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sunshinegirl29 · 22 days ago

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Petrichor

SO hi! This is the first smut I've written in 5 years. So I'm sorry if it's a little dodgy. Anyway, it was raining when I wrote this, hence the imagery!

Summary: A rainy day, coffee between friends leads to something more, but it's not always that simple with Spencer.

Pairings: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: swearing, smut, alcohol.

I'd love to hear some feedback xo

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You learned in Art History class, that hands were the hardest thing for an artist to master. His were slender and gentle; caressing the words on the page, brow pinched in concentration. His nails, trimmed, cuticles soft and small. That was Spencer, most things about him were put together and careful to a point. He rubs the heel of one into the hollow of his eye, squints and continues to absorb the words of his novel like patterns on a lover’s skin.

A simple cough catches your attention and you blink slowly, coming to from your reverie.

“Are you okay?”

Alex Blake’s tone is soft and low. She’s gentle and warm, chocolate brown eyes swimming with concern. An answer doesn’t come at first; what words would you choose? You couldn’t look her in the eye and call it what it was.

“Tired, you know? Tough case.”

Your words wither like dry leaves under her gaze. Alex you’d learnt early on, held them in high regard – the way they stretch and curl and hold more weight than you realise. But she doesn’t push and squeezes your shoulder, before resting back against her seat. You glance back toward Spencer once more. His eyes closed, soft brown rivulets curl behind his ears, messy against the small pillow he never leaves home without.

A small breath hitches as you eye his collar, the usually tight purple tie is broken and free from the confines of the material. It reveals the innocent edges of bare skin, and your stomach feels like a knot in a chain. The tighter it gets, the harder it is to take apart. You allow the thoughts to flow unfiltered for a moment longer, wondering how he’d react to your touch, both palms pressed to his chest, your lips mapping a path of devotion on his skin.

Then the jet rumbles its warning and you breathe again. Slippery hands grip the sides of the seat and the jet tips, shaking the dredges of cold coffee from your abandoned mug.

The next day, it rained. You wake to the sound of it, watery fingertips tapping a beat on the conservatory roof; you’d fallen asleep there, drowning in dreams of soft touches and stuttering breaths. You wipe sweat from your chest and pad on bare feet into the small kitchen, working through neglected pots and pans to find your Sunday morning mug teetering on the edge of the kitchen island.

“There you are.” You hum smiling around the imperfect rim, inhaling the rich black coffee that had become a tradition over the last few months. You spend the next few hours, cleaning the skeletons of the last week off the floor; being away from your cosy suburban home most of the week left little time for housework and it was about time.

The kitchen was pristine by the time the sky had given way to heavy biblical rain; the windows misty with condensation. It didn’t take long for the house to fill with the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee once more as you hum to the radio and sway in between sips. The music trickles into something slower, sensual and you smooth your hands into your hair and remove the tie, letting it hang loose instead. Hips sway in slick circles as you lean back into the counter, running your hand along its wood grain as if a broad back or the gentle slope of his neck. The chain knot is back, low in your stomach, tightening with every move. The island bites into your back as you slide across it, a hand ghosting the bare expanse of your leg and into the waist band of your shorts. It’s slow at first, the image that comes; he’s sitting cross legged on the floor, books piled up around him and a discarded coffee in the wings.

Spencer holds books like you imagine he’d hold a lover, careful but with meaning and unbridled need. His soft fingers dance on the page, mirroring yours in short circles, short gasps as he finds a lead hidden within the letters. He knocks a book with his foot, rearranging his position on the floor and the muscles in lean arms twist when he gets to his knees. Your own sock clad feet crush the rug beneath them as the feeling builds. Spencer reaches for a new coffee, but jumps at the heat sending liquid down his chin. He wipes it from his lips with an index finger, dipping it into his mouth savouring its rich sweetness. This image alone was enough to tip you over the edge, waves crash and ebb leaving you panting and spent on the kitchen floor.

It's then that the murderous cry of your cell phone shatters the post orgasm comfort, shocking you into rising from the floor on unsteady legs. It’s screams for attention from the couch, buried in pillows and a neatly folded blanket that’s thrown to the floor in frustration.

“For god’s sake I—”

Hotch’s name lights up the screen and it’s like ice water down your back.

“Hello?” you cough, attempting to cover any signs of breathlessness but he doesn’t bother a greeting; “we have a case, local, bad – Spencer will pick you up on the way, be ready in an hour.”

In a world with boundaries, you could say no; that you spend sometimes fourteen-hour days, six days a week on cases and you were owed at least one day to rest. But the shining reward gives you pause at the entrance to your bedroom. Spencer will pick you up. You dress and return to the bright and airy front room to pace in anticipation, the sweet delay.

Out the window you watch as rain rushes down the street, lifting leaves and litter from pregnant drains. They disappear as a black SUV pulls up, he’s early. You half expect him to blare the horn but he slips from the driver’s seat and runs up wet steps, sliding a little before coming to stop. Greed urges you to answer the door, but you hold steady waiting patiently for him to knock – which he does, neat and direct.

The wind blows spatters of muddy water on the oak floors as you open the door. Spencer waits politely for invitation which you readily provide him, instinctually grabbing his bicep to shelter him from the pouring rain.

“Sorry—hi.” He stammers, gesturing at the puddle that follows him in like an obedient dog.

“It’s okay, it’s horrendous out there!” you huff a nervous laugh and twist back toward him, he’s closer than you’d anticipated and you have to look up to drink him in

His hair curls with rain, dripping onto the dark wool of his coat. His lips part and close slowly, as if wanting to confess a lie but nothing comes. You swallow thickly, daring a look at his mouth for a needy second before coming back to his hazel eyes. They hold a weight with an unknown name and dart away, the burgeoning anticipation ebbing slowly.

The growing silence lingers on for a few more seconds before he steps back, wiping both hands down his coat, looking anywhere but you.

“We have a case.” His voice ticks up and he coughs, wrapping those long fingers around his opposite wrist.

“Yeah, Hotch said.” You beckon him to the kitchen in an attempt to defuse the tension. “Know anything about it?” He crosses the room in two strides, the kitchen island a wedge between you.

The BAU had been your home for six months and after a few growing pains you fit in nicely, spending slow evenings in Penelope’s apartment and even began to get Aaron to smile now and again. Spencer though had been slow to trust, not that you blamed him but eventually he began to thaw. His shield of intelligence had melted into trickles of kindness that leaked into your life; he’d have your favourite mug filled with black coffee how you liked. After particularly hard cases he’d taken to sharing half his blanket and somehow a luxury pastry ended up on your breakfast plate before landing each time.

“Yeah, a home invasion homicide, mother and two children both dead. Did you know, the odds of being killed in your own home by a stranger are dependent on gender! With twenty one percent being men and only twelve percent being women.” Spencer smiles, in his element leaning into the counter. A heartbeat goes by before you note where he stands. Only an hour earlier you sat alone with fingers buried deep in your shorts, panting and writhing against the tile, all for him – its almost too much to bear.

The carafe rattles imperceptibly against the mug, you fill it with sweet coffee for him without thinking;

“Are you alright?” it’s evident you can’t escape a profiler’s eye “if it’s what I said I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, the odds are—”

“It’s fine Spence, here you look like you need it.” You’re brutally aware that you’re rambling and he doesn’t miss a beat, but graciously doesn’t press any further. Instead, he takes a sip of the coffee, humming contentedly. The small noise starts a raging desire that burns through your blood.

“This is great coffee. You know, coffee is a language in itself...”

He walks around, coming to rest opposite you without the barrier of the island. You’re drunk on the scent of damp clean hair and faint cologne, it’s a force you have no name for that fills your chest, fuelling the beat that matches the way panicked rain hits the windows behind your head.

“What’s it telling you?” You whisper, looking up into a blown-out gaze.

It was in your nature to burry intense feelings, but you wonder if he can see it all over your face, the pure naked wanting.

Suddenly aware of his animal warmth much closer now. The knotted chain pulls tighter, burning low and you press your thighs together for any scrap of relief. He doesn’t say anything and for a slow second you worry you’ve misread the situation. But any reservations die as Spencer reaches for the mug in your hands with the soft fingers you’d mused over so much in the last few days. He takes it from your hand, placing it on the sink behind you absentmindedly.

““Spence…” you plead, body trembling as his gaze covers your face, asking...

The first brush against you is chaste, a whisper of a kiss that barely touches the skin, it’s almost as if he breathes across your upper lip. He pulls back, barely, just enough to lay a question between you.

“Please.”

You step into him as the first rolls of thunder come in. Damp ropes of hair drag across your face and you can’t hold back from touching it, pushing it back like water. You anchor yourself to it when he kisses you again, just as brief but more firm, lingering against your mouth.

“Is this okay?”

His question is lost on your lips as you grasp the damp collar of his coat and pull him down toward you, swallowing his yelp with a deep kiss; it feeds the hunger for him and you can’t help but moan into his mouth, savouring the sweetness.

You’re nothing but him, drowning in the press of his lips, so soft and strong as you lick into his mouth, surprised by the strength he uses to lift you up onto the biting edge of the counter.

His fingers arch around the side of your neck bringing you back to his mouth like a man starved; your free hand that isn’t wound in his curls sears a path along his neck, diving into his shirt. He’s muttering something, you suspect a flustered fact about pathogens and almost laugh, but you can only feel the syllables of hot and wet before he jerks so violently your lips wrench away from his.

You both freeze. One hand in his hair, the other on his chest, his own still grasp the swell of your ass.

“I don’t normally do this.” He stammers again, taking a shaky step backwards and you mourn the loss of him. The heat that simmered low between your legs is doused in shame.

“Don’t, don’t do tha---”

Your words die in your throat as his cell phone screams from his coat pocket, sending him away from you, a crease of concern between his brows.

“Okay, we’re leaving now. Thanks Morgan.”

Spencer glances at you, as if waiting for a scolding – it doesn’t come. You just sigh, letting him sweat in silence; his mouth is swollen, both cheeks flushed in an uncharacteristic bloom of colour. You gaze at him despite yourself, a sad smile passing your lips.

“Spence..” you press, striding forward to meet him.

You reach for him, tugging on the sleeve of his damp coat like a child. He shakes his head ever so slightly, but grasps your fingers gently in his own anyway.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles into your hair, releasing your hand with a small squeeze.

“Are you..” you sigh, not bothering to wait for an answer before heading out and into the rain.

By the time you arrive back at Quantico rage had made its home in your gut. Rage at him, because how dare he kiss you out the blue, in your own home and run off like he’d been burned. JJ is the first to notice when you speed from the car, barely putting it in park before slamming the door and standing at her side.

“Everything, okay?” She whispers, eyeing you and a jittery Spencer who’s pointedly staring anywhere else.

“You know, working on a Sunday sucks,” You huff, glancing at her before turning toward him “and the middle of the day too, it’s almost as if you thought you’d get one thing, but ended up being sorely disappointed.”

A beat of dead silence passes but no one gets to push the subject. Hotch appears from the SUV with a peaky looking Rossi at his side, the case had been brutal and a complete bust – two children and a mother dead with a missing top suspect and a suspicious Grandfather to boot. No one liked going home empty handed and it showed.

“Thank you everyone, I’m sorry to call you in on your day off. Finish off your paperwork and take tomorrow to yourselves. You earned it.” you almost hugged him, the ever stoic Aaron Hotchner, but instead followed the rest of the team inside toward Penelope who waits with freshly baked goods and an award winning smile.

“Hello my heroes! I bare the sweetest of treats and that’s just on the plate--” she laughs, cut off but Aaron who pats her gently before swiping a Danish and disappearing into his office. Penelope’s keen eyes miss nothing – not the way Spencer whips past the others, muttering about callings his mother, not the way your own eyes follow him until he disappears.

“Hey gorgeous, cinnamon roll?” Penny smiles and you look at her at last, gratefully taking the gift – a sweet cushion to the bitter blow of Spencer’s rejection.

“I know it’s none of my business” Penny starts, walking toward your office side by side. You shoot her a withering look, knowing that it wouldn’t matter if it was her business or not – Penelope needed to know things. But in a painful reality, there was nothing to know and there never would be, not now, not after this.

“Working on a Sunday.. not what I had planned! Thanks for the treats, I’ll see you.” You smile, putting on the brightest facade of happiness before fleeing into the unpersecuted safety of your office.

On the last day of the month you take the train downtown. The sharp November air slices the bare skin of your legs as you head into the depths of the city; the Saturday evening buzz is strong and floods of intoxicated partygoers filter in and out of clubs on each side of the street. The claustrophobia thins out as you approach the affluent section of the city; harsh neon lights fade into comforting warm candlelight, they reflect gently against the black gloss of Emily’s hair as she stands in the sheltered awning of the Gilded Lilly. You linger under the guise of adjusting your shoes and observe her for a moment; a lighter sparks in the dark, long inhale, a long exhale – the first curl of smoke, grey against black.

“Over here!” She calls your name, waving a gentle hand to beckon you forward.

She looks different, her cheeks are pink and her dark hair falls softly around her face, flushed and girlish and completely alive,

“You’re wearing a dress?!” You grin at her not so typical outfit and squeeze at her hand, readily accepting the invitation inside.

The polarising temperature is gratefully welcomed and you can’t repress a comforting hum as feeling comes back to your toes and hands. Emily chatters absentmindedly, pulling you by the wrist toward the bar where an opulently dressed man prepares a drink with loving precision and for a moment panic sets in. Emily, seemingly reading your mind, wraps her arm around your waist and huffs a laugh.

“These are on Rossi, this is his bar after all.”

A rich green path of marble leads you toward a large backroom where luscious velveteen couches surround solid oak tables and glistening chandeliers ricochet off art lined walls. You catch Rossi’s eye across the room and he smiles proudly.

“Kiddo! You made it!” he smells of faint cigars and expensive cologne when he envelopes you in a warm hug and tugs you down into the seat next to him.

It takes you less than seconds to deduce they’d been drinking long before you arrived – Morgan’s laugh carried louder and farther than usual, thick and low with drink. JJ and Emily snuggled into the rounded corner, laughing with Garcia around elaborate cocktails. Rossi and Aaron, older and more demure than their younger counterparts are blurred slightly at the edges, both follow your eyes and catch them when you turn.

“Where’s Spencer?”

The anger had simmered comfortably under the surface for weeks since that day in your kitchen, your relationship never fitting back into the boundaries of friendship. Penelope tried her best to prod at the wound, egging for blood but nothing came, you couldn’t admit the rejection even to her. The rest of the team sensed the mounting tension, but you waved away their concern with a decorative excuse and it seemed to placate them.

“I’m not sure he’s coming kid..” Rossi sighs, patting your shoulder as if he knows something he shouldn’t. “come on now, have some fun. Too much thinking isn’t good for anyone. Right Aaron?” Dave laughs, sliding a fresh cocktail to join the one Morgan and Emily bought you.

Before long three more empty glasses join the others and it had started to get rowdy. The copious amounts of liquor had bounced straight from your head to your bladder, it forces you out of your seat and you climb awkwardly over a blushing Aaron who pointedly looks anywhere but the low neck and short skirt of your new dress. It’s then a sharp choking cough breaks the mounting tension;

“Spence..” you breathe, scrambling away from Aaron who’s face blanches like sour milk.

He’s beautiful and still, spots of light rain litter his lambs wool coat like glass.

“Spencer!” Garcia squeals, and at that moment you could have kissed her. Spencer's expression cracks open, a rare smile and even rarer hug.

You blink at that, still stunned slightly dumb at the sight of him.

“Good to see you kid! Let’s get you a drink!” Rossi cheers and then they’re gone, bundled off toward the distant bar.

You stand silently for a minute, looking toward the hallway but turn at the sound of your name.

“So, are you going to tell us why pretty boy looks like he’s about to spontaneously combust every time you’re within fifty feet?” Morgan grins, smirking round a spectacular old fashioned.

You find yourself flinching at your own words, teeth clattering against the cold hard lie of;

“We had a disagreement that’s all. It’s nothing.”

It never really went away. You’d deliberately ignored the symptoms, but days and weeks went by and your craving for him never abated. Despite the disappointment of his rejection you’re happy he’s here and begin to relax.

It’s smiles all around when you deposit drinks to each member of the team in turn, including Spencer who’s shed himself of his coat, revealing a grey herringbone cardigan and white shirt. He doesn’t seem to notice you, he’s rambling about the origins of a Bloody Mary with unbridled passion and your heart melts like the ice in his glass. Whether it’s the heightened buzz of multiple cocktails or not you decide it’s a question for tomorrow and a squeeze his arm;

It happens in slow motion, the way Spencer jumps. The action sends the drink in your hands backwards and all over the front of your dress.

“What the hell?!” you gasp and stagger backward, taking a bunch of napkins from Emily who’s wide eyed along with the rest of the team who’ve lapped into uncomfortable silence.

Spencer stammers, gawping like a fish out of water, flapping about the mess on the table which he wipes erratically without sparing your wet dress and thunderous expression a second glance.

Aaron and Rossi, no longer blurred by liquor mutter to each other in your peripheral.

“Care to tell me what the hell that was about?” You’d had enough, weeks of icing each other out you thought he’d be receptive to your warmth but he says nothing instead. You almost laugh;

“A man with an IQ of 187 and nothing to say. Typical.” You hiss, slamming down the glass, splashing the residual whisky onto his jumper.

Aaron stands, stepping toward you with a pleading expression and his jacket. You ignore him, staring at Spencer who still doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Spence..” you plead and reach out but stop half way, thinking better of it. He seems to relax for a split second but visibly tenses when Aaron wraps his suit jacket around your shoulders.

You’re grateful for it’s warmth against your skin and step into it, pulling the inky black lapels around your exposed chest gratefully.

“Come on. Let it go. I’ll call you a cab.”

“Yeah.” Spencer snaps, his hazel eyes cutting, looks you and Aaron up and down “back to her place right?”

A collective intake of breath. A sharp snap of heels against marble. You’re dragging him off the chair by his cardigan, nails dig into the lean flesh of his arm. Rossi’s protests and Garcia’s high pitch yells are ignored and disappear as you shove a squirming Spencer out into street.

The sharp winter air ruffles Spencer’s hair, his back to you, pacing. Your arms folded against the cold, stoic and thunderous.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” the echo of your breath comes out in plumes of white, hard and fast. Spencer paces, large fingers curling into hard fists at his side.

“With me?” he squeaks, spinning to face you, honeyed eyes tear you in two . It’s almost a relief, a weight lifted as he finally sees you, holds your gaze for the first time in a month;

“You should look in the mirror.” He spits, the alcohol on his breath fanning your face; “throwing yourself over our boss because you can’t take rejection!”

It’s your turn to say nothing. You do nothing but shake like a trapped bird, winged and frantic. Whatever your face conveys, Spencer’s is stiff, a stoic mask giving nothing away.

“Yeah” you scoff, a wave of rage rising from your stomach hot and forceful “I see.”

How dare he make such a foul insinuation. You loved Aaron but wouldn’t cross that line, but Spencer didn’t need to know that. It didn’t take a genius, clearly to realise what was really going on here and you almost laugh in his face.

“See what exactly?” you’ve peaked his interest but hold steady.

He’s so close now, so close you don’t feel like one person anymore. Standing in place in the cold, gravitating toward his warmth. Brown rivulets fall in pieces around his face like a shield. The heady smell of faint cologne and black coffee fill your nostrils when you close in on him, ignoring the blaring of sirens and faint chatter from across the street.

“It’s funny. Your tongue in my mouth didn’t seem like rejection to me. But who cares?” You breathe in shakily, emboldened by a heady cocktail of liquor and adrenaline grab his forearm. “I’m going home with Aaron, right Spence?”

“Right..” Spencer breathes and steps in close, the ice in his eyes seem to crack imperceptibly.

“He’s going to touch me. Is that okay with you?” Spencer’s breath hitches as your voice purrs between you. He’s not running and the low throb between your legs begs for more.

“He’ll lay me down.” You continue, trailing numb fingers up his arms to come rest at his neck revelling in the way he trembles. “he’ll taste me.” Spencer moans; a breathy thing, barely heard, barely there. You sway, overtaken by the pleasure of such an innocent sound.

Spencer stutters your name more earnest, more desperate, and you aren’t even pretending to argue anymore. You lick your lips and almost catch his chin with your tongue and he moans again, breathy and begging. Begging for something, begging for you.

“And you know what?” you giggle now, pressing flush against him and feel just how much this is effecting him too. “He might just make me cum..”

The remnants of your laugh drown in his kiss; it’s flooded with frustration, hungry and wanton and the confidence of it knocks you back. He tastes like whisky and something sweet and soft that echoes through your body like a hiss down your spine. Moaning into it you know he feels it in his tongue where it strokes against yours. He snakes a long arm around your lower back and swings you closer, his other hand continues its path up your neck to grasp your jaw and it takes all your self control not to drop to your knees in public. As if reading your mind, Spencer pulls away, flushed and panting and hails a cab;

“Where are we going?” You laugh, a breathy wisp like sound but don’t get answer until he rambles your address, shoving a bunch of tens to the cab driver and suddenly you’re back where it all started.

You fall together in the dark, grappling with his coat and your shoes that he bends chivalrously to undo; the simple act elicits a moan from your lips that stops Spencer in his tracks and you can’t help but clench your thighs together for any scrap of friction. Spencer isn’t unaffected by the wanton noise but surprises you with a smug chuckle and the slow trail of his fingers against the pad of your foot as he divests you of the stiletto. It’s downright perverse, the jolt of pleasure that runs through your body, an erogenous zone only he would remember – damn that eidetic memory.

“Tell me” Spencer breathes out finally, adjusting his slacks with a pained grimace

“God, Spence..” you reach down and card a hand through his hair, suddenly shy “taste me..please.”

Spencer’s hands swallow your thighs, pushing your dress to sit around your waist. Your pulse pounds with anticipation and nerves, but you don’t miss his reassuring smile. Your nod of permission is all but lost against the wall when he dips a finger into the silky fabric of your underwear, just grazing you to pull the scrap of material to pool at your feet.

“Oh...my god.” You cry out and pull in a breath at the first wet press of his soft mouth, you’d spent more time than you’d admit out-loud staring at his lips – round coffee cups and pens, imagining this very moment. What you didn’t imagine is him being so damn good, the flat swipes of his tongue just where you need, the desperate sounds that vibrate against your clit. It doesn’t take much time to push you toward the edge, teetering – but his strokes turn languid, earning him a choking groan.

“Please, don’t..” you moan and grasp and the hair you can reach, desperate to put him back to work “don’t stop now..” a small wave of dread follows the memory him a few weeks earlier.

“I—I’m not.” He begins, you know him enough to see the nerves bubbling up amongst his arousal and step forward, reaching for the top of his waistband. Spencer’s throat jiggles, swallowing a squeak as you slip a hand into the fabric and choke on a gasp at what you find;

“Jesus...” He’s rock hard and thicker than you expected. It seems to embolden him, your reaction and his awkwardness is stifled to a small laugh that morphs into a groan of pleasure when you wrap a hand around him. He whines, bucking against your hand and it makes you weak, the whimpers coming from his perfect lips fuel to the fire.

“I’m, not going to last.” Spencer shimmies out your grasp, haloed by the moonlight pouring in from the uncovered window, tall and beautifully undone.

The first time you’d touched each other it’d been desperate, the way you came together , grappling for each other. You remember his face before he kissed you for the first time, much like the one he wears now, slinking forward, capturing your lips in a heady kiss that doesn’t stop until you hit the edge of your unmade bed. In another world, you’d be embarrassed at the chaos that hints to your unravelling but he’s turning you round to straddle him, both hands working expertly at the material of your dress. He’s impossibly hard and groans deeper than you’ve ever heard him and it shoots a bolt of pleasure so deep you ground down against him, ripping at the material of his shirt to marvel him. Spencer wasn’t like Derek, but god your imagination never put the pieces together quite like this.

“You’re so damn beautiful” you gasp, not giving him time to respond more than a muffled groan as you shove him into the bed. You don’t wait for him to respond, a slave to the throb between your legs, it takes seconds to strip him of all barriers. Spencer says nothing, his mind seems blank for the first time, you watch his honeyed eyes commit you to memory forever, the swell of your breasts, the taste of your skin and the intoxicating wetness that drenches his lap.

“Please, I need you..” you beg, as if he has control, as if you’re not just seconds away from sinking onto him.

Your gasp is strangled when he juts upwards, burying himself to the hilt. You almost don’t recognise yourself the way you cry in between dirty kisses that cover his neck, something that Morgan would definitely pick up on later – the thought of everyone witnessing your claim on him, the way you’ve made him your own sparks something like wildfire in your gut it drives your forward and you meet him in sloppy bobs of your hips.

The action sends Spencer reeling, his cock slipping easily out of you and before you grieve the loss of pleasure he’s looming above you, messy and wild and so fucking gorgeous it takes tremendous self control not to cry right there.

“Is this okay?” Spencer asks, nuzzling his question into your neck, smoothing the tip of his nose up and under your ear, to place a short kiss.

“God, yes please.” You gasp at the bite of pleasure soaked pain when he stretches you open, tortuously slow.

Spencer was a late bloomer, you knew that, but at this moment, when his expert fingers deftly catch the edge of your clit you’d never believe it. The exquisite friction causes you to whimper into his ear, tugging a little too hard on his hair that fans your face as he thrusts. You’re stuttering something akin to a plea, but he doesn’t give in that easily.

“Use your words.” Your brain short circuits for a second, watching him draw back from your neck, pupils blown out with lust “ communicate, that’s a good girl.”

Any words you’d conjured up in your head die in the water, engulfed in moan that you’re sure three houses down could hear. Spencer folds then, swallowing your moans in a bruising kiss.

“Make me cum Spence” you purr, rifling through his hair with one hand, pawing at his clenching stomach with the other. He rewards you with rumbling growl, his fingers finding your clit without effort, tight rapid circles that have you bucking into his thrusts, pushing the both of you closer to the edge.

You can’t stop it, you don’t even want to, for once in your life you let go. It crests like a sea, flooding through you and Spencer who growls and bites down on the gentle slope of your shoulder.

Spencer collapses against you, sweating and gasping in what you think is pleasure but you quickly realise he’s laughing.

“What’s so funny Mr 187?” you can only guess, but ever the educator, doesn’t leave you in the dark for long, rolling away he snuggles into your side.

“I can’t believe it.” He sighs, lush with the heavy weight of post orgasm sleep “I wanted to do that for so long..”

You can feel his nervousness in the beat of your silence and have to keep yourself from squealing in excitement like a love struck teen. You turn slowly, eyes shining with unshed emotion that you know he can see laid bare.

“Me too..” you sigh, entangling his fingers into yours, rolling over to hook his arm across your stomach “you’re so damn good. For a late bloomer..” you snigger, erupting into giggles when he nips at the back of your neck. You clench your thighs at the pleasure and can’t ignore the hard weight of his already hard cock at your back, but instead follow Spencer into sleep, cradling each other like sunken lovers on the ocean floor.

When the sun drenches your bedroom in hazy light do you let yourself remember, grinning as the weight of Spencer Reid’s naked body wriggles against your own. You catch yourself, just for a second, imagining a distant future of endless morning of this, but your dreaming is eventually interrupted by the rapid pulsing of a vibrating cell phone. Lurching your heavy body awkwardly across the bed you pick through discarded clothes and answer the 8th missed call from Aaron Hotchner.

“Reid, where are you? We have a case.”

A beat passes, a slow second of horrendous silence. You’d answered Spencer’s phone by mistake. Letting out a deep breath, resigned to the fact this is how they’d all find out if they hadn’t guessed already.

“Sorry Hotch. We’ll be there.”

With that, without saying another word you hang up and throw the phone into the corner of the room like it burnt.

“I hope you’re prepared to answer so many questions about my sexual performance when Garcia gets hold of this!” Spencer laughs, and you debate giving him blue balls for not coming to your rescue sooner. But the near constant buzzing of your own phone on the other side of the bed tells you in no uncertain terms that Garcia had been privy to your very brief phone call with Hotch, who undoubtedly told them all to behave but you know better.

Later, in the crisp afternoon air do you hook Spencer’s fingers in your own, a small gesture of solidarity and intimacy you can tell he greatly appreciated. From the end of the hallway, you spot the team who twist in a hilarious synchronicity.

Spencer squeezes your hand and you bring them up between you kissing interlocked fingers.

Art history class taught you that hands were the hardest thing to master, but you’d hold his forever.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #mathew grey gubler #spencer reid fanfiction

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lilylovestowrite · 5 months ago

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May I request Dan Heng taking care of drunk reader?

HE'S NOT MUCH OF A DRINKER, BUT HE'S A DREAM GIRL ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ Dan Heng x GN! Reader

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ None

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ Dan Heng picks you up from the bar, and it seems like you’re completely hammered.

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.4K

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you so much for submitting the very first ask! I won’t lie, I got a bit carried away so it’s a bit longer than most drabbles. I love my silly little dragon man.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

A sigh echoes across the halls of the Astral Express. The stars gleam and the sky is streaked with hues of purple and the serene teal of Dan Heng’s eyes, currently focused on the door to the little bar in the Astral Express. He opens the doors, and the grandiose chandelier above his head nearly blinds him. But what nearly takes his breath away is you, slumped on the onyx marble island with a cocktail in hand. No matter how often he enters a room and lays eyes on you, each and every time, his brain and eyes race to compute your beauty. However, even as your partner, the dark haired man keeps his affections closer to his chest.

“Dan Heng, what are you doing here?” You slur, eyes squinting at the silhouette approaching you. You can tell it’s him, because the aroma of autumn petrichor and old books almost overpowers the stench of alcohol. “Were you reading?”

“I’m here because March texted me to pick you up,” he smiles softly and nods in the pink haired girl’s direction, “let’s go to my room, angel.” To this nickname, you swoon, and March giggles softly, slinging a drunk Trailblazer over her shoulder and taking them to their room.

“Night, Dan Heng!” She chimes, eyes alight with amusement. Even in your state, barely able to walk, you know that this whole set up was most likely by her design. You can’t fault her for it though - March, ever the romantic, is the very reason you and Dan Heng are together now.

“Night, March.” He replies back, and he turns all of his attention towards your slumped figure. “Now, what to do with you.” His mutters are soft, and even in private, there is a rather comforting strain of sterness in his tone. “I’m going to help you up, can you walk?”

“Mm, no.” You reply, and find his perplexed expression absolutely adorable. His nose scrunches up and you can practically see the cogs running in his head, trying to devise a plan to get you to his room. You decide to be gracious and give him the solution: “Carry me?”

“Carry you?” Dan Heng asks, surprise leaking into his voice. He then falters and coughs behind his palm in an attempt to regain his composure, “Carry you. I can do that. Come on.” He gently pries your hands off the cocktail glass and lifts you up in a bridal carry. His footsteps echo in the halls, the starlight illuminating his soft expression.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your reading time,” you whisper, suddenly self-conscious that you’ve made your boyfriend take the brunt of your own actions, “I didn’t think the cocktails were so strong.”

“It happens, don’t worry.” He replies, “I wasn’t reading anything interesting anyway. Just boring things about the stars.” And you think you’re about to enter his room, the faint glow of his night lamp leaking through the doorway, but he makes a turn and heads towards the observatory..

“Are we sleeping somewhere else?” You ask, shifting slightly. You trust that Dan Heng won’t drop you, even if you thrash around like a worm.

“The observatory has a nicer bathroom nearby in case you feel nauseous. And besides…” He hesitates, dark lashes fanning over the teal irises that stare down on you. “...I’ve wanted to sleep under the stars with you for a while now. What do you think?”

You pause, both flustered, taken aback, and enraptured by him. It seems that no matter what he does, or what he asks for, you can never say no to him. Nor do you want to. The urge to spoil him, to see that serene little smile on his face when he lets his guard down, is your ultimate goal. So naturally, your response is: “Sure, let’s do that.”

Dan Heng is rather good at keeping a poker face, but around you, (either because he has no use for his reservations or because you have gotten so good at reading him), not one emotion goes unnoticed. So even if he looks away, you notice in the reflection of the windows sealing off the extra rooms, that a light pink hue kisses his cheeks, accompanied by a toothy, boyish grin.

He gently opens the door to the conservatory with his hip, setting you down in a chair and cracking open a bottle of water. “Here, drink this. I’m just gonna open up the sofa bed.” And as he does so, you take a look around the remarkable room. Made of glass, you can see the stars as the express glides across the cosmos. The interior is rather simple: a minifridge in the corner, accompanied by a few house plants; a black chaise lounge that you currently occupy, and a black sofa bed that Dan Heng places pillows on. The entire view is celestial, picturesque, but the most breathtaking view is your lover. Even in simple clothing, the black turtleneck he wears, paired with his white pants, he always looks as if he has stepped out of an ink wash painting. Untouchable, yet so gorgeous.

And, all yours.

It seems that you are too drunk to conceal your adoration, because Dan Heng comes towards you, crossing his arms. “What are you looking at?” He asks, both teasingly and with slight seriousness. The cadence of his voice, normally monotonous, rises and falls as his eyes scan your expression.

“You!” You giggle, unashamedly. Dan Heng blushes softly, realising that his plan has backfired. Instead, he guides you to the bed, a hand hovering above your waist.

“You really have no shame, do you?”

“Especially not when I’m drunk!” You babble, letting him prop the pillows up so you aren’t fully laying down. You make yourself at home, shimmying into the covers next to him.

“I can see that, dear.” He replies.

Dear?

You jerk your head towards him with such speed, you nearly go green.

“Wh-what?” He asks, blinking at you.

“You never call me pet names.” You blurt out, “It just caught me off guard.” Dan Heng has never been one for sappy affections, especially because he can’t take your reactions. He tells you it’s because your name is the most beautiful thing to call you by, and it’s true, but if he catches you with that lovesick stare, he isn’t sure his heart can handle it.

“Well, you’re so far gone, I don’t think you’ll remember this anyway.” He replies cooly, but his ears are completely red. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Don’t change the subject! Call me that again!” You plead, pouting and dramatically draping yourself over his lap. “C’mon please?”

“N-no, I think pet names are more effective in moderation.” Dan Heng replies, but the heat consumes his face so much, he pushes his dark hair out of his face and fans himself slightly.

“Aww, bummer.” You lay back, and he locks his fingers with yours, using your intertwined hand to reach up to the sky, in all its astral grace and heavenly beauty. He guides your clasped hand to a planet above:

“That’s Venus, look!” His voice, now slightly sleepy, rumbles a few octaves deeper, and the calming vibrations cause waves of sleep to wash over you. “And over there, that pink planet? That’s actually a moon for another planet. Miranda.”

“Really?” You look towards him, and his face glows with childish wonder. His guard is completely lowered around you. It’s not that he becomes more like a kid around you, but he feels comfortable being vulnerable and letting his excitement show. You watch him with the same wonder he gazes at the stars with, but your eyes struggle to stay open.

“Mhmm! I think there’s going to be a meteor shower tonight. Do you want to watch it together?” He asks, a tiny smile spreads onto his face, but when he turns around, his expression softens even more. “You look tired, get some sleep, my love.”

“Okay but…” You mumble, pulling the floral duvet up to your chin, “...Wake me up when it begins.”

You don’t hear his reply as you finally let your fatigue catch up with you, slumber slowly letting you drown, but just as you fully surrender, you feel a pair of lips brush against your forehead.

#honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail #dan heng #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff #hsr x reader #hsr dan heng #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr x you

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nordsea-horizons · 9 months ago

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da for my normcore island petrichor💛🪴

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arcanagoat · 9 months ago

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little animation from a few months ago

#petrichor #dnd #oc #tiefling #the broken island

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rotomblr-island · 6 months ago

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You're watching Mii News!

This news may be difficult for our viewers to believe.

We've received reports that mythical centaurs have been spotted in the north of Rotomblr Island.

Take a look at this photo.

It appears to show a herd of centaurs trotting up a mountain.

However, there are some doubts about eyewitness Kopi's story and photo evidence.

Police suspect the photo has been foaled with. We hope Kopi wasn't just horsing around.

We asked some islanders for their thoughts on the matter.

Petrichor: Well, that's pretty amazing...

Sephy: No comment.

Thanks for watching!

#rotomblr island news #islander: kittsu rose #islander: lime brass #islander: skitty broker #islander: jaime delgado #islander: wallace nakajima #islander: tommy annalis #islander: squid :)#islander: kopi belladonna #islander: petrichor sternfield #islander: sephy crescent

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 7 months ago

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Petrichor

Summary: In which Gavin Reed is so boyfriend that I nearly gave myself teeth rot with them being stinking adorable and domestic.

Pairing: Gavin Reed x afab!Reader

Word Count: -3.8k (That got out of control so fast)

Content Warnings: Cuddlefucking 18+!, A Whole Lot Of Feelings, Angst, Mentions Of Blood, They Are So In Love With Each Other, Gavin Being A Massive Softy, Ye Good Olde Missionary (But Freak It A Little), Unprotected P In V, Creampie, Oral (F Receiving), Tongue Fucking, Funishment, Overstimulation, Soft Sleepy Morning Sex, L-Bombs, Internalised Self-Loathing/Affirmation

A/N: I appear to have very strong feelings about Gavin “Phck!” Reed.

Tagging: @ohlookapan @queer-crusader @somethingblu3 @blueberrypancakesworld

And just like the rain

You cast the dust into nothing

And wash out the salt from my hands

So touch me again

I feel my shadow dissolving

Will you cleanse me with pleasure?

- Rain By Sleep Token

The peculiar taste of iron slithered into your mouth and laced itself all over your tongue. In an absentminded movement, you swiped the tip of it along a hardly even there incision on your bottom lip where teeth had just nipped and torn at the sensitive skin, effectively reopening the frequently brutalized patch towards the right corner of your mouth.

Tiny droplets of red oozed out of the opening and you lapped it all up, just like you always did when the steadily lingering sensations of anxiety and nervosity roared up again, the constant white noise of emotional dread growing into the feeling of your ribcage painstakingly getting dismembered rib by rib until you insides laid bare again.

You only started biting right at your lip when the soft tissue on the inside of your mouth just wouldn’t cut it anymore, ceased to give you the sensory distraction you longed for so much.

You exhaled a shallow breath to not stir the already bubbling concoction boiling up right behind your sternum. However, the slight rise and fall of your chest were already enough to elevate the nervous buzzing to a beehive of paralyzing thrashing of existential dread that terrorized your mind with such tyranny that it sparked psychosomatic symptoms to ripple through your body.

Your upper lip twitched and you instinctively bit down on the patch of swollen tissue on your bottom one anew, suckling at the broken skin. The sharp little sting emitting from the scratch came as a strangely soothing sensation, strange not in the way that it soothed you but strange in the sense that you knew something like this shouldn’t be that calming to you for it was considered an unhealthy coping mechanism by many.

Breathe, just breathe, for this, too, shall pass.

You admonished yourself to not get lost in the rapturing sea of your own emotions. There wasn’t anything new to discover, no new island of calm to shipwreck upon that would suddenly shelter you from the chronic overthinking, no, you had to stay afloat until the storm eventually died down. Allowing your eyes to flutter shut as tightly as you needed them to be, you searched for something else to direct your focus to, and the low drumming of plump raindrops against the window caught your attention. Sunday morning, 9 am, heavy rain from dark, low-hanging clouds, truly a Detroit classic.

You liked the sound of rain, always enjoyed it unless you had to be somewhere else than hidden away underneath your duvet. It paired well with a steaming hot cup of tea or coffee when you felt good enough to risk the caffeine jitters, maybe a few cookies on the side to let your teeth sink into something other than the already thoroughly tortured skin of your bottom lip.

Later, you’d get up, later, once the vile concoction of should’ve, would’ve, could’ve had imploded into a gust of hot air, you’d treat yourself to those things and perhaps a comfortingly hot shower as well. You surely could use one after tossing and turning all night, only being able to slip into the twilight zone of not really being awake but also not properly asleep.

The tapping of the rain against the thick glass surface carried your thoughts away successfully, calmed them with every stiff breeze that intensified the rumbling outside your apartment. The more your thoughts wandered, drifted off into imaginary images about a breakfast to be had or the comforts of being able to stay in today, the more your breathing loosened up, the exhaustive tension simmering down until the very back of your throat fell into a state of such relaxation that a quiet and low snore hummed out of your mouth.

A desperately longed-for calm washed through your sleep-deprived body and with a faint smile tugging around your mouth, you stretched; one arm folding underneath your pillow and everything else spread out away from you, torso turned half to the side and half on your belly. Whilst a jawn rumbled through your chest, you arched your back, spine lightly cracking from not being moved properly for today.

As your statue was softly writhing underneath the cozy blanket, the curve of your behind pressed into a warm lap, ass rubbing over a ruffled waistband and soft cotton fabric. Immediately, a sleep-drunk Gavin behind you crooned against the back of your head. He uttered a breathy “Hey” into your hair, his voice still raspy as his broad hand snaked around your waist pulling you closer underneath the shared covers.

You hummed in return, body and mind not really there enough to form words out of cohesive letters. Instead, you followed his tug and shimmied closer, his front gradually pressing against your back, your bodies reacting to one another in this drowsy, sluggish haze of a slowly unfolding Sunday morning.

Every last bit of tension appeared to eventually leave your body as the warmth of Gavin’s skin seeped through the thin fabric of your shirt. Like a gentle, oversized heating pad, he cupped your body with his, inviting your muscles to relax in his hold.

Another little groan fell from his lips as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, the tip of his nose stroking along the shell of your ear gingerly before warm lips left a gentle trail of kisses right underneath your earlobe. The sensation of his loving caresses sent a warm shudder all across your skin, egging you on to want to feel more of them, more of Gavin; with a lazy smile adorning your face, you rolled your hips back again, pushing and grinding yourself into his crotch as the wash of nipping pecks quickly caused you to throb around nothing.

“ ‘Ts mean!” It trickled from your lips in a quiet whine which was met by a snarky huff.

“Last time I checked, t’was your ass in my lap, babe.” The sleepy rumble in his tone made your skin pebble against his mouth.

“I dunno what you’re on about.” You stated in a whim of play-pretend innocence.

“Don’t mind reminding you.”, Gavin cooed right into your ear, his warm breath breezing along your neck as he jutted his waist against the round of your behind, “Got me all hard just like that already.”

Feeling his rigid cock pressing into your rear pulled a needy groan from your tongue, insides clenching down again with your hips instinctively pushing anew. The need to close the already sparse distance between your bodies, to feel Gavin thrusting inside of you to render your brain oh so beautifully numb for a while spread like wildfire, however, grinding on him like that already felt so good that it was hard to tear yourself away. Fortunately, Gavin picked right up on you shuffling away from him just enough to roll onto your back, nearly tearing off his shorts, the cloth already cracking and ripping dangerously at the seams. He paid it no mind, a sluggishly buffering brain way too busy with coordinating hands that helped to shimmy out of the fabric.

Following his lead, you rid yourself of the gradually dampening cotton from between your legs, discarding the slip to the floor with a swift jerk of your wrist, the lacey thing bunching up on the floor.

“Oh, sweets.”, Gavin’s half-lidded gaze dropped to your chewed-up bottom lip almost immediately after swinging his body on top of yours, hips dipping against the insides of your thighs gently, “That bad of a night?”

Upon his words, you couldn’t help but flinch a little, a sense of shame and discomfort taking brief hold of your features.

“Just…the last few days, you know?” You admitted, every word already beyond your comfort zone.

“I know.”, Your lover nodded his head softly in understandment, recalling how those past days spent with your family certainly did a number on you, “Want me to take care of that?”

“Uh-huh.” The coy mumble left your moth reluctantly because it still evoked some sort of embarrassment to admit that you needed him to take care of you in that peculiar way.

“Issok, babe. I know it’s been rough but you’ve been so brave and good through all of it.”, Gavin threw you a sincere smile before he leaned in, plush lips slowly kissing along your collarbone, “ ‘m so proud of you.”

His praise threatened to draw tears from your eyes, a certain wetness already prickling at your tear ducts.

“I mean it. ‘twas a rough one.” Lips wandered from your collarbone to the edge of your yaw, teeth playfully pulling and biting.

“Wasn’t that bad…” You tried pushing back in some sort of conditioned self-defense, not ready to admit just how much your family tended to fuck you up.

“Ay, shhh. Don’t wanna hear any of that.”; Gavin’s lips mouthed against the corner of yours, voice lulling you in gingerly, “No need to lie to yourself. Sometimes family is messy.”

You knew he was right about that, yet, the profound fact broke something within.

“Hey, I got you.” Gavin immediately took notice of your violently thrashing state of mind and pressed his lips right onto yours in quiet affirmation.

Your shaking hands shot up to find purchase with palms pressed against his shoulder blades, tugging at him in the still raging need to feel him more and your lover followed your demand; pushing himself into your wet and throbbing cunt in a slow thrust.

“Fuck…” You groaned out against his cheek before you hid your face in his chest, deeply chocolate-brown hairs tickling your chin.

“Too much?” It shot out of his mouth, Gavin being ready to pull back in this very second.

“No…you feel so fucking good.” Feeling him stretching you out like that coaxed a low hum from you as you savored the moment, reveling in being one with him.

“Hm’kay, how about that?” He bottomed out again, leaving just the swollen tip to rest within, teasing you before setting a slow yet heavy pace.

Gavin knew what he was doing to you - with you -, rendering your brain deliciously quiet with every rough roll of his hips, only the sound of skin slapping against filling your head as you allowed yourself to let go.

Dipping further down, Gavin drilled himself inside of you as far as he possible, shoving at your knees until they rested against his upper sides. He hit spots that you couldn’t possibly reach with just your fingers; not in that intensity and not whilst making you feel so fucking full.

“Love you so much.”, Gavin’s breathing started to get labored and a little shallow, “ ‘nd I know it’ll be okay. I’ll make it be okay.”

One of his hands slithered underneath your back, pulling you impossibly close, cradling you and effectively muffling your little cries and moans with his chest. Taking everything Gavin had to offer, you curled up against him, almost crawling into him if it wasn’t for the layers of skin and muscles not allowing you to, and from the very pit of your stomach you felt it rearing its ugly head again; dread.

A vile pang of worthlessness jolted through your chest and nothing could stop it from happening, making you wince against Gavin’s collarbone. It came as a high-pitched, ugly wail and Gavin sure knew you well enough to sense what venom your mind started spewing again.

“Nuh-uh, babe.”, He cooed, palm flat against the small of your back and never ceasing to hold you close, “You’re my favorite person ‘nd I don’t care if your family is too fricking dense to see how wonderful you are. I do.”

His pace eased up, thrusts coming softer and even slower than before, the dragged-out movements setting your body ablaze to counteract the ruckus that was avalanching through your thoughts.

“They don’t deserve getting to you like that, sweets. You’re simply too good for them and they know.” Gavin hummed to you, talking, guiding you through this truly awkward patch of arousal clashing with anxiousness until it was undeniable that the former one had taken over.

“Gavin…”, Your voice was nearly inaudible with your face smothered by his chest, “...need you.”

You couldn’t see it, but Gavin above you grinned, knowing he’d won against your head, for now at least, as he pushed both of you into the mattress, swiftly taking his hand from your back and instead throwing one of your ankles over his broad shoulder. He drilled himself into you with a kind of precision that you’d never encountered before, hitting spots that made you see white flickers behind closed eyes.

Your lover coaxed your body right to the edge and you felt the orgasm building with such ferocity that it had you trembling, everything else reduced to the rhythmic throbbing and clenching of your leaking cunt. You pulled him in, muscles rendering rigid and ready to snap at the very next thrust.

“Oh, fuck…” Gavin groaned, feeling you tightening around him and pushing him equally close to unloading himself as deep as possible within.

“Please, jus-”, You pleaded unto him to hold on for a tiny little moment longer, breath hiccuping in the back of your throat, “Shit-...fuck…”

You couldn’t even properly finish the sentence as thoroughly penetrated muscles started contracting, leading your whole body to flinch in a moment of blissed out ecstasy. For a fewheavenly seconds, your mind was quiet, the dark of your former thoughts getting shushed by a thrashing firework of synapses firing dopamine and oxitocyn in tandem.

Towering above you and pressing his hips into your ass as hard as he possibly could without seriously hurting you, Gavin grunted out and that noise alone made you throb once more for it was one of your favorite sounds to ever grace your ear. The sounds of Gavin unraveling nestled between your thighs in whatever shape or form filled you with a sense of pride and accomplishment but also love, sheer and unbridled love for the person you were with day in and day out.

“Ouw…” You muttered into the slowly forming space between your bodies as you pulled your face from his collarbone and realized just how hard you’d clawed your fingers into his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, y’know I like it when you do that.” He smiled down at you, gray eyes with just a hint of blue darting right at you with a gentle spark in them.

It was contagious, hopping right onto your face without a warning as your half-lidded gaze studied his features and eventually got hung up on the old, nearly entirely faded streak of scar tissue reaching from the bridge of his nose to the soft curve of his left cheek. You raised a hand to let your fingers trace the delicate skin, Gavin tilting his head into your palm at your gentle touch.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” That appeared to take Gavin by surprise because a faint hint of pinkish blush crept into his cheeks, one that wasn’t caused by physical effort.

“Naah- “ You interrupted him right there and then.

“I mean it, Gavin. You’re awfully handsome. Can’t even mope around in peace with having those pretty eyes on me.” It elicited a wide smile to form on his flushed lips that just proved your point.

“See? Can’t have a panic attack when you beam at me like that, love.” Your fingers wandered from his cheek to his head, eager to ruffle through the luscious and ruffled tufts of his soft hair.

“If that’s so I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse.” Gavin breathed deeply, openly enjoying how you toyed with his hair.

“Oh, how come?” You allowed yourself to tug a little teasingly, pulling a quiet moan from your lover.

“Well, I’m not only going to be all over you all day long with that stupid smile on my face, but I’m also going to serve you breakfast in bed.”, He leaned in closer, the tip of his nose almost touching yours, “And if you keep tugging at my hair like that, missy, I might just treat myself to breakfast in bed right about now.”

“You mean like that?” You were well aware that your body wasn’t ready for round two just yet, everything still overstimulated in the wake of a slowly fading orgasm, however, you couldn’t help but tug at his hair again, this time with a little more ferocity.

“Oh, don’t you cry to me, babe.”, Gavin mouthed out in a low groan, “You brought that onto yourself now.”

In a smooth and devilishly swift movement that told on him being a police detective after all, he pulled himself out of you, leaving you to ooze the amalgamation of your shared release onto the sheet below, but only enough to crawl back, seating himself on his heels and grab you by the thighs.

“Gavin!” You shrieked out, voice half gasp half laughter, as he yanked you with him, eyebrows cocking at you in that unapologetically arrogant way he mainly reserved for his colleagues.

“Nuh-uh!” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, ready to shove his head between your thighs the very next moment.

You squirmed in his grasp, the expected overstimulation rippling through your sore muscles as you felt the full width of his tongue lick against your soaked folds, tip parting them until it nudged against a still swollen clit.

His name fell from your trembling lips again and again but he wouldn’t budge and you knew that you got yourself into this position where pain and pleasure went hand in hand. The overstimulation had your muscles twitching but Gavin held you in an unyielding grasp as he lapped at your cunt like the man on a clear mission that he was; administering the threatened funishiment until you were nothing but whimpering putty in his hold.

As soon as the prickling discomfort of heavy overstimulation eased up, nothing but pure bliss filled every fiber, actively rendering any thought nill and void with Gavin gingerly closing his tender lips around your clit. He suckled carefully, attentive to not hurt you but to drive you wild just the right amount. You writhed, nearly thrashing and bucking your hips into his face whilst choked whines and whimpers stumbled out of your mouth helplessly.

Pushing you further and further got Gavin hard again, blood rushing down to a gradually stiffening cock but this wasn’t about him and he’d rather eat you out until his jaw rendered slack and sore before making it about him.

It was merely 10:30am by now and there would be more than enough time in this day to take you out for lunch and enjoy you on the sofa for dessert. Right now, all he wanted was to feel you getting off again, to feel it gushing onto his chin mixed with the salty taste of himself in between notes of the much sweeter you.

Just the thought of it caused his cock to twitch against his lower abdomen in a wet thud, maybe he’d really just stay like that for hours with you on his tongue, coaxing orgasms from your body until you couldn’t walk straight anymore, maybe. He’d like that, Gavin’s mind conjuring the mental image of you waddling to the bathroom on shaky legs as he doubled down and pushed this tongue into your clenching cunt.

The gentle stretch of his tongue had your head lolling into the pillow, eyes fluttering shut, and lips agape to make way for a guttural groan to escape you. At this very moment, you could not give a single damn about anything besides Gavin fucking you on his tongue, the soft and nimble muscle massaging you from the inside whilst his nose flicked over your clit with every bop of his head.

The night before, you’d gone off on him leaving his things scattered everywhere all the time. You had berated him for at least a solid 15 minutes about how you’d grown very sick of his messy shit and how you were tired of cleaning up after him, however, right now all your anger had evaporated and you thought to yourself that you’d pack a hundred pairs of socks back together if he’d just never stop fucking you like this.

For a split second, you found yourself worried if you might have just dislocated his jaw with your thighs clenching down around his pretty face so hard as the second orgasm took you by storm. The new waves of spasming muscles rendered you incapable and tore the control over your body right from you, your insides throbbing around a still moving, still thrusting tongue that didn’t stop until Gavin had savored every last contraction.

You cried out to him, chanted his name like a prayer til your throat felt sore.

“So fuckin’ beautiful.”, Gavin huffed after releasing you from his grasp and pulling away from you to give you a chance to recover, “Can’t even describe how fucking nice it feels to have you all over me, babe.”

Through weary eyes, you squinted at your lover, chin glistening with your wetness and his thumb running along his bottom lip to capture a generous droplet before popping it into his mouth.

“You are such a horndog, Gavin Reed.” It rolled over your tongue in an amused gasp as you tried to prop yourself onto your elbows, muscles and bones feeling thoroughly wobbly.

“Guilty as charged but I don’t hear you complaining ‘bout it, hm?” With a wide grin on his face, Gavin tilted his head to the side, damp strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

“It’s not a complaint. It’s just a simple observation I was stating.” You smiled back.

“Uh-huh, alrighty then, how about I observe what’s in the fridge and make breakfast?”, Gavin wiped his face with the back of his hand, chest still rising and falling quickly to catch his breath, “Fancy a sandwich?”

“Fuck yeah!”, It just splurged out of you, post-orgasm munchies were certainly no joke with you this time, “Ham, cheese, chili sauce?”

“I see what I can do, chief.” He blew you a little kiss before grasping for his briefs.

#gavin reed x reader #gavin reed fanfic #gavin reed #detroit: become human #detroid become human #dbh #dbh fanfic #dbh gavin #gavin reed smut

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