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007reid · 1 year ago

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hi aine! i love how you write spencer sooo much so i have a short request

i would looove sub/virgin spence where he’s been touch starved so he’s really sensitive and whiny but reader praises him and guides him through it

-🌹

hi rose 🌹 for one of my favorite asks ive ever gotten, i did a horrible job on this one so im so sorry ml 💔and sorry for the wait too...hope this is somewhat worth it😭enjoooyy!!

virgin. spencer reid

pairing: sub virgin!spencer reid x experienced fem!reader. 1k

summary: exactly what the req says

warnings: whining, loss of virginity, riding, creampie, nun too extravagant. yu like the picture?😏😏

"y/n...y/n!" spencer's crying, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes but he's moaning, humming his whines into your neck.

"easy, baby boy," you croon, slipping out of him and slowly lowering yourself on his cock again. spencer's pawing at you desperately, like he's never felt such a thing before.

it's because he hasn't. it’s exciting, being in a relationship with spencer; it’s exciting touching him and seeing him jump or freeze and then melt into your touch. he’s pristine, like a shiny trophy, untouched—touch starved and so unfamiliar to the idea of physical touch or intimacy.

"'s too much," he whimpers pathetically, voice halfway stuck in his throat. "can't, can't--"

"relax, spence," you murmur, pushing back the pieces of hair, damp with sweat from his face. spencer's eyes are squeezed shut, eyebrows furrowed like he's in pain or he's deep thought. you're not to sure which one. your hips continue snapping into his. "look at me baby." it takes a while, but spencer slowly peels his eyes open. they're glossy and his eyelashes are wet, and you're listening out for the word from him to stop but it never comes.

"y/n--" he gasps, right as your pussy clenches tightly around him. his eyes close again. spencer's breathing heavily, little hng, hng, hng's falling out his puffy lips. the sloppy sound of skin slapping against skin and spencer's whines and your quiet moans and the smell of sex clouds the room.

"you're okay," you reassure him, voice shaky trying to soothe spencer's nerves while trying to soothe your own. spencer's big and he practically splits you in half, the tip hitting the little button inside you that makes you want to scream without any maneuvering. he's not even trying, propped up against the bedpost as you ride him, hands pliant at your hips, the little slick of your wetness every time you lift yourself from him absolutely filthy. you lift his chin and he falls forward, planting a miss-aimed kiss at your jaw.

"you feel so good," he bambles. "so warm. i love you. feels so good but so much y/n, i--" he moans, cock pulsating inside you. his thumb flicks at your perky nipples.

"'m so full of you," you say, burying your face in his hair and wrapping your arms around him, trying to get as close as possible. "fuck. make me feel so good. my best boy,"

"best boy," spencer repeats eagerly with a soft little hitch of his voice. the tears resume. "y/n i can't it hurts, stomach hurts y/n please--"

you immediately know what he meant, and fasten your pace, hands on the base of his cock to make sure he won't slip out of you. spencer slides into you easily, your pussy stretched and wet for him and his fingers dig deep into both sides of your waist. spencer's moans cease and his hips starts bucking up to you, arms wrapping around your torso and he wouldn't stop talking. "gonna, think im gonna cum, yn please dont stop it feels so good, fuck!"

"cum in me," you coo, feeling that familiar buzz at the pit of your stomach too. "you got it. cum in me spence, so good for me, such a good boy,"

spencer's sobbing as he cums, warmness blooming at your core as he unloads his cum inside you. you follow suit, pressing at the sensitive nerves bundles at your clit, thighs shaking from the weight of your orgasm. spencer's shaking too, tears shiny on his rosy cheeks and you ride the both of you off your orgasms, the sweat on your skin cooling.

spencer's cum leaks outside the puffy walls of your pussy and down your ass when you pull off of him, pressing yourself at spencer's side and curling your body towards him. his chest is rising and his lips are parted. you watch your boy carefully, how his eyelids starts drooping as his breathing mellowed out. you should've saw it coming that spencer reid is the kind of man to get sleepy after sex.

but you've known him for long enough to know that spencer's mind never stops running, not when he's sleepy, not when he's asleep, not ever. "penny for your thoughts?"

he turn to you, smile debauched and eyes like marbles. he throws the sheets over the both of you and find your hand underneath the blanket, bringing it to his lips. "'m so grateful for you yn," he whispers like he's telling a secret. you strain your ear to listen. "so grateful. luckiest man alive. i love you. love you," spencer takes a long blink, and you know he's drifting off. you smile widely, so endeared. he weaves your fingers together. "i'll make it up to you. swear. after this. i swear."

spencer never speaks in choppy sentences, never speaks unless he's got the entire sentence planned out in his head and now he's babbling on like someone whose speech he would correct. amused, you reach out, smoothing down his hair with gentle fingers. "sleep, spencer," you say affectionately. he never needs to be told twice either, apparently, because his eyes flutter shut and he's out like a light, but fingers still tightly intertwined in yours underneath your blanket.

you'll just have to wash the sheets tomorrow.

2K notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 1 year ago

Text

Hating You Is The Easiest Thing I Can Do

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: When your boss pulls your case out from under you and gives it right to the BAU, you're pissed. You're even more pissed when Doctor Spencer Reid suggests you can't do your job properly. After a week in his company, you decide to give him a piece of your mind

Warnings: Day One of Kinktober - Hate Sex, enemies to lovers, dom/sub, Mean!Dom!Spencer, Brat!Reader, spanking, degradation, spanking, spit kink, sir kink, vaginal fingering, slight creampie, Reader's boss is an asshole, typical office misogyny. Spencer is also an asshole, but that's just because he's a dumbass.

A/N: Special thank you to @reidmotif and @mrs-dr-reid for proofreading this one for me! I wrote this when on a major Pride and Prejudice moment, which is why there's a whole lot of plot before the sex. I hope you like the build-up just as much as the smut! <3 If you like it, don't forget to leave a like, reply, or reblog and tell me your thoughts! ((just as a reminder, apart for Sundays and Tuesdays, I'll be posting all the kinktober fics on AO3 exclusively, so check out my writing there - reiderwriter))

My requests are also back open now, so if you like my writing and have an idea, check out my request guidelines and drop me a message in my inbox! You can find the rest of my masterlist here :)

To say you were angry was an understatement. You were seething, the anger bubbling up inside of you and threatening to lash out at anyone who so much as crossed your path as you made your way down the crappy motel corridor. You'd only known Spencer Reid a week, but you could think of no one you despised more.

The FBI had always been a boys' club, you knew that. There were some goddamn strong women in your field office, of course, but you were outnumbered 10 to 1. Which was why you were so determined to do well on the first case assigned to you as lead Agent. The first week of the case, you'd made sure you were thorough. A body had been found in the park by a jogger, and you darted to the crime scene the moment you got the call. A woman in her early twenties, like you, had been raped, tortured, and then dumped here, her body posed in a demeaning way to make it seem as if she were performing a sexual act. Your entire body shuddered at the sight, but you couldn't let your coworkers see you weak so you powered through. Collecting evidence, getting an ID on the victim, interviewing potential witnesses, and yes, even breaking the news to the poor girl's family, you had been so attentive to every detail of the case and you felt you were making progress, your boss delivered a humbling blow.

"Another body has been discovered. I've invited the Behavioural Analysis Unit in from Quantico because you're in over your head." He'd told you, not even looking up at you from the file he was reading on his desk.

"What? I wasn't told about another body, why wasn't I notified?"

"I didn't think you needed to know, now that the BAU is coming in."

"So I'm off the case? That's it?"

"No, I want you to assist them in their investigation. Tell them everything you've gathered so far, get them situated in the office as best you can."

"Get them coffee when they want it? Rub their feet if they ask for it? This is bullshit, I was making progress, if you'd only have given me more time-"

"Agent, I suggest you walk out of this office right now and get your PMSing under control before I have to suspend you from fieldwork." You pressed your nails further into the beds on your palms then and bit back your tongue from replying, simply giving a terse nod and exiting the office.

It wasn't even an hour later before the new team arrived, and you offered a tense smile and welcome as you got them set up in their own office. The Unit Chief didn't seem too bad, but Aaron Hotchner couldn't exactly be described as the most welcoming of people, and you felt an instant camaraderie with JJ, the other agent who'd come into the office with him. There were more agents apparently, but they'd gone out into the field to check out the new victim and reinterview the family, something you weren't exactly happy about. But, if you were going to be their little bitch for the next week, you were at least thankful they were tolerable and polite.

"So here's everything I've got so far. I've been pretty thorough in my interrogations of potential witnesses, and there are no CCTV cameras in the general vicinity of the dump sites, so I don't think you'll find anything else there that'll aid in your profile."

" If you'd have been thorough you'd have found this though, right?" A new voice popped up from the door, and you felt yourself tense up under the sudden accusation. Looking up you saw he was holding up his phone, a picture of a strange marking on a tree lighting up the screen.

"Excuse me?"

"This was left on a tree roughly thirty feet from the first dump site. I called Rossi and Morgan and they found a similar marking near the second victim. It's a Mesopotamian symbol relating to the worship of prostitutes and sex workers to promote fertility." He spoke plainly, but all you could hear was the condescension in his tone, and your blood boiled with rage.

" Agent Y/L/N, I'm sorry about him, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, he's another member of our team." JJ introduced the man, sending him a warning glance, as if letting him know that he hadn't just put his foot in his mouth directly.

You looked at the man then, really focusing on him now instead of the pictures, and almost cursed out loud again. He was a jerk, but fuck was he attractive. Tousled hair, dark eyes, and a perfectly sculpted jaw, it was as if he were sent from hell directly to piss you off and tempt you. You pushed the attraction aside for the minute then, choosing to be the bigger person and introduce yourself.

"I'm Agent Y/N Y/L/N. And I'm sorry that I'm not an expert on Mesopotamian prostitutes, but I guess that's probably your specialty, right, Doctor?" You held out your hand for him to shake, but he just looked down at it.

"If you're referring to my doctorate, I actually didn't study classic civilizations. I hold PhDs in Math, Chemistry, and Engineering and additional BAs in Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology. And I don't do handshakes." He glanced straight past you after that, walking back over to Hotch and filling him in on other things you must've overlooked during your brief time working the case.

You glared at his back, finally letting your hand drop to your side again as you let out an angry chuckle.

"Don't take it personally, Spencer is just… He’s He's not great with people. He'll warm up to you." JJ put a reassuring arm on your shoulder and you nodded. But inside you knew there was not one thing the man could do to reverse the bad opinion of him you'd just gained.

–X–

After the initial anger of having the case seeped out from beneath you wore off, you actually began enjoying your time with the BAU. You hadn't put much thought into profiling before, it usually being so far off your radar while you were working in the field office but you were actually coming to enjoy how they worked, and you'd learned a lot.

Your relationship with Spencer, however, only degraded.

Your hatred had reignited the moment you'd been joined by the rest of the BAU Team. Your boss has finally come down to greet them, and, almost as if making you pay for your earlier comments, had genuinely sent you on a coffee run for them. You could deal with the fact that the man had the most annoyingly complicated coffee order you'd ever heard of in the Bureau, but what you couldn't forgive were the sly comments you walked in on when you returned.

"Come on, Reid. That Agent is easy on the eyes, you should talk to her, get you a slice of that." You'd been introduced to Derek Morgan earlier and you'd instantly pegged him as a flirt, so this wasn't exactly shocking to you. What was a bit surprising was the other man's reply.

"If she's attractive I hadn't noticed. I've been too busy trying to clear up her mess with this case."

You walked in the door then, coffees in hand, and slammed his drink down on the table for him. You handed Morgan to him, double-checking that you'd got both of their orders right before shooting another glare at the man and walking away to find the rest of the team.

But not before hearing Morgan chastise Reid in another whisper: "God man, you gotta be nicer to the kid…"

To say that your working relationship had soured totally after your two personal encounters with the man was simply an untruth. You didn't have a working relationship, you had a working rivalry.

From then on, you'd slyly interrupt the man when he was speaking, telling him to cut his genius rambles in half, that you didn't have all day to sit around and wait for him to stutter his way through his theory while there was a murderer on the loose.

He didn't hold back either, constantly asking you questions he knew you didn't know the answers to, just to smile slyly down at you and make you admit that you weren't as good as him. It was getting so detrimental to the office atmosphere that you had to be genuinely separated after only three days, Hotchner bringing you into the field with him on multiple occasions and forcing Reid to stay behind with JJ to work on a geographical profile.

You'd been with Hotchner at a family interview, working with him to gain details of the second victim's actions and whereabouts leading up to her murder to establish a timeline when you got a call.

Excusing yourself from the room, you quickly picked up the call.

"This is Agent Y/L/N."

"Hotch isn't picking up his phone." That was all the explanation you got from the man on the other side of the phone, his voice instantly grating.

"Yes, I'd assume he isn't, Doctor Reid, because we are currently interviewing a bereaved mother and father and he put his phone on silent. Is there something you need?"

"I need to talk to Hotch."

"Well, you called me. What do you need?" You heard him breathe out a frustrated sigh on the other side of the line, and you rolled your eyes, slightly enjoying being this stubborn and getting under his skin.

"Just tell him we're ready to give the profile, okay?" He hung on you after that and you cursed him down the line, receiving nothing back but the empty beeps of the dial tone.

–X–

It didn't take long after delivering the profile to get your guy, but as he hadn't been in the middle of committing any felonies when you picked him up, you'd had to spend a few days in the interrogation rooms.

Hotch had taken a crack at him and gotten nowhere, and so had Rossi and Emily and Morgan. JJ had been the one to make the arrest, so she went in last and still came out with nothing much. He hadn't layered up yet, as they'd suspected he wouldn't, too egotistical to allow anyone else into the room that he thought he was going to talk himself out of.

"We're getting nowhere with this, Hotch. I think I have an idea that could get him to start talking." Reid said as you all stared at the man through the one-way glass.

"What, you think you can charge in there and get him to talk?" It was petty, but it'd been a stressful week, and he was used to this flow of conversation between the two of you.

"No, you are. Hotch, she fits his type, she's attractive, same build and coloring as the previous two victims. I think it'd work." You scoffed at his suggestion.

"Oh so now you think I'm attractive? I thought you hadn't noticed because you were, what, too busy cleaning up my mess?" You crossed your arms as he gave you an incredulous look, and you realized that he didn't think you'd heard him.

"Spencer's right, Y/N." Hotch nodded, looking between the two of you to see if he needed to pull you apart to keep you from fighting or to keep you from jumping each other. You personally weren't sure which you'd like most at that point, cursing yourself as you let your eyes trail down his body.

"It's going to excite him having you so close, you should pop a few of those buttons, too," Reid suggested looking down at your chest as you scoffed and crossed your arms.

"Oh you'd really like that," you mumbled under your breath, but a swift look from Hotch had you shutting your mouth again as he began to brief you.

Going in you felt a surge of pettiness seep through you. You were going to nail this guy, get him to talk about every little nasty thing he did to those girls, and prove to your boss that you could do this when every member of the BAU had tried and failed. But a small, dim, and annoying reminder at the back of your head whispered in your ear that you'd be pleasing Spencer then as well. Proving him right. You weren't sure if you wanted to succeed to hear him or your boss say "good job" to you after you finally succeeded, but when you imagined it with him, he was a whole lot closer, right in your ear, body pressed against yours.

You focused on your anger over your attraction and pushed into the room, ready to stare down a monster and escape unharmed.

–X–

It had worked, of course. It had taken a few hours of building rapport but you'd done it. You'd had him eating out the palm of your hand while he confessed to the three murders you knew about and an extra four that you didn't.

A day of retrieving bodies later and by 10 pm, the case was finally closed.

"Well done, kid, you really got him in that interview. That was some great work." Morgan nudged your elbow as he grabbed his duffle, exiting the makeshift office.

"Don't forget we're getting drinks at the cocktail bar in half an hour. Shower off that mud and change into a hot dress, Agent, and I'll buy you your first shot." Emily called back to you from the exit too, leaving you in a fit of giggles as you promised her you would.

Once they'd all gone, you started packing up your things ready to leave yourself when there was another knock at the door.

" Hey, I need to grab my bag." Reid stood in the door awkwardly, and your smile dropped into a politely neutral face as you nodded to him.

"Don't let me stop you, Doc."

"Spencer."He said, stepping a bit closer to you.

"What?"

"I want you to call me Spencer. You keep calling me Doctor or Doc, I want you to call me Spencer."

"No. Doctor Reid is just fine for me."

"And what if I want more?" He grabbed your wrist as you turned to go, using a bit too much force and leaving you stumbling into him, hitting his chest as you looked up at him, your noses almost touching with the proximity.

"Let me go," you growled, but his grip loosened and you didn't move an inch.

"What if I want more?" He asked again, a little more insistent this time, his eyes dark in the dim room, expression unreadable.

"Why should I care what you want, Doctor Reid?"

"Because I think you want it, too. Because I think that despite all the odds, you want me just as much as I want you."

Your anger burst out of you in a sarcastic laugh then at his presumptuous words.

"Despite all the odds? What odds are those Spencer? You treat me like shit, ignoring me, refusing to even shake my hand, and downplaying the hard fucking work I put in before you got here? God, you are so fucking narcissistic." You finally stepped away from him then, turning away to regain your composure.

"Me? I'm not the one who missed some vital fucking evidence in a murder investigation, Y/N, so I'm sorry I wasn't the most welcoming person, but God if we're talking egos, you should probably check yourself."

"Forget it, you're impossible. I really tried to be nice to you, but more fool me for making messes you had to clean up."

"Are you still stuck on that? Y/N, I'm sorry, but Derek just has a way of-" He stepped closer to you again and you could feel the oxygen being sucked from your lungs.

"Don't you dare blame this on Morgan. You're attracted to me and you fucking despise that, and it's none of Morgan’s fault. Now please, just get out of this fucking office and go back to your motel room." You practically hissed those last words at him, holding back the urge to scream in frustration. Your lips were so close now, as his chest heaved, hands clenched by his sides as he resisted the urge to grab you.

"Forgive me… for suggesting something so obviously repulsive to you." With that, he brushed past you and walked out, leaving you reeling at his almost confession, head light from the lack of air. He'd taken your breath with him as he left the room.

–X–

The promise of free shots had convinced you to get back out to the bar as promised, not letting Reid and his fickle moods control when and where you'd be enjoying yourself.

You finally showed up at the bar and were greeted by hugs from JJ and Emily, already one drink in as they immediately handed you a shot from the bar. Guiding you back to the table, you paused as you saw him there.

Morgan was sat at the table, happily chatting away with Reid, who'd since grown quiet, eyes meeting yours before leaving to rake down your frame. You resisted the urge to cover yourself, confidently standing tall as he devoured you with his eyes. Changing out of your work clothes, you'd decided that you needed some fun tonight, donning a short red dress, barely hitting the tops of your thighs, hugging your curves tightly, and pushing your chest up so it nearly spilled out completely. You'd completed the look with thigh-high black boots and a red lip, looking the absolute image of lust - or anger - personified.

"Whew mama, you look good, Y/N." Morgan greeted you, standing up to give you a kiss on the cheek. Reid still said nothing but kept his eyes trained on you as he took another sip of his drink.

"I was promised shots and dancing, I think I'm dressed pretty appropriately don't you think?" You smiled and giggled up at Morgan, letting your touch linger on him a little longer to see if it would spur Reid into action.

"Have I ever told you about my very good friend Penelope Garcia? I think you two would get along just fine."

The rest of the night continued in a similar vein. You'd stepped out onto the dance floor with Emily and JJ, letting whatever man wanted to sidle up close, begging one of them to be a distraction from the man whose eyes were boring into you from the other side of the room. It didn't work. Their hands were on your hips, guiding you to the sound of the music but in your head, all you saw was him, doing the same.

It didn't help that he was getting hit on constantly from his perch beside Morgan, and you watched with a bitter feeling at the bottom of your stomach as women tried, unsuccessfully, to get him to pay attention to them. After another frustrating invitation for a tryst with a local man, you excused yourself from the dance floor, finding Morgan in the bar, letting him know that you were calling it a night.

"Where's Reid?" You asked, trying and failing to sound casual as you glanced around the now crowded bar for signs of him.

"He left like ten minutes ago. Said he was tired and went back to the motel."

"Was he…" You didn't want to finish the question, not knowing which answer you'd prefer, but Morgan filled in the gaps himself with a wide grin.

"Alone? Yes, kid. Here, it's the address of the motel we're staying at and his room number." You hesitated before grabbing the paper and grabbing your stuff, practically running from the bar and hopping in the nearest taxi.

–X–

That's how you found yourself stomping down the corridor of the motel, pounding on his door at 1 a.m., unashamed in your brazen actions. He opened the door, slightly shocked to see you there, and you pushed your way inside and turned on him as you shut the door.

"What the fuck was all of that?" You demanded as soon as he turned back to you. His shirt was open now, jacket and tie discarded on the floor somewhere deeper into the room, but you forced yourself to look up into his eyes, away from the pale plains of his skin.

"What was what, Y/N?"

"You, staring at me like that the whole night and then just leaving."

"Did you want me to stay?"

"I want you to stop answering my questions with questions, Reid. This is bullshit, you can't act like a dick to me all week and then look at me like I'm a piece of meat you want to rip apart, for fucks sake."

"You made it very clear earlier tonight that you wanted no part of this, Y/N. Are you saying I should've done something else?"

"That's another fucking question, Spencer! If you don't start actually talking to me, I swear to god, I'll-" You ran a hand through your hair, and when you looked up again, he was closer than ever. You backed up into the wall, but he followed you, pressing a leg between your own. Slowly and with that condescending grin plastered across his face, he drawled out his next words.

"You'll what?"

Your lips crashed against his with the fury of your frustrations, a mess of teeth and tongue and biting anger as you surged forward into him.

With a rough push of your hips, he slammed you back into the wall, taking charge of the situation, coaxing his tongue into your mouth, battling you for control, and winning. Grabbing you by the neck he slowly pulled his lips away from yours, leaving you gasping for breath.

"Don't be such a brat, Y/N. When I ask you questions, it's because I want answers." You moaned as you tried to regain his lips, but he chuckled and kept you pinned.

"Tell me, baby, what should I have done earlier instead? Got down on my knees to beg your forgiveness, or thrown you over that desk and used you like a cheap little whore? I think I know which one you prefer."

You moaned at his words, but kept your mouth twisted in a grimace, choosing not to answer. He got tired of waiting, and, with a swiftness you didn't know he possessed, twisted you around so your hands were planted against the wall, your chest pushing against it too as he pulled your hips up and out, effectively baring your pantie-clad pussy to him as your dress pushed up and over your ass all by itself.

"So fucking slutty. You let all those men in that club touch you while you stared at me the entire time." He ran his hands across your ass massaging you underneath your underwear before pulling his hands away again and grabbing your hips. He pushed his clothed cock against you from behind and you moaned at how hard and big he felt already.

"Was this what you wanted, brat?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"I think you'd much prefer it if I fucked you, don't you think?" He turned you around again, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around him, the new angle pressing your core further into his cock.

"Open your mouth, now." Against your better judgment, your body reacted to him quickly, your tongue dropping out of your mouth as he ground his cock into your core, effectively dry-humping you. With a swift motion, he spat in your mouth, your eyes going wide as you instinctively shut your mouth and swallowed.

"Good girl," he stroked your hair, lifting you up and carrying you to the bed. His lips locked with yours as you tasted his spit on your lips, letting him take control and move you in any way he pleased.

"But you've been a brat," he said pulling away. "And brats need to be punished."

With that he forced you over his knee, pulling your panties down as he positioned your hips higher, your ass raised. He fisted one hand into your hair and began softly stroking your ass with the other.

"You're going to count for me, baby. If you lose count, we'll start again. With each number, I'll tell you what you did wrong, okay?"

"Fuck, yes, yes sir." With another soft touch, he pulled his hand up and bought it back again down sharply, letting it cup your ass as you hissed from the sting.

"O-One."

"That was for being a brat in the office. Being so confident you missed some vital evidence that was staring you right in the face."

He did it again, and you squirmed under his touch.

"Two."

"That was for teasing me in front of Hotch. Making me get hard right there in the office before you went to interrogate that creep."

"That made you hard?" You gasped out as he cracked out another slap to your ass. "Three."

"That was for talking. You need to stop fucking talking." He stroked your ass again, delivering a fourth, fifth, and sixth blow in quick succession as you felt yourself leak your arousal all over his lap.

"That was for dressing like a little whore tonight. That was for flirting with Morgan. That was for letting another man touch you. What do you have to say for yourself now, brat?" Your breaths stuttered out of you as you tried to compose yourself, confident that he'd finished your punishment now.

"G-Go…. FuckFuck yourself." He growled and threw you back on the bed, ripping your dress off over your head and letting his lips return to yours as he trailed his hand to between your legs, finally pushing two fingers inside of you as you moaned and writhed beneath him.

" I hate you," you moaned in his ear as his lips trailed down to your breasts.

"You have a funny way of showing it." Your orgasm was rapidly approaching, so close you could practically taste it. He sensed it as well, though, and pulled his fingers out of you before you could reach that bliss.

"You thought it would be that easy, brat?" he whispered in your ear with a low chuckle before flipping you over to your front and thrusting his fingers back into you from behind, causing another moan to rip from your throat, uncontrollably loud in the otherwise silence of the motel at night.

Unzipping his pants and freeing his cock, you felt the weight of it on your ass as he rubbed his precum against your now bright red asscheeks.

"You're going to look so pretty with my cum decorating your ass baby. It's going to make your ass feel better, too."

"You're disgusting," you spit at him, but your hips push harder into his dick, trying desperately to capture him inside of you and force him to use you.

"No more talking, bitch. Take my fingers." He pushed a hand into your mouth and you started twirling your tongue around them, using your distraction to finally violently thrust his dick all the way inside you. You screamed at the sudden filling, cumming around his cock in an instant, trying to milk him for all he was worth. But he clamped a hand down over your mouth so that all that fell from your face was escaped tears and muffled pleas for more.

"Gonna use you like this baby, gonna make you admit you love me."

His thrusts gained a steady pace as your brain emptied beneath him, desperate for more of the pleasure his body was supplying you with. He released your mouth then, content that all your energy seemed to be spent on pushing your ass back into his, listening to the wet, sloppy sounds of your activity.

"Do you like that, brat? You like me making you feel like this, huh?" He slapped your ass again as he thrust, and you moaned back with a nod.

"Yes, Spencer, don't stop… Don't stop." You moaned again, another orgasm rolling over your body, causing you to clench unconsciously around his cock.

"So good baby, you're responding so well to my cock." He trailed a hand underneath you to your clit and started rubbing it in time to his thrusts.

"One more for me. One more and I'll pull out, okay? Just one more."

"I can't, Spencer I can't do it.." You whined underneath him, face fully buried in the motel pillows. You were surprised he even heard you through the tears as the material.

"Yes you can, baby, look you're so close already, just do one more."

"I hate you," you moaned again, feeling your third and final orgasm wash over you, your eyes rolling back in your head as your body started twitching and didn't stop. You felt a small twitch from him too, as he finished thrusting inside of you, letting a little bit of his cum escape into you before pulling out and decorating your ass with his ejaculation.

He fell by the side of you and gasped desperately for a few minutes, before grabbing a hot wet towel from the bathroom and cleaning your ass off.

"Spencer…" you croak out eventually, regaining some clarity, but still not moving much from your spot in his bed.

"Spencer, I don't hate you."

"I know. I don't hate you either. Which is probably for the best."

"What? Why?"

"Hotch just requested your transfer to the Quantico Office so you could start training with the BAU. You did a good job this week, Y/N." Your eyes started watering again and you gently pushed away tears as he laughed at you, asking why you were crying.

"I'm not happy," you joked.

"I just realized that means I have to work with you more." You both laughed at that. You didn't hate each other exactly, but that didn't mean you could work together well either.

And you didn't want to if this was the outcome of your bickering and hatred.

#kinktober 2023 #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid kinktober #criminal minds kinktober #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #hate sex #enemies to lovers

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unlosts · 3 months ago

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Short n' Sweet

1k words. Or; you're not as sneaky as you thought you were.

It’s not so bad sharing a cubicle with Spencer; he brings a new pile of books every day and he lets you borrow whichever you want once he’s done with them - which usually happens before lunch. He never complains when your stuff inevitably ends up over on his side of the desk because god forbid you attempt minimalism once in your life. But the only downside is that Spencer notices way more than he’s given credit for, and he’s not shy about pointing it out.

In other words Spencer Reid knows something is up.

The third time that morning you go up to the kitchenette to get a refill seems to be his breaking point.

“Eighteen”

“Excuse me?” You say startled, not really paying attention to him as you walk back to your desk.

“Since last month the average time you get up from your desk went from ten times a day to eighteen, and at first I thought you weren't sleeping right and upped your caffeine intake but then I noticed you sometimes get up only to get someone else a file even though you never did that before, and even at lunch you seem to be out more often than not, so I thought maybe you were having trouble focusing, and if that’s the case then some simple modifications to your diet could really -”

“Spence!” You cut him off before he could keep going, although the concern doe eyes he was still directing at you made your stomach tense in guilt. It was like being mean to a puppy.

“I really appreciate you looking out for me but honestly I’ve just been feeling more restless, so I go out to jog at lunch and can’t really sit still” You said with a shrug of your shoulders and an apologetic smile “didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“That’s alright” he replied with a tight lipped smile “if you’re interested I could still send you the studies just in case they help”

“Y'know what? Yeah that would be great” You said, and the negative karma from the lie and the absolute knowledge that you would not be reading those studies made you promise yourself that you would get him a super sugary caramel latte tomorrow morning to make up for it.

Later that day at lunch the lie still weighed heavy on your mind.

“I think Spence’s onto us” You said as Aaron slowly kissed a path up your neck to right behind your ear. Usually having his hands slowly caressing your back and his lips anywhere on you rendered your mind completely useless but today the fluorescent light of the file room was buzzing particularly loud in your ear.

“Honey, can we please not talk about Spencer right now? I’m doing some of my best work right now” Aaron said, his voice muffled since he didn’t lift his lips from your neck, his breath tickling your skiing and chipping slowly away at your resolve.

“I mean it, he said something about me getting up from my desk more which is Spencer code for you’re distracted which is actually code for everyone else noticed and since Spence sits right next to me he drew the short stick on having to talk to me about it” You finished out of breath, having worked yourself up about it during the two hours after your talk.

Hotch sighed in defeat, slowly straightening up and looking at you.

“You got all of that from him asking if you’re having trouble focusing?”

“Yes”

“And now you think we should tell the rest of the team” He stated, quite sure by now of your answer.

“Yes”

“Alright” He agreed, squeezing your waist reassuringly.

“Good” You said, your arms slowly going back perch on his shoulders “I mean it’s the least you could do since it’s like 70% your fault”

“Okay how is it not 50/50 here?”

“It would be, except today you wore that dark green shirt I love” You said, playfully running your palms over his chest “so that’s 10% more and you rolled up your sleeves so that’s another 10, at the very least”

“You’re absolutely right, It’s all on me”

“Glad we straighten that out”

“Now, we still have” he looked at his watch 25 minutes before we had to go back to work. Do you want to actually go get some food? There’s a nice place just around the corner from here” He said softly, sneaking a kiss right next to your lips.

“Actually I believe you were in the middle of some of your best work so if you don’t mind I’d like to be the judge of that”

“Excellent choice”

Ten minutes after you got back a takeout order filled with sweet and sour pork got delivered right to your desk. As you caught yourself smiling at it like it was a flower bouquet you couldn’t help but feel Spencer's keen eyes on you letting you know that, indeed he knew something was up.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #i feel like you can really tell i'm watching sex and the city right now this is way fizzier that the other two

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cuubism · 4 days ago

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here's a very, VERY explicit prequel to this little fic where Hob rescues Dream from his repressive home life and they run away together except the prequel is 4x longer

topics include purity culture, virginity, and Dream getting the sexual awakening of a lifetime

The third time Dream meets Hob in the tavern, he goes up to Hob's room at the end of the night.

He was always taught he should save himself for marriage. That access to his body was only to be bestowed upon his husband--the one chosen by his parents, of course.

But Hob doesn't make him feel that way, like his body is some prize, and Dream himself not part of the equation. He makes Dream feel wanted, wholly wanted, whenever he is there. He makes Dream feel... free. Like he belongs wholly to himself.

Dream always wanted to cover himself from the gazes of the suitors his parents brought around. He did not like the way they wanted him. But he likes the way Hob wants him. He likes the way Hob looks at him, like he would ask Dream a question he already knows the answer to just to taste the way Dream says it, like he would bring Dream close and make him know why he should want to be brought close. Dream wants to know why. He wants to feel it, all that Hob can give him.

When Hob offers his hand, Dream takes it. Follows Hob up to the room he's booked above the tavern. He lets Hob undress him, breathing unevenly as Hob's fingers ghost over his skin, undoing buttons, pushing his top off over his shoulders.

Hob's hands frame his throat. He studies Dream hungrily, tracking over his chest, his shoulders, the curve of his waist. Dream feels unpracticed, unrefined both in wanting and being wanted, but maybe Hob's hands, Hob's gaze will sculpt him into a finished being.

"God, you're so beautiful," Hob says, a ragged exhale, and Dream feels himself blush. Made daring by Hob's regard, he sets his hands on Hob's chest, palms flat. Feels the rise and fall of his breathing. Vital. Strong.

He had imagined sex to be sterile. Rote. A mechanical process. That was how it was always framed, for him. But he touches Hob's chest and he feels he can reach in and dig his fingers into the meat of Hob's flesh, join their veins and feel himself become something-- dirtied, but not in the way his mother would frame it, not wrong, but dirtied the way tree roots are, fresh and organic, connected to the earth, clinging to the natural detritus of being alive.

He slips out of his shoes. Then he undoes the ties on Hob's shirt, bids him pull it off over his head. Hob's chest is revealed to him, his broad shoulders, and hair over his sternum and pectoral muscles, which Dream digs his fingers into. He wants to put his mouth on Hob's skin, swallows, throat clicking, as the impulse washes through him. Is that what intimacy is, these strange instincts and desires to touch in ways animal and raw? Dream has barely touched anyone in years beyond formal handshakes with strangers, the occasional uncomfortable hug from his family, and now he's possessed with the feeling that he must put himself all over Hob, must make up for it on every inch of his skin.

Hob puts his hands low on Dream's waist, thumbs brushing under his waistband, kisses Dream's neck, and under his jaw, deep biting possessive kisses like he too could dig under Dream's skin. Dream gasps, heart pattering, heat flooding his belly and between his legs at the wet, sure contact of Hob's mouth. Hob makes his way to the corner of Dream's lips, biting, then claiming his mouth, tongue sweeping inside. Dream is so hot, so tense between his legs now that it almost hurts but he doesn't move away, only tips his head back into Hob's kisses, holds on, shivering, knees unsteady.

Hob undoes the tie at Dream's waist, lets his trousers fall, and Dream steps out of them, now aware suddenly that he is totally bare before Hob. Hob studies him hungrily, hands again low on Dream's hips, thumbs sweeping up and down over the juncture between thigh and pelvis. It makes Dream squirm pleasantly and want to push Hob's hands lower.

Hob backs him up, slowly, until Dream's back is touching the wall, and then Hob kneels before him. Nudges Dream's thighs apart.

"What...?" Dream breathes. Then gasps as Hob takes Dream's thighs in his hands, leans in, and sets his mouth to him.

Dream had imagined much, but not this. Not Hob licking up through his folds, sucking on his clit, only coming closer when Dream starts to tremble, pushing the tip of his tongue inside him.

Dream knows he's woefully under-educated when it comes to sex; he understands the practical mechanics of how his body works, but not all the ways to bring pleasure to it. For once he doesn't rue the lack of knowledge, for it's allowing him to be so pleasantly surprised.

Hob knows more than him, and is setting all that knowledge to making Dream feel good. That feels heady. It feels powerful.

He leans back further against the wall as Hob keeps opening him up on his tongue, drinking in his fluids, his beard scratching Dream's inner thighs. Dream feels so wet, he must be drenching him. The thought makes him moan and dig his fingers into Hob's hair.

Hob lifts one of Dream's legs over his shoulder, gets in deeper, craning his neck back. Dream shakes, holding tight for balance, soft noises pulled from him by Hob's tongue. Hob's mouth has found the brightest point of heat between his legs and stoked it higher. There is another, throbbing heat deep within him, heavier with each stroke of Hob's tongue, and he hopes, he hopes, Hob will touch it soon, too.

Hob grips his hip in one hand, fingertips pressing in tight enough to leave bruises, gets his other hand up to play with Dream's folds, dragging through his slick, as he moves to suck again on his clit. Dream digs the heel of his bent leg into Hob's back, swaying, shaking, wanting to close his legs over Hob's hand and equally, spread them wider for more. Then he feels Hob's fingertip at his entrance, and Hob pushes gently, but relentless into him.

Dream cries out, clutching tighter at him, body thrown into confusion over the tumble of sensations, Hob's tongue still on that sensitive nub and his beard rubbing Dream's inner thighs and now his hands, the slight pinch and pressure of his finger entering him and then the wash of heat and slick as Hob moves, stroking him from the inside.

"That's it, darling," Hob murmurs, breath hot against Dream's skin. "God, you taste so good. You feel so good. You're perfect. Is that good for you?"

"Yes," Dream breathes. "Yes, yes--" he breaks off in a jagged cry as Hob's finger catches on a spot in him that lights his belly up and makes his legs shake, and then-- oh! The tension heavy between his legs and hot in his belly crests and releases in a rush. Heat flushes his throat, his chest, his cunt spasms around Hob's finger, over and over again.

Breathing hard, he opens his eyes, having not realized he closed them, and looks down. He finds Hob, kneeling, face wet with Dream's spend, finger still buried in his cunt, looking at him with reverence. He thinks he ought to feel shame for finding himself in such a position. But there is no shame.

He touches Hob's mouth, where his own spend glistens. Knows the hair between his legs is just as sticky. He looks at it with wonder. He has brought himself off in his own bed before, most recently to thoughts of Hob, but it was not like this. It was never so full-bodied, leaving him shaking inside and out.

His legs tremble and give out, and Hob just barely gets himself untangled quickly enough to catch him and help him down to the floor. Dream giggles, high and woozy and feeling loose and warm in every limb. He can feel the echo of Hob's hands on and in him. He feels wet and messy and he never wants it to end, he never wants to go back to being his other self, never wants to put his shell back on.

He leans his head against Hob's, and feels the curl of Hob's smile against his cheek. Hob doesn't ask him whether it was good. He surely can tell how Dream feels. He pets Dream's hair, and lets Dream's curl into him, holds him close as his heart rate slows.

"You are," Dream says, when he's gotten his voice back, "wonderful."

Hob laughs. "Oh, darling. We are just getting started."

"Oh?"

Hob, of course, has not reached completion yet. Dream doesn't know what his plans are in that regard, but he's curious to see what happens next.

He reaches between them to cup Hob through his breeches, and Hob sucks in a breath through his teeth. He's very hard, straining against the laces, and Dream wants to touch, wants to see.

"Go on," Hob says, low and breathy.

Dream undoes the ties, and takes him out. Holds Hob's cock in his palm.

It is lovely, thick and slightly curved, soft to the touch and beading with pre-come, his balls hanging heavy below. Just looking at it, between Hob's strong thighs, makes him shiver, his cunt clenching involuntarily. Dream had understood the basic mechanics of penetrative sex before this, the basic structure of bodies, but he's never actually seen a man's penis before. And certainly not one that's aroused.

He stares at Hob's. He is meant to fit that inside him?

"You are really stroking my ego right now," Hob says, laughing. "Do you like what you see?"

Dream does. Still. "I don't know if I can take you."

Hob makes a choked sound. "God. Keep talking like that. But don't worry. It's okay if you can't take it. But I bet you can. You're capable of more than you know. Not just in this."

"You like the idea that I could not take you?" Dream asks. Fantasies given voice are so new to him. He's intrigued.

"No. I want you to be able to. But I like the idea that it challenges you, that," he breathes out, heavy and wet, "that, you have to work and stretch your body to fit me. Just a bit. That it's not so easy. But it's worth it."

Hob does challenge him, every time they meet. But Dream never feels that Hob will push him, make him go beyond what he is comfortable with. It's because of this that Dream consistently wants to push himself.

He imagines Hob pushing inside him, and feels himself grow wetter, his body caught in a spiral of heat once again.

"I want to try," he says. But he wants to touch Hob, too. He gives an experimental stroke of Hob's cock, pumping up and down, cups Hob's balls in his other hand, tugs lightly, curiously. Hob curses and tucks his head down, forehead pressed to Dream's shoulder.

Dream likes this reaction, and keeps at what he's doing. He enjoys the weight of Hob in his hand, how when he gets the rhythm right, Hob jerks and shudders against him, fingers gripping tight on Dream's hips. Hob thrusts into his hand, and just watching the animal movement of his body makes Dream have to swallow hard to clear his mouth, makes him hyper aware of how his kneeling position spreads his cunt open below him.

"God, your hands look so pretty holding my cock," Hob breathes.

They do. Dream's hands are not small, exactly, but his fingers are slim and make a wonderful contrast against the girth of Hob's cock. He feels this must be one of the places he was meant to be.

"Won't last long looking at you, though," Hob warns.

Tempting though it is to see Hob brought to pleasure at his hands, Dream does want more. "What do we do now, then?" he asks.

Hob gets his arms around him and stands, scooping Dream up. Dream squeaks, clutching at him, as Hob carries him over to the bed and lays him down, watching him with hooded eyes as he steps out of his boots and strips off his breeches, standing bare before Dream.

Dream studies his body hungrily. His cock, standing hard and proud, his strong thighs, the breadth of his shoulders, the slight softness in his belly that gives him a satisfying solidity. Dream feels sharp and thin by comparison but it is not unpleasant. He likes the thought of how much power Hob could exert on him.

Dream holds out a hand to him.

Hob comes to him, settling on the bed between his legs. He runs his hands up and down Dream's thighs, parting them, bending his knees up. Dream's heart pounds in his throat, shivery at the touch of his hands, at the exposure of being spread open, the potential of Hob between his thighs.

"You're utterly perfect," Hob says, sounding wrecked. Dream makes a low whimper. "God, darling. What a privilege."

Dream feels the privilege is his, to have Hob's regard and desire and care, but he likes the thought of being desired, too, of being cherished. That Hob takes this moment as seriously as Dream does--not as the fundamental change he'd once been taught virginity was, but as a moment he feels he's chosen, something given to himself, a breaking down of the fences put up around him.

Hob runs his fingers through Dream's folds, where it's wet and sensitive. "Should be getting open now," he murmurs, and slips a finger into him. It goes easily, and Dream whines. Hob works his finger in and out, then slips in a second one, and Dream cries out at the added pressure. It feels good though, and the look on Hob's face, hunger and reverence, is even better.

"Please, Hob," Dream says. "Fuck me."

Hob groans. "You'll be my death."

He settles himself between Dream's legs, hovering over him, braced on his arms by Dream's sides. This sets their faces in line, and so Hob leans down to kiss him, deep, longing, licking into Dream's mouth, sucking on his tongue. Kissing Hob is so much more addicting than Dream had ever thought kissing could be. He makes Dream want to take in the most delicious way. Makes him feel needed.

Hob breaks their kiss, saliva drawing between their lips, breathing hard against Dream's mouth. His eyes speak his need, and he needn't voice it but does anyway. "Dream. Need you."

Dream wraps his arms around Hob's shoulders. Smiles up at him.

Hob shifts his hips, works a hand between them to line himself up. The head of his cock presses to Dream's cunt, delicious blunt pressure that makes Dream whimper. Hob slips in gradually, holding himself steady above Dream's body, and Dream works on his breathing, shivery and unsteady as Hob pushes in deeper, deeper, splitting him open and lighting him up all at once.

Dream had-- he had not known it could feel good. He had been told it might hurt, except somehow with Hob he had always known it wouldn't. He'd trusted Hob in that. Still he had not expected being fucked to bring him much pleasure, he had wanted it because he liked the idea of it, and because he was curious, and because he wanted Hob to want him and to make Hob feel good.

He hadn't expected to have a hoarse cry wrenched bodily from his throat as Hob sinks all the way in, to clutch at Hob's shoulders and wrap shaking legs around Hob's waist, toes curling, trembling all over because he's so full. Hob is inside him, and the bodily knowledge of it makes his cunt clench involuntarily, wet and aching, and he whimpers as he's held open by Hob.

It is a bit of a challenge to take him, as he'd expected, but as Hob had said, Dream's body knows what to do, relaxes into being had, finds space he didn't know he could make and carves it open for Hob's body. Don't let yourself be taken, don't let yourself be brought down, he's been told over and over, but this feels anything but degrading. He is taking Hob into himself, holding Hob within him, an act of care and generosity, and knowing now, too, the pleasure it can bring him as well, Dream feels he is making out very well indeed.

Now Hob is trembling with the effort of staying still while Dream adjusts. "God," he says, voice choked, "you feel so good, love."

"You said I could do it," Dream says.

"And you have, good boy."

A shiver runs all through Dream's body at the words. Hob always tells him he is good, tells him he is good and right for choosing himself, for choosing his own pleasure, tells him he is perfect just as he is. No one has ever said that to him before. And he hadn't believed it at first, but now, with Hob, he feels it.

"Hob," he says, voice thin, "please."

"Should be the one begging you," Hob says. But he starts to move, slowly at first, a slick slide in Dream's body, each thrust pulling a moan from Dream's throat. He clutches to Hob's shoulder with one hand, the other buried in Hob's hair, holding on as Hob rocks him. Hob kisses Dream's neck, sucking in marks that will surely show later, breath hot and wet as he pants against Dream's skin. Dream wants them to show. He wants all of this to show on his body like a tattoo, wants to mar his skin with his own choices.

Perhaps he may be using Hob to rebel, just a little, but somehow he doesn't think Hob will mind.

He holds on, breathless, as Hob moves faster, chasing his need in Dream's body. Not making love, though Dream does feel cared for. Fucking him. Hard. Fast. Rocking the bed under them, shaking Dream's whole body. Dream is falling into senseless obsession with how it feels, to take all of Hob's need, the power of him between Dream's thighs, the pressure in his cunt, the heat building again in his belly, Hob's panting breaths and moans. Dream closes his eyes, hears himself making mindless sounds, cries and whimpers, gasping punched-out breaths. He feels shaken out of focus, and hot, and craving, more alive than he's ever felt.

Hob rolls onto his back, settles Dream on his hips. This dislodges Dream from him, and he whines, bereft, until Hob helps lift him, and Dream has the pleasure of sinking down on him again.

It's deeper this way, and Dream cries out as their hips come flush. Hob caresses his sides. He's out of breath, sweat glinting along his throat and chest, but his gaze is adoring. Dream likes this view. He likes being exposed. He likes being seen.

"Do you like what you see?" he asks, and Hob laughs.

"Oh darling, you know I do." He holds Dream's hips gently in his hands. "Go on. Take your pleasure."

It does feel pleasurable this way. Deep. Thorough. Dream rocks his hips experimentally, and Hob groans.

"That's it, love, keep going."

Dream keeps going. Lifts himself up, thighs shaking, then sinks down again. Does it again. And again. Until he's found a rhythm, rocking down onto Hob, then bouncing, faster, in his lap, Hob's hands on his hips helping him along. He whines as Hob scrapes his insides, fills him up so pleasurably, again, again, again.

He finds himself panting on each thrust, letting out involuntary cries of ah! ah! as Hob gazes at him adoringly. Dream tips his head back. Lets go. Rides Hob with abandon, taking moment after moment of pleasure from his cock.

His climax sweeps through him unexpectedly. He cries out, clutching at Hob's hands, cunt spasming around Hob almost painfully. Hob groans, hips jerking up into him, and comes. His hot spend floods through Dream's insides, and Dream cries out again at the feeling. It's good. It's so good. Hob is in him, Hob has left something in him, made himself a part of him, an indelible mark that Dream will always know was there. It can't be taken away. He knows, he knows, he shouldn't put a prize on virginity, but now it is Hob's, and it is his, and no one can undo that, no one else can have it, no matter how much they crave it. Dream gets to have it. Dream gets to give it to whom he chooses.

"Easy, darling," Hob says, as Dream keeps panting above him. "You with me?"

Dream collapses onto him, Hob's soft cock slipping out. Dream whines at the sudden emptiness, but it's made up for by Hob's lips against his temple as Dream lies on him, catching his breath.

When he's caught up to himself, when things are no longer spinning, he lifts his head, and kisses Hob. Sinks into the touch, Hob's hands on his hips, the wetness still between them, Hob's spend dripping from him, their naked bodies still pressed together. He's never felt more messy and ruined. He's never felt more embodied.

"Got you to come twice," Hob says, grinning, as they press their foreheads together. "Next time I'll make it three."

Dream laughs. "You will spoil me."

"God, I hope so." He strokes his hands up the backs of Dream's thighs. Touches, just briefly, where his own spend slips from Dream's body.

"I've never been one to make much of virginity," he says. "Bit ridiculous, in my opinion. But. I can't lie. God do I like being your first."

"You like the thought of setting my standards," Dream says. "Of leaving your trace on me." Or maybe it is just Dream who likes these thoughts. His own fantasies are beginning to unspool from his tangled mind as he lets himself reach for them.

Hob hums in agreement.

Eventually Dream slides down to lie beside him. Hob turns onto his side, head pillowed on his arm, gazing at him.

"So, first time for so many things," he says. His smile is fond. "What was your favorite?"

"I'm supposed to have just one?"

Hob laughs. "One at a time, then."

Dream considers. "I like being naked with you," he finally says, and Hob's face softens in surprise. "I feel... like myself, that way. Like I don't have to hide. It feels so natural."

Hob strokes his fingers up and down over Dream's bare hip. Dream likes the feeling of it, Hob's touch, nothing between them, nothing to cover up the truth of him.

"You're beautiful like that," Hob says.

Dream curls inward, presses his face to Hob's chest. Not to hide, but to be close. Hob drags his fingers through his hair, catching in the tangles, pets his cheek, the line of his neck, his back. If Dream had his way, he would stay right here forever, cradled in Hob's arms.

He knows he cannot, not tonight. He will have to re-clothe himself, put back on his skin, return home-- but not for another few moments. For these few moments, he can be with Hob, quiet, beloved, free.

At home, Dream paces his bedroom, restless. The peace that had settled in his bones as he'd lain with Hob has retreated again to the edges of his being. He feels like a caged creature, something given a long-craved gift only to have it snatched away again.

Someday. Someday he will figure his way out of here. For now he collapses onto his bed in his sleep clothes, wishing desperately that Hob were there, or rather, that he were with Hob. And not here.

He needs Hob. He's gotten a taste, and he's become ravenous. Insatiable. He's had Hob, he's been had, and still he wants more.

And he doesn't feel bad about it. Not at all.

He slips his hand in his pants. He had not gotten his mouth on Hob, as he had craved in the moment. So he imagines it now.

Meeting Hob again, and Hob bringing him up to his room. Dream falling to his knees before him. Hob's hard cock at eye level. Hob's hand light on his jaw. Open your mouth, darling. Dream doing so, obediently. Hob laying his cock on Dream's tongue. Dream tasting it, holding the heft of it in his mouth, feeling the shape within him, bobbing his head, taking Hob down. Hob saying, that's it, love. His cock bumping the back of Dream's throat, Dream hollowing his cheeks, learning as he goes, bringing him pleasure with the warmth of his mouth. Hob's grip tight in his hair. His hips thrusting up powerfully into Dream.

Dream touches himself, fingers moving fast over his oversensitive clit, cunt spasming painfully at the images that run through his mind. Hob's powerful body, and how it would feel for him to come in Dream's mouth, his soft gasp above Dream's head, his spend flooding onto Dream's tongue. How Hob would sink down with him after, bring him close, cradle him, saying, You're beautiful, you're perfect. My sweet starving boy, I'm so glad you're full.

Dream comes with a groan, legs drawing in at the sharp ache of it. That was probably too much, he was already too sensitive, but he feels insatiable now, he still wants Hob.

He wants Hob always. He wants Hob's naked body pressed up against him. He wants to go to sleep with Hob's cock in him and wake up with Hob already rolling him through a gentle, surprised climax. Hob has opened this door in him, and Dream cannot bear to close it.

He feels bright and full-bodied and alive, and his bedroom is a dim prison.

He has to get out. He has to find a way out. He's thought it before, but never has he wanted it so badly, never felt like he might claw his own body apart if he can't.

But. Now he has Hob. Will Hob help him?

He has never had someone who might help him. His siblings have kept his secret, diverted attention from him so he can meet Hob, but they would not have the wherewithal to rebel in such an open and consequential way. Nor had Dream, before this.

He finds he's caring less and less about the consequences. Finds them, for the first time in his life, vastly outweighed by what he wants.

Perhaps Hob will help him. Dream thinks he might. But even if he does not, Dream must act. That is paramount.

He wants to be with Hob. But he needs to be free.

#hob created a MONSTER and you bet he does not regret it #at this point dream's mother still thinks he's her perfect obedient child meanwhile dream's sneaking out to get railed by a local criminal #LMAO #dream's level of sex education in this is hilarious too bc he got all the biological facts but none of the fun stuff.#he's like yeah i know what an ectopic pregnancy is. who doesn't. hang on what's oral sex #dreamling #my writing #nsft

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emmasbrain · 7 months ago

Text

Releasing Tension

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, fem!reader, p in v, blowjob, creampie, no use of protection (don’t be stupid, STDs are bad), idk let me know if there’s more

Synopsis: Spencer is tense and you stumble upon a way to ease his tension. (I don’t know how many times I wrote the word tense in this but it was too many)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

He was always tense. Something about him never seemed to be able to relax, and although he seemed happy sitting up against the armrest of your shared couch, reading a heavy old book - that you couldn’t for the life of you figure the name of since it was printed in russian - you could see his body was slightly rigid, as though he felt he had to be wary. It had always been like that, you’d brought it up to him before and all he said was that “stress is a part of his nature” but that it “didn’t stop him from doing things he enjoyed”.

That seemed to be enough for him. It wasn’t for you, though. “Spence.” You murmured, facing him from the other end of the couch. He glanced up at you, humming his acknowledgement at his name and giving you a small smile. You loved the way even the teeniest of his smiles to you would reach his eyes, making the golden brown almost sparkle.

“Hey, is everything okay?” His soft voice broke you from your thoughts, and you nodded your head.

“Yea I’m fine, was just lookin at you.” He gave a shy smirk at that and tucked a piece of loose hair behind his ear.

“Is that all you wanted? To look at me?” The amusement in his voice was undeniable, and you gave a small shrug to feign nonchalance.

“Mostly just to look at you,” You lifted yourself up and draped yourself over his lap, curling up against him like a cat, “also because I could see how tense you were from the other side of the sofa, and it was agitating me.” You gave a sheepish smile, tucking your head into his chest and he sighed, looking at you as though you’d asked “are we there yet” for the twenty-third time in a half hour trip.

He set his book down on the coffee table and put a hand on your cheek. “I love you baby, you know I do, but you have to understand that I’m just like that. I’m fine, and I know you worry that I’m not okay but it’s just how my body works. It’s how I process stress; from the bau, and from anything else. But I’m okay, and I’m happy. I promise, sweet girl.” His voice was soft and you could hear the steady heartbeat in his chest as he rubbed soothing strokes against your cheekbone with his thumb.

“I love you more.” Is all you replied with, capturing his hand in yours and kissing his palm. You adjusted your position to sit up a little and kiss his cheek, his jaw, his lips. You gave him a peck, both smiling into it like lovesick fools, and resting your foreheads together as you pulled away. This time he leaned back in, connecting your lips, and it was longer, softer.

You moved on his lap again for better access to your kiss, and he sucked in a breath. “Stay still.” He barely got the words out before attaching his lips back onto yours, suddenly feeling much hotter than it was before. You lifted up and moved to straddle him, quickly merging your lips back together. When you fully sat down, Spencer's hips bucked up to meet yours and he let out a breathy groan, tucking his head in your neck and kissing the skin there.

His half hard dick pushed up into you as you sat on him, and the combination of feeling him against your now wet cunt and the way he sucked at the skin just between your neck and shoulder had you letting out a soft whimper. “Doc…”

His hips jumped when he heard you, and he moved his hands to grasp your hips, pushing you down as he rutted himself against your cunt. The wetness that had started to form was now soaking through your pants, the skirt you were wearing pushed up by his hands so he could glance down and see the mess you were making on his trousers.

“Fuck, please… so good baby, feels so good.” His grip on your hips tightened and he gasped into your shoulder, biting down slightly. He was close, and what kind of girlfriend would you be to let him cum in his trousers, when he could cum in your mouth instead?

You lifted yourself to stand, legs wobbly as you had been nearing your own orgasm along with him. He whimpered at the loss of contact, and tried to reach out for you to pull you back, but you just smiled. “Turn around, Doc. I want you facing me.”

Spencer and your’ relationship was normally fairly equal in dynamics. It was all about giving each other pleasure, and so by focusing on each other you both settled into a comfortable situation. If one of you were in the mood to take more control, you would. If you recognised that one of you needed something, you would give it. It was interchangeable, and that was what you enjoyed about it.

A few days before, Spencer had bent you over your kitchen table, fucking into you roughly and leaving marks on your body that you could still faintly see. Now you were giving him a peck on the lips and dropping to your knees, delicately pulling his trousers and boxers down his legs and watching his cock stand against his stomach.

He was very still, eyes wide in anticipation. It looked as though he was trying not to scare you away, and the thought amused you. As you reached to hold him, you raised your eyebrows, silently asking for permission, and he nodded profusely. That encouraged you to wrap your hand around his cock, which was dripping precum, and he hissed as you dragged your hand up and thumbed his head, spreading the precum down his shaft to make it easier to work him.

After you had stroked him a few times, you decided it was probably best to give him what he wanted, so you leaned in and licked from the bottom of his dick to the top, tonguing his slit. His hips involuntarily pushed up, and he leaned his head against the back of the sofa, letting out little breaths as he flexed his fingers against the couch to calm himself.

The sight of him was beautiful, eyes scrunched up, mouth hanging slightly open. You couldn’t help yourself, so you took his head into your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, running your tongue over the sensitive underside of his head. He choked out a groan at the feeling and the noise went straight to your core, soaking your pants even more.

Your clit was throbbing but you refused to pay it any mind as you took him further into your mouth, bobbing your head and stroking what you couldn’t achieve. He was looking down at you now, and when you made eye contact you pushed yourself further down on his cock, making your eyes water.

“‘M not gonna last.. feels too good.” He breathed out, lacing his fingers through your hair and gripping it, but not making a move to control your actions. You moaned around him, mostly just to see his reaction, and you were pleasantly rewarded as he whined, whispering an amalgam of curses and your name.

A tear began to drip down your cheek from taking him so far into your throat, and he lifted the hand that wasn’t in your hair to hold your face and wipe away the tear. Even through the pleasure burning in both his gut and yours, he never failed to do little things that warmed your heart. It gave you the motivation to speed up your motions, bobbing your head faster. The room echoed with the obscene noises of your mouth around him and his little moans that let you know he was ready to cum.

With your free hand, you moved to cup his balls and lightly squeeze and he could barely let out a groan as his breath got caught in his throat.

“I.. I’m-“ He tried to warn you but it was too late, and hot ropes of cum shot into your mouth. His hips stuttered and his grip in your hair tightened, forcing you to groan around his cock as the last ropes of cum filled your mouth until it was dripping down your chin. You carefully suckled his head until he looked satiated, and then pulled away and made sure to look directly into his eyes as you swallowed the mouthful of cum and grinned.

His head dropped to the back of the couch and he grumbled out a “fuck me”, shaking his head and smiling at your display. “C’mere.” He beckoned, helping you to your feet until you re-straddled his lap, centimetres from his still-hard cock.

“Did you like it?” you asked, daring to look timid now, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

“Like it? Did I like it?” He let out a breath and shook his head, swiping his thumb over the cum on your chin, and before he could do anything you pulled his thumb into your mouth, lightly tonguing the pad of his finger. “You are so perfect.” He pulled his thumb from your mouth and replaced it with his lips. “So perfect. I loved it.” The taste of himself in his mouth felt unusual but mixed with the taste of you he couldn’t complain.

You placed your hands onto his shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Less tense. I’ll take it.” Your remark made him scoff, and he pulled you in for another kiss - to shut you up you presumed. You didn’t much mind though.

As he pulled away, his head dipped down to kiss just under your chin, and then continue his kisses down your neck. It was soft, showing his gratitude, but you couldn’t help the way your walls clenched at the action despite his intention. “Spence..” You warned - though not exactly sure what you were warning him about - but he understood nonetheless.

“Do you want something?” He teased, acting as though a minute ago he wasn’t moaning and mumbling nonsense as he came in your mouth. His little kisses never ceased, although now they were much less little.

“Please.” Your voice came out whiny and needy and the sound he made in response was almost pained.

“When you ask like that I can’t refuse you. I would do anything if you asked just like that.” He lifted his head to your face, hands pulling at either side of your head to crash his lips against yours, He was somehow soft and rough at the same time, making you unable to breath and unable to want to. “Do you want me inside you baby? Can I be inside you?” He was rushing his words between kisses but you heard them perfectly, and it shot straight to your aching clit.

You pulled away momentarily to question, “Can you go again?” You didn’t want to push him, but he seemed overly enthusiastic about fucking you.

“I need it so bad.” He was almost begging, even though he knew he didn’t have to. You needed this just as much as he did, the begging was just an added bonus.

“Fuck me, then.” You said pointedly.

“Fuck you?”

“Fuck me, Doctor Reid. If you don’t I think I’ll go insane.”

And at that he grinned and flipped you both over, now lying across the couch with Spencer between your legs. He made quick work of pulling your pants down and groaned when he saw the wetness glistening on your pussy lips. “So wet for me, sweet girl. I could never get over how wet you get for me.” He was barely audible, speaking more for himself than to you, and he leaned forward, grabbing his cock and giving himself a few short strokes.

When he was back to being fully hard, he pushed his tip between your lips and against your slit, collecting the wetness and dragging it up over your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, but they soon flew open as he roughly pushed into you without warning, filling you until your pelvises pressed together. The broken cry that left your mouth had him rocking into you as he waited to be told he could move.

He was desperate to fuck into you but he needed your permission and it was driving him insane. His face was nuzzled into your neck and he was inhaling slowly, gripping onto your hips bruisingly to ground himself.

“Move.” You uttered the word and he immediately pulled out half way, slamming back into you like his life depended on it. He set a heavy pace and it wasn’t long until you were a moaning mess, grasping at his arms that were now steadying himself on your hip and next to your head.

“Feel so good baby, you’re so perfect. So perfect for me sweet girl.” The nickname sent a bolt through you and you clenched around him. “Ah fuck, you can’t do that to me baby I won’t last.” He warned, but that’s what you wanted, so you laced your fingers through his hair and synonymously pulled at his hair as you tightened around him. The shocked moan he let out sent waves down your spine and you could feel that familiar coil tightening in your gut.

“I need you to cum for me Doc. Cum inside me Spencer.” He couldn’t reply, only whimpering in response as his pace lost its rhythm, sharp thrusts combining with shallow ruts as he began to reach his peak. His hand on your hip trailed over and began to rub small circles on your clit as his hips began to spasm and he warned with small groans that he was close.

Your orgasm sweeped over your body and your thighs tightened around his waist as you whined, white flashing in your eyes as the pleasure overtook you. You gasped and came back down as Spencer stilled, cum spilling deep inside you as his body lightly shook with the pleasure. He stayed like that, hips pushed as far against you as they could go, head rested on your shoulder as he gasped in little breaths of air while he calmed.

When he felt he could move, he pulled out of you and collapsed on top of you, his cum beginning to drip from your spent hole but neither of you moved to clean yourselves up. You lay there for what could have been minutes or hours, not saying a word, until you broke the silence. “Definitely not tense now.” You whispered, and you both couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, I’ll admit to being tense all the time if it ends like that.” He mumbled against your skin, and you chuckled.

“We could always just do that anyway.” You replied, and he hummed in agreement.

He planted a soft kiss to your jaw, unable to lift his head much further, and moved his hand to hold your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Thank you.” He spoke quietly against you.

“Always, Doc.” You turned to kiss his palm and fell back into comfortable silence, almost sure Spencer was falling asleep.

#smut #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds #p in v sex

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thetrinitytest · 7 months ago

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#the animosity between these two is so palpable it’s suffocating. of course i think they should make out sloppy style #listen i love jack x ianto as much as the next TW girlie. can’t get enough of jack x john’s relationship dynamic either #and i think jack x john x ianto is a god-tier ship (and a personal favorite) and is CRIMINALLY underrated and overlooked #but there is also something about john x ianto specifically #the POSSIBILITIES #they’re haters they’re lovers they’re enemies they’re allies #they’re the jealous type they love (and hate) the same man they desperately need some serious counseling and will never EVER get it #they got paraphilias out the wazoo they are far too emotionally unhealthy to be in a proper D/s #they’re at each other’s throats and they’re down each other’s throats #they set each other on fire and now they can’t get enough of the flames #they will never fully be honest and vulnerable with themselves or each other (except for that flicker of a moment when they are)#the reasons they hate each other become the reasons that they don’t #they are having the fuck nastiest hate sex as we speak #it’s so delicious. i am fascinated by them #i have so many thoughts about them if i genuinely wasn’t shit at putting a story together i would be bombing their AO3 tag w fics #spreading the johnto agenda fo today #torchwood #johnto #john hart #ianto jones #john x ianto #my edit

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 1 year ago

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"Louis Auger Decides To Seek Nomination," Ottawa Journal. July 31, 1933. Page 2. --- Special to The Journal. HAWKESBURY, Ont., July 31. - Louis Auger, former M.P. for Prescott, has definitely entered the ring in provincial politics and is seeking the nomination for that riding in the Ontario Legislature at the Liberal convention to be held at Plantagenet, on August 10. Inaugurating his campaign, Mr. Auger spoke at a meeting on St. Joseph's College grounds at Hawkesbury on Saturday evening. and will address other gatherings this week.

The former M.P. expressed his thanks to his many friends and supporters in the county at recent political assemblies and declared that the story which came out at the time of his trial on a serious charge in 1929 was ridiculous. He claimed credit of having a share in bringing about the construction of the Perley bridge which links Hawkesbury ville; for improving and repairing the customs building and post office, and for other public works.

Mr. Auger reiterated his challenge to Mayo Mayor John B. Woods, of Hawkesbury, to appear on the same platform with him, and announced that be considered it as his duty to present himself for election.

#prescott #liberal party of ontario #hawkesbury #member of parliament #ex-convict #seduction #indecent assault #sex criminal #brokers' trial #great depression in canada #celebrity crime #sentenced to the penitentiary #political rally #election campaign

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sunlightgalaxy · 2 months ago

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heating up in here

hotchniss alaska au

warnings: smut, case talk, the usual

a/n: this got looooong oops ! for the sake of the story we’re pretending they weren’t matchy matchy and that she is in fact wearing his sweater

(gifs by @aaronwhorechner )

“i’m not sleeping with reid.”

emily stifled a laugh, watching as penelope instantly claimed dibs on sharing with morgan.

“come on, spence, we can share.” jj spoke, placing an arm around the young agent to turn him towards the stairs. and then there were three.

rossi wordlessly looked between emily and aaron before sticking his hand out for a key. 4 rooms, 7 people; the math wasn’t hard, there was one single room. and dave knew he had it to himself.

“guess it’s you and me tonight,” hotch said, picking up his bag and making his way towards the room. emily followed in tow, doing her best to keep up.

“you think they have heat?” she asked as she trailed behind, arms rubbing against herself as best she could to keep warm. emily was a cold woman. not emotionally, well, not anymore, but physically cold almost all of the time. needless to say, she was not doing too well in the alaskan weather.

“let’s hope,” hotch said, stopping at the hotel room door. he unlocked the lock, taking a little longer than emily pleased.

“what, did you forget how to open a door?” she teased.

“it’s an old hotel, prentiss,” hotch sighed, finally pushing the door open. “the lock probably hasn’t been changed in decades.” he walked in, flicking on the light and stopping in his tracks. which, naturally, caused emily to walk straight into his backside.

“ow, hotch!” emily yelped, her hand reaching for his shoulder to steady herself. she was about to ask why the hell he stopped walking two steps into the room when she noticed what caught his attention: the lone, king-sized bed in the middle of the room.

“you can have it,” hotch said, moving in further and digging clothes out of his go-bag. “you get cold.” emily rolled her eyes, grabbing her own pajamas from her bag.

“don’t be stupid, there’s no couch and you’ll kill your back laying on the floor every night.” she reasoned, watching him make his way to the bathroom. “we’re adults, we’ll be fine.”

“yeah,” she heard hotch call as he shut the door. emily dug through her go-bag, grabbing her pajamas and groaning. the case had been called in hours after they returned from their previous one, meaning she hadn’t had time to properly pack her bag. which meant she had no sweatshirt. sighing, she threw on her sweats and t-shirt and waited for hotch to be done in the bathroom.

he walked out moments later, breath catching in his throat when he caught sight of emily. his eyes flitted down to her chest, nipples visible through the fabric of her shirt. clearing his throat, he looked back up at her and spoke. “no sweatshirt?”

“forgot to pack one,” she mumbled, walking into the bathroom and closing the door. splashing water onto her face, emily sighed as she resigned herself to sharing a bed with her boss. her very attractive boss, no less.

stepping out, her eyes landed on hotch, sitting in bed looking over the case file. he looked up, eyes meeting hers momentarily before reaching behind him. “here,” he said, tossing his brown quarter-zip sweater towards her. “it’ll keep you warm tonight.”

emily smiled gratefully, pulling on the warm fabric and watching it pool around her arms. “thank you,” she mumbled softly, climbing into the bed next to him. “goodnight hotch.”

“goodnight prentiss,” hotch replied, taking a moment to look at her before shutting the light off. god, she looked so good in his sweater. he laid there for a moment, the darkness and silence of the room really putting into perspective his situation. he was sharing a bed with his subordinate, arguably his most attractive one, in the middle of alaska. truly not how hotch had expected his day to end.

emily, meanwhile, had the same thought about her boss looming in the back of her mind. however, she couldn’t bear to focus on that, instead channeling all of her energy into not shivering. as warm as hotch’s sweater was - and fuck, it was warm - she was still freezing. arms wrapped around herself, doing her best to not hog the covers, emily tried her hardest to keep warm and still.

it was no use though, hotch could feel her body twitching every so often. plus, her teeth were chattering so frequently that he thought they would chip. he debated for a moment whether he should sacrifice his own warmth and give her the blanket, or cross the line and give her his embrace. and as much as he wanted to just give her the blanket, he didn’t want to be cold either.

she felt the bed dip first, feeling hotch roll to his other side. then, she felt the warmth encapsulate her body as his arm wrapped against her. finally, she felt his body directly against her back as he pulled her flush to him. oh. she was definitely warm now. their close proximity meant that when he whispered to her, his words went straight to her ear, hot breath tickling her skin. “think you can sleep now?”

no. absolutely not. “yeah,” she whispered back, making a feeble attempt to relax her body and find a comfortable position. instead, however, she found her ass pressed directly against him. she was sure her skin was fucking boiling at this point, cursing herself internally for even moving half an inch. she felt hotch breathing heavily against her, and all she could do was pray he was asleep and close her eyes.

he was not asleep, instead focusing everything on trying not to get rock hard against emily’s ass. unfortunately for hotch, no amount of steady breathing could stop his dick from growing harder. feeling the sudden warmth on her ass, emily smirked to herself. “think you’ll be able to sleep now?” she whispered, stifling a giggle.

“emily,” hotch groaned, his tone somewhere between a moan and a warning. keeping her lower body in place, she turned her head around to meet hotch’s eyes. the smirk fell from her face when she was met with nothing but lust from the man in front of her. gasping, she felt hotch’s hand wrap around her waist, snaking its way up bottom of the sweater.

“aaron,” she whispered, a moan catching in her throat. her free arm wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. she could feel his breath on her lips, inches away from making contact with her own.

and that’s when they heard a scream.

***

“his name’s craig ramey. fisherman.”

the team gathered around the latest victim, all clad in their pajamas and jackets. as the discussion about the unsub’s accelerated schedule picked up, emily’s attention only strayed further. she could practically feel hotch’s eyes boring into her cheek, and if she was still enough, she could almost feel his breath on her skin.

aaron was doing all he could to maintain his professional manner in this moment, but all thoughts led him back to emily. he forced his eyes on the victim in front, around the team, at the cops, but they always found their way back to her.

“it’s still late,” hotch spoke suddenly, clearing his voice. “i’m sure none of us got much sleep, why don’t we all take a couple hours to rest and get ready for the morning?” it wasn’t a question, and he knew there wouldn’t be any rest in his room.

the team trickled apart, each making their way back to their respective rooms. emily stopped at hers, waiting for aaron to make his way from back of the group. he opened the door, and when emily stepped inside it was only a matter of seconds before the door was locked and she was pressed against it.

“aaron,” she gasped, arms wrapping around his neck to stabilize herself. he looked into her eyes, pupils blow.

“what, sweetheart?” he asked, voice about a whisper.

“kiss me.”

and kiss her he did. lips against each other, breathy moans traveling from emily’s throat to aaron’s mouth. she could feel his stubble against her face, turning her on more than she already was. his hips pushed towards her, causing emily to gasp when she felt his cock press against her pulsing core. aaron pulled back, lips beginning to nip along her neck. one hand braced her hip against the wall, the other finding its way through her layers of clothing.

“look so fucking good in my sweater, baby,” he muttered, eliciting a moan from emily as he twisted her nipple. “gonna fuck you so good while you wear it.”

“aaron,” she whined, his name apparently being the only word her brain could form. she released one hand from his hair, bringing it down to fumble with his jeans. before she could even get them unbuttoned, however, he was pressing his hips forward, cock straining against her hand. “fuck,” she groaned. “need you so badly.”

“is that so?” he asked, emily practically feeling the smirk radiating off of him. “take me then.”

she didn’t need to be told twice. she had his pants and boxers dropped in seconds. eyes blowing wide at the size of his cock. emily sunk to her knees, taking her time to work him with her hand. “emily,” hotch moaned, almost as if it was a warning. it was then she wrapped her lips around him, moaning at the string of curses he muttered while she swirled her tongue around his tip. inch by inch, she took him in her mouth, jaw aching from the size of him. she bobbed back and forth, increasing speed ever so slowly and wrapping a hand around what couldn’t fit.

hotch looked down, pupils blown at the sight of emily beneath him. he let out a groan, even more turned on when he felt her gag around him. they locked eyes, emily watching his expressions as she moved back and forth. it became too much, then, hotch tapping her cheek twice as a sign to release.

“too good at that,” he murmured, thumb wiping away the stray tears that fell from her eyes. “would’ve cum if you kept going, and i’m saving that for when i’m inside you.”

it was emily’s turn to groan, which no sooner turned into a squeal as hotch swept her off her feet and placed her on the bed. true to his word, he removed all her clothing, save for his sweater. taking of the remnants of his clothes, aaron climbed on top of her and pressed two fingers to her lips. instinctively, she opened her mouth, sucking the digits nicely until he pulled back.

within seconds those same fingers delved into her wet, soaking cunt. emily moaned, to which aaron placed his free hand on top of her mouth. “can’t have you being too loud, can we?” she shook her head, mouth opening and closing against his palm as aaron’s pace picked up.

“aaron, oh my god,” emily whispered, nearly biting his palm to keep from screaming. he smiled, planing a kiss to her head as he added a third finger inside her. she groaned, head pushing away from his hand and dropping to his shoulder. “fuck, aaron, please,” she whined, feeling herself getting closer to the edge.

“come for me, baby,” he muttered in her ear, groaning softly as he felt her tip over the edge. “good girl, so good for me.” he fucked her through her orgasm until it was too much, emily removing his hand and panting into his chest.

“holy fuck,” she breathed, slowly catching her breath. she looked up at hotch, meeting his soft smile with one of her own.

“you okay?” he asked.

“yeah,” she said. “so okay.”

“good.” he didn’t waste a second before pushing her back onto the bed, spreading her legs as he followed and lined up inside her. she gasped, locking eyes with him.

“please,” she whispered, staring at his hard, leaking cock at the edge of her equally soaked cunt.

“oh god, emily,” he moaned, watching his dick disappear under his sweater and into her pussy. “so fucking tight, so fucking good.”

“aaron,” emily whine, relishing in how good the pain was as his dick stretched out her cunt. she didn’t even want time to adjust to his size, she needed him to fuck her. “move.”

he wasted no time, fucking her with a rapid pace. “oh, emily,” he moaned, a string of curses following under his breath. emily groaned at the sensation, his tip hitting her perfectly. aaron looked up and felt himself getting closer as he watched emily, her mouth agape as she bit back a whimper. “so good for me,” he said, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss. “i’m so close.”

“inside,” she responded, no hesitation. “please.”

“of course,” he whispered, picking up the pace and moving impossibly faster. he felt emily’s orgasm before she did, her moans combined with the clenching around his cock pulling his own. he spilt into her, stilling as they came down from their high.

he pulled out, laying down next to emily and turning to look at her. she turned to him, a soft smile on her face that matched his. “what?” she asked.

“you’re beautiful,” he responded, pushing her grown-out bangs out of her face. “pretty girl.” she blushed as he planted a kiss to her cheek, pulling her into his arms.

“you’re not so bad yourself,” she spoke, her voice muffled against his chest. “can i keep the sweater?” she asked a moment later, feeling his chest vibrate with laughter.

“for the rest of the trip, sure.” he said. “i have others i can wear. but i want it back, that’s my favorite one.”

“yeah,” emily sighed. “me too.”

#criminal minds #hotchniss #aaron hatcher #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #mine*#fic*#hotchniss*#thank u to the mind blowing sex i had for motivating me to finish this xx

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