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gubsbuubs · 6 months ago

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oh to have Spencer eat me out on a random Tuesday

Behind Closed Doors

Your admiration of his vest leads you to an empty office with his face buried between your thighs—and an urgent Emily demanding your whereabouts.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spence (are we even surprised), fingering, oral sex (f), semi-public, slight overstimulation, and Emily kind of overhears because she calls Reader in the middle of the deed (oops). 5k words

A/n: I don’t have any excuse for this one, I just wanted to rewrite this scene of him because looking at it is not enough

You heard him before you saw him. It wasn't his voice per se, but the distinct sound of rapid shots cutting through the air. The noise seemed to intensify as you stepped into the control room, almost overbearing, but you'd long since grown used to its piercing sound.

"Is that Reid?" You asked, your polished boots echoing into the confined space. The officer monitoring him through the surveillance camera glanced over at you, and even though her expression didn't betray outright displeasure, you could hear a subtle edge in her voice.

"Agent Y/L/N," she greeted, her eyes darting between the rows of monitors, then to you, and finally settling on the clipboard in her hand. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Actually, I am. It’s Tuesday, my usual training day.”

"Not for another hour."

"I know," you countered, holding up your wrist to check your watch. "But I have some spare time, thought I’d come by early."

“I’m afraid it’s occupied right now. Agent Reid is still in the middle of his test."

This caught your attention. "What test?"

She glanced at you, her expression conflicted. "It's just a routine evaluation."

"He's currently not an active agent," you pointed out. It hadn’t been too long since his release from prison. It didn’t make any sense for him to go through an evaluation, not when he was behind bars for the past few weeks. Then recognition dawned on your face. "He's being evaluated to rejoin the team, isn't he?"

"I... I'm not at liberty to discuss that," she replied. Her gaze faltered momentarily before she nodded slowly, confirming your suspicions. "But yes, it's standard procedure for agents returning from extended leave."

"Oh wow—okay," you responded, absorbing the information. Your eyes flickered towards the monitor. "How's he doing?"

Her lips formed a thoughtful line before she answered, "Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp."

You let out a laugh, finding the comparison amusing. You'd known Spencer for what, three, four years? While he wasn't bad with firearms, comparing him to a historical figure like Wyatt Earp seemed a bit exaggerated. However, as you watched him through the monitors, despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the truth in her words.

You had witnessed him handle a gun countless times, but always in situations where there was a real threat, where you both had to be on high alert. Yet as you observed him now from a different perspective, it was hard to tear your eyes away. It was as if he was in his element, and Spencer Reid in his element never looked so... attractive?

Now that wasn't an exaggeration. Although you had never admitted this to anyone—god forbid what your teammates would say—there was an undeniable charm to the confidence he exuded. While Spencer had always been attractive, there was something different about the way he handled the gun.

You were sure it had something to do with his time in prison. After all, who wouldn't be affected by such a daunting place, especially when you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place? Yet, surprisingly, Spencer seemed to be coping better than you expected. Despite the toll it must have taken on him, it was evident that his experiences had shaped him, perhaps more than he let on.

Although he was still the same sweet, adorable guy you considered one of your closest friends. But you weren't sure your current observation of him fitted the typical definition of friendship… because there was nothing remotely friendly about the thoughts running in your head right now.

Not only was it not friendly, but it wasn't exactly innocent. Because look at him. Look at the way he was gripping the gun, his arms defined beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Look at the way his protective glasses covered his face, the black-rimmed frames accentuating his handsome features. And even though you had seen him wear the uniform vest countless times, somehow it was undeniably distracting the way it hugged his chest.

Yep—there was nothing remotely friendly about how you wanted to climb up the man.

A sudden buzz echoed in the room, snapping you to reality. You glanced up and noticed the officer you were talking to entering the monitor screen and it dawned on you that you had been so distracted by your thoughts that you hadn't realized she had left the control room.

"I'll send the results to the review board this evening," the officer's voice resonated from the screen.

"Did I do okay?" His voice came through.

"Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp," she replied, echoing her earlier assessment. Her gaze shifted to the printed cardboard image of a man, supposedly representing the Unsub, which was shredded right around the face. "Or... Al Capone, maybe."

You observed Spencer's slight nod as she turned and walked out of the screen. Quickly, you exited the control room and met her in the hallway.

"Agent Y/L/N," she called out as she spotted you. "You can have the room in five minutes—"

"I need to reschedule."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Reschedule?"

"Uh... yes, something urgent came up," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

She regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, just let me know when you want to reschedule."

"I will, thank you," you said quickly. Sensing her lingering gaze, you added, "Oh, I'm just waiting for Reid. I need his help on... something."

A faint smile played on her lips, though she didn't press further. "Of course, I'll leave you to it then."

With a nod, she turned and walked away just as the door at the end of the hallway opened, revealing Spencer emerging from the room. His eyes met yours in confusion, and you could sense his curiosity as he approached you.

"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

You cocked your head to the side.

What were you doing here?

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before offering a shrug. "Just passing by, I guess."

His brow furrowed slightly as if he sensed there was more to your answer than you were letting on. "Alright," he said, though his curiosity lingered in his gaze.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject. "So, how did the evaluation go?"

"So you've heard.”

"Yeah," you confirmed, starting to walk down the hallway as he stepped in pace beside you. "I can't wait for you to be back on the team. Officially, that is."

"If they let me back on the team."

"Of course they will," you reassured him, your hand finding its place on his shoulder, offering support. "You're more than qualified."

He sighed, and you tried not to notice the subtle movement of his vest across his chest, or how it shifted under your touch. "You think so?"

"I know so," you affirmed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, they'll definitely bring you back."

He stopped his pace, and so did you, before his eyes flickered towards your hand on his shoulder. He must've sensed something different, considering you weren't exactly the type of person who liked physical contact. Neither of you were, actually. While Spencer was known for his aversion to germs, you simply preferred maintaining a certain level of personal space.

"Seriously," he wondered, his tone laced with curiosity. "What are you doing down here?"

You cleared your throat. "I told you, I was just passing by."

"Really? Is that why you're talking to me instead of going through your usual training?" he pressed on. "It's Tuesday. I'm well aware of your schedule."

Damn him and his eidetic memory. You shifted away from his gaze. "Can't a girl just choose to have a chat with a friend?"

"You chose me over your scheduled routine?” his lips curved into a subtle smile. “Am I that much of a distraction?”

Yes, that damn vest is distracting me.

"Distraction might be a bit strong,” you replied, the lie sounding feeble even to your own ears.

"So you’re admitting I’m slightly distracting?"

"I never said that.”

Spencer leaned in and you felt the heat of his proximity radiating from his body. "But you didn't deny it either.”

You felt a faint blush creep onto your cheeks as you realized the shift in his tone. Dare you say he was... flirting with you? Or was it just your imagination running wild? From the corner of your eye, you caught the subtle way he licked his lips, and without meaning to, your own gaze was drawn to the movement.

It was a habit of his, one you'd observed countless times before whether it was out of concentration or a mere reflex. But seeing it up close now, the way his tongue traced the curve of his bottom lip, was driving you insane.

You swallowed hard. This was not friendly behavior. A friend wouldn't be imagining what it would feel like to have his tongue on your lips instead.

"Y/N?"

Your face felt hot as you met his gaze. "I..."

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter and chatter from down the hallway reached your ears. You heard Penelope's unmistakable giggle with JJ's animated voice, and suddenly your instinct took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him into an empty office nearby.

The door shut with a soft thud, and you frowned, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn't want to be caught in a state of flustered panic like some nervous school girl talking to her crush, but as Spencer stood behind you, you realized you were overreacting. The more you dwelled on it, the more absurd it seemed to hide away when there was no reason to.

With a sigh, you turned to face him. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to..."

But as your gaze met him, your words faltered because he was standing closer than you expected. Close enough that the color of his eyes seemed to intensify under the soft light filtering through the window—a rich brown, like warm chocolate, with specks of gold that danced in the sunlight.

Your eyes involuntarily traced downwards, from the sharp lines of his nose to the curve of his lips, lingering on the stubble lining his jawline. Your mind wandered, and now you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel having it against your skin. Or how it would feel pressed against your thigh.

Your face grew hotter at the thought.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step forward. You squeaked in surprise, an actual high-pitched sound leaving your lips, as you felt the hard surface of his vest pressing against your chest.

"It's just..." You hesitated, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "You're standing really close..."

He glanced down at you, his eyes resting on your lips. "Do you want me to move?"

"I... uh..."

His eyes flickered back up to meet yours. "I'll take that as a no."

Before you could process his words, his hand reached up, fingers gently gripping your waist. You felt a rush of heat spread through you at his touch, the sensation seeping through your shirt and you found yourself leaning into him, your breath catching in your throat as his face hovered closely above yours.

It was happening. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips drew closer. You couldn’t believe it, he was going to kiss you—Spencer-fucking-Reid was going to kiss you.

But just as his lips hovered dangerously close against yours, he suddenly stopped.

"Just to make this clear," he began, running a thumb along your side. "I respect you, both as a friend and a colleague. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with, so if you think this is pushing any boundaries then—"

"Spencer," you cut in. "Just kiss me already."

With a hint of relief and a small smile playing on his lips, he finally closed the gap between you.

You never imagined his lips could be so soft. He had the softest lips that moved against your own with a hint of coffee and something undeniably sweet. Those soft, soft lips parted away from yours for a moment before he leaned back in, more desperate, more needy. And when he swiped your bottom lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, you couldn't help but welcome him with a soft moan of pleasure.

He devoured you then, his tongue pushing eagerly into your mouth, his lips enveloping you with a hunger that left you breathless as he pressed himself against you. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, you were walking backward until your back collided with the solid surface of the desk.

With strength you didn’t know he possessed, he effortlessly lifted you and perched you on top of it, prompting a surprised squeal to escape your lips. He laughed in response but you were too caught up in the moment to worry about whether he found you amusing.

Your hands eagerly roamed over his chest, fingers curling around the strap of his vest as you pulled him closer. He slipped between your parted legs with ease and when he pressed his evident bulge against your core, you both gasped in pleasure.

"We should... we should probably stop, right?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your lips. Despite his words, his actions betrayed his self-control as he began to roll his hips against you.

“We're at work, someone might—” He groaned. “Someone might… hear us..."

He was right, but you found yourself unable to care about anything else but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your heat.

"We could stop, or..." you found yourself saying without thinking. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, finding their way between you as you started to unbutton your shirt, the fabric slipping away to reveal more of your skin.

"Or..." He prompted, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip yet again, his breath coming out in shallow, ragged bursts.

"Or..." you repeated, pushing the front of your shirt open. "We could be quiet."

"We could be quiet," he agreed all too quickly. "We could definitely be quiet."

You let out an amused laugh. "We’re going to get in trouble if anyone finds us."

“Then you shouldn’t make a sound.”

“Me? What about—oh.”

His lips were already trailing down your body, leaving soft kisses as they lingered on your neck, across your collarbone, and then he moved lower, sucking lightly on the swell of your breasts. A whimper of his name escaped your lips, your fingers entwining in his hair.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking at the sight of your breast pushed up against your bra, a glistening sheen of his saliva coating your skin.

“You are stunning,” he murmured, before leaning back in to place a tender kiss on the spot where your collarbone met your shoulder. “How far do you want to take this?”

You blinked, trying to ground yourself into the moment between the lust fogging your brain. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he muttered as he rutted his hips against yours, drawing a needy moan from you. “How far are you willing to go?”

“If you’re asking whether I want to have sex with you, the answer is a hundred percent yes.”

You could practically feel his smile on your skin as he buried himself in the crook of your neck.

“That’s good to know,” he whispered, causing you to arch your back as your chest pressed against the hard material of his vest. “But I don’t think we can do much considering we’re supposed to be working. Well, you at least.”

You grasped his shoulders, pushing him away to meet his gaze. “I thought we agreed to keep quiet.”

“We can keep quiet,” he assured you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “But I can’t rush my time with you. Besides, you deserve a much better setting than an unoccupied office full of dust.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. “Maybe, but it’s more about time, really. I just want to take—” His lips brushed against your cheek. “My time—” A peck on your lips. “With you.”

You melted right there and then. You could’ve sworn you were nothing but a puddle mess. If he wasn’t holding you for support you were sure you could fall right back to the floor.

“Alright then,” you finally said, reaching for the buttons of your shirt with trembling hands only to be stopped as his fingers curled around your wrist.

“What are you doing?”

You shot him a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex right now.”

“I didn’t say anything about stopping,” he replied, releasing your hand before his palms slid up your thighs. “There are plenty of other things we can do.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “Like what?”

“Well, I guess we'll just have to get creative.”

Your breath hitched when his fingers hovered over the button on your pants. You watched with a mix of excitement and disbelief as he started to undo them, your mind turning into a mushy mess. It was as if every neuron in your brain had decided to stop working.

“Lift your hips for me.”

You met his gaze, trying to summon up your composure but you couldn’t help the nervous twitch of your lips. He smiled at you.

“Come on, pretty girl, we don’t have all day.”

Not only were you melting, but you were practically liquid by now. Your body moved on its own accord—your hands gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, synchronizing perfectly with his gentle movements to slide the material over your hips and down your legs.

He placed your pants on the empty space beside you while his eyes never left your body. His gaze lingered on the rise and fall of your chest, and he leaned in, his fingers trailing over your skin before settling on the hem of your panties. His thumb slid to the front, brushing along the delicate material. Your hips bucked as he continued to run his thumb up and down as if he were trying to map out your slick folds over the fabric.

“Look at you dripping,” he mused, his eyes fixated on the way his thumb slid over to your clit. “Are you always this wet?”

Your cheeks heated at the question. He wasn’t even trying to make it come off as dirty talk; he asked it like a normal question, as if he were simply wondering about what you ate for breakfast. But the question alone had your face burning because you did not expect it to come from him.

“I… I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he asked, his tone amused. He hooked his fingers into the material of your panties before pushing it to the side.

“I-I don’t know.” You let out a breathless moan when his fingers grazed your slit. “Whenever I’m turned on, I don’t... I don��t exactly touch myself just to check how wet I am.”

Spencer chuckled softly, angling his hand between your thighs before gently pushing his middle finger into your entrance. You gasped at the sudden stretch, brows furrowing as he pressed further, and your hand instinctively gripped onto his arm.

“Do you often touch yourself?”

Your head fell back as he started to move.

“M-Maybe,” you managed to stutter out.

"What do you think of when you do?" he asked slowly, his own breath starting to grow shallow as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He observed the way your mouth fell open, your tongue slightly slipping out in the corner, and the way your eyes shut closed. He was fascinated by the effect he had on you, on how just a simple touch had you squirming.

“A… a lot of things,” you managed to reply.

“Have you ever thought of me?”

Whoa.

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, momentarily stunned.

This was dangerous territory, but then again, nothing seemed quite as risky as being fingered by your coworker on a Tuesday afternoon. So what harm could it be if you admitted that yes, in fact, he had crossed your mind when you touched yourself wishing it was his fingers instead?

A lot of harm, actually. One, it seemed like an inappropriate confession given your friendship. Friends don't usually imagine each other in sexual scenarios. And two, you could die of embarrassment.

"No," you replied, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

He hummed skeptically. “I thought we were past the point of lying between profilers.” With a pause, he added another finger inside you, causing you to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. “Is this how you imagined it in your fantasies?”

What was the point of lying now? You swallowed hard, trying to think of a witty response to distract from the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

“Uh… This is slightly better.”

“Slightly? I’m hurt.” He pressed his thumb onto your clit. “What else did you think of then?”

Your cheeks flushed even more. “You… well, um, you also used your tongue.”

The airy laugh he let out sent a shiver down your spine. “Really? And how did that fantasy play out?"

Your heart raced as you tried to find the right words. "Let's just say it involved a lot more tongue action and a lot less talking."

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “Then let’s reenact it.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you. “Lay on your back.”

With a shaky breath, you complied, sprawling out on the desk, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. When he reached for the waistband of your panties, you couldn't help but crack a joke. "If I knew this was the direction this day was heading, I would've worn my fanciest underwear."

Spencer shook his head. “Trust me, you don't need fancy underwear to drive me crazy."

He then deftly removed your panties, his movements confident yet tender, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. When the fabric pooled at your ankle, he got down on his knees and parted your legs wider, positioning himself between them.

You watched, anticipation building, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your inner thigh. Then, with a teasing glance, he pressed his lips to your skin, planting soft kisses along the trail of your inner thigh, inching closer to your core.

You shivered at the sensation and your heart raced with every kiss. His hands roamed over your thighs, tracing delicate patterns while his mouth brushed closer to where you craved him the most. You bit down your bottom lip, unable to contain the moan that escaped as his tongue flicked out, grazing your sensitive flesh.

This was definitely better than your fantasies, the ones you'd harbored in secret, too taboo to admit even to yourself. But here you were, living out those desires in the most deliciously real way possible.

You gasped as his tongue lavished your slit, tasting every inch, mixing your arousal that was beginning to drip from your core with his saliva. Your back arched off the desk, thighs trembling and when they threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag over your clit.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Somehow it felt like a dream, but everything was real. His face was right between your thighs; his mouth pressed against your cunt, his tongue lapping through your wet folds. And it wasn’t as simple as tasting you, he was eating you, devouring you, swallowing every drop of your arousal as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste.

You started to lose control of your mind, your body, your actions. Your hips bucked to meet his tongue, your jaw slackening as stifled moans spilled from your lips. And that was when you felt it—a faint vibration against your thigh. At first, you thought it was just the sensation of his touch, but then the loud, unmistakable loud ringtone of your phone shattered the moment.

"Shit!" You squealed, scrambling to grab your phone from your discarded pants. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover you in this compromising position.

"It's Emily—“ You pushed his head away, trying to hide your flushed face as he looked at you with surprise. His lips were glistened with your arousal and his hair seemed messier. God, he looked so pretty.

"Don't answer it."

"It might be important." With a pointed look, you silently urged him to keep quiet as you brought the phone to your ear with trembling fingers. “H-Hey... what's up?"

Emily's voice came through the line, slightly muffled by the sounds of commotion in the background. “Hey, I need you to review the report you submitted yesterday, you left a few details about the Unsub.”

Spencer's lips brushed against your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, and you had to bite back a moan. You shot him a warning glare, mouthing ‘stop’ before turning your attention back to the call.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “So… um, which report?”

"The case in Florida," your boss explained. "You mentioned that the Unsub was targeting women between the ages of 25 and 35…”

You were trying to listen, you really were, but it was hard when you felt his fingers ease into your cunt, your juices dripping out, coating his flesh as he curled them inside. You almost let out a whine as his thumb pressed to your clit, caressing in circular motions.

“…he's also been stalking younger women."

Your eyes screwed shut as he sped up his pace. His touch was driving you crazy, and you could barely register the conversation over the sounds of your own arousal echoing in the room.

“Y/N.”

You snapped your eyes open, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you tried to concentrate on the call. "Uh, yeah, go on," you managed to stammer, hoping she didn't notice your wavering tone.

“Are you okay? You sound... off," Emily's voice cut through the haze of pleasure. You shot Spencer another pleading look, but he simply smiled at you with a hand still between your thighs and the other slipping underneath your bra.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, fighting against the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "Uh, yeah, I… I-I’m doing my training.”

You mentally cursed yourself for the terrible excuse. Emily didn't seem entirely convinced. "Training?"

"Yeah, you know, the uh... firearm training? I-It’s Tuesday.”

There was a pause on the other end before she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound like you're in pain."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers curled inside of you. "No, no, I'm fine. Just... a little out of breath from all the… shooting."

Spencer let out an incredulous scoff, and you shot him a pointed glare.

“Are you with someone?”

You hesitated, racking your brain for a believable excuse, but all you could muster was a feeble, "Uh, nope.”

There was a pause on the other end, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken as your body flushed with heat. Meanwhile, Spencer seemed intent on torturing you, never stopping his pace. If anything, it seemed like his movements were increasing. Just when you thought you couldn't feel more exposed, another scoff echoed through your ear, this time from Emily.

“Alright, where are you really?” she pressed, her tone indicating she wasn't buying your flimsy excuse.

“I told you I-I’m doing my training.”

She laughed. “Y/N, we profile people as a job. I can sense your lie even through the phone.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. What was up with these profilers and their knack for sniffing out lies? You were one yourself, but apparently, you were no match for their scrutiny.

“I’m not—“ your words were cut short when he stood up, hovering above you. You looked up at him, smiling at you innocently as his fingers continued to curl deep inside you. You clutched his forearm with your free hand, attempting to steady yourself.

"I'm not lying," you managed to squeak out.

"Mhm," came Emily's voice from the other end. “Just come by my office and grab the report, okay?”

Your breath hitched as his fingertips delved deeper, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of his hand moving between your legs, coated in your arousal with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm edging closer. Your hips moved in sync with his motions as the pressure built, the tension coiling tighter in your stomach and—

“Y/N!”

“Y-Yes, I’m… I’m coming.” Spencer's low chuckle filled your ears, and you realized what you'd unintentionally implied. Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “I mean, I-I’ll be there soon, okay, bye!”

You quickly slammed your phone down on the desk, ending the call with a thud. But before you could even take a breath, Spencer's fingers were back to their rapid pace, driving you to the edge of sanity. Your body staggered under his touch, your hips moving in sync with his relentless rhythm, the world outside the room fading away into a blur of pleasure.

"A-Ah—w-wait, fuck—"

You barely managed to utter a protest before his hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure. Your back arched, your head thrown back as you tightened your grip on his wrist, your body writhing beneath him as your orgasm consumed you.

It lasted longer than you expected and Spencer seemed determined to push you over the edge as he shifted his attention from your cunt to your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew momentarily, only to return with a renewed intensity, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Your senses were on overload as you moaned into his hand, the sound muffled but still audible. He worked you, over and over, and you didn't even know your body could take so much. Every stroke, every caress sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, building up to an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as the sensations reached a fever pitch. It was all too much, too intense, and in a moment of desperation, you pushed his hand away. When the last tremors of your orgasm finally faded away, you collapsed back onto the desk, panting heavily, your limbs feeling like jelly.

Spencer removed his hand from your mouth, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched you catch your breath. “Are you okay?"

You nodded weakly. “Yeah, just… that was intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Really good intense,” you replied with a sheepish grin, which only made him smile. With shaky hands, you pushed yourself up from the desk, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over you. As you began to dress yourself, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him—or rather, the evident bulge underneath his pants.

“That… that doesn’t look comfortable,” you remarked.

Spencer waved off your worry with a dismissive chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of it myself.”

“Here? At work?” Your eyes widened at the implication. “I didn't know you had it in you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “That’s not what I meant. It’ll eventually go away if I ignore—stop staring at it,” he added with a laugh. “You’re not helping.”

Your gaze lingered a moment too long on his bulge. "I can think of another way to help.”

Spencer's breath caught in his throat, his imagination running wild with possibilities, but he quickly regained his composure. "Go," he said, gently nudging you towards the door once you were properly dressed. "Emily's waiting for you."

Your eyes swept over him and a wave of awkwardness suddenly washed over you. What was the protocol after experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life? Shake his hand? Give him a high-five? You couldn't help but stifle a nervous laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

After a brief moment of contemplation, you decided to trust your instincts. With a hint of hesitation, you stepped closer and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, you were already rushing to the door.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched you leave, a tingling sensation lingering on his cheek where your lips had briefly touched. But as he licked his lips absentmindedly, he couldn't shake the taste of your arousal that lingered there.

Groaning softly, he shifted uncomfortably as his mind filled with vivid images of you squirming under him; your mouth agape, eyes half-closed, your pretty legs spread apart. The memory of your moans echoed in his ears and his cock stirred in his pants.

He sighed, realizing he was in for a long day if he didn't do something about it. With a slight grimace—and the embarrassment gnawing at him for what he was about to do—he let his feet carry him to the nearest bathroom.

#liz reads

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staytinyluv · 4 months ago

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lilo back with another heartbreaking story. i’m here for it

★ DIVINE RUINATION. [ 001 ] one of them.

in which an angel falls right into the care of eight demons. and as caring they have been, things may not be as they seem…

demons!ot8!ateez x fem!fallen angel!reader. genre. fluff, angst, smut, demon au. warnings. polyamory, blood, violence, gore, alcohol consumption, manipulation, swearing, eventual smut. rating. mature.

chapter warnings. injury description (scarring, scratches), petnames (sweetheart, my dear). wc. 2.7k.

lilo’s notes. taglist is open! CHAPTER ONE RAHHHHHH as always, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated~ i'd love to hear your thoughts!! this chapter is kinda dry tbh but it's just an introduction for what's going on.

main masterlist.

your body hurts as you wake up almost a week after falling into hell.

it’s an unfamiliar feeling, never having been in pain before. but before you dwell on the thought, you notice i’m not anywhere familiar. it takes your eyes a little while to adjust to the low candlelight, realising you’re in a bedroom, your head laying against a foreign pillow as you stare up at the ceiling, the drapes of the bedposts dark and partially hiding the rest of the room out of the corner of your eyes.

you lift your head slightly, looking down as the blanket falls to the juncture of your hips, noticing you’re still in your typical white dress, hair brushing against your shoulders. you look up, your head turning as you glance around the room, freezing in place as you notice the figure of a man standing by one of the tall windows, facing away.

seonghwa had been standing in front of the window of the room you were in for a few hours now, thinking of how he would deal with you, his eyes slowly wandering to your sleeping form every so often to make sure you were still alive.

he saw your eyes slowly flutter open in the corner of his eye and turned around fully to look at you, watching as you looked around the room before noticing him. slowly walking over to the bed you were on, he sits at the edge quietly, looking down at you, studying your features.

you, however, scoot further back into the bed as he comes closer, your eyes wide and fearful as they track him, his presence looming over you overwhelmingly and making it hard to breathe for a while. your fingers curl into the edge of the duvet in your lap as he takes a seat, steeling your nerves as you try not to show how afraid you are. but he only watches as you seek comfort in the blanket, watching your fingers tighten around it, his eyes scanning your face, taking in every subtle expression you make.

seonghwa remains sitting quietly at the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on you. it’s only after a few moments of silence that he speaks, his voice low and calm.

"calm down. i'm not going to harm you."

you still don't relax at his words, your voice quivering as you stutter out the first words the come to mind, “w-where am i? w-who are you?”

he notices that your body remains tense even when he assures you he won't harm you, making a frown tug at his plump lips. your voice quivers as you speak, filled with unease, but he maintains his neutral expression, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible as he replies to your questions. "you’re in hell. and i’m seonghwa., the oldest of the eight demon princes in this domain."

your eyebrows furrow. this can't be. you’re an angel, you’re pure and perfect and belong anywhere but hell. your mind scrambles to remember what happened before you seemingly passed out and ended up here, but it turns up empty, only smudged images of memories you can barely piece together flashing through your mind. the dem– seonghwa's words register. your heart drops and thumps anxiously at the thought of being here all alone with demons that could tear you apart if they wanted–which they probably did. “n-no… that can’t be. i’m an angel, th-there’s no way i’m in hell.”

seonghwa observes your expressions as your eyebrows furrow in confusion, noticing the conflicting emotions that are crossing your mind, his voice remaining calm. "you must’ve been banished from the heavens. dropped straight into hell."

“what...” something shatters in you as he says that, your face falling from fear to something more broken. you shift your gaze away from him, trying to come to terms with what he said. he could be lying, you remind yourself, but the empty feeling on your back, the feeling of not carrying your heavy wings, says otherwise. one of your hands shift from the blanket to touch your back, feeling around for the comforting white feathers, but only feeling brushes of the soft material of the dress and slivers of skin. you practically break down, choking back a sob as your hand returns to the blanket, quivering almost as much as your lips, “b-but i don't get it... i was always good, i-i always did everything right a-a-and now i'm here, this doesn’t make any sense.”

he watches every shift in your emotions, shown clearly on your face, as you struggle to come to terms with his words. still, he sits quietly at the edge of the bed, letting you process the news he just gave you. he can see the confusion and heartache in your eyes, the disbelief and the pain of being torn away from your home. after a minute, he speaks again, his voice soft but firm, his eyes fixed on yours.

"you may not understand it now, but you are here now. in the underworld, hell, whatever you want to call it. so, you were banished from the heavens for a reason."

you glance at him, the tears threatening to spill from your eyes making his handsome features look a little distorted. you sniffle, muttering, “y-you're pretty terrible at comforting.”

seonghwa lets out a small chuckle at your comment, the corner of his lips curling up just a little as he shakes his head slightly, letting out a small sigh. “you're in a place far beyond what you're used to. i'm a demon. we're not exactly known for being comforting, sweetheart."

intentionally ignoring the sudden nickname, you look up at him after a few more long seconds, “you're a prince, right? you and your... brothers?”

he watches as you take a bit to come to your senses, your expression hardening slightly as you look up at him, pushing back your tears. if he notes the slight pause when he calls you sweetheart, he doesn’t mention it, only nodding slowly. "yes, correct. we rule the eight circles of hell together."

“then, c-can't you send me back? you must have… some kind of authority or power…” you ask, sounding just a little hopeful, tilting your head curiously. your grip on the blanket loosens and you lift your hands to rub away the tears caught on your cheekbones with the heel of your palm.

seonghwa leans back slightly on the edge of the bed, resting his back against the bedpost to face you better, his eyes never leaving yours.

he considers your question before responding, the frown returning. "no, i can't send you back. the heavens have banished you, meaning you’re no longer one of them. there really is nothing i can do."

you’re no longer one of them.

the words echo in your head, visibly deflating at the harsh truth. you look around the room, trying to distract yourself. it's neat, a dark and classical style. the drapes of the bed match the duvet, the bedposts carved into intricate designs. there are a few candelabra placed around the room, sat on top of shelves and and the bedside table, giving the room a soft warm glow. you focus on the details—grounding yourself in the feeling of the blanket under your fingertips, the mildly sweet smell wafting through the air, the rustle of fabric as he shifts to look at me. “whose room is this?”

noticing the change in your demeanor as his words sink in and the truth of your situation settles in, he watches you kook around the room, your gaze shifting from one corner to another as you take in your surroundings.

"this room belongs to me. i didn't have you stay in any of the guest rooms as i needed to keep an eye on you. besides, i thought you might be more comfortable in here than in a plain, boring bedroom."

you glance at him, trying to think of what else to say. you’ve always been uncomfortable in long silences, despite your usually quiet nature. “i'm sorry for, um, intruding…”

his eyes are drawn to the slight fidgeting of your fingers, your digits twitching as you pinch the edges of the duvet, the fabric wrinkling on the sides. your voice soft and timid, he can’t help but shake his head lightly, his gaze still focused on you. "it’s quite alright, sweetheart. you’re not intruding—you had no control over this."

the gentleness in his tone surprises you, momentarily making you go silent again as you return to shifting your gaze around the room, easing your grip on the duvet.

“so you all live in this... house?”

the surprise in your expression as he speaks to you gently doesn’t go unnoticed by him, deciding to look out the window as you continue glancing around the room.

"yes, we all live in this manor together. all eight of us."

“so, i'm in a house with eight demons. great.” you mutter under your breath, trying to think of how you would survive this without being torn apart and eaten for lunch.

he chuckles softly at your words, hearing them despite how quiet your tried to be. amused by your comment, he responds with his laced with a hint of playful menace. "don’t worry, sweetheart. we may be demons, but we don't eat our guests. usually."

you stare at him as he responds to your muttered comment, failing to notice the playfulness in his voice and shrinking back a little, apprehensive. you open your mouth to respond, but your stomach makes an odd growling noise, making you look down at it, brows furrowed. it's never done that before, you’ve never felt an empty feeling in your stomach like that

hearing the growling noise from your stomach, seonghwa’s eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. "are you hungry, sweetheart? when was the last time you ate?"

you blink, crossing your arms over your stomach, trying to soothe the uncomfortable emptiness, “there’s food, you know… up there…”

he listens as you speak, nodding slowly in understanding.

"right, i nearly forgot about that. angels don't need food, do they?"

you shake your head, not missing the slightly bitter tone of his previously gentle voice. “we- they don't.”

it’s nothing personal, but he can't help but feel mildly resentful, his sentiments towards angels clear in his tone. “angels are nothing like demons. they're pure, perfect, untouched by the chaos and darkness of hell…” he takes a deep breath, reminding himself of his orders to keep you safe. he continues, his voice still somewhat cold, but less bitter than before. "so... i guess you're not used to being hungry, huh? i’ll ask wooyoung to bring you something to eat."

“wooyoung..?” you question, tilting your head and watching as he stands up from the edge of the bed, the mattress straightening once again as he stands up fully.

he thinks it’s a little cute, the way you tilt your head with a question in your eyes as you repeat wooyoung’s name. seonghwa takes a few steps away from the bed, turning back to look at you as he responds with a slight smile on his lips, "wooyoung is one of my brothers, one of the princes. he usually takes care of food and similar matter, though i suppose he’ll show up with san as well."

you hum, nodding slightly at the little piece of information he feeds you, eyes following him as he walks away. part of you doesn't want him to go, weirdly calmed by his presence despite his species. “so, as the oldest, are you in charge here?”

something about the way you look at him, full of curiosity and seeking answers, makes a soft sense of power flow through him. you’re a helpless little angel in a den of demons, warmth shifting in his usually cold chest at the thought of caring for you.

he gives you a small smile at your inquiry, his head tilting to the side as he responds, "well, no, not really. i do have most of the authority here, you could say."

“your name was never mentioned up there,” you tilt your head the same way as his, subconsciously mirroring his actions, “it was hong... hong-something, i don't remember. is he in charge?”

seonghwa smiles at your subconscious action, finding it oddly endearing; how you seem to copy his movements like a child copying their parent. the thought makes that warmth return to his chest.

"ah, yes, i know. that would be hongjoong, my dear. he’s more or less our unofficial leader, though we do rule all together. still, my authority predates even his."

“so he’s one of your brothers?” you ask.

he can't help but notice the genuine curiosity in your voice, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes as you continue to ask him questions. he’s aware the other princes, some less than others, might not be as gentle as him, so is it really so bad if he’s willing to answer all your burning questions?

he nods, his expression softening as he responds, his voice still calm. "yes, he’s a couple decades younger than me."

you hum, nodding along as you watch him stand at the doorway. “how come you're not the leader then? since you’re older.”

leaning against the doorway, his body resting against the dark oak frame, seonghwa smiles at your question, his eyes fixated on you. he takes a moment before responding, contemplating how best to explain.

“leadership isn't just about age or seniority. hongjoong has the authority, and the power. i may be the oldest, but i don't want the throne to myself. i’m content with my current position."

“i see.” you nod, falling into silence as you take in all the information, not really having anything else to say.

seonghwa observes you and your silence, a thoughtful look on his face. he can practically see the cogs turning in your mind, the processing of all the information he's given you. your sense slight unease also hangs heavy in the air, but he tells himself you’ll wake up to him and his brothers fairly soon based on how you’ve been responding to him thus far.

he speaks up, trying to ease the tension, his voice soft, motioning towards the door with a nod of his head. "i’m going to go tell wooyoung to bring you some food. stay in here, please."

nodding silently, you watch as he leaves and shuts the door behind him. the click of the handle echoes lightly through the room and you wait, listening to his footsteps fade away before getting out of the bed, the muscles of your limbs and back a little sore.

the long silk of your dress's skirt drags over the wooden floor panels as you walk around the room, looking around as you wait for this wooyoung that was mentioned to come along with food.

pausing, you stop at a mirror, leaned against a wall and framed in gold, looking at yourself in the reflection. the dress was the same, the white silk and flowing tulle draping over your body and the ends pooling on the floor, obscuring your ruffled white socks; surprisingly clean considering you fell all the way here. you turn, looking over your shoulder at your back, you breath hitching as you nearly fall to your knees in despair.

on each shoulder blade, where your beautiful feathered wings once were—the wings that carried you so effortlessly, a reliable and comforting weight on your back—was now occupied by two scars the size of the base of your wings. there seems to be some kind of irritation, patches of pinks and reds on and around the wounds, a few scratches on your shoulders and upper arms.

you’re no longer one of them.

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