Mayer & Scott Hanna (inks) Chris O'Halloran (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). X-Assassin part 3. The cyborg clone gets a name. Laura breaks into the facility where T.U.O.K.S. (toques) was built. I like where they're going with this new character. The double page fight scene with Laura going through the army of robots was amazing. This book is still rocking it.

 The Immortal Hulk #13 - Al Ewing (writer) Joe Bennett (pencils) Ruy Jose with Belardino Brabo & Rafael Fonteriz (inks) Paul Mounts (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). The Hulk in hell story concludes with a new relationship forged between Bruce Banner and the big green galoot. I like this development. It means we see more of Betty Ross if nothing else.

 Daredevil #1/LGY #613 - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Marco Checchetto (art) Sunny Gho (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Know Fear part 1. It's months after the 5-issue Man Without Fear mini and Daredevil is back patrolling Hell's Kitchen striking fear into the hearts of bad guys. He's a little rusty. Matt's got more to worry about than Mayor Wilson Fisk, as a new character is introduced who will certainly be a thorn in Daredevil's side. Big man Detective Cole North has just transferred from Chicago and he doesn't take any poop from nobody. The cat and mouse chase should be interesting for a while.

 Female Furies #1 - Cecil Castellucci (writer) Adriana Melo (art) Hi-Fi (colours) Carlos M. Mangual (letters). I wouldn't start The Fourth World Revolution with this 6-issue mini about Granny Goodness and her women warriors of Apokalips seeing as how bad this first issue is. I found the misogynistic behaviour of Darkseid and his lieutenants heavy handed. An obvious manipulation of readers' emotions. These women deserved better. The art was a nice tribute to Jack Kirby but that's not enough to keep me reading.

 Old Man Quill #1 - Ethan Sacks (writer) Robert Gill (art) Andres Mossa (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). This new 12-issue maxi about another aged hero had a promising start but then it lost me when the rest of the Guardians of the Galaxy showed up and they crash land on Earth. I liked Ethan's Old Man Hawkeye story but I'm not a big Starlord fan so I needed something different to get me hooked on this new story. Having an older Peter Quill lose his family (boo hoo) and then dive into a bottle to dull the pain until his old pals show up wasn't enough.

 Young Justice #2 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Patrick Gleason & Emanuela Lupacchino (art) Ray McCarthy (inks pages 9-18) Alejandro Sanchez (colours) Josh Reed (letters). It's established that the team is on Gemworld helping out Amethyst but we still need to meet each member. This time we get to know Cassie Sandsmark/Wonder Girl a little more. I can't wait to learn more about Jinny Hex and Teen Lantern.

 Conan #3 - Jason Aaron (writer) Mahmud Asrar (art) Matthew Wilson (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). The Life & Death of Conan part 3. A couple of creepy kids have captured old King Conan but this issue goes back to when Conan was a teenage thief. How is the seventeen year old Cimmerian going to get out of a death sentence after he's caught? It's actually very fortuitous, by Crom. I really love the cover by Esad Ribic.

 Avengers #14 - Jason Aaron (writer) David Marquez (art) Justin Ponsor & Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). The current Vampire War that has the team's full attention introduces a new super villain team. They're new The Legion of the Unliving lead by the Shadow Colonel. I'm curious as to why there's a mini Man-Thing on the colonel's shoulders. With the Ghost Rider on the Avengers team and Blade, the vampire killer helping out it looks like the good guys are in great shape to save humanity from the blood suckers until one of the good guys is compromised. I like T'Challa and Tony working together and the focus on each team member's fight this issue. I don't like the new dumb downed She-Hulk. I just don't see why she has to talk like a cavewoman.

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1179

Monday, September 11, 2017

 Took my brand new tackle box and assortment of lures to the lake this morning to try and catch some fish. I had a blast. I landed a bunch and missed another bunch. Having barbless hooks mean fish can escape easier and it takes more skill and patience to get them in the boat.

 Secret Empire #1 - Nick Spencer (writer) Steve McNiven (pencils) Jay Leisten (inks) Matthew Wilson (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters).

 Secret Empire #2, 3 - Nick Spencer (writer) Andrea Sorrentino with Rod Reis (art) VC's Travis Lanham (letters).

 Secret Empire #4 - Nick Spencer (writer) Leinil Francis Yu (pencils) Gerry Alanguilan (inks) Sunny Gho (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters).

 Secret Empire #5 - Nick Spencer (writer) Andrea Sorrentino with Rod Reis, Joshua Cassara & Rachelle Rosenberg (art) VC's Travis Lanham (letters).

 Secret Empire #6 - Nick Spencer (writer) Leinil Francis Yu (pencils) Gerry Alanguilan with Leinil Francis Yu (inks) Rod Reis, Joshua Cassara & Rachelle Rosenberg (additional art) Sunny Gho with Java Tartaglia (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters).

 Secret Empire #7 - Nick Spencer (writer) Andrea Sorrentino (art) Rod Reis, Joshua Cassara & Rachelle Rosenberg (additional art) VC's Travis Lanham (letters).

 Secret Empire #8 - Nick Spencer (writer) Daniel Acuna (art) Rod Reis, Sean Izaakse & Java Tartaglia (additional art) VC's Travis Lanham (letters).

 Secret Empire #9 - Nick Spencer (writer) Leinil Francis Yu with Joe Bennett (pencils) Gerry Alanguilan with Leinil Francis Yu & Joe Pimentel (inks) Rod Reis (additional art) Sunny Gho with Dono Sanchez Almara (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters).

 Secret Empire #10 - Nick Spencer (writer) Steve McNiven (pencils) Jay Leisten (inks) Matthew Wilson (colours) Rod Reis, David Marquez, Peco Medina, Juan Vlasco & Jesus Aburtov, Ron Lim (additional art) VC's Travis Lanham (letters).

 Thanks to long time customer and friend Doug Stafford for lending his copies of this Marvel event for me to read. I didn't read them as they hit the racks because I was tired of these big multi-crossover stories that ultimately don't mean much. I realised as soon as I found out that evil Captain America was created by a sentient Cosmic Cube named Kobik, who appears as a little girl, that everything would be back to "normal" at the end and I was right. I've read a lot of good versus evil stories and I needed something different to keep me engaged and there wasn't much here that did that. Yes, I read the whole thing but that's the completist in me. I cannot put aside something that I start without finishing it and so I stuck with this to find out how evil Steve was defeated. My favourite character was Ant-Man and I think I would enjoy a solo Ant-Man book written by Nick Spencer. The art in issue #1 was nice but it looked like Steve McNiven (pencils) and Jay Leisten (inks) were tired doing issue #10. The in between issues had art that varied from acceptable to hard on my eyes. This is worth reading if you like to spot Marvel heroes and villains but otherwise it's not that important in the grand scheme of things in the Marvel U.

 Champions #12 - Mark Waid (writer) Humberto Ramos (pencils) Victor Olazaba (inks) Edgar Delgado (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). This is a good old fashioned super heroes versus super villain fight as Psycho-Man pays a visit from the Microverse. He's got a simple power so there's no need to explain everything about him to new fans who have never heard of the Micronauts. What Mark does to make these stories far more interesting is how he lets us see these heroes interact as friends and team mates. I love this young heroes book.

 Jessica Jones #12 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Michael Gaydos & Javier Pulido (art) Matt Hollingsworth & Javier Pulido (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Jessica closes the case for Maria Hill and the person who put out the hit on Maria is revealed. It's not just good enough to find out who the bad guy is but Brian lets us in on why Maria was targeted and it's a really good twist. The on deck villain will make the next story arc super tense.

 Generations: Iron Man & Ironheart #1 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Marco Rudy, Szymon Kudranski & Nico Leon (pencils) Szymon Kudranski, Will Sliney, Scott Koblish & Nico Leon (inks) Marco Rudy, Dean White & Paul Mounts (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). It's Riri Williams' turn to have an adventure with her progenitor to warm up potential new fans for her comic book. There are teasers in this story that may sway fans to give the Invincible Iron Man series a try. The stable of artists used in this one shot may not appeal to some but the writing is solid.

 Dastardly & Muttley #1 - Garth Ennis (writer) Mauricet (art) John Kalisz (colours) Rob Steen (letters). The art in this new 6-issue mini is really good for this updated comic book adaptation of an old Hanna-Barbera Saturday morning cartoon show. I bet you a lot of folks will not have a clue about the two aviators and I barely twigged to the title until I started reading. I can still hear Muttley's muffled laugh in my head but here he has a voice. It's nice to see Garth's humorous side back on the racks in a book that isn't only for mature readers. If you liked the Flintstones comic book, you'll like this too.

 Kingsman: The Red Diamond #1 - Rob Williams (writer) Simon Fraser (art) Gary Caldwell (colours) Peter Doherty (letters). There's a new Kingsman movie coming out later this month and this new 6-issue mini should get you primed for it. We are introduced to Eggsy, the young British super spy and the new villain the Red Diamond. I liked the recent Nick Fury mini and this one is just as good. Pick it up for some over the top escapism.

 Star Wars: Captain Phasma #1 - Kelly Thompson (writer) Marco Checchetto (art) Andres Mossa (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). I don't get why this Storm Trooper is getting a 4-issue mini since she was only in The Force Awakens briefly. Maybe there's more to her story and they'll reveal it here before The Last Jedi hits the screens. I'm not a big fan of faceless characters, Darth Vader notwithstanding, and her chasing a traitor to the Empire isn't enough to keep me reading, but I'm sure true blue Star Wars fans will like this a lot.

 Batman #30 - Tom King (writer) Clay Mann (pencils) Seth Mann (inks) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). It's part 2 of "The Ballad of Kite Man". It's a really depressing song but it shows us how "The War of Jokes and Riddles" is going.

 Lark's Killer #2 - Bill Willingham (writer) Mark Dos Santos (art) Salvatore Aiala (colours) Thomas Mauer (letters). I don't need Bill's plea to spread the word to old Fables fans to buy his new book because I like it so much I would gladly recommend it to anyone. It's a cool mix of modern and medieval. Lark provides the modern and the land of Hyperborea is the sword and sorcery setting. Please give this a try.

 Spider-Man/Deadpool #21 - Elliott Kalan (writer) Todd Nauck (art) Rachelle Rosenberg (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). Here we go again with a Murderworld story as Spidey and Deadpool try to outsmart Arcade and not get killed. Elektra managed to beat the bad guy and I know these buddies will too. It's fun to see what kind of death traps creative teams come up with.

 Superman #30 - Keith Champagne (writer) Ed Benes, Tyler Kirkman & Philip Tan (art) Danei Ribeiro, Tomeu Morey & Sunny Gho (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). The 2-parter with Sinestro and Parallax concludes with the bad guys losing once again. This one had a nice message to it.

 Astonishing X-Men #3 - Charles Soule (writer) Ed McGuinness (pencils) Mark Morales (inks) Jason Keith (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). I liked the Wolverine evolution cover because it features prominently in this issue. The team's sojourn into the astral plane to defeat the Shadow King continues with this Old Man Logan solo adventure. I think the good guys just made a big mistake.

 Star Wars: Darth Vader #5 - Charles Soule (writer) Giuseppe Camuncoli (pencils) Cam Smith (inks) David Curiel (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). I didn't know what a Kyber crystal was until now. There's a very well done sequence that made me think that Vader's path was going to change course, but alas it was not to be. An interesting premise though.

 Spider-Man #20 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Nico Leon (art) Justin Ponsor (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). We got a new regular customer at Comet Comics who is a big Miles Morales fan and the two of us geek out over how much we love reading this title when he comes in to pick up the latest issue off the racks. That infectious joy is why I love my job. Miles makes a big life change starting this issue and lands in hot water right from the get go. This book is never boring.

[allthingsblood]

I need more of Father Clay in my life

Fire and Brimstone

Priest!Clayton Spencer AU (@rottent33th 's OC)

Summary: Father Clayton has only been with your church for a few months now, and yet he has already made you a filthy sinner and sent your soul straight to hell.

Warnings: fem reader, religious imagery, fem masturbation, fingering, sexual intercourse

4.8k words

You were sitting in the pews closest to the back of the church. You had planned to come in a few moments later than your family so you could get away with sitting elsewhere. After the embarrassment of last Sunday's sermon where you became a fidgety and distracted mess much to your family's annoyance, you wanted to sit alone. It wasn't your fault though. No, it was the new priest who had rolled his way through town and quickly landed a spot in your church; Father Clayton Spencer.

You were quite shocked to see someone so young and so handsome take up the recently vacant position in your church. When you picture a man of god standing before you at the altar, he was the last thing you expected. He was quite well built for being a preacher. Bulky, with wide shoulders and a muscular frame. If you saw him on the streets you would have guessed his profession would have been anything else. A weight trainer or a fighter, but not a holy man like you saw him every day. Freckles littered his pale face, surrounding his captivating hazel eyes and exhibiting his charming smile. His hair was a long, fiery red, which when down almost reached his waist. It was pin straight and seemed to always shine in the bright sunlight that would shine through the large church windows. It was a color and length that was both uncommon in town and in the church. The long locks were always neatly tied back or tucked tightly behind his ears.

You had often heard some of the older women gushing about him in hushed whispers around town. Before service began last week you heard your neighbor, a married woman in her 40’s, talking to one of the other women. She mentioned how she had been walking by his home one morning and saw him at work in his garage. She went on about how his large hands moved gracefully as he demonstrated his woodworking talent and that the piece he was making was almost as beautiful as he was…and that his shirt seemed a little bit too tight. For the rest of that day you couldn't help but imagine the way his hands might have looked as they worked. The muscles in his back through his tight shirt or the way his fingers curved. The fantastical image alone was enough to make your mind wander for days to come.

You caught your mind drifting as you observed him at the altar and quickly brought yourself back. You couldn't help the way your thighs squeezed together whenever he spoke. His voice was deep and erotic with a hint of a southern drawl that would make any woman quiver in their skirts. The passion for religion and leading was evident in his voice, which did no favors for the aching in your loins.

As the sermon went on you listened intently. You were hung on every word falling from Father Claytons lips. Not because you believed it, but because it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. The only heavenly thing you cared about was his voice, and you wondered what it sounded like when he said other things too. Other not very holy things. As your mind drifted once again as it often did, your eyes were still hung on him. He cracked a wide smile. You felt your heart skip at the pretty sight. The smile was followed by a laugh. A deep euphonious sound that echoed across the holy ground of the church. Your body writhed in the wooden pews, the sexual frustration was becoming too much. It was hard to sit still.

The feeling of your now soaked panties rubbing against you in the most pleasurable ways caused you to jolt. You couldn't help but grow hot at the feeling inside you. The last place you should be feeling sexual pleasure is in church, let alone in church during a sermon! You squeezed your thighs together and shuffled as you tried to bring forth the same pleasure from seconds ago, and hopefully more. But it wasn't working. You just couldn't seem to rub that same spot again. You wished so strongly to be back in your bed, sprawled out and rubbing yourself to completion at the thought of the oh so handsome, young priest.

A nervous shake took over your hands as you looked around at everyone else in the room. They were all in front of you since you were sitting the farthest back and seemingly at angles where they wouldn't be able to see past the pews in front of you. You slowly pulled the hem of your skirt up to your hips, exposing the wet penties underneath. The inside of the church was warm but the chill that ran through you was ice cold as well as an extreme rush of adrenaline.

Your fingers slowly moved up to rub the spot over your panties, testing the waters for your indecent act. If you weren't going to hell before, you definitely were now. Fingers ran up and down the crevice in the fabric, causing the arousal underneath to seep through the cotton. Your bottom lip trembled in a mixture of nervousness and pleasure. You slowly and carefully ducked your fingers underneath the wet material. The pads of your fingers coming in contact with your irreverent slick. You glanced down at your thighs as your fingers softly rubbed at your clit. You bit your lip in an effort to contain the rising moan from deep in your throat. Your eyes flicked back up only to be met with the hazel eyes of your preacher man.

Father Clayton's eyes almost blew wide, but he stopped himself before people would have taken notice of his reaction. His handsome face turned a pretty shade of red in embarrassment. His adam's apple bulged as he tried to compose himself, almost tripping over his words. He was shocked when you looked up at him with a glazed over look in your eyes. Bottom lip tucked between your teeth and a timid blush creeping across your cheeks. What Clayton saw was a look of pleasure and it was written all over your face.

Your face ran hot as you made eye contact with Father Clayton. The look in his eyes let you know that you had been caught. Your hands immediately retracted from your aching pussy to grip onto the pew below you. Your wet fingertips left the wood damp as you white knuckled the seat in embarrassment, afraid that too loose of a grip would cause you to slip away. Although that probably would have been for the best at that moment. Even though he was no longer looking at you, the feeling of still being watched was prevalent in your gut. A look around showed that no one was looking at you, but the feeling still lingered. It felt as though God himself was staring down at you with disgust and disappointment. You could never be granted absolution in His eyes for as long as you lived. Your soul now tainted like the now damp wood beneath you where you sat.

Father Claytons bellowing voice caused your stomach to drop for a moment before you realized he was concluding the weekly sermon. You were relieved that service was wrapping up and you could run away and hide without causing a scene. You quickly started adjusting your panties and your skirt as the sound of echoed footsteps and voices bounced around the church walls as people started to make their leave. You quickly started to make your way toward the large oak doors, hoping to make your way outside. Being inside the church was starting to feel small and claustrophobic. A firm hand grabbed your shoulder, causing you to spin around. Your eyes were met with those of Father Clayton as he towered over you, a confused yet far off look in his eye. Your already quick heartbeat seemed to get even faster. Being so close to him and having him look into your eyes made you feel like you were seconds away from hitting the floor.

Your name being called diverted your attention. A quick look in the direction of the voice and you locked eyes with your mother, smiling as she made her way through the crowd of people leaving the church. “Please take me away.” Your thoughts pleaded. “My heart can't take anymore embarrassment today.”

She greeted you before turning to Father Clayton, grabbing his hands and squeezing them before letting go. A wave of unexpected irritability moved through you at the sight.

“Oh Father! What a lovely service as always!” She gushed. “We're all so glad to see you settling into our church so well.”

He bowed his head slightly with a sweet yet flustered grin. “Thank you ma’am, that's very kind of you.”

Your mother smiled down at you as she gave your arm a small nudge.

“You didn't sit with us, we weren’t sure if you showed up!” You nervously chuckled, eyes darting between Father Clayton and your mother.

“Sorry, I was running late so I just sat in the back so I wouldn't interrupt.” You lied. A quick glance at Clayton and the look he was sporting showed that he knew that as well.

“Are you still planning on getting breakfast with us at the diner?” She asked.

Before you could speak, another voice cut off your words.

"Actually, they have graciously offered to assist me after the service." Father Clayton smiled innocently at your mother, before turning to you with a smile that held something different than the last. You tried your best to hide your confusion. You never agreed to that, and he never asked. It took you a moment to realize that your preacher just lied to your mother to keep you longer. She raised her eyebrow in curiosity.

"Is that so? Well that's awfully kind of you!" Her voice was shrill as she reveled in your “kind gesture”.

"Well don't forget you're coming over for Sunday dinner, we'll see you tonight." Your mother adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and kissed your head before saying her goodbyes to Father Clayton. Making her way out the church doors to meet up with the rest of your family while you stood next to him, awkwardly shifting around on your heels.

You watched him intently as he said his goodbyes to the others who attended his service. Your mind couldn't help but race as you waited. Did he really know what you were doing during his service? And if he did, what would he say? What will he do?

Once everyone had cleared out and the church doors finally closed, Father Clayton let out a jagged breath. He looked down at you with a straight face before he motioned for you to follow him. The walk through the church and to his office felt both too long and not long enough. The door to his office let out a loud creak as the hinges bent with the motion.

“Have a seat.” He said as he pointed towards a wooden chair sitting opposite of an old desk, which you assumed was his. You nervously sat down in the chair while Clayton sat in the big office chair behind the desk.

The air was heavy with tension and embarrassment as the two of you sat in silence. Father Claytons eyes bore holes in you, yours in your church shoes. You wiggled your toes in an attempt to distract yourself from your harshly beating heart.

"Well?" He broke the silence. "Care to explain yourself?" His words hung heavy in your ears.

The sound of his voice did nothing but make you blush harder and make your heart beat more vigorously to the point where your chest began to ache. You stayed silent, finger fiddling with the material of your skirt. "There's nothing I could say to him to make this any better." You thought to yourself. Your eyes flickered up to him for a short moment before casting themselves back down to the floor. He sighed before standing and making his way around the desk.

Father Clayton crouched next to your knees, in an attempt to make eye contact with you.

“We aint leavin’ here until you tell me.” His voice whispered, it felt heavy in the surrounding air.

You shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair. His eyes on you made you flush, but the closeness of him on his knees in front of your naked legs was an even more intense feeling. Your hips swiveled as you tried to situate yourself more comfortably, legs shifting. The holy man before you unknowingly let his eyes drift, making their way to the area between your legs and getting a view of the damp panties under your skirt. His face ran hot when he soaked in the sight of you. He immediately rose to his feet and shuffled back to his desk. He stood with his broad back facing you as he laid his palms flat against the wood and hung his head. Wisps of soft orange hair fell over his eyes. A chorus of curses floated through his mind as he tried to silence them. The loudest being the image of your dripping cunt mere inches from his face. His mind was racing, the internal struggle inside of him was incredible. On one side was his faith, what he fought to be since he was a young boy back in Killmor. All his days as a young man studying his religion. Since he was old enough to read the bible on his own, Clayton lived and breathed Catholicism, priesthood called his name like a beckoning choir. He felt like it was what he was made for. But something else beckoned him as well. The pretty church girl who attended every service and hung on every word he spoke.

Clayton turned around to face you, leaning back against his desk. His toned arms crossed in thought as he studied you. Regardless of how conflicted he felt, he knew he felt a certain way about you. Certain that he wanted you, even if it was something he shouldn't dare admit. From the stolen glances every week and the blatant sin you committed in church today, it was obvious how you felt about him. He wanted to test the waters and see where he could take you, and where he could take himself.

"Rise." He uncrossed his arms for a moment, his long fingers making an upward motion. Your body seemed to blindly follow his orders. Not even fully realizing what he had said before you were already on your feet.

“Do you take me for a fool, little one? Cause rest assured, I am most definitely not." His words spewed confidence, but deep down, his nerves were snapping against his freckled skin like rubber bands.

He leaned up off his desk and took a nervous step toward you. He couldnt help but think you looked so small and meek as he gazed down at you. His figure shadowed you. His large hands reached out to rest on your upper arms, softly rubbing up and down them. You froze at the contact, the feeling of tightness that had been building up inside you all day just felt tighter. His own body ran hot at the feeling of your warm, soft flesh under his palms.

"If- If I read the signs wrong.." Clay stuttered out. "Jus' tell me to stop and I will. Okay, sweetheart?" For the first time since he spoke to you, your eyes flickered up to meet his. Clay felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he made eye contact with you. You were so much more pretty close up. The colors in your eyes were hypnotizing to the young priest. Your hands rose to grasp at his forearms. You could feel the muscles under your hands.

"I dont want you to stop." You spoke, your voice low and sweet. Clay nodded slightly, trying to hold back a smile. He hesitantly leaned down towards your lips, his body stuttering as every holy cell in his body screamed at him to stop. But in that moment, he felt like no more than a man. A mere man who deeply wanted the person that was in his arms.

His lips finally made contact with yours and he felt the intense breath that you both fought to suck into your lungs. His lips slowly pressed against yours and pulled away, the loss of contact felt deeply upsetting to him. Without even thinking his lips moved back against yours with an almost inaudible moan. Your sinful hands dropped to grope at his torso through his holy robes as his moved upward to cup your face. His large hands held you in place as his lips moved faster and carnally against yours. He spun you around and Clayton backed you up, the backs of your thighs hitting the solid oak of his desk. The fire of arousal in the pit of your stomach only grew in intensity once you felt the growing heat of his kiss.

"Father Clayton.." you exhaled heavily with a low moan. His hips bucked against you of their own volition, a low grunt clawing its way through gritted teeth. He didn't know why the sound of his religious title slipping past your sweet lips lit a fire inside him. Possibly because of the many unholy thoughts that swam through his mind as you said it. He knew that what he was doing was wrong, that he could be exiled from the church and shunned if anyone else were to find out. But he couldn't hold back any longer. He couldn't force himself to sit through another sunday service with your eyes watching his every move and not knowing what the flesh of your hips felt like under his hands.

What your soft lips moving against his felt like.

What the heavenly softness between your legs felt like wrapped tightly around him.

He effortlessly snaked his arms around you and lifted you off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his wide waist, your skirt falling up your thighs. His large hands squeezed you as he set you down on top of his desk. His palms were rough as they trailed over you, kneading and squeezing every inch of skin he could get his hands on.

Clayton reached around you to shove the many papers, folders, and pens that littered his desk to the floor below. His beloved bible found its new home on the hardwood floor where it fell open, bending and creasing its thin and previously pristine pages. Your fingers moved quickly as each button of your shirt popped open, hands shaking with need. Clay helped you slip the shirt off your arms before tossing it over the back of the chair you previously sat in. You broke the kiss to adjust your position before easing yourself backwards. The chill of wood against your back contrasted heavily with the pools of heat that littered your body. Your eyes softly shut as his large hands traveled up the outer expanse of your thighs as they wrapped around him. Once his hands reached your hips he gave them a soft squeeze, gently rubbing circles into the flesh underneath him. You let out a sweet hum as a delicate smile took over your lips. He preached about God's heavenly angels weekly during his sermons, but he never imagined he would have one as soft as you under his fingertips.

His hands slowly trailed downwards, all the way to the outside of your thighs. He began kneading the soft flesh, moving his hands inward as he went. His fingers softly trailed up to the spot between your open thighs. His thumb rubbed deep circles over the wet spot on your panties. His eyes trailed up your body as your back arched in pleasure from the small contact. He continued to rub you while you writhed on his desk, soft moans slipping out from between your lips.

He hooked his long fingers through your panties as he tugged on them. Pulling the damp fabric off of you and moving them around your ankles. You wiggled your feet as they dropped to the floor. Your thighs slowly parted and a shiver ran up your spine as your wet cunt was now fully exposed to Father Clayton. His breath caught in his throat as drank in the sight of you.

"Fuck," He cursed. His curious fingers swiped up and down through your wet folds. "So fuckin' pretty."

Without warning he plunged two long fingers almost fully inside of you. You squeaked at the sudden intrusion, rolling your hips as a signal for him to move his hand. He slowly pulled his fingers out, leaving only his fingertips in before sliding them back inside, fully this time. He pumped his fingers slowly, picking up speed the closer you seemed to get. Your high was approaching, and it was approaching fast. The sexual frustration that had built up during today's service heightened the pleasure you were experiencing tenfold. The fact that you were finally getting the relief you needed mixed with it was at the hands of the preacher man you had fantasized about lit the hottest fire in your core.

Clay pressed his large palm against your lower stomach, fingers splayed out, as the fingers on his other hand were still working inside you. His fingertips pressing into the soft flesh of your stomach. They pumped and curled as the pressure from his other hand made the bubbling inside you begin to reach its peak. Your hands reached out for his as you whined. Fingers wrapped around his wrist as your orgasm finally took over, causing you to writhe and shake under his touch. His hand on top of you that was intensifying the pleasure was now pressing harder to hold you down as you wiggled on his desk. The added pressure doing nothing but making you feel even tighter inside and a shrill moan being pushed out of you.

Clay withdrew his fingers as you started coming down. His hands, now damp with your slick, tugged at his robes. Your cum seeping deep into the holy fabric. He quickly started undressing himself, tossing the holy garments in a crumpled pile on the floor. Much like his sacred vows, they were thrown aside.

Now left in only his boxers, you could see what the other women were talking about. His broad shoulders and toned body were on full display for you. He looked so much bigger than he did under his robes. The loose fabric hid his muscles well. Your ego soared at the thought of you of all people being about to take Father Clayton to bed, metaphorically speaking. You hoped that maybe there would be other times where you would indeed have him in his bed, or him in yours.

His cock strained itself in his boxers. The obviously large appendage created a tent in the fabric, a damp spot soaking itself through.

His strong arms hooked themselves around your thighs tightly and pulled you closer to the edge of his desk. Your legs hooked around his waist as he pulled down his boxers enough for his now fully hard cock to stand tall on display for you. You couldn't help but let out a soft moan at the sight as he slowly gave his dick a few lazy pumps as he looked down at you. He gripped his cock just above the base and ran his head through your wet folds. You couldnt help but let out small whimpers whenever he ran over your clit. The veins that ran through his hands and up his arms pulsed as he let out heavy breaths.

His movements stopped, holding the head of his dick right at your entrance. You were so wet that he could easily slide himself inside you with one ill move. His hazel eyes looked into yours as if silently asking for permission. This was your last moment to turn back now and tell him no, he prayed you still wanted him. You subtly adjusted your position with your bottom lip tucked behind your teeth and a small nod. Clay slowly slid the fat head of his cock between your folds and inside of you. He held his breath as he slowly inched himself inside you. The weight of his dick inside you, stretching you wide was like no other youve ever experienced. It was a shame that a man as well endowed as Father Clayton would be sworn to a life of celibacy. But it seemed like it didnt matter to him now, as his vow to never experience earthly sexual pleasure was snuffed out like a candle.

Once he was fully inside of you, a moan escaped you as his thumb slowly rubbed at your clit.

"Darlin', open up f'me." His hips moved slightly, giving you a miniscule thrust. "Thats it, c'mon." His thumb continued to move as his thrusts slowly became bigger. He gazed down at your moaning, writhing form with a sexual intensity. His eyes hung heavy as his thrusts became faster, leaving only the head inside you each time he pulled back.

"This what you wanted, sweetheart?" His drawl was thick with pleasure. "Is this what you were thinkin' about as you played with yerself before a man of God?" His thrusts continued. His words were enough to make you moan. His voice sends sweet arousal through your body. You nodded in response.

Clayton leaned forward, driving himself deeper inside of you. You let out a shrill moan as he hit that pretty spot inside you. One hand pressed firmly into the desk by your shoulder as the other held onto your waist. A smirk crossed his lips as his thrusts increased in their speed. The desk below you creaked harshly under the weight of your sweaty bodies and the velocity of his thrusts. You could feel yourself dripping onto the beautiful oak beneath you like viscous holy water. Your legs squeezed tighter around him as his cock continued to hit that spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

"Father Clayton!" You were surprised the words actually came out coherently. "Im so close! Please!"

"Sweetheart, Im gonna bring you closer t'God." He said through heavy breaths. "Im gonna make you feel so good."

Your pussy squeezed around him in reaction to his words.

"Fuck!" He cursed, his thrusts getting faster. "So fuckin' good!" His head hung low as he started getting lost in you. Long strands of ginger hair hung over your chest. He was getting close, that much was obvious, as were you. His moans getting swallowed by his heavy breathing. His hand on your waist moved back down to your clit and started rubbing messy circles into the sweet bud. Your back arched with the contact and your arms wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips ghosted yours as your moans mingled together. Clay grit his white teeth as he tried to hold back his orgasm, needing you to let go first. He was having a hard time as you began spasming around him. Moaning beautifully as you soaked his thick cock.

Right as your orgasm concluded, Clay pulled himself out, not being able to wait any longer. He rubbed his shaft through your wet lips as he loudly grunted. He stared down at his cock as thick ropes of cum coated your stomach. His hips jerked along you as he emptied himself all over your soft skin.

Your arms dropped to your sides from around his neck as your felt yourself sinking into the desk. Clays hand ran up your side, his thumb dragging itself through his cum and trailing up your torso.

"Darlin', this needs to be our little secret, okay?" His eyes pleaded with yours. "No one can know the sins we've just committed." His tongue darted out of his mouth to lick at his bottom lip. You tiredly nodded to him. He shook his head. "No.. say it." His voice was soft yet demanding in tone. You studied the flecks of brown and green in his eyes as your hands moved upwards to cup his cheeks, tenderly rubbing the stubbled flesh with your thumbs.

"I promise, Father."

☾ notes: after a long time coming, i present to you *drumroll* Father Clay smut!

☾ tag list: @rottent33th, @damien-mlm, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @the-pinstriped-hood, @allthingsblood, @25bohemianmoons, @devil-doll13

[the-pinstriped-hood]

Holy Mary mother of Jesus Christ, I'm goin' to hell!!!

I'm dead now, Slaasher. Thank you for blessing us with this sinful fic!!!!

Fire and Brimstone

Priest!Clayton Spencer AU (@rottent33th 's OC)

Summary: Father Clayton has only been with your church for a few months now, and yet he has already made you a filthy sinner and sent your soul straight to hell.

Warnings: fem reader, religious imagery, fem masturbation, fingering, sexual intercourse

4.8k words

You were sitting in the pews closest to the back of the church. You had planned to come in a few moments later than your family so you could get away with sitting elsewhere. After the embarrassment of last Sunday's sermon where you became a fidgety and distracted mess much to your family's annoyance, you wanted to sit alone. It wasn't your fault though. No, it was the new priest who had rolled his way through town and quickly landed a spot in your church; Father Clayton Spencer.

You were quite shocked to see someone so young and so handsome take up the recently vacant position in your church. When you picture a man of god standing before you at the altar, he was the last thing you expected. He was quite well built for being a preacher. Bulky, with wide shoulders and a muscular frame. If you saw him on the streets you would have guessed his profession would have been anything else. A weight trainer or a fighter, but not a holy man like you saw him every day. Freckles littered his pale face, surrounding his captivating hazel eyes and exhibiting his charming smile. His hair was a long, fiery red, which when down almost reached his waist. It was pin straight and seemed to always shine in the bright sunlight that would shine through the large church windows. It was a color and length that was both uncommon in town and in the church. The long locks were always neatly tied back or tucked tightly behind his ears.

You had often heard some of the older women gushing about him in hushed whispers around town. Before service began last week you heard your neighbor, a married woman in her 40’s, talking to one of the other women. She mentioned how she had been walking by his home one morning and saw him at work in his garage. She went on about how his large hands moved gracefully as he demonstrated his woodworking talent and that the piece he was making was almost as beautiful as he was…and that his shirt seemed a little bit too tight. For the rest of that day you couldn't help but imagine the way his hands might have looked as they worked. The muscles in his back through his tight shirt or the way his fingers curved. The fantastical image alone was enough to make your mind wander for days to come.

You caught your mind drifting as you observed him at the altar and quickly brought yourself back. You couldn't help the way your thighs squeezed together whenever he spoke. His voice was deep and erotic with a hint of a southern drawl that would make any woman quiver in their skirts. The passion for religion and leading was evident in his voice, which did no favors for the aching in your loins.

As the sermon went on you listened intently. You were hung on every word falling from Father Claytons lips. Not because you believed it, but because it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. The only heavenly thing you cared about was his voice, and you wondered what it sounded like when he said other things too. Other not very holy things. As your mind drifted once again as it often did, your eyes were still hung on him. He cracked a wide smile. You felt your heart skip at the pretty sight. The smile was followed by a laugh. A deep euphonious sound that echoed across the holy ground of the church. Your body writhed in the wooden pews, the sexual frustration was becoming too much. It was hard to sit still.

The feeling of your now soaked panties rubbing against you in the most pleasurable ways caused you to jolt. You couldn't help but grow hot at the feeling inside you. The last place you should be feeling sexual pleasure is in church, let alone in church during a sermon! You squeezed your thighs together and shuffled as you tried to bring forth the same pleasure from seconds ago, and hopefully more. But it wasn't working. You just couldn't seem to rub that same spot again. You wished so strongly to be back in your bed, sprawled out and rubbing yourself to completion at the thought of the oh so handsome, young priest.

A nervous shake took over your hands as you looked around at everyone else in the room. They were all in front of you since you were sitting the farthest back and seemingly at angles where they wouldn't be able to see past the pews in front of you. You slowly pulled the hem of your skirt up to your hips, exposing the wet penties underneath. The inside of the church was warm but the chill that ran through you was ice cold as well as an extreme rush of adrenaline.

Your fingers slowly moved up to rub the spot over your panties, testing the waters for your indecent act. If you weren't going to hell before, you definitely were now. Fingers ran up and down the crevice in the fabric, causing the arousal underneath to seep through the cotton. Your bottom lip trembled in a mixture of nervousness and pleasure. You slowly and carefully ducked your fingers underneath the wet material. The pads of your fingers coming in contact with your irreverent slick. You glanced down at your thighs as your fingers softly rubbed at your clit. You bit your lip in an effort to contain the rising moan from deep in your throat. Your eyes flicked back up only to be met with the hazel eyes of your preacher man.

Father Clayton's eyes almost blew wide, but he stopped himself before people would have taken notice of his reaction. His handsome face turned a pretty shade of red in embarrassment. His adam's apple bulged as he tried to compose himself, almost tripping over his words. He was shocked when you looked up at him with a glazed over look in your eyes. Bottom lip tucked between your teeth and a timid blush creeping across your cheeks. What Clayton saw was a look of pleasure and it was written all over your face.

Your face ran hot as you made eye contact with Father Clayton. The look in his eyes let you know that you had been caught. Your hands immediately retracted from your aching pussy to grip onto the pew below you. Your wet fingertips left the wood damp as you white knuckled the seat in embarrassment, afraid that too loose of a grip would cause you to slip away. Although that probably would have been for the best at that moment. Even though he was no longer looking at you, the feeling of still being watched was prevalent in your gut. A look around showed that no one was looking at you, but the feeling still lingered. It felt as though God himself was staring down at you with disgust and disappointment. You could never be granted absolution in His eyes for as long as you lived. Your soul now tainted like the now damp wood beneath you where you sat.

Father Claytons bellowing voice caused your stomach to drop for a moment before you realized he was concluding the weekly sermon. You were relieved that service was wrapping up and you could run away and hide without causing a scene. You quickly started adjusting your panties and your skirt as the sound of echoed footsteps and voices bounced around the church walls as people started to make their leave. You quickly started to make your way toward the large oak doors, hoping to make your way outside. Being inside the church was starting to feel small and claustrophobic. A firm hand grabbed your shoulder, causing you to spin around. Your eyes were met with those of Father Clayton as he towered over you, a confused yet far off look in his eye. Your already quick heartbeat seemed to get even faster. Being so close to him and having him look into your eyes made you feel like you were seconds away from hitting the floor.

Your name being called diverted your attention. A quick look in the direction of the voice and you locked eyes with your mother, smiling as she made her way through the crowd of people leaving the church. “Please take me away.” Your thoughts pleaded. “My heart can't take anymore embarrassment today.”

She greeted you before turning to Father Clayton, grabbing his hands and squeezing them before letting go. A wave of unexpected irritability moved through you at the sight.

“Oh Father! What a lovely service as always!” She gushed. “We're all so glad to see you settling into our church so well.”

He bowed his head slightly with a sweet yet flustered grin. “Thank you ma’am, that's very kind of you.”

Your mother smiled down at you as she gave your arm a small nudge.

“You didn't sit with us, we weren’t sure if you showed up!” You nervously chuckled, eyes darting between Father Clayton and your mother.

“Sorry, I was running late so I just sat in the back so I wouldn't interrupt.” You lied. A quick glance at Clayton and the look he was sporting showed that he knew that as well.

“Are you still planning on getting breakfast with us at the diner?” She asked.

Before you could speak, another voice cut off your words.

"Actually, they have graciously offered to assist me after the service." Father Clayton smiled innocently at your mother, before turning to you with a smile that held something different than the last. You tried your best to hide your confusion. You never agreed to that, and he never asked. It took you a moment to realize that your preacher just lied to your mother to keep you longer. She raised her eyebrow in curiosity.

"Is that so? Well that's awfully kind of you!" Her voice was shrill as she reveled in your “kind gesture”.

"Well don't forget you're coming over for Sunday dinner, we'll see you tonight." Your mother adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and kissed your head before saying her goodbyes to Father Clayton. Making her way out the church doors to meet up with the rest of your family while you stood next to him, awkwardly shifting around on your heels.

You watched him intently as he said his goodbyes to the others who attended his service. Your mind couldn't help but race as you waited. Did he really know what you were doing during his service? And if he did, what would he say? What will he do?

Once everyone had cleared out and the church doors finally closed, Father Clayton let out a jagged breath. He looked down at you with a straight face before he motioned for you to follow him. The walk through the church and to his office felt both too long and not long enough. The door to his office let out a loud creak as the hinges bent with the motion.

“Have a seat.” He said as he pointed towards a wooden chair sitting opposite of an old desk, which you assumed was his. You nervously sat down in the chair while Clayton sat in the big office chair behind the desk.

The air was heavy with tension and embarrassment as the two of you sat in silence. Father Claytons eyes bore holes in you, yours in your church shoes. You wiggled your toes in an attempt to distract yourself from your harshly beating heart.

"Well?" He broke the silence. "Care to explain yourself?" His words hung heavy in your ears.

The sound of his voice did nothing but make you blush harder and make your heart beat more vigorously to the point where your chest began to ache. You stayed silent, finger fiddling with the material of your skirt. "There's nothing I could say to him to make this any better." You thought to yourself. Your eyes flickered up to him for a short moment before casting themselves back down to the floor. He sighed before standing and making his way around the desk.

Father Clayton crouched next to your knees, in an attempt to make eye contact with you.

“We aint leavin’ here until you tell me.” His voice whispered, it felt heavy in the surrounding air.

You shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair. His eyes on you made you flush, but the closeness of him on his knees in front of your naked legs was an even more intense feeling. Your hips swiveled as you tried to situate yourself more comfortably, legs shifting. The holy man before you unknowingly let his eyes drift, making their way to the area between your legs and getting a view of the damp panties under your skirt. His face ran hot when he soaked in the sight of you. He immediately rose to his feet and shuffled back to his desk. He stood with his broad back facing you as he laid his palms flat against the wood and hung his head. Wisps of soft orange hair fell over his eyes. A chorus of curses floated through his mind as he tried to silence them. The loudest being the image of your dripping cunt mere inches from his face. His mind was racing, the internal struggle inside of him was incredible. On one side was his faith, what he fought to be since he was a young boy back in Killmor. All his days as a young man studying his religion. Since he was old enough to read the bible on his own, Clayton lived and breathed Catholicism, priesthood called his name like a beckoning choir. He felt like it was what he was made for. But something else beckoned him as well. The pretty church girl who attended every service and hung on every word he spoke.

Clayton turned around to face you, leaning back against his desk. His toned arms crossed in thought as he studied you. Regardless of how conflicted he felt, he knew he felt a certain way about you. Certain that he wanted you, even if it was something he shouldn't dare admit. From the stolen glances every week and the blatant sin you committed in church today, it was obvious how you felt about him. He wanted to test the waters and see where he could take you, and where he could take himself.

"Rise." He uncrossed his arms for a moment, his long fingers making an upward motion. Your body seemed to blindly follow his orders. Not even fully realizing what he had said before you were already on your feet.

“Do you take me for a fool, little one? Cause rest assured, I am most definitely not." His words spewed confidence, but deep down, his nerves were snapping against his freckled skin like rubber bands.

He leaned up off his desk and took a nervous step toward you. He couldnt help but think you looked so small and meek as he gazed down at you. His figure shadowed you. His large hands reached out to rest on your upper arms, softly rubbing up and down them. You froze at the contact, the feeling of tightness that had been building up inside you all day just felt tighter. His own body ran hot at the feeling of your warm, soft flesh under his palms.

"If- If I read the signs wrong.." Clay stuttered out. "Jus' tell me to stop and I will. Okay, sweetheart?" For the first time since he spoke to you, your eyes flickered up to meet his. Clay felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he made eye contact with you. You were so much more pretty close up. The colors in your eyes were hypnotizing to the young priest. Your hands rose to grasp at his forearms. You could feel the muscles under your hands.

"I dont want you to stop." You spoke, your voice low and sweet. Clay nodded slightly, trying to hold back a smile. He hesitantly leaned down towards your lips, his body stuttering as every holy cell in his body screamed at him to stop. But in that moment, he felt like no more than a man. A mere man who deeply wanted the person that was in his arms.

His lips finally made contact with yours and he felt the intense breath that you both fought to suck into your lungs. His lips slowly pressed against yours and pulled away, the loss of contact felt deeply upsetting to him. Without even thinking his lips moved back against yours with an almost inaudible moan. Your sinful hands dropped to grope at his torso through his holy robes as his moved upward to cup your face. His large hands held you in place as his lips moved faster and carnally against yours. He spun you around and Clayton backed you up, the backs of your thighs hitting the solid oak of his desk. The fire of arousal in the pit of your stomach only grew in intensity once you felt the growing heat of his kiss.

"Father Clayton.." you exhaled heavily with a low moan. His hips bucked against you of their own volition, a low grunt clawing its way through gritted teeth. He didn't know why the sound of his religious title slipping past your sweet lips lit a fire inside him. Possibly because of the many unholy thoughts that swam through his mind as you said it. He knew that what he was doing was wrong, that he could be exiled from the church and shunned if anyone else were to find out. But he couldn't hold back any longer. He couldn't force himself to sit through another sunday service with your eyes watching his every move and not knowing what the flesh of your hips felt like under his hands.

What your soft lips moving against his felt like.

What the heavenly softness between your legs felt like wrapped tightly around him.

He effortlessly snaked his arms around you and lifted you off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his wide waist, your skirt falling up your thighs. His large hands squeezed you as he set you down on top of his desk. His palms were rough as they trailed over you, kneading and squeezing every inch of skin he could get his hands on.

Clayton reached around you to shove the many papers, folders, and pens that littered his desk to the floor below. His beloved bible found its new home on the hardwood floor where it fell open, bending and creasing its thin and previously pristine pages. Your fingers moved quickly as each button of your shirt popped open, hands shaking with need. Clay helped you slip the shirt off your arms before tossing it over the back of the chair you previously sat in. You broke the kiss to adjust your position before easing yourself backwards. The chill of wood against your back contrasted heavily with the pools of heat that littered your body. Your eyes softly shut as his large hands traveled up the outer expanse of your thighs as they wrapped around him. Once his hands reached your hips he gave them a soft squeeze, gently rubbing circles into the flesh underneath him. You let out a sweet hum as a delicate smile took over your lips. He preached about God's heavenly angels weekly during his sermons, but he never imagined he would have one as soft as you under his fingertips.

His hands slowly trailed downwards, all the way to the outside of your thighs. He began kneading the soft flesh, moving his hands inward as he went. His fingers softly trailed up to the spot between your open thighs. His thumb rubbed deep circles over the wet spot on your panties. His eyes trailed up your body as your back arched in pleasure from the small contact. He continued to rub you while you writhed on his desk, soft moans slipping out from between your lips.

He hooked his long fingers through your panties as he tugged on them. Pulling the damp fabric off of you and moving them around your ankles. You wiggled your feet as they dropped to the floor. Your thighs slowly parted and a shiver ran up your spine as your wet cunt was now fully exposed to Father Clayton. His breath caught in his throat as drank in the sight of you.

"Fuck," He cursed. His curious fingers swiped up and down through your wet folds. "So fuckin' pretty."

Without warning he plunged two long fingers almost fully inside of you. You squeaked at the sudden intrusion, rolling your hips as a signal for him to move his hand. He slowly pulled his fingers out, leaving only his fingertips in before sliding them back inside, fully this time. He pumped his fingers slowly, picking up speed the closer you seemed to get. Your high was approaching, and it was approaching fast. The sexual frustration that had built up during today's service heightened the pleasure you were experiencing tenfold. The fact that you were finally getting the relief you needed mixed with it was at the hands of the preacher man you had fantasized about lit the hottest fire in your core.

Clay pressed his large palm against your lower stomach, fingers splayed out, as the fingers on his other hand were still working inside you. His fingertips pressing into the soft flesh of your stomach. They pumped and curled as the pressure from his other hand made the bubbling inside you begin to reach its peak. Your hands reached out for his as you whined. Fingers wrapped around his wrist as your orgasm finally took over, causing you to writhe and shake under his touch. His hand on top of you that was intensifying the pleasure was now pressing harder to hold you down as you wiggled on his desk. The added pressure doing nothing but making you feel even tighter inside and a shrill moan being pushed out of you.

Clay withdrew his fingers as you started coming down. His hands, now damp with your slick, tugged at his robes. Your cum seeping deep into the holy fabric. He quickly started undressing himself, tossing the holy garments in a crumpled pile on the floor. Much like his sacred vows, they were thrown aside.

Now left in only his boxers, you could see what the other women were talking about. His broad shoulders and toned body were on full display for you. He looked so much bigger than he did under his robes. The loose fabric hid his muscles well. Your ego soared at the thought of you of all people being about to take Father Clayton to bed, metaphorically speaking. You hoped that maybe there would be other times where you would indeed have him in his bed, or him in yours.

His cock strained itself in his boxers. The obviously large appendage created a tent in the fabric, a damp spot soaking itself through.

His strong arms hooked themselves around your thighs tightly and pulled you closer to the edge of his desk. Your legs hooked around his waist as he pulled down his boxers enough for his now fully hard cock to stand tall on display for you. You couldn't help but let out a soft moan at the sight as he slowly gave his dick a few lazy pumps as he looked down at you. He gripped his cock just above the base and ran his head through your wet folds. You couldnt help but let out small whimpers whenever he ran over your clit. The veins that ran through his hands and up his arms pulsed as he let out heavy breaths.

His movements stopped, holding the head of his dick right at your entrance. You were so wet that he could easily slide himself inside you with one ill move. His hazel eyes looked into yours as if silently asking for permission. This was your last moment to turn back now and tell him no, he prayed you still wanted him. You subtly adjusted your position with your bottom lip tucked behind your teeth and a small nod. Clay slowly slid the fat head of his cock between your folds and inside of you. He held his breath as he slowly inched himself inside you. The weight of his dick inside you, stretching you wide was like no other youve ever experienced. It was a shame that a man as well endowed as Father Clayton would be sworn to a life of celibacy. But it seemed like it didnt matter to him now, as his vow to never experience earthly sexual pleasure was snuffed out like a candle.

Once he was fully inside of you, a moan escaped you as his thumb slowly rubbed at your clit.

"Darlin', open up f'me." His hips moved slightly, giving you a miniscule thrust. "Thats it, c'mon." His thumb continued to move as his thrusts slowly became bigger. He gazed down at your moaning, writhing form with a sexual intensity. His eyes hung heavy as his thrusts became faster, leaving only the head inside you each time he pulled back.

"This what you wanted, sweetheart?" His drawl was thick with pleasure. "Is this what you were thinkin' about as you played with yerself before a man of God?" His thrusts continued. His words were enough to make you moan. His voice sends sweet arousal through your body. You nodded in response.

Clayton leaned forward, driving himself deeper inside of you. You let out a shrill moan as he hit that pretty spot inside you. One hand pressed firmly into the desk by your shoulder as the other held onto your waist. A smirk crossed his lips as his thrusts increased in their speed. The desk below you creaked harshly under the weight of your sweaty bodies and the velocity of his thrusts. You could feel yourself dripping onto the beautiful oak beneath you like viscous holy water. Your legs squeezed tighter around him as his cock continued to hit that spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

"Father Clayton!" You were surprised the words actually came out coherently. "Im so close! Please!"

"Sweetheart, Im gonna bring you closer t'God." He said through heavy breaths. "Im gonna make you feel so good."

Your pussy squeezed around him in reaction to his words.

"Fuck!" He cursed, his thrusts getting faster. "So fuckin' good!" His head hung low as he started getting lost in you. Long strands of ginger hair hung over your chest. He was getting close, that much was obvious, as were you. His moans getting swallowed by his heavy breathing. His hand on your waist moved back down to your clit and started rubbing messy circles into the sweet bud. Your back arched with the contact and your arms wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips ghosted yours as your moans mingled together. Clay grit his white teeth as he tried to hold back his orgasm, needing you to let go first. He was having a hard time as you began spasming around him. Moaning beautifully as you soaked his thick cock.

Right as your orgasm concluded, Clay pulled himself out, not being able to wait any longer. He rubbed his shaft through your wet lips as he loudly grunted. He stared down at his cock as thick ropes of cum coated your stomach. His hips jerked along you as he emptied himself all over your soft skin.

Your arms dropped to your sides from around his neck as your felt yourself sinking into the desk. Clays hand ran up your side, his thumb dragging itself through his cum and trailing up your torso.

"Darlin', this needs to be our little secret, okay?" His eyes pleaded with yours. "No one can know the sins we've just committed." His tongue darted out of his mouth to lick at his bottom lip. You tiredly nodded to him. He shook his head. "No.. say it." His voice was soft yet demanding in tone. You studied the flecks of brown and green in his eyes as your hands moved upwards to cup his cheeks, tenderly rubbing the stubbled flesh with your thumbs.

"I promise, Father."

☾ notes: after a long time coming, i present to you *drumroll* Father Clay smut!

☾ tag list: @rottent33th, @damien-mlm, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @the-pinstriped-hood, @allthingsblood, @25bohemianmoons, @devil-doll13